Srisailam - Part II

Srisailam – Part II

Through out the stay, I was very alert to the sacredness of the place. An invisible current of great power flows underneath these hills. The visual signs of high voltage transmission lines and the waterfalls - these may represent just a fraction of the total power (Sakti) present in these Nallamalla forests. Many a great soul wandered on these paths – from Adi Sankara, the local tribal devotees, Akkamma Devi, and to even our dear parents. And many must have prayed on these gentle rolling hills. The renowned Paramacharya did his meditations here, on a spot where the incomparable instructor Adi Sankara had done dhyan hundreds, if not thousands of years back. Visitors can see the precincts of a Kanchi Kamakoti Mutt with Sivalinga, beautifully laid on the temple campus.

During our brief two day sojourn here, I came across a few incidents that remained etched in my consciousness. When on one morning, a lady prostrated on the path to the temple (I think near Sri Krishna Devaraya Gopuram), I felt humbled instantly: I wondered, oh, I could not equal her devotion and humility. The entire land, trees, water, air and the temple walls including the majestic gates, everything concealed a mystical auspiciousness. One  gets similar feelings while walking on the hills of Tirumalai. Next time I must remind myself to walk barefoot on these precious holy paths. The writer witnessed such instances of barefoot walking in Madurai also. On the periphery wall here, you can see a number of Siva stories, engraved picturesquely. To feel it, I needed only a peaceful mind, pure heart, and not the outer external eyes, but the calmer gentle inner eye. Then, a fleeting thought: To a great enlightened saint or to Siva, there is no “impure thing” in this world. It was Trilingaswamy (actually he had been called by many a name, what an uplifting thought - I too was born in the same Telugu land) who in his inimitable compassionate way had showed that there was no difference between freshly cut flowers and amedhyamu. But, sadly, we, the lesser human beings always notice the purely peripheral, external appearances on a road, sidewalk, or path, often we find them distracting from the vast holiness. For our eyes, only cigarette buts, spillage of coffee on the road, sputum, or biological waste appear, often jarring the beauty of the land. Of course, since everything is sacred on this earth, it is incumbent on everyone to keep the surroundings as clean as possible. Yet, one must not fall into the trap of mistakenly identifying the purely external cleanliness with “the real sacred”. If that were the case, countless hospital wards or presidential palaces  can claim to be the places of “celestial holiness”. Both beauty and sacredness are certainly beyond the outer physical appearances or beyond the glittering artificial external opulence.

Like many devotees I too went into the inner sanctum, holding carefully a partially opened plastic bottle with kewra water. I tried my best to hold it intact till I reached the arupi-rupa. Alas, due to a jerk, maybe a slight push from a friendly devotee, my hand trembled and I spilled the perfume on the floor. I felt a tad sad reflexively, but now as I recollect – perhaps, that too was preordained. The Lord understood my innocent mistake, but here is a Mahadeva, the great Lord of Lords (Deva-Deva), who accepted the misbehaved kewra too into His lap. What a great compassionate Deva? Even when He gave punishment to any human being or devata, that punishment too turned into a kind of boon. O Lord, please just let me dwell on you, perhaps through umpteen stupid mistakes and endless repeated falls, I may reach you. Your gaze is alone enough for me to lighten my weighty burdens on the earth.

We stayed in a simple choultry. Two meals are served piping hot freely to all pilgrims. Simple vegetarian meals. But the meals were very tasty and a sweet dish was also served. I still remember the mouth-watering Dondakayi (Coccinia grandis) chutney. Also, hot water for bath is provided to the guests at a nominal cost. Of course, a simple south Indian breakfast (idli, dosa, and coffee) too is available on the premises.

Having got used to warm showers at home, bracing for an early morning cold water bath, that too in the chilly wee hours is not easy for me – I still tremble at the thought. Though in summer occasionally I endure bone-chilling yet utterly exhilarating cold showers here in the northeast. Who else can understand the mundane troubles of ordinary children? Except a mother, like the Jillellamudi Amma. Years ago, when an elderly Setty wanted to leave her ashram the same evening, due to the lack of hot bath water on the premises, the kind Mother intervened. “Dear Nanna, please stay here tonight.” How could he express his weakness for hot water showers? That too when all the other ashram visitors take cold water bath?  With age one becomes cautious about the mortal body habits and comforts. Some may get chills with cold water bath or develop fevers upon contact with cold water. Any change in physical exercise, food, or bath (hot or cold) should be done slowly progressively. So, the kind Amma arranged for a steaming water on the tap for her faithful devotee next morning out of nowhere. When the Supreme Mother could dictate time dilation, what is so difficult in creating hot water?

Perhaps the hilly Lord remembered my humble village childhood days. Those daily trips to the Godavari stream, to the village tank, or the well in our compound. He excused my infractions and provided a warm bath during our stay here at the inn. Still I feel a bit guilty, for sacrificing the sacred tree stumps for providing hot water – that too for providing comfort to this insignificant devotee. I try not to cut down even a dead tree in our garden – for it too is providing a cozy shelter to the pileated woodpeckers and the crawling insect families. The making of hot water, the tall steel drum, the forest firewood, and the staff of the inn – they all reminded my formative years in my native town, a bustling town very well known for its famous Siva temple. In those days, out of town travelers used to get two buckets of hot water for two quarters! The only difference between the two situations is – now the water is boiled in a steel drum, earlier we would heat the water in a large copper vessel (desa డేసా ).

When I was about to enjoy the prasadam (tamarind rice పులిహోర ), a gentle bull came over for its share. He too was very hungry and could not wait any longer. I was klutzy with my fingers, hurriedly trying to remove the plastic cover, lest it may hurt the bovine. Finally I gave her two small packs of the tasty rice. I recall similar incident in the coastal town. There, in the old days, bulls used to roam around our streets with complete freedom and abandon. No one would hit them as they were considered a form of nandi; many restaurants used to happily give them food, vegetables, and water. Except for a rare incident or two, mostly the bulls used to live happily amidst the humans. That single act of love towards cows certainly contributed to the town’s progress and prosperity. And prosperity in all spheres: Commerce, finance, culture, and education.

When we were just standing near one of the temple entrances, a young lady showed up with a steel tiffin carrier and asked for a small donation. She wanted to feed ten people – a breakfast with dosa and chutney. For hundred fifty rupees. Innocently I said to her, “Please you serve them yourself and you reap the punya.” Because I felt a little embarrassed about the rather insignificant gesture.  Now as I ponder intuitively, perhaps She is none other than the Bhramaramba. Came to help me do a small act of charity. Me in a clumsily draped silk dhoti,  must have struck an odd sight there on the temple threshold. Way back in the past, at least mother helped me wear a mini-dhoti with proper folds for the temple visit. Such are the gestures of immense affection shown by our mothers and the Mother; here I have been foolishly looking for peace of mind in all odd places.

As I was leaving the holy place, my thoughts wandered all over. There in the perimeter, the wandering mendicants’ chants of ‘siva siva’, mallayya, Mallanna. I wish I had been more generous with the merchants, the mild mannered mendicants, and the wayfarers there. The brown-ochre rocky walls were all reverberating with these sacred sounds. I could not go down to the patala ganga. My parents were lucky to walk around all these paths on bare foot. I do not think in those days, my mother even had a pair of chappals. Did I miss encircling the white arjuna tree in the compound? I could not get a glimpse of jasmine creeper entwined on to a tree evoking the poem: “sandhyarambha ….” Perhaps, still in the deep interiors of forest we can get a view of such a scene. Luckily, in our backyard, even in the front yard, and on my walks across the village here, I come across many instances of tall pine, ever green tree trunks clasped tightly and densely by the English ivy, Virginia creeper, or the climbing wild grape vine . They are most beautiful, striking to the eye during the three seasons (i.e., during spring, fall, and winter). Of course, these scenes  are most bewitching to watch against the clear blue skies in winter and fall. During summers here, the landscape is crowded with too many distractive majestic trees with loads of green foliage or bunches of captivating fragrant violet lilacs.

As we’re boarding the return bus, I almost felt like leaving the precincts of my beloved parents. Our father too in some respects resembled like the Lord Siva (they say you become what you meditate on). Always going an extra mile to provide comforts for his children – whether picking the tastiest mangoes or making a comfy bed. Such is the unbounded affection of our First Couple (Siva and Parvati) to its people. The Sanatana Dharma is very interesting: at some places it is very subtle, at some places it could be very stern, yet it offers many myriad ways to one’s progress. Through thick and thin, through the vicissitudes of life. Though we could not spend more time on the hill, still we came home with peace in mind and renewed strength in our bodies.

Lest the writer conclude this post with a little disappointment, for not finding the fabled redolent jasmine creeper clasping a tree trunk, the kind guru Adi Sankara intervened and gave me a gift. Out of nowhere, on a routine walk in the woods of the Garden State I came across this alluring beautiful scene: A Japanese honeysuckle vine spiraling on to a bare oak tree trunk with double colored (yellow and white) sweet smelling long stemmed flowers. Thus what has been missed on the hills of Srisailam is found readily in the northeast woods here. It is only natural, isn’t it? All exploration must finally come to a full circle, must cease at finding the ‘antara-atma’ here close to one’s heart (Tyagayya’s “marugElara మరుగేలరా” and “maaru paluka మారు పలుక ” come to my mind). And any discovery, if it needs to be helpful to the explorer, must happen now!