The reason for yet another post on this divinely romantic (by romantic I mean the original Sanskrit word, “sringara-rasa”) lyric is this: Once at the S V temple, I got a chance to sing two or three songs; for some reason I chose this song and did my best to convey Annamayya’s original picture. Immediately after lunch, the resident musicians picked up this “okapari” kirtana for entertaining Lord Venkateswara. After all, such exhilarating (even if happenstance) incidents do not occur everyday – coming across nadaswaram and mridangam virtuosos (Messrs. V. N. and R. G., visiting artists from Madurai, the temple town) playing “Okapari” in Sri Venkateswara Temple – just a few feet away from this writer.
In the first stanza, the scene starts with the Lord. (Annamayya’s lyrics work like modern video cameras. They depict a scene as it progresses in time.) There He was, His whole body got a dusting of camphor. But who did it? Who sprinkled camphor powder on Him? Who else would it be? It must be Padmavati Devi. Was it a part of “divine sport”? They just came out of their wedding, after taking leave of Brahma, Parvati, Siva, and others. On the seven hills of Tirupati, everyday, every hour, rather every moment is an occasion for the celestial wedding: Wedding of Lord Venkatesa and Alamelumanga. The constraint of time does not apply to Him, does not apply to Siva either. Thus, when the poet Annamayya delved deep inside, he had an insight – The Lord’s body was covered with camphor. But there is a slight problem, I mean about the ambient lighting situation, as the Lord’s body is always a bit bluish-grey. The tiny camphor crystallites are scattered all over. Still, like the nighttime glistening stars, the crystallites too shine in all the four directions (east, west, south, and north). We should rather say in all directions, not just four, up down, in all possible angles. Of course, camphor crystallites (flakes) do not glisten (shine) by themselves; like the fresh snowflakes they glitter when exposed to sunlight or moonlight or electric lamps. For our convenience (rather for the benefit of Annamayya), Alamelumanga plays a neat trick. She can be in Her birthplace, i.e., lotus; or, She can be at the side of Lord Venkatesa, or She can hide in His chest. She is free to be anywhere (and everywhere) but Her ideal resting place is always this: His chest (heart, being the true abode of compassion). So, She with Her moon-like face suddenly (momentarily) appears in His chest. What a marvelous sight? Entire body of the Lord is bathed in soft cool moonlight.
I am captivated by the two phrases in the first stanza: camphor and “downpour”. In the traditional Hindu marriages, bride and bridegroom are decorated with garlands. At least for the first three days (after marriage), the newly married couple is seen wearing garlands (at least, in bygone years). They are a privileged pair – representing Vishnu and Lakshmi. Flowers naturally fade; particularly they wilt rapidly in hot climate and lose their sweet scent. So, besides flower garlands, the newly wed couple wear garlands with camphor disks (circular camphor tablets) and colored tinsel. As a kid, I had the fun of enjoying marriage ceremonies participating as a co-bridegroom. Thus when I was sitting close to the bride and groom, I could feel the intense fragrances, colors, softness of petals, and the rustle of silks.
What a glorious spectacle? What did Annamayya see in his vision? It was a downpour of cool soft moonlight. My own sensual experiences with downpours are many: Once we were coming home after school in the evening, and then, without slightest warning, we were totally inundated with a monsoon outburst. Where could you rush to seek a shelter? With books on our heads, we ran to our homes. Then there are those cool gusty winds with rainbow colored waters near Niagara and other waterfalls. At home, the one I remember most is during weekly oil message laden ritha (Sapindus) shampoo baths. Towards the end, mother would lift a brass pitcher and pour refreshing warm water. What a pleasant relief to burning eyes? What a joy? A downpour like any sensual experience needs to be felt, it cannot be described in words. The downpour - of the Mother – of that intense cool moonlight is a spectacular sight. We may get a feel for it when we look at the moon during autumn months. Oh, those clear skies with full moon. They look so bright, yet so gentle to the eye. Certainly, a part (speck) of Alamelumanga is vividly present in such full moon nights. Here, they say it “glade”. While driving you come across big beams of sunlight shooting through the small openings in clouds. We see that while walking through thick wooded forests. One can witness such beautiful inspiring light rays during nights with the soft moonlight.
How can we see the Lord in night? Even in the day, it is difficult to discern His features due to the dark blue (grey) complexion. If we were to gain any understanding (rather insight) of the Lord, then it must come from the grace of Alamelumanga. It happens only due to Her grace. So, even with camphor dust, we cannot visualize His feet or His benevolent hand. We, the devotees are totally lost. Then, as if to ease our helplessness, our discomfort, our frustration, She suddenly showers the Lord with gentle moonlight. Now, at last, we can see His outline. There He is, even in those intimate moments with Padmavati, and invariably they are of very short duration, He came down wearily to Alamelumanga, after standing the whole day and most of night, listening to endless pleadings of His children – still He has to please one faithful devotee, Annamayya. He is very true to His own words; the Lord will accede to devotee’s every request. Thus, we now witness the Lord with Alamelumanga in a unique combination. When we see or pray, we mean both of them. As a divine couple, they are always inseparable.
The second stanza is even more enchanting. If one wants to learn poetics, literature, one has to dig deep into these thousands of lines – more like spontaneous outpourings of a soul in a “deep trance”. Of course, being dark hued, the Lord needs all those glittering decorations and jewels (no, I am just jesting, the Lord does not need any jewel. He just wears them for our sake, for our satisfaction!). That long cone-like crown, golden covers for hands and feet, golden stone-studded waistband, and multi-colored rings on fingers and of course, the whirring wheel, and conch. Yet with all these glitzy accessories, the Lord is still barely visible in nighttime. Because there is not much illumination except the dull glow from a few oil lamps. [Even today, in the inner sanctum sanctorum, only lamps with oil or ghee are used.] But Alamelumanga earnestly wants to help Her children. How can they see the Lord? So, She now appears as a ray of lightning. Can it help now? (Can our mortal eyes now take a picture? A snapshot?) She is none other than Lakshmi as such She needs no decorations. All the wealth resides in Her and all the attraction (i.e., gazes of Her earnest devotees) is focused towards Her. Without Her and Her compassionate side-wise long glances, Indra loses His kingdom, throne, and everything. This imagery was invoked earlier also (cf. Sankara in Kanakadhara). So, now with Her slender form on His side, the scene takes a different turn: They appear as a cloud with a streak of lightning. That is enough, that scene is full of life-giving energy. Surely it will sustain all life. And all effort on this earth is to preserve life, create life, and produce joy for Her children. As Annamayya had his insight, we too can have a glimpse into the divine couple with steady meditation and musical devotion. Because it is so difficult to focus the mind, so unmanageable is this wandering goat of mind – that is why we try to approach the Lord and Alamelumanga through a song, a shriek, a simple gesture, a leaf, a flower, or thimble-full of water.
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