An Exceptional Maha-Sivaratri

An Exceptional Maha-Sivaratri

I thought of sharing some old time stories with young children, who are the spark and promise of next generation. Somewhere, either in India or abroad in a remote place in Africa or Australia, there may be a child curious about the traditional Hindu festivals. That youngster may have access only to Internet, perhaps in a school, library or (neighbor’s) house. In certain places, there may not be even a Hindu temple nearby. How to encourage such a child’s imagination, confidence, and knowledge about Hindu traditions? Though many urban (I mean Indian city dwelling) children have access to plethora of TV channels, they too lack the good fortune of earlier generations – i.e., close kinship with grand parents, elder uncles, and aunts. So, without a single color photo, I try to depict a Sivaratri night, as it happened once.

Numerous stories, books, and songs adorn the Hindu religion. In principle, one can start from any single work (Ramayana, Mahabharata, Srimad-Bhagavatam, or a devotional song) and initiate an innocent enquiry in earnest. My own understanding (very infinitesimal, at best) mostly originated from my family, school lessons, college texts, temples, and free public discourses. Sivaratri is celebrated in our family, in many ways. Our parents used to go to Srisailam (AP) just for that one auspicious night. Looking back, I really envy my parents and grand parents. They had strong motivations and great endurance; they could bear enormous difficulties and make trips to Varanasi, Rameswaram, Kalahasti, Annavaram, or Puri on a shoestring budget. They used to cook meals on the way without ever stepping into a diner. 

With finals in April, February or March is usually a busy month for all studious kids in Andhra Pradesh. In high school days, I used to join my mother in the festival observance, with a prayer and fasting. Mother would indulge me with her unbounded affections, so she would keep plenty of fresh bananas, guava, and sweets like rava laddu or chalimidi for me for this special day. One year I came home during February from university. I was reading about Aurobindo then. How did it occur to me? What triggered that unique journey to Mummidivaram village? I cannot recall now. Of course, many in the Godavari district(s) were aware that Sivaratri was a special day for one small village. A saint, known to many as Balayogi (not to be confused with a later day politician), had gone into silent meditation several decades back. Only on Sivaratri night, visitors were allowed to go near and watch him in total silence. I sought my father’s permission for the short trip. We were living just twenty miles away from the village. Sivaratri, being a very dear day for father, he readily agreed.

I believe I started around 3:00 p.m. from home. There were frequent buses between Narasapuram and Doddipatla. Probably I bought two bananas on the way. I boarded the red yellow RTC bus and soon landed almost near the bank of Godavari (Doddipatla revu/wharf). Back in the village, my mother had to struggle hard to make our coconut trees productive, bear fruits; she had to pamper them with fertilizer, salt, mulch, etc. But here, right next to Godavari waters, these stately trees with their outstretched necks to heaven were so happy with head loads of fruits. And why would they not be happy? Every day they get fresh coastal breeze and every night they sleep listening to sweet lullabies from the river water. That is why, coastal Andhra coconuts contain such delicate sweet (coconut) water - the inner creamy coconut so, so delicious.

I got into a small sailboat and crossed the river. Crossing Godavari, Krishna, or Ganges – the act itself is purifying. Mother used to offer marigolds, ganneru (Oleander) and copper coins every time we crossed Godavari in a train. I sat close to the side, with my hand touching the waves. On land it would have been a bit hotter in the afternoon sun, but on the river, it was cool with gentle breeze. I felt the pleasant rhythmic oscillations of waves. Upon landing, I walked up to the bus stop and boarded another RTC bus towards Amalapuram. It was only a standing room for most of the journey; it did not bother me, as it was a short half an hour ride. 

I expected a large crowd at Mummidivaram. As I was reaching the small temple precincts, I could feel people gathering all around, the crowd getting bigger. There were two or three tourist buses from Tamilnadu parked in the grounds. It was in the middle of vacant rice fields. The local collector used to keep the building open on Sivaratri day for visitors and then the temple was closed (doors locked with seals) for the entire year, with Balayogi(s) inside. I cannot stay without meal for six hours, how can anyone stay years without bath, food, or rest? That too in just one yoga-asana? Prior to joining the queue, I washed my face, hands, and feet. I fasted that night, skipping supper. We had to walk through empty rice fields in long lines before we could get a glimpse of the elder Balayogi. I now apologize, after all these years, to the local farmers for trampling their fields. I think I got into the line around 9 p.m. Many in the line were very quiet with folded hands, we were just thinking about Siva and the yogi. For some reason, I felt a bit feverish while standing in line for hours. There was nothing to hold on to, no bench to sit either. Just a rope, perhaps, to guide the line. I had heard about the place and the saint earlier, but it was the first time seeing anyone anywhere in such a long uninterrupted meditation. Around two in the early morning, suddenly there was a brief cool shower. All of us got wet, but no one, not a single person moved from the line. We had no umbrellas. We just endured for our ‘darshan’. 

Soon, we were right in front of a peaceful embodiment of purity and absolute silence. They, the guards, had warned us earlier: be absolutely calm and no talk in the presence of Balayogi. Once our crawling queue abruptly came to a standstill. Later we came to understand why it had happened. The saint had just exhibited annoyance, no, not by speech or stern looks. No, he moved slightly, a small jerking motion, his body had felt some external disturbance.  The presence of a large crowd, I guessed. A sudden perturbation in a pond of silence!  He was extremely sensitive. Only after half an hour of patient waiting and peace, only then, the guards let the line move again. There were no cameras, no flashes, and no microphones. (to be contd.) Copyright 2010 by the author