The Kanchi Connection

As the year 2011 came to a close, I found myself generally out touring. Some planned and some surfacing Ad hoc. My weekend visit to the temple town of Kanchipuram came in as a last minute invite from my cousin. Or maybe I was nominated because anyone else would take up more space in the car. Or… ~mist~ the gods had summoned me… Oooomm.

We started out by Saturday afternoon, the shiny winter sun had just passed the head and the Madras bound Bangaloreans were making sure they had enough loose change. And lots of water. The plan was simple. We would reach Kanchipuram with a considerable time between us and the sunset so that we could meet the winds of Kanchipuram before the inevitable rendezvous with the Tamil sun.  

The drive on NH 7 was smooth. Two uncles sat in the front and entertained themselves by speaking of the Nifty touching 4800 by new years, and analyzed and seemingly appreciated the profits made at toll plazas. Their dissatisfaction and frustration at other vehicles on the road goes unsaid. I and my cousin meantime had a more peaceful time sitting at the back. Him watching White Collar season 3 and me looking out and for once not worrying about my hair. Yeah, I know we could’ve talked, but bah! We had the whole weekend to talk right? So we spent close to 5 hours not talking to each other.

As planned we reached Kanchipuram just after seven. A Kannada board of some silk saree store reading ‘Kanchipurakke suswagata’ seemed really welcoming, and was a little bit of a shock. We had lived all our lives thinking the only language in TN apart from Tamil was body language with a lot of pointy fingers and nothing else. Well, with more and more women wanting to posses kacheevarams, it was probably a strategy to attract kannada customers. Nice! 

On entering the city we were blessed by views of the shrines of goddess Kamakshi and the huge gopuram of the Ekambareshwara temple. Saree clad women, pretty girls in traditional dress (pavadai) men and boys in traditional dhotis and none with an empty forehead seemed to reassure to effervescence of respect for culture and tradition.  

After taking a look around the city, visiting close to six significant temples, my heart stood for a second at the view of the grand gopuram of thevaradaraja swamy temple. 

Ah varada! There you are!

The time was a little over 9 PM, the temple would’ve just closed. All of us knew this, yet there was an urge to go take a look. Get closer, enter. 

The night was shorter than I expected, more so because we had had just over 5 hours of sleep. We took a hurried bath, dressed to look holy and left for the temple. Whoever has visited tamil nadu would know that no one sleeps in this place! It was barely 4:30 AM and there were street vendors, open petty stores, and so many people awake! Or maybe it’s because they want to look fresh at least till the sun shows up.

The booming echo of sacred hymns and the aroma of fresh flowers and scented aroma sticks welcomed us into the main chamber where the lord stood tall behind closed doors. 

As the doors were opened a hundred heads bowed low and two hundred eyes stuck wide open to observe the beautiful deity. His smile! The god was smiling!  More chanting continued and we tried to join in. For me, the size and grace seemed to be overwhelming. Standing tall at over 10 feet, the lord held weapons in two of his hands, shankha in his top left hand and his lower right hand gesturing a fore palm or the abhayam, the fore palm is to tell us not to fear for he is here. 

More than anything, it was his fore palm, or the abhayam that got me interested, as I continued to stare at it, I realized that there was something written on it. It was in tamil, but only 3 letters, and I was able to read that much, it said, mashucha; a Sanskrit word meaning “don’t be sad”.

After teertha-shathari (and of course who can miss hot pongal) we made our way out to the kalyani to wash our hands and perform the morning sandhyavandana. As I was offering arghyam (offering water along with gayatri mantra to sun god) I could feel that I was at peace. Suddenly, warm creepers of detachment had attached themselves to me. 

After nearly 3 months from my visit. While looking at old pics of close friends I pondered why we miss certain people, why are we so attached? Why is being away from them so sad? 

That’s when I remembered my kanchipuram visit. I realized that I had never been afraid in my life. It was the fear of sadness that gripped me. I was scared of being sad. 

I taught myself what the abhayam of the smiling god meant. 

 

Don’t be afraid, don’t be sad. Don’t be afraid of ever being sad. 

I Go Ego!

This one’s probably one of the boring posts on this blog. It is also the one with the least possible direction or decisiveness, however the aim of this blog is to remain objective and maybe a lack of direction would in fact do good to the write.

It was a wall photo by a certain anti Gandhian or a realist on facebook which got me thinking. The photo showed a revolver bearing Godse and frail looking Gandhi in the same frame. Probably it was the scene of execution from one of the many movies on Gandhi. The description took a more-than-obvious dislike for Gandhi and in some way even glorified the assassination. The author seemed to be a very, in fact a fanatic patriot with an Om tattooed on his wrist. The author made his intentions clear that he wanted to defame Gandhi. 

The references and quotes of questionable authenticity were also to suggest that Godse was right, and had the right to kill Gandhi. Now this is quite absurd, offensive if not otherwise forced to remain steady. What followed were lengthy messages and comments speaking bad of Gandhi, accusing him of being the reason for death of Bhagat Singh and Co., holding him responsible and ridiculing the creation of Pakistan, condemning Gandhi’s wish to give 55 crore rupees to Pakistan, and calling Gandhi the killer of the thousands of people who lost their lives to the agitation caused during the partition. The author went on to make some really crude and thick accusations from an obvious Hindu stance which I can discreetly keep out of this blog.

I’m not going to make a comment on Gandhi’s actions, nor am I willing to make further observations on the author’s ideology or the feelings of the hundreds who commented badly on Gandhi, but what I can’t help wondering is how easy it has become for us to criticize our elders, leaders or legends. It’s only human to forget the great deeds and point fingers when someone is wrong, but Gandhi? Even Gandhi?

While growing up, we were told to ask questions, not to accept anything blindly, stand up to authority and not be scared of anyone. Ofcourse, Bravery or courage can be seen a lot these days, some real and appreciable, and some stupid and wannabe-heroic. Does that give me the authority to think no one’s bigger than me? Or does it make me any bigger than I really am?

My college Principal, Dr. Venugopal K R is one of the brightest minds I’ve met so far, and he is by far the greatest and also the most modest person in my college, and yet, the students wouldn’t listen to him, not respect his classes and try to play a funny version of him. It’s easy to say that such things happen in college, and it’s just the rush and brush of being a college student, but when we are well aware of the greatness of someone and yet decide to negate all that he has achieved and choose to disrespect him, what does it mean? Is disrespecting or not accrediting an innate quality these days? 

Another example would be the legendary players of the Indian cricket team, be it Rahul Dravid or Sachin Tendulkar we are eager to pin them to the ground and even be preposterous enough to accuse them of being selfish! Or anything that feels insulting. Have they not showed what they are made of over such a long time? Even the mighty fall someday, but that doesn’t give anyone the right to add insult. What I’m trying to ask here is that are we so desperate to display our unruliness? Are we so self obsessed that nothing means anything?

 It’s true that certain teachings or ideas may lose relevance over time. It’s also true that things change with time, and they should. We need to adapt ourselves to the changes and keep pace, but that doesn’t mean we have to forget what our old ones said. If not practice, believe or respect, at least we can resist insults.