There was a sombre pause. ‘Kashmir has its own Shaiva Darshan and Abhinavagupta was its most famous scholar a long time ago,’ said the guru after a bit. ‘The Kashmir Valley was once a nest of Sanskrit singing birds like Kalhana and Bilhana. Acharya went all the way up there to speak to the local scholars. His visit is sanctified on the Shankaracharya Hill in Srinagar. And Parvati has several special temples in Kashmir, especially Kheer Bhavani. The temple’s legend links her to the far south. But I can’t let you leave the north-east without going to Manipur’.
‘Aren’t they more Vaishnava than Shaiva in Manipur?’ asked the grandmother.
‘Yes, they are dedicated to Krishna, but they also dote on Shiva. They know everything there is to know about him, just the same as in the rest of India—that he’s one half of God; that he’s a dancer and an ashutoshi, easily pleased. And just as others have intimate pet names for Shiva like Bhola or “Innocent” in the north or Koothan the “Dancer” in the south, the Manipuri Vaishnavas consider Mahadev their own.’
‘They fondly say, Mahadev is an insane god. That means he’s a bhola, as innocent as a child. It’s a fond way of saying “Pureheart”. They understand that side of his personality well. There are famous temples to Mahadev in Manipur at Baruni Hill, Gwarok, Ingurok, Koubru Leikha and Thongam Mondum’.
‘How come he’s worshipped more as a guru and a dancer in the south and as a bhola in the north, west and east?’ said the mother.
‘Well, he’s not Bhola at Kandariya Mahadev temple in Khajuraho in Madhya Pradesh or at Ellora in Maharashtra,’ said the father. ‘He’s Almighty God’.
‘Nor is he Bhola at Ujjain, he’s “Mahakaal” there. Guruji told us that every Shiva temple of note depicts him on its south wall as the Adi Guru Dakshinamurthi,’ said the grandfather.
‘Shiva is considered the Adi Guru almost everywhere amongst us,’ said the guru. ‘It’s just that he’s so free and happy that he’s beyond everything—in a state of such pure bliss that we fondly call him “Bhola” or “childlike” and “innocent”. It’s not condescending, how can we ever presume to be that with Mahadev, the Great God? No, it’s a tribute and an aspiration, both. We don’t fully know him or understand him but we sense and want that great joy, that “incredible lightness of being” that Shiva has and also offers us. “Chidananda rupam Shivoham Shivoham, I am the joy that’s beyond all imagining, I am Shiva.” That’s how Acharya described him. So it’s the same idea across India, be it north, south, east or west. He lives on Kailash and he danced at Chidambaram “and he dances forever in the human heart” as the legend goes. The Skanda Purana and the Brahmanda Purana spell out our united sacred geography most wonderfully, as do the Sanskrit epics.’
The mother laughed suddenly.
‘I just imagined the India of today as a big sponge cake,’ she said. ‘That sponge cake is Shivbhumi. The big Vaishnava belts like Brijbhumi, Assam, Manipur and Pandharipur are like chocolate marbling in the cake while the big Vaishnava temples dotted around, like Tirupati, Srirangam, Badrinath and others, are like cherries on top. The other religions are like sprinklings of raisins, walnut, pistachio and almond, adding to the taste and texture. And the base, the holding ground for it all, is solidly Shivbhumi, whether it’s Durga, Ganapati or Kumar in the forefront or Mahadev himself.’
‘Yummy,’ said the child. ‘Our country is a cake!’
‘A delicious thought,’ smiled the grandmother.
‘It’s a fact,’ said the guru. ‘It’s perfectly true’.
‘How come it was so easy back in the day to unite the land with the idea of Shiva?’ said the father.
‘He’s the people’s god, that’s why,’ smiled the guru.
‘See, Vishnu and Shiva are both aspects of the One. We love them both dearly and most of all, we love the universal mother, the Jagadamba. So this is absolutely not a comparison. It’s only a review, if you’d like to call it that, of the separate charms of Shiva and Vishnu, which are one big combined charm, really.’
‘Remember what I said about abhishekha priyo Shiva, alankara priyo Vishnu? Vishnu is a grand god. He was a king in two avatars. As the Preserver, he’s deeply invested in allure and attraction in order to keep creation going. That’s his job. Parvati in her role as his “sister energy” helps him as Yogmaya. The path of Vishnu is like a big party. Fine clothes, fabulous jewellery, flowers, lavish decoration, chhappan bhog or fifty-six kinds of sweet offerings all at once. It comes with the turf.’
‘On Ram Navami, Rama’s birthday, every temple in north India throws a free, walk-in lunch for all. The Sikhs join in, as we do at langar in the gurdwara, for we love the heroic Gurus. I can hear the Upanishads in Guru Nanak Dev’s verse and I cannot think of Guru Tegh Bahadur without my heart missing a beat. In my view, Guru Gobind Singh was the last true hero in our history, a larger-than-life figure. What a brave, good and learned man! If not constrained by language, I think the whole country would have known about him right then and loved him. He was as proper as Sri Rama himself, with a similar elegance to his nature.’
‘Anyhow, all are truly welcome in my neighbourhood temple. No identity cards, no questions. Just walk in, leave your shoes at the door, wash your hands and sit down. Lunch usually starts after the harati at noon, the time of Rama’s “birth”. I use “birth” merely as a term of convenience to describe Mahavishnu’s great lila. The Unborn was playing at being “born” for a purpose.’
‘But the human pleasure of volunteering to help serve “Rama’s birthday lunch” to the poor and to the devout is very real. Those shining steel buckets of pumpkin curry, vegetables in gravy and nourishing halva, those flying trays of fresh, hot puris! The temple committee doesn’t skimp for something as special as Rama’s birthday lunch. It hires a good, traditional caterer whose team cooks in the big, paved backyard beyond the washbasins, next to the temple garden. A deep, peaceful happiness fills you when you bend to carefully and politely serve the people sitting on lines of mats on the floor of the temple’s community hall, rich and poor all together.’
‘Shiva has no such feasts. Rather, he has fasts. So he’s more complicated and somehow, more simple. Anyone can relate to Shiva, be it a person living in the forest or a suave city person in a fancy villa. The Chenchu tribe, for instance, has important rituals with Shiva in his ancient temple at Srisailam in Andhra Pradesh. It’s such an ancient, pre-Buddhist site that the Chinese pilgrims Fa-Hien and Hiuen-Tsang noted it.’
‘Though Srisailam is now in Andhra, it’s the headquarters (HQ) of the twelfth-century reformist sect of Veerashaivas in Karnataka. Shiva is worshipped as “Mallikarjuna” at Srisailam, as “the Lord, white as jasmine”. And north-west of Srisailam, far away on the other side of the country, did you know that the Maharanas of Udaipur, first among equals in Rajputs, ruled their kingdom, Mewar, in Shiva’s name?
‘Shiva is that loved by all, from commoners to kings. How did that happen to a homeless ascetic who also became the father of our First Family, Shiv, Paravati and Ganesh? It can only be because he has some special sort of saulabhyam or accessibility, like Vishnu, although he’s not an obvious choice. He’s not a cute baby, a naughty boy, a ladies’ man, a mighty king and a Gitacharya like Sri Krishna, a “someone for everyone” figure. But how we love him!’
‘So, what is it, then? Is it the glamour of Parvati that lights up Shiva? Is it those two beautiful children? Is it sturdy, faithful Nandi? No, they’re part of his charm but people seem to have loved him just for himself. I can’t put my finger on it or label it. It must be personal. Centuries of ecstatic Shaiva poems and plays, from the Himalayas to the Indian Ocean, are proof of it. It’s a pure love like nothing else and it’s between you and Shiva, it’s your own anubhuti or experience of sensations and sentiments. It’s a mystery, even now.’
‘Think about it. He doesn’t have straightforward, linear stories with a beginning, middle and end like Vishnu has in the Ramayana, Mahabharata and the Srimad Bhagavatam. Instead, like our religion itself, S
hiva has no parents, no beginnings. He always was and is. And he’s literally all over the place. He has “incidents”, he dances in and out of a whole lot of stories. I’ll tell you about his avatars another time, they were whimsical and playful. His devotees were constantly amazed. They were from every section of society and crazy with love for him. What games he played with us foolish mortals!’
‘The most beautiful princess in the world, the Mother Goddess herself, chose to marry this homeless, unpredictable ascetic. She was constantly amazed, too, by his doings, “Girisha charite vismayavati” as Acharya put it. Yet, girls all over India pray even today for a husband like Shiva, for someone as loyal, loving and respectful. They don’t pray for a husband like Rama or Krishna, much as they love and worship the two great princely avatars. However smart and modern the girls are, Shiva is the ideal that goes straight to their hearts. Mahadev is almost quaint, he’s that committed to Parvati. But some things don’t go out of fashion, I think, in relationships.’
‘Shiva’s name is the fierce battle cry of soldiers, Har Har Mahadev! Yet he’s so kind and forgiving to all that even the demons worship him. He has such a special tenderness for the weak that our hearts melt just thinking of it. Orphans see Shiva-Parvati as their father and mother. So you see, he belongs directly to the people, whoever and wherever they are. Even as a guru, he speaks directly to his disciples. Nobody ever needed an intermediary with him. In the old days, if your heart was heavy and you wanted to formally tell Shiva your troubles, all you had to do anywhere in the land was to set up a stone or make a shivling out of mud, offer it water and a bel leaf or a flower and unburden your heart. He always listened and responded, unless there was a reason not to.’
‘And all these thoughts could be seen in just a stone?’ marvelled the father.
‘Kankar-kankar Shankar samaan,’ said the grandfather instinctively. ‘Every stone is like Shiva, meaning it has Shiva in it.’
‘True. Such sayings tell us how deep the concept of Shivbhumi goes. Our sacred geography is very particular, like I said, “Aa Setu Himalaya” meaning “from the southernmost shores to the northernmost mountains”. It was an unknown concept to foreigners. They did not really understand it nor how marrow-deep it goes,’ said the guru. ‘Let me give you a small but charming instance of “Shiva in every stone”. It’s from real life, in the far south.’
‘A few centuries ago at Chidambaram in what is now Tamil Nadu, there were three families that belonged to a clan of farming landowners, the Veerashaiva Mannadiar. They worshipped Parvati as the goddess Meenakshi, as their kuladevi or family deity. A severe drought in and around Chidambaram drove them to migrate to greener lands. One of them took a stone from Chidambaram along with their other things. Worshipping the stone as the representation of Shiva, their friend and guru, they went to several places before reaching Pallasena, a lush green place in Malabar. They settled there and took to trading in diamonds. Whenever they went out on business, they prayed to Shiva by addressing the stone.’
‘An old member of their clan was heartbroken that his age and frail health made it impossible for him to travel to see Meenakshi Devi at her temple. He poured out his longing to the stone that the clan had brought from Chidambaram. The old man then proceeded to a pond nearby for his bath. He left his fresh clothes and light palm-leaf umbrella with two boys on the bank. When he came up to the bank from the steps that led into the water, he found that he could not pick up his umbrella. It was rooted to the ground.’
‘After a number of people failed to move that flimsy palm umbrella, they called an astrologer, who bathed, said his prayers and went into deep meditation to ask for guidance. He emerged from his trance to say that Meenakshi had made herself present under the umbrella and that was why no one could budge it. Huge crowds thronged to see the miracle. The present Meenakshi temple there and the temple tank next to it were built over the next four centuries. It took so long because of the historical turmoil in the south during those times. The place is called Meenkulati Kaavu or the “abode of the Meenakshi clan” in Palakkad, Kerala.’
‘Amazing!’ chorused the family.
‘It ties up for me with Unakoti, Udaipur, Manipur, Malai Mandir, Pehowa and Paragpur,’ said the grandfather. ‘Wherever you go, you find Mahadev.’
‘So my sponge cake theory is proving right,’ said the mother. ‘And guess what, I stopped by Wenger’s today. Who’s for tea, cake and mushroom patties?’
‘No cake for me, thank you. You know I’m the boring “eggless” type,’ laughed the guru. ‘No onions and no garlic either. But I won’t say no to a nice cup of tea’.
‘No problem, I have mithai and fruit for you, Teacher,’ smiled the mother and the child scrambled up from staring wide-eyed at the map of India to go with her.
9
Madurai
‘Shiva’s relationship with his devotees is unusual, to say the least,’ said the guru when they gathered the next week. ‘He plays the most childish or bizarre games with them and in turn, he puts up with all kinds of behaviour that no god would tolerate.’
‘I’d like to share an extraordinary tale today about such a devotee. It’s possible that this story has no parallel in the history of religion. In it, a mere mortal refuses to back down from upholding a fact even when his opponent is God Almighty—and a furious God at that, about to burn him to cinders. “How could he argue with God? What blasphemy!” some would say.’
‘Yet this story sits squarely with honour in the mainstream, and its hero is a byword for truth and courage. He is famous for arguing with Mahadev and absolutely refusing to recant. He was a real person, who left his name on a poetic work about Kumar. His legend has never faded. It was even made into an iconic Tamil movie in the twentieth century.’
‘Let’s go back, then, to perhaps the eighth century, to the kingdom of the Pandyas in the deepest south; and to its fabled capital, Madurai.’
‘Madurai is Tamil for Mathura. Yes, that very Mathura of the north in Brijbhumi. Mathura is a holy city on the banks of the river Yamuna. Madurai is a holy city on the banks of the river Vaigai. Vaigai’s Sanskrit name is Kritamala. She is the younger sister of the Kaveri, who is also called “Ponni”, meaning “the golden one”.’
‘When the powerful magician, Sage Agastya, came to the region, he locked up Kaveri in his kamandalu or sanyasi’s waterpot. He did this abominable thing because he lost his temper when Kaveri got into a big argument with him about his powers. But Ganapati, the guardian of the land, did not approve of these strong-arm tactics that took away a river from its people. He took the form of a crow, tipped over the kamandalu, flapped his wings in Agastya’s face to say “Who do you think you are?” and flew away cawing in amusement.’
‘The astounded sage could do absolutely nothing when the river rushed out of the waterpot, laughing, and dashed away in many directions from where she had been restrained by Agastya’s hand.’
‘Kaveri and Agastya made up after this bad start with Ganapati’s diplomatic help, which was a good thing because Agastya planned to stay in the south and bullying the local people was not at all the way to win respect or cooperation, forget affection.’
‘To go from the river Kaveri to Madurai on the river Vaigai, was once a beautiful journey across green, fertile land. Madurai was famous those days for its poets and is still famous for the sweetest jasmine in India, the famous “Madurai malli”. Do you know that ‘malli’, which is the common south Indian word for jasmine, is called “malee” in Thailand, Cambodia and Laos and “molee” in China? Words bear witness to who met whom and where. The Tamilians were great seafarers, trading all the way to China.’
‘That’s a lovely thought. I’ve heard that a city in South-East Asia is named for Parvati but I don’t know which one,’ said the mother.
‘That’s right. It’s Phnom Penh, the capital of Cambodia,’ said the guru. ‘Phnom means “mountain” in Khmer, the Cambodian language. Penh means “girl” or “lady”. It’s a Tamil word. So “P
hnom Penh” means “the Lady of the Mountains”. Just as “Malai Mandir” combines a Tamil word and a Hindi word, “Phnom Penh” combines a Khmer word and a Tamil word. And who is that Lady of the Mountains but Parvati of the parvat? Her other names like “Girija” and “Haimavati” also mean “Lady of the Mountains”, exactly the same as Phnom Penh.’
‘Why are we not taught these things in school?’ said the father. ‘There must be so many interesting things that we don’t know about each other.’
‘Yes, that has troubled me for years,’ said the guru. ‘Instead of being taught unifying concepts like Aa Setu Himalaya which everyone can share, and the interesting histories of other regions in India, our school books focus mainly on the history of Delhi. This has gone on for decades even after Independence and only serves to divide us and keep us in mutual disregard.’
‘The sad fact is that you can’t see India from Delhi. All you can see is the Khyber Pass—and Punjab, Rajasthan, Uttar Pradesh and Jammu-Kashmir. It’s not a “national narrative” at all but a hugely incomplete story and it only deepens the divide.’
‘Why have we done this to ourselves when we are so culturally united underneath in every direction?’ said the mother.
‘We’re culturally united like that by the gods. But are we willing to acknowledge that reality?’ said the grandfather.
‘The gods have been punished for man’s misdeeds, I think . . .’ said the grandmother. ‘And it’s our loss. The gods don’t tell us to hate or oppress each other. Men do that.’
‘Our society was in decline for centuries because we were neither kind nor united,’ said the guru. ‘We forgot Shiva in spirit; we kept only to the letter. We became unworthy of divine favour. So whatever happened to us was our own fault. Let us be grown-up and realistic about it. Nobody could have harmed us if we had looked beyond ourselves and been united. Religion was given a new lease each time only because inspiring people were born in age after age. They tried to reform and renew us. Not everyone listened. But to our credit, we have tried hard to reform.’
Mahadev Page 9