At The Lord’s Feet…

My brother tells me of this sublime experience, shared by millions of others…

The temple at Sabarimala opens at three in the morning during the pilgrimage season and other designated days. Lakhs of devotees converge at the Sabari hills for the darshan, enduring many hardships that the forest and the hilly terrain lay out. Right through the day and night, there is an unending stream of pilgrims who trek their way to the Sannidhanam for a second’s glimpse of The Lord. Thousands upon thousands of devotees are always present in the Sabari hill ranges and on the banks of the River Pampa, calling out The Lord’s name and singing songs in His praise. As the night falls, lamps and lights are lit all around, and the pilgrims wait, often braving chilly winds, wild animals and inclement weather. Night birds and insects add their voice to the constant entreaties of the pilgrims and the orders and directions of security personnel. Coming from a million and more gathering, the many sounds of the multitude make the night reverberate with His name repeated endlessly. The evening pooja is over, but The Lord is awake, showering His infinite blessings on the devotees…

Comes the stroke of midnight, and it is time for The Lord to sleep and The Temple to close its door till it reopens in another three hours’ time. The public address system comes alive, and the announcement is made…

“Harivarasanam…”

In a second, silence descends miles around; even the night birds and insects have fallen silent. It is as though nature stands still to let The Lord rest…

And then…

Harivarasanam…

The Lord’s song breaks through the silence in the divine voice of Gaana Gandharvan Yesudas, bringing tears of gratitude to the millions fortunate to live the sublime moment. The song echoes through the misty hills and vales of Sabari, through the forests spread across miles, wafting over the gently flowing River Pampa, giving solace to all His devotees. The head priest and his assisting priests put out the lamps one by one, and as the last Aum is pronounced, The Temple door at the sanctum sanctorum is closed…

According to published sources, Harivarasanam was written by Kambangudi Kulathur Iyer and was first sung by Swami Vimochanananda at the Sannidhanam. V.R. Gopala Menon who accompanied the then head priest Easwaran Nampoothiri used to recite Harivarasanam every day as The Temple was closed. After Menon’s death, the head priest himself would recite the divine song. Yesudas, an ardent devotee of Lor Ayyappa, has sung Harivarasanam at Sabarimala which is now played every night as The Temple closes…

I haven’t had an occasion to be at Sabarimala when the Harivarasanam is sung. But every time I hear the divine song, I can well understand – and feel - the sublime experience my brother talks about: one has to close one’s eyes, mentally shift oneself to Sabarimala, be on the banks of the River Pampa or at the Sannidhanam or in the sabari hills range on a moonlit night, breathe in the fresh air of the gently swaying forest trees, savour the cool breeze of the hills on one’s body, submit oneself to The Lord…

And then, Harivarasanam…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i_hQ-9qymXQ

Source of Harivarasanam: Youtube, as above.

The Earthen Lamp, and the Neem Tree

The small temple in the green belt has been special to me for the last three years since I shifted to my present residence. Every day, I take my walk through the green belt around 730 pm. I stop by the temple with the earthen lamp for a few minutes ' and as I write once before, it is godly. The silence, the gentle breeze from the greens, the earthen lamp ' a sense of peace prevails all around

The neem tree too has been special to me: the life around it, the activities of its many inhabitants, the chirping birds, the bouncing squirrels, the silent owls, all spread the message of co-existence. All the more so, after the sparrows made friends with me sometime back

When I returned from my vacation a month ago, and took my routine evening walk, I stopped in my track: the small temple had been given an overhaul. A fence ' more like a police barricade - was put up all around, as if God wanted to be walled in. There were a few tube lights installed without any rhyme or reason. The earthen lamps had receded to the background. And I found the harmony and the tranquility missing: I still stop by the temple every evening by habit, but it is not the same any more

Last week, when I returned home after office, my son told me what the new neighbours had done to the neem tree. They chopped it indiscriminately, at will, till he intervened. And he was told they were pruning it! I checked out the next morning: many trunks were missing, and branches were lying in desolation all around. The owls were not to be seen, the sparrows and the squirrels were conspicuous by their absence

They have since come back, though, I know, they are devastated

I am not devastated, but I definitely am startled and distressed by the mindless transgressions on nature

The Saint amongst Us

Sr Alphonsa has been conferred the highest spiritual honours, with the Pope canonizing her as Saint at the Vatican. It is undoubtedly a moment of piety and glory in the 2000-year-old history of Indian Christianity. Alphonsamma is only the second Indian to be a Saint, the first being Gonzalo Garcia, born of an Indian mother and a Portuguese father who was canonized in 1862. She is also the first Lady to be declared a Saint in this century.

My first memory of Sr Alphonsa is through the pages of Malayala Manorama. Generations of Keralites have woken up seeing the pictures of Sr Alphonsa every day in the Malayalam newspapers. As a child, my curiosity was aroused when I used to see this peaceful Lady benignly looking at me, and millions of others, day after day. I was often left wondering what is special about Her: the answer lay beneath her visage - "For favours received". Who was this Sister who was so infinitely generous, was one question that engaged me

Sr Alphonsa was born Anna in a small village, Kudamaloor, in Kerala on 19 August 1910. She joined the Church at Bharananganam, the town which will be synonymous with her, and assumed the title Alphonsa in 1928. As a primary school teacher, she endeared herself to the students by her compassion, humility and humaneness, all of which characterized her all through her brief life. Her sojourn in this material world came to a close on 28 July 1946.

In the 36 years that Sr Alphonsa walked the earth, she was known for her devotion, dedication and concern for all. In the years since her demise, her tomb became a holy place, and several miracles were attributed to her. Bharananganam soon became a pilgrimage center for the devout. The process of her beatification started in 1953 and she was declared 'Venerable' on 9 July 1985. During his visit to Kerala on 8 February 1986, Pope John Paul II beatified Sr. Alphonsa and in June 2007, Pope Benedict XVI authorized her canonization. Thus, it took more than 60 years for Sr Alphonsa to be declared a Saint, after due process authorized by the Vatican.

As I watch the television images showing the canonization of Sr Alphonsa, I feel a strange sense of peace descending on me: someone whose pictures I have seen as a child, years ago, and whose blissful visage spread the message of compassion, has ascended the venerated pedestal of Sainthood ' and she continues to smile benignly and benevolently

Today, there is a saint amongst us, sinners and lesser mortals; let us rejoice.

"For favours Received", Saint Alphonsa

A Life of Compassion�

It is not left to many to be remembered and revered - and missed   too - by family and friends, colleagues and contemporaries, alike, every passing day.  Only a few transcend the boundaries of caste, creed and community to leave an indelible imprint of their humaneness on those who are privileged to cross their paths.  When such rare beings depart from this ethereal world, they leave behind tender thoughts and lasting memories of a life well-lived, and fulfilled, making a difference to the lives of many others, touching their souls, bringing smiles, may be even tears of joy ' and of gratitude too. Dr. Rojamma Wilson, who walked this earth for a brief four decades and three years, did all these and more in her characteristically simple and subtly unobtrusive manner, as unto the Lord Jesus Christ.

Rojamma's sojourn with the wide world began on 24 May 1963 from the Gudur town of Andhra Pradesh.  The first of five children, she imbibed the qualities of compassionate living in true Christian traditions at a very early age.  With such fine attributes, it was no wonder that she chose Medicine as her career, passing out from the S.V. Medical College, Tirupati.  She greatly valued the Hippocratic Oath which she took and her life was devoted to the care of the weak and the vulnerable. To her, the pledge she made of her profession was one committed to the welfare of her suffering brethren.

In February 1991, Rojamma married Wilson, and shifted with him to Hyderabad, and later on to Gwalior in 1993.  The years that followed saw them together in blissful wedded life, with two wonderful boys, Samuel and David.  Rojamma was a loving mother, always guiding the children in the best of traditions and values.  She was also a caring wife, and together, they made for a Happy Family. 

To the many friends of the Wilsons, the doors of their home were ever wide open.  She loved cooking and treating, and their friends' happy smiles were a testimony, if at all needed, to her culinary skills.  She was also an avid nature lover, very fond of her plants and enjoyed whatever gardening she could do.  In fact, she would always collect rare plants wherever she went - be it Hyderabad or Gwalior, Delhi or Srinagar.

It was not that life was not without its ups and downs.  Rojamma fervently yearned for peace and mental equanimity in times of crisis and turbulence.  The Lord Jesus helped her through the trials and tribulations and through Late Captain Bhaskar whom she came across she learnt the fundamental Christian values of faith, humility and repentance, and more importantly the power of prayer.  She was unwavering in her faith and she ceaselessly sought God until she found the assurance of salvation.

The noble profession that she was devoted to helped Rojamma actualize the sage sayings of the Lord to be in the service of the poor and the deprived.  By extending her helping hands to the needy, she put to practice the values ingrained in her right from her childhood. 

Rojamma worked with diligence and devotion as a Central Government Health Services (CGHS) doctor first in Dadra & Nagar Haveli and later on in Delhi.  To her, the rank, status and stature of a patient were irrelevant and immaterial: all were equal before her eyes, be it a Member of Parliament or a Messenger in a government department.  To all those who came to know her during her stint in Delhi, including for the many Members of Parliament, Rojamma was their `most favourite doctor'.

A decisive time in Rojamma's life came when, in July 2004, she put her family's interests first and moved with Wilson, Samuel and David to Jammu and Kashmir on Wilson's transfer.  The turbulence which marred the State did not deter her from practising, and very soon she earned a name there too for her professional excellence and human considerations.

It was then that the Lord's will came Rojamma's - rather the Wilsons' - way.  In early 2006, she was suddenly diagnosed to be suffering from a rare and serious lung disease.  The through professional that she was, Rojamma realized fully well the gravity of her condition.  She moved from Srinagar to Jammu, to Chandigarh and eventually to Delhi.  The best available medical assistance was provided to her, besides love and affection by her near and dear ones. 

Rojamma endured those trying times, which challenged her physically and emotionally, with poise and dignity.  Cheerful even in those agonizing moments, by her composure, she strived to give strength to David, Samuel and Wilson, who shared their time with her all through. As the end neared, she was at peace with herself, and with her loved ones.

Rojamma walked into the caring hands of the Lord at 3.00 A.M. on 9^th June 2006, grace writ large all over her, accompanied by the tears and prayers of the many whose lives she had touched in her own small, small ways.

Words fail when one tries to describe the brief life and times of Rojamma Wilson: true Christian, loving Mother, caring Wife, efficient Doctor, compassionate Sister, charming Friend, she encompassed many such sterling qualities in her frail frame.  More than anything else, Rojamma was a fine human being, that too a special one.

Rojamma's brief life was one lived in the noblest traditions and ideals of Christianity. To her, belief was an article of faith, and the Bible the Testament. On the night of  8^th June, a few hours before she breathed her last, she requested Wilson to read out Pslam 91: "I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in Him will I trust." (Pslam 91:2)

"We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord." (2 Cor 5:8) "I have fought a good fight. I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me that day.  (II Timothy 4:7-8)

�A memorial service for my friend Dr Rojamma Wilson was held on her first death anniversary on 9^th June in New Dehi. I post this Eulogy as my humble tribute to a good friend and a fine human being

Christmas is here!

It is that time of the year again, when the Yule Tide is here, and the beloved Santa comes calling. It is also an occasion when sweet memories come flooding of Christmas times in God's Own Country!

It is as if the Mother Nature too decided to join the festive season back home. The retreating monsoon has indeed retreated and the greenery is at its finest and verdant best. The sun too smiles benevolently, and there is even a nip in the air.

Exams are over in schools and the kids get ready for the ten-day break and revelry. As Christmas nears, there is celebration and solemnity all around. Christmas stars spring up everywhere, irrespective of religious denominations. The Christmas Tree adorns every house which also sports a twinkling star, dancing sensuously in the gentle breeze.

As the night falls, the Christmas stars get company and the Christmas Carols make their entry. In front walks the guy with a well-lit white box wishing everyone Merry Christmas, marking the arrival of the Carol, followed by the bubbly Santa Claus. The group moves from house to house, singing, dancing, and making merry. What beautiful nights were they!

On Christmas eve, the devout congregate in churches across the State for the midnight mass. As the clock strikes twelve, the church bells peal from everywhere, in solemn remembrance of the birth of the Lord. There is no religion to belief and faith, piety and virtuosity. Everyone joins the community in celebration of Christmas, visiting friends, savouring the Christmas cake, and relishing the red wine.

There is an ethereal beauty to Christmas in Kerala which can only be experienced, not told in words. Visit the State during Christmas, and if possible, visit Kottayam, and Pala, the Vatican of Kerala, and you will know what I mean. After all, Christianity came to Kerala ' and India ' in AD 52 with St. Thomas, one of the Apostles of Christ. Not many countries in the world can claim such antiquity in Christianity!

In fond remembrance of such beautiful times, let us join in the celebrations.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

The Eternal Love of Radha-Krishna

Perhaps no other love story in human or Godly history is as enduring and immortal as that of Radha and Krishna. It is the greatest love story ever told, if I am to use a common ex-pression which would belittle the beauty of that divine relationship. The magic of that eternal love still captures the imagination of poets, artists and storytellers, like no other love story before. Perhaps, that is why it is divine, to experience which is beyond us, lesser mortals 'certainly not in the same dimension, sweep and scope. What makes it all the more captivating, if not haunting, is its timelessness. Centuries have not diminished the ardour of that love; rather, the passage of time has only added to the divine aura of the Radha-Krishna legend.

Simon and Siddhartha: Two Special Individuals

Let me share with you friends the story of two individuals, who are poles apart, in their fields of activity, and who, incidentally, do not know about even the other's existence. Unlike the prefatory note which many authors attach to their works, stating that the characters in their volumes have nothing to do with anyone living or dead ' in fact, making it amply clear that they do, after all! -, my characters are very much living, and at some point of time, I knew them personally. But as a matter of abundant caution, and as a token of respect to their privacy, I have made some requisite changes to their names, professions, locales, etc.

Some years ago, one wintry night, in walked a young man in to the hostel mess while we all were having dinner. What struck everyone about him immediately was that he was wearing just a white dhoti, with a white shawl covering his torso ' no sweater, no jacket, not even a shoe! He was tall, dark and handsome, and sported long hair and a flowing beard. And it was obvious to me that he was a country cousin! Anyway, it turned out that he was a guest of one amongst us, was traveling the North Indian religious circuit and the Himalayas, was into spiritual book publishing, and a good speaker. Let us call him Siddhartha. In the next two days that he was there, I got to interact with him well, and whatever I heard about him, I realized was absolutely true. He was a very good conversationalist, well read, and very widely traveled in the country. Siddhartha had very perceptive ideas on a host of issues, including on issues not spiritual or religious. Even on religious matters, he talked differently, not like the discourses that we often get to hear. He spoke of small, small things that concerned the common man with equal passion, as much as on wider global issues that could endanger peace and progress. What impressed us ' in those impressionable age of ours ' was his transparent sincerity and inherent simplicity. Siddhartha left the campus a few days later, but we kept talking about him for many weeks. And he became a distant memory soon. Years later, I was talking about Siddhartha with one of those friends who was also in the hostel those days. And I came to know through him that Siddhartha had got disillusioned with whatever he was into and had left the religious order with which he was working and had subsequently become a very active grassroots worker of a revolutionary party.

I now come to the second individual: let us call him Simon. I met Simon a couple of years back at a friend's place. Simon was a very well mannered person, a bit reserved though. I was told that he was a senior officer in the paramilitary forces, especially trained in intelligence related matters. We met a few times after that too, and we got talking. I don't know how, what struck me was Simon reminded me of Siddhartha ' the same sincerity, the same sensitivity to fellow beings' travails, the same spiritual ardour, the same commitment to a larger cause ' that of the welfare of the people. Soon, Simon left our circle, on transfer to a challenging call of duty. While he was leaving, he told me of his college days, and towards the end, he talked of his association in those early years with a revolutionary movement, which he had left behind as he got disillusioned with its wayward ways. The mental link which I had made between Siddhartha and Simon clicked somewhere within me.

Of Changing Times, and God
It is said, change is the essence of life.  The evolution of humankind itself is a testimony to this eternal truth.  Years ago, when I came to the Capital from my hometown 3000 kms. away, for my higher studies, I happened to visit a friend's uncle who was a very senior officer in the Foreign Service.  During the conversation, he asked me, `So, how do you feel about being here?"  In all my innocence, I replied, "Oh, it is a big change" which, indeed, it was. And the very widely traveled gentleman said, "See, as long as the change is for good, it is okay, or else, it can be quite disastrous".  And for effect, he added, "It is for you to take the right decision about what course your life should take in these formative years".  I am not too sure whether I fully comprehended the sweep and scope of his advice.  The fact that, years later, I still remember his words (may his soul rest in peace) means they did have an impact on my then impressionable mind.

Speaking of change, every year, when I make my annual visit home, (my mother tells me, "you are a `visiting son', like a Visiting Professor!), I realize how much times have changed ' not just the times, but individuals, everything around you, including yourself. Well, change is the law of nature as well.

The everlasting march of time and change doesn't spare anything or anyone ' not even Gods and Goddess!  And I see this on my ritual visit to the temple near my home.  It is like this ' we have this old, small, beautiful Shiva temple a few minutes' walk from my home.  In fact, I would claim that ours is the nearest home to God!  (nearer to Church, farther from         God - eh?)  Only the Highway separates Him from us!  So, we have a special attachment to, and bond with, Him!  Religious as we all were - and still are, though in a lesser degree and in a less ritualistic manner ' my grandfather donated, among other things, a lamp which is hung right behind the main Shiva idol in the sanctum sanctorum.  Every day, we send a cup full of oil which is poured into this lamp, and a mala (garland) which is placed on Shiva, before the evening puja.  And it was my duty to take this to the temple every evening. 

I still remember those days vividly.  As we enter the temple complex, the first thing to do is to go wash my legs and hands in the pond ' which incidentally used to be swarming with a particular species of harmless fish!  Outside the main complex is a smaller temple which also was abode to a Shivalingam.  On the periphery was the Oottupura, the place where the Sadya is held in case there is a marriage.  But we kids remember the Oottupura more for another reason ' it was he that the Kathakali artistes used to get the make-up done for their annual performance on the Shivaratri!

Inside the temple complex, Lord Shiva reigned supreme, with a small, stone-made Nandi keeping a close watch on all those who entered the premises.  To a side sat Ayyappa and Ganapati in a small enclosure.  The ageing peepal tree provided shelter from the Sun.  The Kalithattlu beside the peepal tree came handy in case of rains ' we could rush in, to avert getting drenched.  The white sand remained white ' there was no littering by any one.  Outside, the paddy fields were a treat to watch ' either a green pasture or a golden hue!  Early mornings, the birds chipped, there was a gentle breeze, the Sun emerging in all its glory on the eastern horizon, and the sanctum opens to the blowing of the Shankh, the sound of the temple bell tolling, the soft lilts of the Thudi.  As the Sun sets, it is time for the evening puja, and dutifully, I am there! All around, peace and tranquility, and Godliness prevailed, I would say.

I recall those days and I can still feel the elevating experience every time I used to be in the temple.  I particularly remember many evenings during the monsoons when I used to be the only one there ' a small, school-going boy, other than the thirumeni (priest) and the person who blows the Shankh during the evening puja.  Often, there will not be electricity, meaning the few electric lights will not be working, which made those evenings more special.  Only a few oil lamps will be lighted, the rain will be falling in sheets all around you, and as the thirumeni opens the sanctum for the last puja of the day, the sound of the Shankh goes up above the thunder, the bells toll (on many occasions, I had to do it), and the Lord gives His darshan to you, His eyes benevolently upon you, on His only devotee who braved the elements to be at His feet!  It is something which can only be experienced, not explained.  And then the priest comes down, he does the puja for Ayyappa and Ganapati, and then comes out in the rain, for the puja in the outer abode.  I return home, mostly dripping wet, but feeling special, as the only one who could be with Him in such inclement weather!

Years later, as I make my visit to the same temple today, I realize how much everything has changed!  The whole complex has now a wall all around ' as if the Lord needed to be protected from trespassers!  The huge temple pond has been cut to size, as it were, with one-third of it filled up.  A string of shops sell cosmetics, condoms, eggs, hairpins, bangles, and may be even the local brew! The splashing of the shoal of fish is missing in the pool.  A devaswom office functions near the Oottupura where a clerk ensures that you can pour oil into the lamp only if you paid a token amount.  Tube lights are put up all around the complex.  Mikes blare out so-called devotional songs to the tune of popular Malayalam or Hindi songs!  The age-old peepal tree has given way to a much younger one.  Brothers Ayyappa and Ganapati have been separated arbitrarily and the former made to sit in a separate enclosure in the complex.  Another space has been carved out for the Yakshi and the Nagas.  A huge bell aloft a tall pillar has come up (my family's contribution to the series of changes) which tolls at the time of the evening puja.  The sound of the Shankh is drowned out in the cacophony of entreaties of the devotees to the Lord.  And you hardly get to see His benign eyes in the throng who crane their neck to beat others to catch His eye!

And more than that, people ' wherever you turn, you find only devotees ' of all ages, sizes, both sexes.  In my childhood days, we used to wear dhotis, the torso bare, as we take off the shirt once inside the complex.  Today, you find Killer jeans and Live-in jeans, Arrow tee shirts and what not!  The shoal of fish is missing in the pond, but the complex is swarming ' with people.  As I walk around lost in thought, in nostalgia, I realize who is missing in the crowd ' He is missing, at least to me!  But then, I console myself ' times have changed, the world has changed, I have changed ' may be, even He has changed, to move with the times!  After all, change is what He Himself has prescribed as the elixir of life.