TN Tour 4: On the road to Tiruvannamalai

Our route to Tiruvannamalai, the first night-halt, was punctuated by stops: Nerur, the samadhi sthala of the great saint Sadasiva Brahmendra; and Salem, where lies the jeeva samadhi of Mayamma, the wonderful avadhuta of Kanyakumari. Both places were magnificent.

Sadasiva Brahmendra finds a place among the six panels leading up to the Dhyanalinga at Isha. We have often heard and read stories of his life, his complete dis-identification with his body, we have heard his songs, typical in their laconic phrasing. His resting place I found restful, more silent than energetic. 

Mayamma’s samadhi – a smallish shrine off the Law College Road in Salem – was a place of loving sweetness with an undercurrent of buzz. Fittingly there were dogs here, Mayamma’s most beloved constant companions.  

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One motif running through the entire trip was the rivers, in particular Cauvery whom we encountered time and again, crossing her course several times. Again, a special interest for us. Cauvery Calling, the massive on-ground movement to revive the river is supporting farmers to make a partial shift to agro-forestry. The mission is to plant 242 crore trees in the river basin, revitalizing the soil, and in turn, the river, which has been seeing dangerously depleted levels. We saw first-hand the truly heartbreaking state of the river and the smaller rivers that drain into it.

Near Karur, we went to the fascinating Agatheeswarar Temple on the banks of River Amaravathi, near the confluence of the rivers Kaveri, Amaravathi and the now-dead Thirumanimuthaar. The location was magnificent, the sunlight was brassy gold, birds chirped and flitted, not with the frenzy of dawn but with all the languor of the midday warmth. We’d gone prepared to take a dip in the water but the riverbed was dry, the water just a silvery trickle in the distance. It wasn’t even summer yet. We could see for ourselves what Sadhguru means when he says our rivers are dying. This is not how it’s supposed to be. A river is a huge presence, a life of its own… we have let things go too far. 

The temple – built by Rajendra Chola I – is in a state of disrepair. The inner shrine (the linga is said to have consecrated by Agastya himself) was barred. We couldn’t go in but we met some officials there, I think they were from the Department of Archeology; restoration, I learned, is on the cards. In the yard, we found a Shivalinga, a samadhi and a pair of hobnailed padukas*, belonging to a yogi who had lived here, and also left at this spot. How wonderful if the temple and the river are restored together! Can you imagine the powerful serenity that could once again emanate from such a combination?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*Edited to add: I unthinkingly called them hobnailed padukas, which doesn't describe them correctly. Hobnails were typically driven under shoes or boots, of course. These are nails or spikes embedded into the wooden base, on which the yogi walks.

Boondon ke baan

Sitting in a house that has been wisely built on a high foundation, on a part of the street where the ground swells rather than troughs, I say it’s been a wonderful monsoon in Telangana. The people down our street would come after me with their hawaii chappals, because they’ve been inundated once too many, but there it is.

(One wall is leaking with the incessant dampness and the newly laid paint is bulging along a crack. I’m suffering too, just saying.)

But *backs away cautiously* yeah, sorry, your troubles are bigger.

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One week we didn’t see the sun at all. But at least there was the reliability factor. It was raining, that was it and we wrung everything out to the max, hung clothes on the indoor clothes-rod and pressed the fans into service.

This week, it’s been hide and seek. A drizzle will come, everyone shouts and warns the neighbours, the whole family rushes out to pull the clothes off the wires (added to which is the complication of clothes pegs). I go for the drier things first, my father aims for the nearest garments. We get in each other’s way, some more shouting ensues. A rueful word and shake of the head to the neighbours who are in a similar flurry. Then soon after we’ve managed to get the hangers and hoist everything up on the perch inside, the sun comes out. C’est la vie.

To honour those grey skies, these benevolent, fierce and moody rain gods, the sudden downpours, the raging gutters, this gorgeous haiku by Susan Constable:

cloudburst
the sound of raindrops
changing size 

 

TN Tour 3: The Auspicious One

The very first temple we halted at was significant to the purpose of our journey. Sadhguru was just setting off on a huge environmental movement, a push to make the whole planet more conscious, more sensitive to all life, all lives. On the Mahashivratri preceding this mammoth journey, Sadhguru had said, “Shiva is Pashupati, the lord of all creatures. Most earthly of all Divine entities and the master of Biodiversity.”

So, in this most auspicious of starts, we halted at the Pashupatiswarar koil in Karur. This is a shrine of great antiquity, one of the famed 275 Paadal Petra Sthalams*. So potent, the poet saints Sundarar and Sambandar are said to have composed thevaram pathigam here. 

 

Here, we bowed to the lord of all creatures. Our human-centric way of dominating the planet is too crude a way to live, the damage we are wreaking on the seas, on the forests, on the grasslands, on the soil is too horrendous. It is very clear we cannot go on this way. 

This temple is also the spot where the great siddha Karuvurar chose to leave. One of the 18 lofty siddhars of Tamil Nadu, this man’s achievements and accomplishments are so many, it is breathtaking. He was the yogi who prompted and guided the building of the stunning ‘periya kovil’ at Thanjavur by Raja Raja Chola I. (But more of that anon.)

Karuvurar’s shrine lies to a side behind the main temple and we sat for a while absorbing what we could. The universe is immense and the vessel we hold is paltry. But dissolution is possible. Peeling off a thin strip at a time will do the trick.

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*The Paadal Petra Sthalams, also known as Thevara Sthalam, are 275 temples that are revered in the verses of Saiva Nayanars in the 6th-9th century CE and are amongst the greatest Shiva temples of the continent.