Swamiye Saranam - 1

 

It was day one of the Karthikai month for which lakhs of mad devotees like me waiting to wear the sacred Mudra Thulasi Mala and start their Austerity for the next forty plus days before starting their pilgrimage to Sabari Malai. This madness started last year when I strode up and down of the hills with multiple cuts in under my foot and somehow with last 1% of energy I reached the feet of Sastha Sri Ayyappan.  I was supposed to wake up before sunrise so I have set my alarm to 5am, 5.15am, 5.30am and for the worst case 6.30am too; my usual alarm series for office.  The alarm number-1 sounded in the morning and when I woke up to snooze and go back to sleep my mobile surprised me to show the time as 4.59am and it is still 1min for the alarm to ring. The internal alarm rang to put me in perplexation so I don’t go back to sleep!  I put off alarm series and work up from my comfortable bed which I am not going to use it for the next month and half.

I switched on my geezer absent mindedly forgetting that I have to bath in cold water.  I switched off the geezer and opened the tap it was super cool and the first mug of cold water took my breath off for a second until my body realized what was happening!  It took seconds to adopt to the chillness but my body started relishing the cool water.  Everything was set to start the 48 days of austerity, lamps were lit, sacred Thulasi Mala was around my neck, walked with bare foot to the Ayyappan shrine near by to take the blessing of the Guru and Guru of all the Gurus!

The temple is full of devotees bowing down before their gurus to wear the sacred Mala and the shrine looked like place of celebration of spirituality, no, it is more than spirituality – a compassion towards self, an obsession to take that not-so-easy pilgrimage, a passion to fall under the radar of divinity and above all the love towards the Lord Ayyappan who was sitting in meditation with his aura spread all over the eighteen hills around him.

Back home, the day was entirely different from usual days.  I promised my self not to read anything other than spiritual books not to watch or listen to distracting dramas.  The day was peaceful but with the time the drowsiness over took and I felt like lying down, sleeping; 5am was always midnight for me.  It took a cup of strong tea to pull me out of the drowsiness but I don’t know if I have dozed off for 5 to 10 mins somewhere in middle.  It is one of the dogmas not to sleep during the day time in these 48 days.

They climate was crazy to pour heavily for 30 mins and scorch for next few hours and become cloudy and dark within minutes.  I had to take bath in the evening again, take blessings from my Ayyappan in and walk to the temple again. 

I reached the temple where everything was set for group prayer not sure a congregation prayer would be the right word.  This prayer will be full of songs louder enough to reach the Sabari mala – the abode of Ayyappa – from here.  When you shout, sing loudly no thoughts will cross you mind and the lord himself walks into your heart and elate you with divine trance.  When the sound hit the sky, from the crowd, a one-year-old baby got up and walked to the lamp placed before the idol.  His mother came running to pick him up but one of the devotees told her not to stop him and he will be taken care so she went back to the crowd and sat among others. To everyone’s surprise the kid came stood before the guy who was singing to his highest voice and sat on his lap.  The entire room was vibrating with ‘Swamiye Saranam Ayyappa’ and the kid looked very serene as if very accustomed with prayer sound and people. 

At the end of the prayer when everyone has to bow down before Ayyappan the kid was standing before me and for every ‘Saranam Ayyappa’ chant we bowed down to his feet and the kid stood like Ayyappan and smiled at us.  Divine presence!

       
I had had to wipe my tears before writing this; I don’t know if it is happy tears but I know it is something above happiness.  I don’t know what is it because I’m a half-baked dough in spirituality.  I’m one amongst the humans that searching for miracles to believe God and missing the miracles happening every second around us!  After all these years of searching for miracles to believe the existence of the power up above us, just one question stroke me lately – why should the supreme energy prove its existence to you?

                                                                                                                                        -SK

Kali - The Love and Aggression!

The wait was quite interesting.  The Sun was scorching unusually in the end of September and my back and the bottom was hurt by the long non-stop drive to Chidambaram.  My mother and I were sitting in a dilemma to move on or to wait for the temple to open.  Half the mind said go on there is another couple of hours of drive to make but the other half said… quite nothing but to wait.  I know that it is not just the mind that is asking to wait but the urge to see the energy that was knocking the doors of our heart sitting inside the closed temple.  The urge to experience the call was high and the calling from inside was very high.  So we decided to sit and wait for the doors to open.  The time was only 3.30 afternoon and the temple is set to open only an hour after.

 

Thillai Kali – the name of the Goddesses or in an understandable name the pure cosmic energy from where everything was created.  I remember people calling her the queen of all dark matters and few explained her as the black hole.  Few explained that Kali is the energy that holds the universe or from where all the unfathomable energy came from.  You can keep relating her to the big bang, the darkness of the universe, the emptiness of the space, the relentless nothingness from where everything came from.  You can say anything until you experience the energy!!!

 

The Sun heated up the body and mind but reminded us to stay put patiently for the energy inside the temple wants to see you!  And then it was ten minutes before the close stuck 4.30 pm the doors were opened and we went inside and there was another big door the main door of the shrine where the idol of the Goddess is placed was kept closed. The bell rang and my mother told me not to stand directly before the idol when the doors are opened for the energy is high.  I quite didn’t understand what it is so I decided to do the very thing she said not to do.  If it the energy is going to kill me let it be!

 

The doors opened and there was she was sitting motherly, gracefully, facing east, colourfully decorated with flowers and ornaments.  Nothing happened. 

 

And then someone said everybody to move on to the Kali.  O! This is a different form of Kali I am seeing and to see her as Kali we need to go further!!!  We walked to left side of the temple and turned towards east again to see her in white saree and decorated only with Vermillion – The Kumkum.  My heart rate increased and my legs went week.  I could not close my eyes not could take my eyes of the idol of her.  The something nameless pulled and pushed my body at the same time.  There was a certain vibration at the back of the head and it was painful. My guts become loose, shoulders tightened; muscles went stiff and could hear my own heart beats. 

 

The experience was very strange for never before have I experience such a powerful energy.  Most of us are all only half theist and the other half always questioned the power that is above us because most of the stories were recited again and again depicting the God in the form of human and not in the form of energy.

 

Mother Kali was full of red on her white attire leaving her eyes alone.  The statue brought it a pure fear in my heart, the reason was perplexing, I was in at the border of fainting for my back of my head was hurting and felt like a ton of weight was placed over my head, may be it was the first time I was experiencing such pure energy.  As and when we progressed towards her, the fear diminished but the weight over my head increased becoming unbearable and at the same time doesn’t want to walk out from her.  Strange energy!

 

The palpitation become quiet the mind was at tranquil the weight was still a weight but didn’t hurt anymore – I was standing closer to Kali.  The rage in her weapons she carried and the blood read vermillion, her bigger open eyes, the aggressive energy all were still there but… but something else too was there, looking at her closely at her eyes there was the most gracious, lovable, motherly, beautifully womanly source was revealed; the source of all energies, the most aggressive and most dormant, the most rigorous and mother all at the same time. It was wonderful, unfathomable and exuberant power that takes only pure love and surrender to understand.  Until you ask more question of its existence, until you stay in perplexity the power or the energy of Kali – The Everything – is unattainable and difficult to understand. 

Wild Beats

Courtesy : sykescottages.co.uk

At the mountain top the twilight was fading and the west is eating the sun. There were a group of people in the open space with the bonfire starting in the middle.  The cool air was freezing their blood which pushed them to the pyre that was burning the green of the earth under.  The burning logs were trying to keep the engulfing darkness at a distance with its yellow gate of heat and effulgence.

The music, I presume, was tribal chilling the nerves spreading fear of the night from our ancestors and the nectar of erotica in the muscles from the human-animal instincts.  The drums were putting the minds around the fire in trance like a drug dissolving in blood. Expert’s hands knocking the door of pleasure against the skin of the dead animals with the sticks of the old soul woods.

 

Guitar along with the beats of tribal drums and human heart beats was striking the right chords of hearts preparing all mortals to become immune to death!  There were eyes closed, eyes with tears, eyes fixed at the eternity of night.  The music was wild and mystic just like any human hearts. The beats vibrated in every cell of the flesh. Some weird awkward emotions like euphoria, nostalgia, lust, melancholy, and vigil mixed together and made the moment a Moment.

 

The scene was picturesque; crescent moon shined and stars here and there twinkled.  Yellow of the fire and the black of the night mixed to add color to the picturesque.  There were entwined hands, locked up eyes, heavy hearts, beautiful souls, waging tails, unbridled love and unconditional affection.  It was all a panorama of life on this planet.   

I was painting this moment with words from a distance. My name is Time.

I called Her A Dream!!!

I called her a dream, the one that woke me up in the weird time of the night, the one that sat in the middle of a crescent moon and waved her hands, the one who walked over the moonglade to the shore like a meteor of bunch of rose petals. I called her a dream, the moment she stood close leaving a kissing distance with cosy shy and warm femininity. The fragrance, of artificial mixture of chemicals along with the pheromone of hormones that puts any intelligent brain in trance, that she carried made me call her a dream.

The fire was burning and the heat scorching, the fire that couldn’t be touched though the wave of flame pulls you to embrace but I know the fire cannot be cuddled until the fire wants to engulf you and make you a celestial being, I called her a dream. Just for a fraction of a second the wave caressed and to put the dead cold water in me to boil. The touch was soft, short living, and fervour, intense, lightening, nerve-rejuvenating and reminiscing. It was a confabulation of souls that were dying to live together.

She stopped my saccades with her eyes when she realized that she has put a ball of fire inside an ocean of ice. The ball heated up the liquid and made a hole in the frozen sea. I wanted her to put her forehead on my chest kiss and turn her ear to my heart and hold my heart with her hands from jumping out from the rib cage. She stood looking deep into my pupils making it dilate with the fumes of urge to hold her by her torso and to make her eyes close over my lips and fly high in with the joy induced drug forgetting the mortals around.

It was a rain over a draught hit land, lighting over a dry tree the rendezvous could be rejected not and can swim not in the flash flood; I went down on my knee to ask for her hands, to ask permission to read between the lines of her lips. She didn’t give her hand instead placed her palm over my head, caressed my hair and said – " I’m here, dear weeping heart, I’m here. O old soul I know you but long forgotten. You are only a precipitation of memory in my heart, to reckon about how we were related was a tough task. Dear love, I’m here but remember I’m only a dream, wake up"

She called herself a dream. I called her a dream.

Ishtar

courtesy quotev.com

There was a regular rhythm like the key notes of piano and there by she walked with her shy but smiling anklets.  It was semi walk and semi levitation by a semi human and a demi-goddess.  The Sun light turned blue and the temperature dropped.  It was hallucinatory for snow flakes sparkled around neither falling nor flying but sparkled all in blue and white.  She doesn’t know that walking over the earth wont hurt the surface; she stood near by coming down from levitation.  The breeze blew her hair uncovering her ears where she wore a shining star from a distant universe.  And the entire shine of the star succumbed in her ear lobes asking no questions going against the dogmas of the nature.

 

She picked a bunch of dark light rays with her fingers and swiped it back of her right ear with a divine femininity in act.  She stood looking at the earth and waves in her bosom froze the sea.

 

The wait was over and it was time for her to move and I stood watching in trance.  Anklets sounded a sweet lullaby but I was watching her swaying hip that was making the air to sleep.  I wished to call her but not with her name for it got stuck in my throat.  How can I call something I could worship by her name? 

 

Fewer steps and the air woke up again for she stopped swaying the cradle.  I was back to reality from the trance for she turned once and looked at my eyes. Those were the eyes of Ishtar an old soul, a deity of love. It was a call, to follow her to become one with the universal feminine force. And I realized I am just a human with no super powers with all dirt of past life and fading soul. 

 

I let the deity go convincing my self as everything is just mere delusion!!  I let her go!

Yesterday is but today's memory!

courtesy : www.shutterstock.com

Why am I writing not!  Thousands were the content in mind, hundreds were the story in brain, of course few emotions in tens and twenties in my heart.  I still don't write.  Writers block! No; the writer in itself was blocked.  Pain in my hands as a collateral of being an over worked owl and palpitation in chest as the result of a broken marriage. Thank god it was broken but the resultant pain the process and the society had brought in was like a needle prick in the beating heart. Slow and steady the needle goes in so the heart throbs. Words pour from somewhere in the air just like the breathing, unbridled and subconsciously but throbbing evaporates the pour and the sourness ties the hands from writing.

 

Now that I fear not about the pain and sourness and decided to eschew the blocks it has built, the words flow from the same unknown source, the sun, the moon, the sea, the sea shore, the river, the trees, the chirpings, the eminence godliness and thousand more. 

 

The heart still beats faster knocking the doors of my chest to open but it was a cage of which the keys I could find not. The fragrance of the skin I know before decades is not leaving my olfactory.  And the face that owned that fragrance, the face that I held in my palms, touched with my fingers and kissed with my eyes is leaving me not.  The good thing about it is that it is the pill for my palpitation.  I have tasted real love once in my life and realized that never again, ever again will that same fragrance will come crossing my nostrils.

 

The story was a not a simple one liner when I thought it was over decades back. It still continues without the protagonists because the story is the protagonists and the characters are dead long ago.  It is still a book that I still write; I neither know the ending nor the number of pages it will take to complete.  It is just a story like any other but a story by itself, writes by itself; mine are only the hands that just types. 

 “Yesterday is but today's memory, and tomorrow is today's dream” – Khalil  Gibran

SK

A Devil’s Rendezvous

Pic Courtesy : unsplash.com/@johnwolf3

…and then she claimed into the moving metal bogie, in a

flamboyant attire, with no make over, with no polished nails.

Her eyes were sharp like a guillotine, every time she closes and

every time she opens it shines as if it was sharpened.

 

Like a slash of a great warrior, her torso was a clean cut

designed with divine’s own precision toolkit.

Her bosom complimented the waves of the oceans and

every wave threw a spear in the air puncturing my hormonal sack.

 

I could metaphor her hair with the moonglade on the ocean, it was

not black nor blonde, it was plaited and glittering.

My olfactory picked no fragrance, no scent: natural or artificial,

other than the extreme cologne of femininity!

 

I have read about Ishtar, a delicate beauty, but

this woman was far delicate than Ishtar, a hawk’s feather.

When with no special power we want to look beautiful and

Why not a devil with all super power wants to look ugly!

-S.K