Birth of a God

I know that three months is too long of a break from anything. You could call it my writers block or bloggers block, if I may. In my defense blogging was not just the only thing that got blocked. I haven’t cycled, jogged, worked out or even gone for a bullet trip in the last 3-4 months. A depressing period my dear reader, but not everything is down. I am sure the blood pressure and glucose levels are pretty high and the numbers on the weighing scale evidently is.  

A lot of things have happened in the last three month that warrants a monologue from my part, including the curious incident of a Swami, a girl and a knife in the nighttime; metro and the art of gatecrashing; of beef, fishes and men; when cricket hurts and heals; the soap opera of middle east and so on. The collective weight of breaking news over the channels threatens the picturetube of my ancient TV set while it gives me ample fodder to ramble in my blog. Among all these events the one I need to talk about today is the birth of a God.

Yes of course, even a God need to be born at some point or the other. It could be in a sheep pen, a palace or a desert based on various canonical evidences yet I choose to believe Sir Terry Pratchett’s theory on the birth of Gods which he explains in his book Small Gods. Let me explain his theory in my words.

"Lo! I am born."

Just like that.

Everything in existence has the potential in them/it to be a god. All you need is someone to believe and worship. The tree in the corner of the field where a kid found his lost toy can give birth to a god if the kid thanks the tree in gratitude. The god grows in strength as the kid’s devotion to the tree increases. One fine day en-route to his school with his three friends the kid stops by the tree and prays for the absence of one particular teacher. For this good cause his friends join and by some miracle  chance luck for the kids and the tree god and ill luck for the teacher, she came down with a stomach bug and had to take the day off. 

An Old tree, just for a feel

Our tree God now has four devotees which soon extrapolated to the entire class, the school, some parents and eventually the village. The small god of the tree is now a major player of the villages’ spiritual club. The tiny wisp that was born out of the kid’s gratitude and active imagination now sports a body that is benevolent to the students, source of wisdom to the teachers, intimidating to the guilty and presiding to the whole village.

A few weeks back someone told me that the Mother & Child statue at SAT hospital in Trivandrum is the new diety on the block. SAT hospital is a premier gynecology, neo-natology, children’s hospital in Kerala under the government where most of us including myself and my son took our first breath and wailed our first cry. My earliest memory of this statue must be when my parents took me or my sister for our vaccination and whenever I see an image of this statue I form a mental picture of beaming mothers and screaming children. But there was no divine intervention or presence back in the day. It was just a work of art like the mermaid at Shankummukam beach or the Celestial nymph (Yakshi) at Malampuzha dam, just rocks and concrete with zero holy flesh.

Mother & Child at SAT Hospital campus, Trivandrum

How did this art work by Mr Aryanad Rajendran who sculptured it to spread the message of mothers love, the need of breast feeding transform itself to a small god? It is a sculpture that shows a mother breast feeding her baby; with her kind face tilted down in peace. She is neither doing the traditional blessing gesture nor she has a halo around her head, neither does the baby have one. There are no temples, churches or mosques in the immediate vicinity to impart some divinity, yet she is now a minor god. How did it happen?

Mary at JannaDeep Vidhyapeed, Pune

From the evangelical perspective, image of a mother cradling a newborn baby had been a symbol that launched crusades and build monuments. Billions around the world pray to this image every day or at least every week. Yes the attires do not match with the traditional ones but remember we do have saree clad Mary with baby Jesus all over the coastal belt in south India. It was a simple adaptation by our missionary friends to find easy acceptance among the native population. Maybe our Mother & Baby at SAT stroked a chord with a desperate but devote Christian family who had their young daughter in a difficult labor. They offered few candles and some silent prayers while the doctors and staff at the hospital successfully delivered the child saving the girls life. Sweets were soon distributed to the staff; thanks and the breath of life to the cement statue. A holy gossip at the next prayer meeting increased the reach of the new god, her devotes grew in number as more and more candles lighted on her altar and more and more babies were born happy and healthy.

Krishna & Yeshoda

Hinduism always believed in divinity of mothers & motherhood and we often address our Lady Gods as Amma (mother). It would be much easier for a rural father to find solace in a familiar image in a strange city so close to the hospital. He is scared for the safety of his child and grandchild and wants to stay near the hospital yet he wants to run to the nearby temple to offer his prayer and seek blessings on their behalf. In this very predicament, he finds a larger than life sculpture that reflects what he wishes for his daughter. Devotion fills his heart, offerings stars raining. The doctors perform their regular miracle in the labor room, the child gasps for his first breath and the god rises in the mind of yet another family.

I am unable and unwilling to explain this divino-genesis from the other religions perspective as my knowledge about them is insufficient and I dont want to risk it.

Yakshi watching over Malalpuzha dam in Palakkad

This country is peppered with millions of gods small and great, native and foreign and a new one to the club do not really matter in both human and spectral world. But it does matter for a desperate family as that sculpture provided solace for them in the time of great peril and what harm can it do? After all the patient life is in the hands of the good doctors let the bystanders peace be in the hands of a small god.

Mermaid sculpture at Shankumukham beach

Maybe one day fisherfolk will offer the mermaid statue prayers for safety at sea and the Yakshi at Malampuzha becomes the patron goddess of dams, but until that day, Mother & Child is our new god.

Kannaki - Wife, Fury & Goddess, Story of Attukalamma.

In a land of myths and legends, the story of Kannki and her Silappatikaram is not just a celebrated story but the tale that gave birth to a Goddess who undoubtedly commands the devotion of more women than any other spiritual being.  

The story begins with the lady Kannaki and her husband Kovalan, merchants by profession having a bit of marital rift as Kovalan was enamored by Madhavi, a dancer. Kovalan ruined himself financially over the dancer and penniless he returned to Kannaki, who received him without any issues. The duo decided to relocate for a fresh  start and went to  the city of Madhuri ruled by the Pandyan king Nedunjelian I.

 Kannaki gave one half of her last precious possession, an anklet to Kovalan to sell so that he can have some capital to start a business. Unfortunately at the same time someone stole an anklet belonging to the queen of the city and a search for the thief was undertaken.  At the market a search party came upon Kovalan who was in the process of bargaining a fair price for his wife's anklet. The grunts overzealous and hopeful for some reward seized Kovalan, confiscated the anklet and dragged him to the court. The king who must have been pestered to hell by the queen in poor judgement commanded to relieve Kovalan off his head. 

Kannaki & Silapathikaram from Tamil literature

The news of Kovalans arrest reached Kannagi and she ran into the court with her other half of the anklet and screamed her cause at the king. This anklet was decorated with rubies while the queens missing ones were of pearls. The king knew that he screwed up and had fatal cardiac event and in the caos that followed some one (possibly Kannaki) knocked over lamps over the drapes and a blaze engulfed the palace. Kannaki in an act of valor and savageness tore off and threw her breast at the city cursing it to burn for the injustice it had done to her husband. The fire gutted a huge portion of the city with the palace and the barraks in ashes. There was huge loss of life and property and finally the patron Goddess of the city Meenakshi requested Kannaki to withdraw her curse. Anger abated at the suffering she caused, she withdrew her curse and that act gifted her salvation and a stature of Goddess. 

She left the smoking city and traveled towards Kerala taking the form of a small girl. At a place called Attukal in Trivandrum she requested an elderly man to help her cross the river Killi and later that night she appeared in his dream to build her a shrine at the nearby sacred grove, which with reverence he did. Kannaki traveled northwards and finally settled at the village of Kodungallor. The shrine the old man build at Attukal grew over the years to what is now the temple of Attukalamma and the shrine build to her at Kodungallor grew to become Kodungallor Devi temple. The legend says that Kannaki comes to Atuukal once every year on the day the Pongala festival to bless her devotes gathered there.

Kannaki is regarded as the Goddess of prosperity, wealth and feminine power and worshiped by millions of devotes with much reverence.  The Pongala festival celebrated with women building a hearth in which they prepare the payasam (a boiled mix of rice, jaggery, ghee, grated coconut and spices) near the temple, at their house or sometimes the closest they could reach the city of Trivandrum. 

Bird's eye view of the Temple and devotees at Pongala

To understand the implication of this statement you must know that the city of Trivandrum have a population of ten million and in 2016, it was estimated that 4.5 million lady devotees build up hearth at temple premise, on the roads of the city and all available spaces to offer the Pongala to their Goddess. The entire of the city turns into a hallowed ground complete with prayers, offerings and the presence of mystic energies can be felt surging through. The entire population of the city is immersed in the ritual with volunteers providing food, water, refreshments and medical aid. The city officials forget their lethargy and work round the clock to ensure smooth and safe conduct of the festival. 

The true devotees of Goddess

Once the rituals are finished and river of devotees flows out of the city, what remains is the heaps of trash they leave behind which includes bricks, ash, tinder, flowers, disposable plates and glasses etc. The true wonder of the day begins with the emergence of blue clad corporation clean up crew. I often think that their devotion to restore the city to the level of neatness that was before the ritual eclipse that shown by the devotees themselves. Within a couple of hours, you will find no trace of four million hearth, their owners or the trash they generated.

 Cleanliness is not next to Godliness; it is Godliness.

Rush after Pongala

For the people of Trivandrum, Attukal Pongala is not just a yearly celebration of a temple or an occasion to project their city and show their devotion but something much more. As world today is repulsed with violence against women; some speak for her protection while some for her empowerment, but in this city resides a lady who burned down a king, his entourage and his palace for the injustice they did to her.

Here we celebrate the unique feminine strength, capable of consuming a city and also willing to forgive it, here we celebrate the most empowered woman who walked this earth.

Conquering Agasthyamala

It all begins with a dream. A dream to achieve something, a dream that shows you achieved something, a dream that keeps your passion burning to achieve something.

Five peaked mountain next to Agasthya (pic from net)

My tryst with the mighty Agasthyakoodam standing 6,129 feet began many years ago when I spotted the range of mountains that I knew to be the Western Ghats from my old school. On a clear morning, you could make out the outline of a picture perfect mountain flanked by his lesser siblings. The second highest peak in Kerala and home to the great saint Agasthya of the Sapthrishi who as instructed by Lord Shiva came down from the Himalayas to bring balance to the world. Renounced as the patron of medicine and healing, his blessings have enriched the pristine valley of this mountain with over 2000 herbs of immense medical value including the near mythical ‘arogyapacha’(Trichopus zeylanicus), the elixir of youth.  

Random pic from net to look cool

Seeing more than enough of NatGeo and Discovery in my childhood and being an ardent worshiper of things adventurous, I wanted to scale that peak since the day I left the couch. My buddies Sujith and Govind was in with me for the adventure while Mr Sinham Vijayaraj brought in his entire clan of a dozen men for the trek. I assured Govind that I will secure the online passes for the three of us and I screwed it up. Finally Simham & co got the passes for 23rd, myself for 24th while Govind managed to get one for him and Sujit on 25^th. My initial idea was to join the others by booking for another day but then my dear wife asked me not to be a cat (an unruly synonym was used there).

On a misty morning at 7.15AM, I rode into Bonacaud forest picket worried that I am late for the reporting time and ran to the desk. I completely overestimated the ability of government servants and waited till 8.30 for the morons to show up. Meanwhile I had a breakfast of cold porotta and packed our lunch which weighed a ton (big mistake).

Once His Highness the moronities of Forestry showed up they began the exercise of checking  the ID cards, our paperwork and finally our bags for things they like for banned and illegal things. In my bag they discovered a Swiss knife that had a blade just long enough to scrape off the dirt under your nails as a dangerous weapon and confiscated it with the promise to return it after the trek. Maybe my looks reminded them of Riddick !

This dude trekked all the 60KM barefoot and he
meditated like a log for almost an hour  

By 9.15 we as a batch of twenty guys lead by a guide Mr Thrupati left off the camp toward Athirumala base camp some 18km away. I befriended Mr Rajesh Ganesh, the hermit like publisher, Mr Manika Vasnanan, a veteran of the Himalayas, both from Chennai and Mr Chilapathy Kumar a startup business man from Andra. 

We quickly reached the first and second camps and at Karamanayar decided to halt for a dip. This is not the Karamanayar you know but the real deal. I being a bit scared of water decided to stay on shore while the rest had a blast in water; hours crept by and finally we had lunch at the bank of the river itself. By now the Sun was all guns blazing over our heads and I could feel it hammering down on me. 

The Grasslands and the death of my Bata sandal

The expansive grasslands was his playground where we had no shade to hide and no shadow to run, just walked and got roasted. The one recess that nature provides us is at the middle of the grassland a patch of forest like an oasis and the one recess the men provide us is a thatched shed atop a hill just before the plains ends and the true hills begins. My LifeStraw was indeed a life saver for me as it unburdened the need to carry water that weighs a kilo every liter and keeps increasing on every step I take. With the LifeStraw all I have to do is find a puddle of water, collect it and sip through the straw and it gives you water 99.9% pured of bacteria and protozoa (hope so).

Athirumala Basecamp

A series of tough technical climbs followed and Mr ManikaVasnan developed a snag in his knee and we slowed down to a crawl and by half past three we lumbered into the welcome sight of Athirumala camp. We settled into the allotted shed with our humble grass mat and ran out for the first proper view of the mountain peak. It looks monstrous with the cliff side facing us. A behemoth that had stood the elements for millions of years and would do so long after our ashes are scattered across by the wind. More than awe or terror, I felt a humility creep over me as I though how insignificant I am in the greater scheme of things.

‘Dude, how is it possible to climb this?’

I turned around to meet the Banglore trio of Ashtosh, Jeeva and Amithab who will soon be my team to scale the peak.

‘Right now there is someone at Everest basecamp staring at the Sagarmatha wondering the same thing’ I smiled.

Right then we decided to join forces for the rest of the expedition. Dead tired I went and had a nap till someone shaked me off my mat screaming the dinner is about to be over and I hurried to find my team mates. Mr Rajesh was on a veranda giving a small sermon to a cluster of  guys and I stopped listen. He talked in a calm, composed and self-assuring way in deep voice that resonated many things that I have read. But hearing them someone say  aloud filled me with a sense of tranquil that one seeks below banyan trees. A few minutes later, we had a dinner of rice porridge, payar, lemon pickle and went off to sleep.

Sometime in the night I was waked by an extreme chill that crept up my spine. I still don’t know if it was the cold night, the howling winds or was that the desolate soul of the place that woke me up in that ungodly hour. I twisted and turned for may hours listening to the torrent and the hurricane raging outside and sometime in between I drifted off to sleep.

Hike to the Summit

The plan for the next morning was to join the young guns from Banglore to ascent the peak as early as possible but the call of nature and the fact that only two working toilets were available spoiled my plan. The Banglore trio left by 7 am and myself scrambled off behind them by 7.30. In the walk – jog – run, I saw plants thrashed by boar/elephants, claw marks on the trees by bear/leopard/tiger ! and even the sight of a tree denuded of its bark presumably by a pachyderm. I crossed may streams and my biggest fear was that I might step on a hamadryad and that would be the end of my adventure. Finally an hour and half later, I reached a plateau called Pongalapara where the trio were taking a break. I had a quick bite of my breaklfast and stashed the rest for later and followed the guys up the peak.

The true technical ascent (for my standard) begins from here. We crossed couple rapids, went through the famed AC forest, named so due to its bone chilling temperature, Muttidichinala, the ruiner of your knees and finally the ropes. To our dismay, we found one of the ropes broken and had to spent quiet a while to figure out a way to climb up the rock. It was here my team mates learned that woodlands just make you look cool but are absolute trash on the rocks. They slipped, fell, bruised their knees and ditched off the shoes and from on then went barefoot. My trusty kalenji ekiden50, the 500RS running shoe held well even though I managed to find myself on my butt on couple occasions. Three ropes and lots of peeled palms later we struggled on to the summit of the roof of Trivandrum.

The first thing you notice is the wind that attempts to plunge you down the 2000 meter abyss, then there is the trees, all stunted to give appearance of a well manicured natural bonsai garden. And in the middle of all this, an ancient idol of the great saint Agasthya stood. Couple tribals offered prayers on our behalf and gifted us the sacred ashes while myself the self proclaimed atheist stood with folded hands and bowed head at the source of wisdom that dwarfs all that I have learned.

One great disappointment that I had was the five peak mountain next to Agasthyamala was completely shrouded in mist and could not be seen and I asked the tribal helper there if there is a chance that the weather may clear. I told him that it was something I wanted to see most desperately in this trip. He smiled and replied,

‘Then this mist will not clear today, Swami wants you to come again next year, he is still not done with you and when he is, your wish will be granted’

The Peak, its view and the bros back at the basecamp

The return journey was a much different story, we rushed back to the base camp in around half time it took to climb, packed our bags and grabbed the pass while running out of the camp by 2.45pm. Govind and Sujit had now reached the camp and greeted me. I followed the Banglorians as fast as I could but chasing guys a decade younger than you is not that easy. Couple hours later my left knee started paining like hell and my speed was dropping at an alarming rate. By then a tribal employee of the forestry joined me and urged me on, as he was on sweep duty on that day. His job is to get the last of the trekkers out of the forest before dark. I raced ahead and caught up with my team and we soon overtook two other crew trying to race against the approaching shadows. By around 6.30pm the sun dipped and then I understood what primeval fear is. Pitch dark with a plethora of noises and scents around us that puts a Hollywood horror to shame. We huddled together and moved as fast as possible and by 7pm, I could make out the distant lights of the Bonacaud camp. I climbed up the last ditches, hugged one of the Banglorians and sank to the floor. Its been two days, 60KM and in that 30KM nonstop hike including the brutal 8KM ascent to summit. 

‘Bro this is the life!’

Sri Rajesh Ganesh, one of the most illuminated men I have ever met

psss: remember the Swiss knife the forest guard took for safe keeping? Well the fucking moron stole it. I don’t know his name but he looks a bit dark, thick mustache, thick build and ~170cm high. If you see him on your trip to Agasthya remember he is a thief and don’t let him near your stuff.

pssss + : Planning to trek to Agathyamala? travel light, carry a potable water filter, one pair of dress is fine, a change of underwear preferable, blanket, painkillers, ORS, lightweight rubber shoes or sandals with ankle support. most importantly a couple of guys who is more sensible and stronger than you.