Ready or Not ready??

I see a lot of anger and frustration on social media regarding the age old of custom of Sabarimala forbidding women in the age group of ten to fifty from entering the mountain shrine.

"Kaattilundu vanyamrugangal, Kaattanakal kaduva pulikal..
Koottamodu varunna neram, kootinaarundu ayyappa
Koode varoo ayyappa, njangalude koodevaroo ayyappaa.."
( An old devotional song, an invocation to the deity asking to protect the pilgrims from the wild animals on the trek.)

In my childhood, I lived next to an old temple, where they used to play devotional songs in the evening. It never used to be loud and glaring like in the temple festivals nowadays where they play film songs with a vengeance. In the evening twilight the melodious voice of Yesudas was always soothing and comforting. I have learnt by heart many old Ayyappa devotional songs as they used to be played regularly during the 41 day fast during Mandalakalam.

I have heard from my grandmother that in olden days, men had to walk many days through thick jungle before they reached Sabarimala. It used to take ten to fifteen days. Those days the forests were infested with many wild animals like Elephants Leopards and Tigers. Remember, according to the legend, this is the forest where Ayyappa went searching for Tigress’s milk. There was a sturdy, long bamboo stick in our house which was used to beat frogs and other nocturnal creatures that ventured into the house. It belonged to my great grandfather who used to carry it on his annual pilgrimage to Sabarimala. A stick in hand was handy to ward off wild animals.

Another unique practice of the devotees who climb the hills to Sabarimala is the Saranam vili. As they move in a group, one person would chant Ayyappa mantras loudly and the rest of the members would reiterate. Again, it is another attempt to get rid of fear and keep wild beasts away.

All women are not barred from going to the shrine. The women in the age group of ten to fifty; women who menstruate are forbidden to undertake the pilgrimage to Sabarimala. No other Ayyappa temple forbids the entry of women. A logical explanation can be found in the fact that the smell of blood can attract wild beasts. In a journey of ten to fifteen days or even more, a woman would know better that even with utmost strategy and planning, it is difficult to be sure of one’s oncoming menstrual cycle. So, our forefathers, with extreme care and consideration for the safety and protection of their women folk must have brought forth this ban. Of course, this is irrelevant now because the trek has become shorter and the forest has dwindled. It is not the devotees but the wild animals who are scared now and so an archaic practice is being questioned.

Customs and traditions were formulated by our ancestors keeping in mind the need of the day. We have been blindly following them. Over a period of time they become out dated and detrimental. Changes do not happen without resistance and so the commotion.

Sri Ayyappa is believed to be celibate. According to the story, he was the adopted son of the Pandala King. He went into the forest to get Tigress’s milk to cure his foster mother’s head ache. The queen who wanted her biological son to be the heir to the throne cleverly sent Ayyappa to the forest thinking that the beasts would kill him. But Ayyappa returned on a Tigress’s back. When he learned the truth about his mother’s feigned head ache, he readily renounced his heirship in favour of his brother and became a recluse in the forest. Isn’t it care, love and respect for his mother, who is also a woman, that made him go fearlessly into the Tiger’s abode? He gave up his rights to see her happy. That makes him someone who holds women in great veneration. He is not a god to be dragged into a controversy about repressing the rights of women.

Pavam Ayyappa Swami. He must be feeling sad watching all this from the top of the hill...

As I walked barefoot on the hills...my feet ached, I fell down and hurt my knees, my dad who held my hand whispered to me, “Makkalee Ayyappa saamiii rakshikkane ennu manasil vilicho...onnum pattoolla.”(Pray to Ayyappa swami in your mind. He will keep you safe.)

Velichapad

Why should one have passions?
Is it to live a happy life or to escape from life?
Either way it does seem enticing.
Does every human being have a passion in life?

Many of us are taught from childhood that we should aspire to get a job that would give us livelihood and then work till we retire. Most of us take our talents and abilities undisclosed to our grave.

Blessed are those who get to live life as it comes, one day at a time spending every moment the way they wish to be! Some are born to be so.

In the small village where I was born and brought up, there were many such souls. Krishnarpanam was one of them. I do not know why he was called Krishnarpanam. It must have been Krishna + Arpanam (offering) or Krishna+Panam(money). He was the Velichapad (oracle) of the local temple. For every festive occasion, he would be there in front of the procession, dressed in red silk tied over the white dhoti, saffron on his forehead, dancing in frenzy with the deity’s sword in hand. He made a formidable sight with his pan stained teeth, long hair that reached his shoulder and his round bulging eyes.

This was only during the festivals and for other important days in the temple. Rest of the year he was just Krishnarpanam, a tall thin and fair man in his sixties, who walked the street in a white shirt and dhoti, stubble face and well oiled hair combed backwards. He was a chronic bachelor who roamed about during the day and spent his nights on the veranda of his sister’s hut.

You will now have in your mind, the image of a poor pious old man, who lived a frugal life. Wait a minute; he was a Velichapad alright, pious he must have been, and a frugal life he lived indeed but I know him in my childhood from his association with my father. I would find him standing at our gate when I run to see who was banging the Iron Gate. The Velichapad would be standing there with a broad smile and  make believe veneration.

“Saar ille..” (Isn’t sir home?) I run back to tell my father that Velichapad was standing at the gate.  My father who would have been cutting his moustache or reading the newspaper will twist his face, look at me and say, “Ask him to get lost!”  I would stand quietly for a minute looking at my father in expectation that he would get up and go to the gate. My father would twist his face in anger again, give the stretched out newspaper in his hand a shake and say, “Huh!”

I do not know of whom I used to get scared at that particular moment. Was it the Velichapad who was standing outside with his scary face or my father who sat there with his eyes glued on to the paper? I would quietly tiptoe to the window of the front room and look from behind the curtains. The Velichapad would be standing there like a statue in anticipation. I would sneak back to my dad again and stand in front of him quietly till he looks up.

“Hmm?” he would ask when he sees me again.

“Velichapad standing...”I would stammer.

“Huh Huh stupid!” he would rustle the newspapers and scorn.

“Go and take a two rupee note from my pocket and give it to that fellow!”
I would jump and open his cupboard, climb on to the rack and put my hand in the pocket of his last worn white shirt, find a two rupee note and run back to the gate. The Velichapad would be waiting patiently. He will quickly pocket the currency note, turn and with lightning speed go down the lane that led to Pana.

Pana those days was the land of the Bashkirs to me. The coconut climbers and their families lived in the small thatched huts there. Green meadows, streams, ponds and coconut trees gave it a delightful charm. There were two ladies there; Naani and Chellamma. They were business rivals who sold toddy and arrack at their houses. The coconut climbers heading back from climbing trees all day would head to either of their houses to cool their heels and heads before they went to their own wives. So every married woman in Pana cursed Naani and Chellamma for the downfall of their husbands. Our house help was one of them and I would occasionally hear her speak of these two fallen angels of Pana who corrupted the men there. I never had the luck to see Naani or Chellamma. I imagined Naani to be a coy temptress as the name suggested and Chellamma a more mature and brisk business woman. There used to be a lot of drunken brawls at their place. The two women were adept at handling them all.

I don’t think Velichapad had any business to do with the coconut climbers. He owned no land and no coconut trees so where in Pana he headed is very apparent. I wonder who used to take the two rupee note from him...Naani or Chellamma?

Come twilight, and I would often hear a commotion in the lane behind our house. The Velichapad used to take bath at the public tap in the evenings. Those days, the elephants that were brought for the temple festival were also given bath at the public tap. The mahout would often ask for a bucket from our place to fill water for the elephant to fill his trunk from and then take bath. The Velichapad would bring his bucket to fill water. He would be quite inebriated by that time and would curse and scold everybody who passes by very loudly.

He would then take my father’s name from there and say,”Who do you think you are!!!”

My father who would be back from office by then would hear it and his face would twitch in anger, “Panna(dirty) Rascal!!” he would say. I would be hiding in my room feeling guilty of giving money to the drunkard.

Next week the ‘Panna Rascal’ would be back at the gate, like a gentle cat. The cycle would continue because the Velichapad forgets and my father forgives.

Krishnarpanam, the Velichapad died one evening after he had a fall chest down on the granite rock near the public tap while taking bath. Some said he had a heart attack, others said he lost balance in his drunken state and hit the rock which led to his death.

Life can be lived in many different ways. Vagabond rogue or a pious silent being; those who leave a mark are remembered.

Clean and Happy

Delhi is pleasant this time. The heat doesn’t annoy me as it used to two years before when I was here. The polluted hazy sky do not seem to allow the sun to hit directly so it is not excruciatingly hot as it should be at this time of the year.

The third day in Delhi and we were still house hunting. We had already seen three houses in three different societies and I had already made up my mind on one. Still, we were seeing some more, just to be sure.

It was May, and the heat was killing. I moved on to the shade of a tree on the road side when my husband was speaking to someone on the phone. He finished the call and turned to me. “There’s one more house. Let’s go and see it.” I didn’t want to see any more houses but the heat made me meek and I found it easier to comply than trying to reason.

It was a very well kept house. The white tiles gleamed and the curtains looked like they had just been washed and ironed. The kitchen shined and the glass we were offered water to drink sparkled. My husband who has a fetish for cleanliness beamed.

“Let’s take the house,” he said once we were in the escalator.

The rent was lower than the other houses we saw. There was a canteen and a Medical room below in the society which were added attractions.

I had felt uneasy when I was in the house and so was silent. Intrigued by my eerie silence and with the experience of two decades he asked, “What’s it?”

“I didn’t like the house! I felt sick.” I said.

“Why?!!  The lady has kept the house so clean! You should be happy to grab it!” He shook his head in disbelief.

“There!!! The house is too clean.

I myself was trying to decipher the feeling that crept on me when I was sitting in that clean and tidy drawing room. I felt sick. It was like sitting in a hospital room. I wouldn’t move in there. I might fall sick!”

The disbelief had given way to a helpless grin now. “Okay! Let’s go with your choice.”

Ridiculously nutty irk that I am, still he knows I would stand by my ‘intuition’.

I can count the number of houses that I have lived in the past nineteen years. It’s not always that we get to choose the house that we live in. We have lived in two room accommodations where we used to bump into each other all the time and also in huge mansions frequented by snakes, frogs and other wild life. However comfortable or uncomfortable a house is, I look for and find happy corners where I can sit and weave dreams and make memories...

Happiness matters and feelings too...Delhi is not unbearably hot this summer, and I am thankful.

Signing off from my happy corner in the balcony of the house that I got to CHOOSE this time. J