To pay obeisance to you My Lord

 

                                          

Once again at the  sacred threshold, in the divine presence of  the Lord of Guruvayoor.. The  fragrance of incense, flowers and sandalwood wafting pleasantly all around, the brass lamps glimmering and winking , the chanting of ‘ Krishna, Guruvayoorappa’, rending the air, the drums, the trumpet , and the incessant ringing of the bell adding to the air of devotion and spirituality pervading the premises.

“ Guruvayoor ambala nadayil , oru divasam njan pokum…”

Jesudas , singing of his desire to go to the temple and stand in the divine presence of  Guruvayoorappan, the presiding deity of Guruvayoor temple. The tune reverberated at the back of my mind  as  I stood with folded hands in front of the  lord of Guruvayoor , after a gap of  more than ten years.

Memories flipped back the pages of Time and I was transported virtually  to the temple visits during our vacation to Kerala . My mother in law ( Amma), an ardent devotee of Guruvayoorappan had fervently believed that He would fulfil the wish of every devotee who seeks His blessings. She used to go to the temple every month as long as her health permitted her . Her maid Meenakshi Amma was her escort during these visits. But when we were home on vacation,  she would insist on our accompanying her . Those were the days when piety and devotion were old fashioned coinages in my vocabulary. My husband was God fearing , but he too did not believe in rituals. In order to  placate  Amma,  we used  to accompany her . Compared to the serpentine queue in front of the temple door these days, the queues were much shorter in those days.  Yet we found it arduous to stand in the queue with two small kids in tow. Amma  wouldn’t eat or drink anything till she completed  darshan, so that meant no tea or breakfast till our temple darshan was over. While we stood in queue, my husband would discreetly vanish with the children , telling   Amma  , “We will just come back “. I knew what it meant because I too had been issued  an invitation to have tea and snacks from the nearby hotel and return before the queue reached the front entrance . But  the displeasure  of  Amma   combined with  the wrath of God played spoilsport in my imagination and I  reluctantly declined the offer , even while my stomach rumbled and grunted in protest. The well fed gentlemen of the family would return just in time to enter the front door while the ladies sweated it out in the queue moving at snail pace   

At the entrance , the queue dissolved and we had the hustle and bustle of people pushing from all sides. On one such occasion, Amma told me, “ I will show you a trick “. She tucked my left hand in the crook of her right arm and squeezed in through the crowd.  No one objected , though I received some dirty stares. We made our way through the melee and stood with folded hands in front of the idol. Along with all other demands and requests, I  sought forgiveness for breaking the queue . The gentlemen of the family fretted and fumed from behind but to no avail. When a harried husband along with children joined us after a considerable time gap, Amma  told him, tongue in cheek, “ Guruvayoorappan knows…. He  favours the truly devoted “

The incident flashed before my mind’s eye as I sat on the bench in front of God’s threshold. Now  the queue system has changed: you don’t have to stand in queue, you can sit. It is like musical chair , you have to shift from one bench to the next as the railings take you on a circuitous route to the temple’s front door. Drinking water is supplied by the staff of the Devaswom board to the weary devotees. I felt grateful for such  small mercies. Suddenly, without notice ,  the queue came to a standstill as the door closed for ‘ Nivedyam’  .  It was 8.35pm  when the queue started moving again. As we reached the front door,  there was the usual jostling in the cramped space, after which we had to go up a stair case in twos . Just when we reached the threshold, I discovered to my alarm that ‘might  was  right’  . You  may either be carried forth by the flow or you can use strong arm tactics and squeeze in through the crowd. Once inside, there were ladies-  volunteers I guess-   who urged the devotees forward , saying ‘Pray, pray and then move on ‘. I was bemused and befuddled. . My  list of requests, appeals and grievances  was forgotten. Pushed forward by the ones coming from behind, I somehow managed to extricate myself , all the time wondering   why Guruvayoorappan was testing me like this. 

  Acting upon the advice of more experienced devotees who briefed me about the various queues in the temple – general queue, senior citizen’s queue, neighbourhood people’s queue, privilege queue, annadanam queue and so on- I  promptly joined   the Senior citizen’s queue the next day. Feeling triumphant I stood in the queue and gloated , anticipating a good darshan. . When the door to the sanctum sanctorum was in sight, the queue was stopped  and whispered messages of ‘Seeveli’ started floating from the front to the back. I was appalled to realize that I was stuck well and good with no respite . Getting out of the queue meant brushing past all the devotees standing packed together, enclosed by railings. There were no benches on this side of the temple. I resigned myself to the situation wondering whether Guruvayoorappan was annoyed with me .

Then the  Seeveli procession came by, priests carrying long handled lamps, nadaswaram and finally Lord Guruvayoorappan Himself seated on the back of the caparisoned  elephant’, held by the chief priest, accompanied by devotees chanting payers.  My mind  brimmed with mixed emotions of joy, gratitude, fear, devotion and surprisingly, acceptance and understanding. With folded hands,  I appealed to God  to forgive me for my trespasses. Instead of seeing and worshipping Him from a distance with people all around, I could see Him close at hand, out in the open. I prayed,  with a smile playing on my lips, recalling the names of all those  who were close to me and  needed a  prayer . Later when the doors opened , I went inside to pray, the smile still lingering on my lips. ‘ Kannante leela vilasam’, they say in Malayalam. Was this a prank of our mischief- making Krishna? Testing me, then listening to my prayers, and springing a pleasant surprise when I was grumbling and  least expecting it .

 Among the  myriad secrets of life which never fail to surprise me is the rapport I have developed with my idea of God. Somewhere along life’s  winding  paths, the scepticism of youth had given  way to  profound  faith.  When life takes unexpected twists and turns, when the clear stream of reason becomes muddied with fears and doubts, you need an anchor to lend stability and a sense of direction. That is  when I turned to God . It is difficult to explain this emotion which is a mix of awe, affection,  devotion and understanding. Mine is a benevolent  God, who  supports and forgives.  And  He appears in my imagination  not only as  Krishna.  I pray to Lord Ganesha, Devi Saraswathy and every God who appears in my mind’s eye on each occasion. To those who preach single God worship, I can only say that for me there is a God in everything.  Call all it pagan worship or whatever but it gives me immense satisfaction to believe  that I am enveloped by the love and understanding of God who will never fail me.

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When the dogs are away the cats will play

 

                                              

The stray dogs on the street outside my gate did not bother me much as long as they stayed on their territory and I stayed on mine. Every time I opened the gate they would glance at me lazily and I would return the glare, seemingly without any apprehension but actually alert and ready to take cover in case one of them decides to pounce and make mincemeat of me. ‘ Let sleeping dogs lie…’ I followed the adage to the letter.

This kind of non interfering camaraderie was broken one night when a big white dog with a collar around its neck joined the pack. The normally docile dogs took a cue from the new leader and turned into a pack of aggressive canines, jumping over compound walls, chewing  shoes, sandals , and anything else they could find outside, particularly on the verandah. My neighbours had alerted me but I paid scant regard , thinking the dogs which looked so harmless could not change into ferocious beings overnight. Until one midnight when I was woken from deep slumber by the alarmed screams of an animal followed by the excited barking of dogs. As I came fully awake, I heard, mingled with the animal cries,  human voices shouting  and the pelting of stones. I switched on the CCTV camera on my mobile and found to my horror, a pack of dogs running helter skelter on my beautifully  laid out  lawn , chasing some  scurrying animal . On opening the window which overlooked the garden, I saw four young men , the tenants of the opposite house, shouting and pelting stones at the dogs which were attacking a small form that was trying to free itself and escape. The boys shouted to me not to come out as the dogs were dangerously aggressive. As they continued to pelt stones, the dogs , carrying the hapless animal, ran towards the back of the house. I switched on the master switch, illuminating  the garden and the drive way in  bright light. The sudden lights helped to disperse the dogs. As they scattered, I mustered courage and opened the back door a bit. I had kept curtain rods there to support the plants. I threw one at a dog , it yelped and ran. All other dogs followed suit, jumping over the compound wall from different sides. There was no sign of the wounded animal and no more cries. I consoled myself that perhaps it might have escaped. But the next morning revealed the mauled carcass of a civet cat in the corner of the garden. This murder of a helpless, harmless animal in the darkness of the night right in my garden disheartened and infuriated me no end .  I decided to take action.

The first phase of the action plan was to write  a message to  the Residents association authorities, drawing their  notice  to   sleep disruption caused to the residents and the mental trauma caused by the murder at mid night. Around the same time, many cases of stray dog attacks were reported in the city and the association rolled into action. The owner  of the bully dog was identified and was requested to keep the dog confined to his territory. The subsequent happenings are a little unclear to me . There were rumours of Corporation dog catchers taking away the dogs for neutering , of a shelter for stray dogs maintained by a dog lover  where  the dogs were fed and roomed. Miraculously the dog menace reduced and almost stopped.  However I was not prepared to take any chances.  The well meaning contractor who built our house , fixed railings  above the compound wall, raising the height so as to keep even the best high jumpers among the dogs at bay. I could rest easy, complacent in the belief  that my house was now secure from dog attack.

Months passed. While sitting on the verandah, enjoying my cuppa, listening to the chattering of birds on the trees , I lazily observed that the cacophonous hullaballoo created by my winged friends had somehow decreased in intensity. Soon  the reason came to light. When the dogs  were  away the cats had sprung into action . The neighbourhood cat, emboldened  by the absence of the dogs had decided to encroach upon my property. He would bask in sunlight on the driveway , striking a pose which would put even Cleopatra to shame. At times he would hide under the bushes, pouncing on the hapless birds. Though the cat was well trained in climbing walls and trees, the birds proved  too clever for him   . Soon the cat was joined by two others. One was pitch black with  bright  tawny eyes  burning and accusing me as if I was the encroacher. The other one was  in battle combat, the camouflage giving me no indication that a cat was nearby until it moved. The threesome soon joined hands, nay paws, to attack  birds, mice or anything that they could subdue with their combined strength.

My morning hour on the verandah is now interrupted not by the chirping of birds, but by my own loud shouts and screams as I try to chase away the cats before they could gobble up the birds. Evidence  by way of loose  feathers scattered on the lawn and the driveway  proved that my attempts were futile . The mynahs  which were my early morning visitors have stopped their  frequent visits. Only the tiny ones which flit in and out of the bushes and the kites which soar  far above  continue their fearless  pursuits. And the cats continue to defile my space, unabashedly claiming my property as theirs. They climb upon my dwarf coconut palm, toppling the baby elephant which is our coveted garden ornament.  They even keep vigil on the verandah when I am not around. Enhancing the height of the compound wall does not deter them, my shouts of displeasure do not hinder them, the occasional water spray that I use on them has only temporary effect. Now we have learnt to tolerate and live together in uneasy harmony.  Better by far to accommodate these smart furry creatures  who carry themselves regally with dignity than to live in fear of the four legged canines who kill for pleasure .