From ancient texts in stories that have been lost in the passage of time, the first of the early stories of birds and people of India - from the "Pakshopanishad" - the story known earlier as the "Pittala-maata"
Once upon a time, long long ago, in a place far far away, as all good stories say, near the very ancient kingdom of Kasi, along the mighty river Ganges, were the villages of Balapila and Syamala. These villages were about ten kilometers away from each other, but were on either bank of the Ganges. The Naga River flowed near the village of Balapila and met the Ganges as a tributary about four kilometers southwards. The Shanta River flowed near the village of Syamala and met the Ganges as a tributar about fifteen kilometers eastwards of the Naga River.
Considering the sacred aspects of the confluence of the rivers Naga and Shanta with the Ganges, the people from many years earlier, had constructed temples to the gods, and the villagers continued to protect these places. The temple at the confluence of the Naga river was to Shiva and the temple at meeting point of the Shanta river with the Ganges was to Vishnu. There were some large island areas within the Ganges river between the villages of Balapila and Syamala, and the largest island had a temple to Krishna.
This story took place in the rule of the very ancient King Brahmadatta, when he ruled the kingdom of Kasi. The Most Enlightened One was born as a merchant during the rule of the wise king. Caravans of more than 500 carts would travel east and west, and the Most Enlightened One would also travel with these carts.
In this ancient village of Balapila, lived the merchant Nagasesha and his wife, Shaktipriya. Their only son, Nagasayana, was loved by one and all in the village. He was known to be helpful, and honest and sincere. He never hesitated to help his neighbours and travelers alike. He was unable to learn any trade and this saddened his parents, for they felt, that it was tragic that such a good and honest boy could not set up a trade of his own, and could not help his father in the family's business. The boy loved to sit near the jetty crossing on the Naga river, where merchant carts would travel along the East-West road from the holy Sangam to the city kingdom of Kasi. He would help the merchants and their people with loading and unloading goods on the jetty boats and would also help the buffaloes and oxen in the crossing.
The merchants knew about Nagasayana and they also knew the merchant Nagasesha. Thus, they would always reward Nagasayana with some money or goods or food items in return for his help. His mother, Shaktipriya was happy and grateful that though her son could not learn a trade, the gods had blessing him with a pleasant and helpful attitude and this allowed him to continually earn something by helping the merchants in their jetty crossing.
One of the merchants had rewarded Nagasayana with a caged bird, a hill-myna from the forests of the south. There had been two birds in the cage, and the merchant had hoped to sell them at Kasi, and one of the birds had died due to some illness and he feared that the other bird could perhaps die soon. Not wanting to carry it with him, he gave it away to Nagasayana. The boy was extremely happy with this unexpected gift and he brought it home, and his mother, equally pleased, hung it near the window of their house.
The merchant Nagasesha and his wife and son were quite happy with the hill-myna, for it sang beautifully, through the day, and improved in its health and became stronger. Sometimes the hill-myna would repeat the songs that Shaktipriya would sing, and at other times, the bird would clearly repeat the words of Nagasesha or Nagasayana. At other times, the bird would keep singing long plaintive songs, very haunting, and this would sadden the merchant Nagasesha.
The hill-myna would sing in an extremely haunting tone, as though telling or retelling an important story, and would keep looking at the merchant Nagasesha with very sad eyes. He began to feel that the hill-myna was trying to tell him of some important event or story. It so began to pass that the merchant would come home to have his lunch or dinner with his wife, Shaktipriya and his son, and the hill-myna would start singing his lonesome song, looking straight at Nagasesha's eyes.
"The lonely bird was surely trying to tell me something," said Nagasesha to his wife and son, "There must be a sad story or an important story that I must know about. The bird keeps looking only at me when he sings, and he does sing for quite a long amount of time. He is trying to tell me something. It seems quite important, for the bird seems to become sadder and sadder, each time he sings his song."
"I would dearly love to hear the song, and I would be most happy when I know the story that the bird wants to tell me," continued Nagasesha, and asked of his son, "Go, my son, go out into the forests, where the great sages stay, and visit their asramas, and find out if someone out there knows of the language of the birds, and if he would teach you or permit you to know of the knowledge."
Hearing his father's commands, Nagasayana, left his house and went to meet Muni Nagabhushana's daughter, who also lived in the village of Balapila. The Vaidya Kittamutti, married to Muni Nagabhushana's daughter, had come from the Kingdom of Seri and settled in the village. The fame of the eye-physician had traveled to many distant places in the Kigndom of Kasi and neighboring kingdoms. Patients came to the village of Balapila with their ailments and were taken care by the daughter of muni Nagabhushana.
Nagasayana knew of the fame of the muni Nagabhushana, son of the great muni Rangabhashya, and that they were at the Munisangama Ashrama, where the three important rivers came to meet each other, the Ganges and Yamuna, and the sacred and invisible Saraswati. It would be a long journey, but Nagasayana was ready to travel to the great meeting place of the big rivers, and ask from the muni Nagabhushana if one could learn the language of the birds.
Umadevi, daughter of the muni Nagabhushana, was affectionate to Nagasayana, considering him as the son of her maternal uncle and aunt, and welcomed the young boy to the house of the Vaidya Kittamutti. Serving him with hot food, as she was known to do so, to anyone that came to her house, she heard from the boy about his desire to go to the Munisangama Ashrama and learn from her father, the muni Nagabhushana. Totally delighted, she packed up delicacies to send to her father and grandfather, rolls of banana-tree-twine that she had extracted and kept aside to send to the ashram, and gave some money to the young boy, Nagasayana, for his expenses on the journey. She was sure that he would not have sufficient money to spend on his necessities in the long journey.
Nagasayana was very happy. He knew that Umadevi had been clever and had provided him with enough gifts for her father and grandfather to make them pleased enough to accept him into the ashrama. He rushed to the jetty on the Naga River, near the village of Balapila and sure enough, he found a boat getting ready to travel back down the River and upstream along the Ganges to the great Sangam, which was one of the most important port cities in those days. The boat owner knew Nagasayana and was also familiar with the great Munisangama Ashrama. He agreed to take Nagasayana to the Sangam, and asked for a payment of lunch at his house, on his return trip.
This was the first time that Nagasayana was traveling on the great river, that was their entire world, the only world that they knew, at the villages of Balapila and Syamala. He had only traveled between the two villages, for attending marriages and religious programmes. He had never gone beyond the 15 km distance between the two villages. This was the first time that he was traveling towards the great Himalayas and towards the meeting place of the three great rivers. 'How could an entire river be invisible?' he thought, telling himself that he would surely see the invisible River Saraswati. Everyone at the village of Balapila had always told him that he was the smart boy, and sure, he would show the world.
The journey took about four days since they had run into a rainstorm, and an entire day without any wind to lend them strength and power to sail upstream the mighty river. The journey usually took about two days, but Nagasayana was not one to object. Each situation was a tremendous experience for him and he enjoyed every moment of it. Whether it was to rest and hide from the rainstorm or if it was to wait impatiently, in mid-stream, with anchor tied to a large tree stump near a small island. It was hot out there, even if the previous day had seen non-stop rainfall. They slept on the boat, waiting for the wind to lift them, and allow them to go upstream, fighting against the mighty current of the great river.
The wind returned, and never stopped, all the way until they reached the great place of Sangam. It was about 3 am or thereabouts when the wind started pushing at the sail, and two men jumped out of the boat to untie the anchor from the tree stump. The boat began moving swiftly within that time, making it almost difficult for the two men to return. Everyone was laughing at the incident, and Nagasayana thrilled at the bonding among everyone on the boat. He had never been part of such an experience and it seemed like there was much to learn while growing up, and out of the small village that he had been in, over these many years.
They kept moving swiftly upstream and it seemed almost like they were being pulled up by the great Himalayas themselves, for the Ganges appeared very calm and peaceful in the early dawn, under the reflection of a very large moon. The river never seemed to be moving, and yet, Nagasayana knew from his own experience at Balapila, that the current would be very strong, going downstream. The strong wind that took them upstream never seemed to be present. He could not feel the wind in that night of the early dawn hours, and yet, the sail filled out, and the man at the rudder had a tough time maintaining a proper course.
The sun had come out, and it was beginning to be painfully hot, thought it was not noon, when the boat came in to dock at the jetties at Sangam. The village of Balapila had two jetties on the Naga River and two more on the Ganges, and these four had seemed like an achievement and tremendous progress in the region. But, here at Sangam, Nagasayana kept looking and kept counting the jetties. There seemed to be more than a hundred and that would be the one side that he was coming in to. There were three banks, at Sangam, of the Ganges and the Yamuna, and there could be more than 300 jetties, he felt. There were boats at every jetty and people.
'Wow!' thought Nagasayana. People. There were simply too many people here, and too many different types of people. The entire village of Balapila could come here and be lost in 2-3 jetties, he told himself. The owner of the boat pointed out a group of four sadhus, standing near a small Hanuman temple, and said, "See, there, those four sadhus... they are from the Munisangama Ashrama. See the way they dress, and the manner in which they are different from other sadhus. Everyone is different here, boy, except the crowd seems to make them all look similar. If you see carefully, you would learn. Every person is different."
Nagasayana thanked the owner of the boat and got out on the jetty and went up to the sadhus from the Munisangama Ashrama. They were pleased to know that he had come from the village of Balapila and asked him to wait near the Hanuman temple while they completed their tasks at the river. Later, as noon approached, they shared their food with Nagasayana, and allowed him to purchase some curd and raw rice with some money that he had. An old lady approached them, with a cooking pot, asking if she could cook lunch for them, and the sadhus agreed. She set up the cooking pot, and took the vegetables, rice and lentils from the sadhus, and went about moving around in the crowd, going around the shanties. She kept making small purchases, accurate amounts of food material that she wanted and allowed the rice to cook, in the meantime.
Very soon, she had got their lunch organised, and with the curd that Nagasayana had purchased, the group had a good meal. The owner of the boat had seen it happen, and came up at the right moment and shared some of his food with them. The old woman seemed to know him, and silently placed an additional place for him. The sadhus were also on familiar terms with the owner of the boat. It seemed very puzzling to Nagasayana, for in this great hustle and bustle of people at Sangam, where everyone seemed to be faceless, people knew each other, greeted one another and shared their food. This was so very unlike his village, where one met others only during special days. Here, everything and everyone melted together.
After their lunch, the sadhus returned to the Munisangama Ashrama with Nagasayana. They had to walk out of the numerous settlements around the Sangam and travel through a forested path, climbing into the lower Himalaya mountains. Nagasayana had never seen the Himalayas and had not seen such tall mountains. Very soon, he began to feel the cold and chill and wondered at the ability of the sadhus to adjust to the change, without having any need for warm clothes.
Muni Nagabhushana was surprised to see Nagasayana at the Ashram. Worried about his daughter, he asked if there was any problem at the village of Balapila. Muni Shantarama, his brother, and the great Muni Rangabhashyama were also happy to know of Nagasayana's visit to the Ashram. It was very rare that someone from the villages of Balapila or Syamala ever came to stay at the Ashram. Most villagers were busy with their householder duties and never seemed to seek the Ashram way of life. Thus, that night, in the hut of the great Muni Rangabhashyama, in the presence of Muni Nagabhushana and the Muni Shantarama, the story of the hill-myna, its sad song and Nagasesha's desire to know of the song was explained by Nagasayana.
The three great sages heard him out quietly and seemed to ponder over the request. 'Can you help me understand the speech of the birds? I have to go back and tell my father about the sad song of the hill myna' Nagasayana had told them. The great muni Rangabhashyama seemed amused about it. He was smiling. His younger son, Muni Shantarama, was actually laughing and shaking in mirth. What did they find funny about the request, thought Nagasayana. It was an entirely legitimate request. His father was curious about the sad song of the hill myna and wanted to know what did the bird sing about? How was it supposed to be complicated or something to be laughed at?
The great muni Rangabhashyama instructed Muni Nagabhushana to teach Nagasayana the art of understanding the speech of the birds if the birds were willing to open up the secret. The Muni Nagabhushana agreed with the great muni and asked Nagasayana to accompany him to the hut where he would be staying while at the Munisangama Ashrama. He was being given a hut at the outskirts of the ashram since he was not an ordained sadhu. He would have to stay with the other helpers and visitors to the Ashram, at a small scattered hamlet outside the village.
On the morrow, the Muni Nagabhushana called out for Nagasayana, except it did not seem like morning, so much as it was still dark, and probably the early dawn. "Go, go out in the forests in this early dawn hours, and seek a bird that would help you, and will allow you to learn the speech of birds. This is a sacred place, for, this is Munisangama Ashrama. Here, the birds, animals, insects and plants have magical powers. They can understand you. But, it depends on you, if you can understand them. There is a way to learn these aspects, and it only the teacher who can decide if you are ready. Go, and be in the forests for the entire day."
Nagasayana was worried. It was dark out there. The forests were inside the deep valleys of the Himalayas or they were in the high craggy cliffs that had to be climbed. The forests nearby were dense and dark, and to make it worse, he had never gone roaming in forests, all by himself, ever before. The Muni Nagabhushana seemed to understand his fears, and said, "Do not worry. Have I not told you, that this is Munisangama Ashrama. You have nothing to fear. I know, coming from the river villages of Balapila and Syamala, this forest will look frightening. I had also been frightened when I had come here as a kid. There is nothing to fear out there. Go, with courage."
He stepped out of the hut and began to walk into the forest. It was silent and dark. Dawn had not begun. How does one search for birds in such a place, he wondered. Suddenly, he came upon an opening in the canopy, and stood at the edge of a small pond. There was a large stone ledge, and Nagasayana decided to sit and wait it out, for the break of dawn. As he sat there, he realised that there was no silence out here. There were those small sounds, very low toned chirps, low volume calls, short and sharp calls, just a small chirp, or a beep, but the calls seemed to come from all around. As he sat, silently, on the stone ledge, deep inside the forests of the Himalayas, at the edge of the small pond, Nagasayana realised, that, the forest was not silent at all. There seemed to be quite a bit going on.
There were sounds, all over the place, deep inside the forests, and the sounds felt like they belonged totally to the forest. Birds were moving about and were calling out to their companions, or announcing their presence or warning other birds of predators that were made out. Nagasayana could not see anything in the darkness. He could only make out the silhouettes of the mountains, and look for the dawn sky lit up by the moon, and the distant glimmer of dawn in a deep valley towards the East. He realised that by looking up in the sky and picking up on the light, he was unable to make out the deeper recesses of the forests. He sat near the small pond, and closed his eyes, and tried to use only his ears and catch the sounds of the forest.
He knew some of the birds from his village area and from near the Ganges. He could hear the teetiri (Redwattled Lapwing), the dhoban (Wagtails) and the pandubbi (Little Grebe) near the pond waters, since he was seated nearby. The pandubbi was not making the usual musical calls, but was calling out in sharp clicking sounds, much like when he heard them near his village when the boys would go to disturb the waterbirds' nesting areas in the floating weeds. There must be other animals and birds moving about, he thought, for the pandubbi to keep calling out repeatedly.
He could make out a raat-ka-bagla (Night Heron) and several other bagla (herons and egrets) on the trees overhanging above the pond waters. There could be more raat-ka-bagla nearby for they were calling out, in low volume, staying in contact with one another. The andha bagla (Pond Heron) was also probably in that bunch of trees, but Nagasayana could not make out. The raat-ka-bagla was flying out silently over the pond waters, perching on the trees on the other side of the pond, and returning after a while. He knew their flight, having seen them cross the Naga River at the village of Balapila, during the night hours.
Soon enough, it was dawn, and the forest erupted in sound and light. There seemed to be birds everywhere. Teetar (partridges) and bater (quail) seemed to be calling from all around the forest. It sounded like there were at least a million of them, well hidden. Their calls caused the mor (peafowl) to start sounding off, in long resonating calls, drowning the sounds of the forest. Immediately, alternating with the calls of teetar, bater and mor, the jungli murghi (jungle fowl and spurfowl) began calling out. The small birds in the trees started their songs and it was like a concert that had gone terribly wrong in symphony, but was splendid in music, rhythm and song.
Continued - Part 2 - http://shtories-shtuff.blogspot.in/2013/01/speech-of-sacred-birds-part-2-pittala.html
भालपीलस्यामलस्य: नागशान्तीनदितीरे कासीसंगमम्ध्येह: |
शिवविष्णुकृष्णस्य: गंगानदितीरे ब्रह्मदत्त राजसमयेह: ||
Once upon a time, long long ago, in a place far far away, as all good stories say, near the very ancient kingdom of Kasi, along the mighty river Ganges, were the villages of Balapila and Syamala. These villages were about ten kilometers away from each other, but were on either bank of the Ganges. The Naga River flowed near the village of Balapila and met the Ganges as a tributary about four kilometers southwards. The Shanta River flowed near the village of Syamala and met the Ganges as a tributar about fifteen kilometers eastwards of the Naga River.
Considering the sacred aspects of the confluence of the rivers Naga and Shanta with the Ganges, the people from many years earlier, had constructed temples to the gods, and the villagers continued to protect these places. The temple at the confluence of the Naga river was to Shiva and the temple at meeting point of the Shanta river with the Ganges was to Vishnu. There were some large island areas within the Ganges river between the villages of Balapila and Syamala, and the largest island had a temple to Krishna.
This story took place in the rule of the very ancient King Brahmadatta, when he ruled the kingdom of Kasi. The Most Enlightened One was born as a merchant during the rule of the wise king. Caravans of more than 500 carts would travel east and west, and the Most Enlightened One would also travel with these carts.
Ancient villages of Balapila and Shyamala along the Ganges River
The merchants knew about Nagasayana and they also knew the merchant Nagasesha. Thus, they would always reward Nagasayana with some money or goods or food items in return for his help. His mother, Shaktipriya was happy and grateful that though her son could not learn a trade, the gods had blessing him with a pleasant and helpful attitude and this allowed him to continually earn something by helping the merchants in their jetty crossing.
The ancient jetty crossing on the Naga river
One of the merchants had rewarded Nagasayana with a caged bird, a hill-myna from the forests of the south. There had been two birds in the cage, and the merchant had hoped to sell them at Kasi, and one of the birds had died due to some illness and he feared that the other bird could perhaps die soon. Not wanting to carry it with him, he gave it away to Nagasayana. The boy was extremely happy with this unexpected gift and he brought it home, and his mother, equally pleased, hung it near the window of their house.
The merchant Nagasesha and his wife and son were quite happy with the hill-myna, for it sang beautifully, through the day, and improved in its health and became stronger. Sometimes the hill-myna would repeat the songs that Shaktipriya would sing, and at other times, the bird would clearly repeat the words of Nagasesha or Nagasayana. At other times, the bird would keep singing long plaintive songs, very haunting, and this would sadden the merchant Nagasesha.
The hill-myna, singing his haunting song
The hill-myna would sing in an extremely haunting tone, as though telling or retelling an important story, and would keep looking at the merchant Nagasesha with very sad eyes. He began to feel that the hill-myna was trying to tell him of some important event or story. It so began to pass that the merchant would come home to have his lunch or dinner with his wife, Shaktipriya and his son, and the hill-myna would start singing his lonesome song, looking straight at Nagasesha's eyes.
"The lonely bird was surely trying to tell me something," said Nagasesha to his wife and son, "There must be a sad story or an important story that I must know about. The bird keeps looking only at me when he sings, and he does sing for quite a long amount of time. He is trying to tell me something. It seems quite important, for the bird seems to become sadder and sadder, each time he sings his song."
"I would dearly love to hear the song, and I would be most happy when I know the story that the bird wants to tell me," continued Nagasesha, and asked of his son, "Go, my son, go out into the forests, where the great sages stay, and visit their asramas, and find out if someone out there knows of the language of the birds, and if he would teach you or permit you to know of the knowledge."
Hearing his father's commands, Nagasayana, left his house and went to meet Muni Nagabhushana's daughter, who also lived in the village of Balapila. The Vaidya Kittamutti, married to Muni Nagabhushana's daughter, had come from the Kingdom of Seri and settled in the village. The fame of the eye-physician had traveled to many distant places in the Kigndom of Kasi and neighboring kingdoms. Patients came to the village of Balapila with their ailments and were taken care by the daughter of muni Nagabhushana.
Nagasayana knew of the fame of the muni Nagabhushana, son of the great muni Rangabhashya, and that they were at the Munisangama Ashrama, where the three important rivers came to meet each other, the Ganges and Yamuna, and the sacred and invisible Saraswati. It would be a long journey, but Nagasayana was ready to travel to the great meeting place of the big rivers, and ask from the muni Nagabhushana if one could learn the language of the birds.
Umadevi, daughter of the muni Nagabhushana, was affectionate to Nagasayana, considering him as the son of her maternal uncle and aunt, and welcomed the young boy to the house of the Vaidya Kittamutti. Serving him with hot food, as she was known to do so, to anyone that came to her house, she heard from the boy about his desire to go to the Munisangama Ashrama and learn from her father, the muni Nagabhushana. Totally delighted, she packed up delicacies to send to her father and grandfather, rolls of banana-tree-twine that she had extracted and kept aside to send to the ashram, and gave some money to the young boy, Nagasayana, for his expenses on the journey. She was sure that he would not have sufficient money to spend on his necessities in the long journey.
Banana Twine, useful in earlier days for wrapping parchments
Nagasayana was very happy. He knew that Umadevi had been clever and had provided him with enough gifts for her father and grandfather to make them pleased enough to accept him into the ashrama. He rushed to the jetty on the Naga River, near the village of Balapila and sure enough, he found a boat getting ready to travel back down the River and upstream along the Ganges to the great Sangam, which was one of the most important port cities in those days. The boat owner knew Nagasayana and was also familiar with the great Munisangama Ashrama. He agreed to take Nagasayana to the Sangam, and asked for a payment of lunch at his house, on his return trip.
This was the first time that Nagasayana was traveling on the great river, that was their entire world, the only world that they knew, at the villages of Balapila and Syamala. He had only traveled between the two villages, for attending marriages and religious programmes. He had never gone beyond the 15 km distance between the two villages. This was the first time that he was traveling towards the great Himalayas and towards the meeting place of the three great rivers. 'How could an entire river be invisible?' he thought, telling himself that he would surely see the invisible River Saraswati. Everyone at the village of Balapila had always told him that he was the smart boy, and sure, he would show the world.
Ancient sailboats on the River Ganges
The journey took about four days since they had run into a rainstorm, and an entire day without any wind to lend them strength and power to sail upstream the mighty river. The journey usually took about two days, but Nagasayana was not one to object. Each situation was a tremendous experience for him and he enjoyed every moment of it. Whether it was to rest and hide from the rainstorm or if it was to wait impatiently, in mid-stream, with anchor tied to a large tree stump near a small island. It was hot out there, even if the previous day had seen non-stop rainfall. They slept on the boat, waiting for the wind to lift them, and allow them to go upstream, fighting against the mighty current of the great river.
The wind returned, and never stopped, all the way until they reached the great place of Sangam. It was about 3 am or thereabouts when the wind started pushing at the sail, and two men jumped out of the boat to untie the anchor from the tree stump. The boat began moving swiftly within that time, making it almost difficult for the two men to return. Everyone was laughing at the incident, and Nagasayana thrilled at the bonding among everyone on the boat. He had never been part of such an experience and it seemed like there was much to learn while growing up, and out of the small village that he had been in, over these many years.
Sailing on the Ganges in the early dawn hours
They kept moving swiftly upstream and it seemed almost like they were being pulled up by the great Himalayas themselves, for the Ganges appeared very calm and peaceful in the early dawn, under the reflection of a very large moon. The river never seemed to be moving, and yet, Nagasayana knew from his own experience at Balapila, that the current would be very strong, going downstream. The strong wind that took them upstream never seemed to be present. He could not feel the wind in that night of the early dawn hours, and yet, the sail filled out, and the man at the rudder had a tough time maintaining a proper course.
The sun had come out, and it was beginning to be painfully hot, thought it was not noon, when the boat came in to dock at the jetties at Sangam. The village of Balapila had two jetties on the Naga River and two more on the Ganges, and these four had seemed like an achievement and tremendous progress in the region. But, here at Sangam, Nagasayana kept looking and kept counting the jetties. There seemed to be more than a hundred and that would be the one side that he was coming in to. There were three banks, at Sangam, of the Ganges and the Yamuna, and there could be more than 300 jetties, he felt. There were boats at every jetty and people.
Nearer to Sangam, in the early morning hours.
'Wow!' thought Nagasayana. People. There were simply too many people here, and too many different types of people. The entire village of Balapila could come here and be lost in 2-3 jetties, he told himself. The owner of the boat pointed out a group of four sadhus, standing near a small Hanuman temple, and said, "See, there, those four sadhus... they are from the Munisangama Ashrama. See the way they dress, and the manner in which they are different from other sadhus. Everyone is different here, boy, except the crowd seems to make them all look similar. If you see carefully, you would learn. Every person is different."
Nagasayana thanked the owner of the boat and got out on the jetty and went up to the sadhus from the Munisangama Ashrama. They were pleased to know that he had come from the village of Balapila and asked him to wait near the Hanuman temple while they completed their tasks at the river. Later, as noon approached, they shared their food with Nagasayana, and allowed him to purchase some curd and raw rice with some money that he had. An old lady approached them, with a cooking pot, asking if she could cook lunch for them, and the sadhus agreed. She set up the cooking pot, and took the vegetables, rice and lentils from the sadhus, and went about moving around in the crowd, going around the shanties. She kept making small purchases, accurate amounts of food material that she wanted and allowed the rice to cook, in the meantime.
Very soon, she had got their lunch organised, and with the curd that Nagasayana had purchased, the group had a good meal. The owner of the boat had seen it happen, and came up at the right moment and shared some of his food with them. The old woman seemed to know him, and silently placed an additional place for him. The sadhus were also on familiar terms with the owner of the boat. It seemed very puzzling to Nagasayana, for in this great hustle and bustle of people at Sangam, where everyone seemed to be faceless, people knew each other, greeted one another and shared their food. This was so very unlike his village, where one met others only during special days. Here, everything and everyone melted together.
Path to the ashram
After their lunch, the sadhus returned to the Munisangama Ashrama with Nagasayana. They had to walk out of the numerous settlements around the Sangam and travel through a forested path, climbing into the lower Himalaya mountains. Nagasayana had never seen the Himalayas and had not seen such tall mountains. Very soon, he began to feel the cold and chill and wondered at the ability of the sadhus to adjust to the change, without having any need for warm clothes.
Muni Nagabhushana was surprised to see Nagasayana at the Ashram. Worried about his daughter, he asked if there was any problem at the village of Balapila. Muni Shantarama, his brother, and the great Muni Rangabhashyama were also happy to know of Nagasayana's visit to the Ashram. It was very rare that someone from the villages of Balapila or Syamala ever came to stay at the Ashram. Most villagers were busy with their householder duties and never seemed to seek the Ashram way of life. Thus, that night, in the hut of the great Muni Rangabhashyama, in the presence of Muni Nagabhushana and the Muni Shantarama, the story of the hill-myna, its sad song and Nagasesha's desire to know of the song was explained by Nagasayana.
The three great sages heard him out quietly and seemed to ponder over the request. 'Can you help me understand the speech of the birds? I have to go back and tell my father about the sad song of the hill myna' Nagasayana had told them. The great muni Rangabhashyama seemed amused about it. He was smiling. His younger son, Muni Shantarama, was actually laughing and shaking in mirth. What did they find funny about the request, thought Nagasayana. It was an entirely legitimate request. His father was curious about the sad song of the hill myna and wanted to know what did the bird sing about? How was it supposed to be complicated or something to be laughed at?
The great muni Rangabhashyama instructed Muni Nagabhushana to teach Nagasayana the art of understanding the speech of the birds if the birds were willing to open up the secret. The Muni Nagabhushana agreed with the great muni and asked Nagasayana to accompany him to the hut where he would be staying while at the Munisangama Ashrama. He was being given a hut at the outskirts of the ashram since he was not an ordained sadhu. He would have to stay with the other helpers and visitors to the Ashram, at a small scattered hamlet outside the village.
Nagasayana's hut outside the Munisangama Ashram
On the morrow, the Muni Nagabhushana called out for Nagasayana, except it did not seem like morning, so much as it was still dark, and probably the early dawn. "Go, go out in the forests in this early dawn hours, and seek a bird that would help you, and will allow you to learn the speech of birds. This is a sacred place, for, this is Munisangama Ashrama. Here, the birds, animals, insects and plants have magical powers. They can understand you. But, it depends on you, if you can understand them. There is a way to learn these aspects, and it only the teacher who can decide if you are ready. Go, and be in the forests for the entire day."
Nagasayana was worried. It was dark out there. The forests were inside the deep valleys of the Himalayas or they were in the high craggy cliffs that had to be climbed. The forests nearby were dense and dark, and to make it worse, he had never gone roaming in forests, all by himself, ever before. The Muni Nagabhushana seemed to understand his fears, and said, "Do not worry. Have I not told you, that this is Munisangama Ashrama. You have nothing to fear. I know, coming from the river villages of Balapila and Syamala, this forest will look frightening. I had also been frightened when I had come here as a kid. There is nothing to fear out there. Go, with courage."
He stepped out of the hut and began to walk into the forest. It was silent and dark. Dawn had not begun. How does one search for birds in such a place, he wondered. Suddenly, he came upon an opening in the canopy, and stood at the edge of a small pond. There was a large stone ledge, and Nagasayana decided to sit and wait it out, for the break of dawn. As he sat there, he realised that there was no silence out here. There were those small sounds, very low toned chirps, low volume calls, short and sharp calls, just a small chirp, or a beep, but the calls seemed to come from all around. As he sat, silently, on the stone ledge, deep inside the forests of the Himalayas, at the edge of the small pond, Nagasayana realised, that, the forest was not silent at all. There seemed to be quite a bit going on.
The forests around the Munisangama Ashrama, in the Himalayas
There were sounds, all over the place, deep inside the forests, and the sounds felt like they belonged totally to the forest. Birds were moving about and were calling out to their companions, or announcing their presence or warning other birds of predators that were made out. Nagasayana could not see anything in the darkness. He could only make out the silhouettes of the mountains, and look for the dawn sky lit up by the moon, and the distant glimmer of dawn in a deep valley towards the East. He realised that by looking up in the sky and picking up on the light, he was unable to make out the deeper recesses of the forests. He sat near the small pond, and closed his eyes, and tried to use only his ears and catch the sounds of the forest.
He knew some of the birds from his village area and from near the Ganges. He could hear the teetiri (Redwattled Lapwing), the dhoban (Wagtails) and the pandubbi (Little Grebe) near the pond waters, since he was seated nearby. The pandubbi was not making the usual musical calls, but was calling out in sharp clicking sounds, much like when he heard them near his village when the boys would go to disturb the waterbirds' nesting areas in the floating weeds. There must be other animals and birds moving about, he thought, for the pandubbi to keep calling out repeatedly.
He could make out a raat-ka-bagla (Night Heron) and several other bagla (herons and egrets) on the trees overhanging above the pond waters. There could be more raat-ka-bagla nearby for they were calling out, in low volume, staying in contact with one another. The andha bagla (Pond Heron) was also probably in that bunch of trees, but Nagasayana could not make out. The raat-ka-bagla was flying out silently over the pond waters, perching on the trees on the other side of the pond, and returning after a while. He knew their flight, having seen them cross the Naga River at the village of Balapila, during the night hours.
Soon enough, it was dawn, and the forest erupted in sound and light. There seemed to be birds everywhere. Teetar (partridges) and bater (quail) seemed to be calling from all around the forest. It sounded like there were at least a million of them, well hidden. Their calls caused the mor (peafowl) to start sounding off, in long resonating calls, drowning the sounds of the forest. Immediately, alternating with the calls of teetar, bater and mor, the jungli murghi (jungle fowl and spurfowl) began calling out. The small birds in the trees started their songs and it was like a concert that had gone terribly wrong in symphony, but was splendid in music, rhythm and song.
The redwattled lapwing in the pre-dawn hours at the
forests around Munisangama ashrama
Continued - Part 2 - http://shtories-shtuff.blogspot.in/2013/01/speech-of-sacred-birds-part-2-pittala.html
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