Paasuram 1: The Silver Dawn and Kodai’s call
The month of Margali arrived in Srivilliputtur not as a mere change of season, but as a celestial decree. The air, cooled by the retreating monsoon and scented by the blooming jasmine of the temple gardens, carried a sharpness that woke the spirit before it woke the body.
In the pre-dawn stillness, the moon hung like a silver pendant over the towering gopurams. It was a full moon, a Purnima that seemed to hold its breath, refusing to set until it had witnessed the beginning of the great Pawai vow.
Kodai stood by the threshold of her home, her eyes reflecting the lunar glow. She was but a young girl, yet her presence commanded the gravity of an ancient seer. She looked toward the houses of the cowherds, the Ayarpadi of the south, where the wealth was measured not in gold, but in the abundance of milk, the health of the calves, and the depth of one’s surrender to the Lord.
The Call to the Sleeping Souls
"Awaken!" her voice rang out, soft yet penetrating, vibrating through the mist-laden streets. "The month of Margali is here, the time favored by the Devas. The moon is full, lighting the path to the river. Why do you sleep, O daughters of the wealthy herdsmen, you who are adorned with jewels but whose greatest ornament is your love for the Dark One?"
She walked through the narrow lanes, her footsteps silent on the damp earth. At each door, she paused. Inside these homes lived girls who had grown up in the shadow of the great temple, their lives intertwined with the rituals of the land.
"Come forth!" Kodai called, knocking on a door carved with lotus motifs. "The water of the river awaits to wash away the residue of the ego. This is the day for the Nirattam, the sacred bath. Do not let this auspicious Muhurta pass in the heaviness of dreams."
A girl named Neela opened her door, rubbing her eyes, her silk pavadai rustling. "Kodai? It is so early. The sun is yet to dream of rising."
Kodai smiled, and in that smile, Neela saw a glimpse of something ancient. "When the heart seeks Narayana, there is no 'too early.' The moon itself has stayed awake to guide us. Look at its face. Is it not a mirror of His?"
The Description of the Protector
As the group of girls gathered, their numbers swelling like a rising tide, they began to walk toward the river. The atmosphere was surreal, the mist seemed to take the shapes of celestial attendants, and the rustling palms sounded like the chanting of the Sama Veda.
"Who is it we seek, Kodai?" asked a younger girl, shivering slightly in the cool breeze. "Is He a king? A warrior? Or the child who stole butter?"
Kodai’s eyes flashed with a divine fire. She began to describe Him, not as a historical figure of the past, but as a living, breathing reality that permeated the very air of Srivilliputtur.
"He is the son of Nandagopala," Kodai began, her voice taking on the rhythmic cadence of a Bhagavatam verse. "Nandagopala, the lord of the herds, who stands with a sharp spear, ever-vigilant. That spear is not merely for wolves, my sisters. It is the spear of Jnana, the sharp wisdom that slays the enemies of the soul, lust, anger, and greed, without mercy. He protects His devotees as a father protects his only child, with a ruthlessness that is the highest form of compassion."
The girls walked faster now, the image of the protective spear-bearer filling their minds.
"And think of His mother, Yashoda," Kodai continued. "The woman who tied the Infinite to a grinding stone. He is her darling, the one who wore garlands of wild flowers whose scent still lingers in the wind if you breathe deeply enough. He is the Singam, the lion cub!"
The Vision of the Lord
As they reached the banks of the river, the water shimmered like molten silver under the moon. Kodai stood on a stone step, pointing toward the horizon where the dark silhouette of the temple rose like a mountain.
"Look into the water," she whispered. "See the reflection of the moon? That is His face. Perfectly round, radiant, shedding a cool grace that heals the burning fever of worldly life. He is Karu-manian, the one of the beautiful black hue, the color of a rain-heavy cloud, the color of the deep ocean, the color of the void from which all creation springs."
"But His eyes," Neela whispered, caught in the vision, "you said they are red?"
"Small, lotus-red eyes," Kodai replied. "Red with the heat of His love for us. Red like the rising sun that destroys the darkness. He is Narayana. He is the beginning, the middle, and the end. He has promised to give us the Parai, the symbolic drum, the eternal service, the protection that no king on earth can grant."
The Vow of the World
The girls stood at the water's edge. The world around them seemed to expand. They were no longer just village girls in a corner of their village, they were the Gopis of Vraja, they were the souls of the forest, they were the souls of all humanity standing at the threshold of the Infinite.
"We perform this Pawai," Kodai declared, her voice echoing across the river, "not for ourselves alone. We bathe in these waters so that the world may sing. We give up our luxuries, our scented oils, and our kohl, for what use is earthly beauty when we seek to mirror His radiance? If we seek Him with a singular heart, the rains will fall in abundance, the cows will yield milk that overflows the pails, and the land will be free of sorrow."
One by one, they stepped into the river. The water was cold, but as it touched their skin, it felt like a caress of silk.
"Narayana..." Neela murmured as she dipped her head beneath the surface.
"Narayana..." the others echoed.
At that moment, the sun began to break the horizon, its golden fingers touching the top of the Srirangam gopuram in the far distance. The transition was complete. The night of the soul had ended, and the month of Margali had begun its work of transformation.
The Discussion of the Divine Nuance
As they emerged from the water, dripping and radiant, Kodai looked at them. She saw not just her friends, but a phalanx of devotees ready to storm the gates of Vaikuntha with nothing but their songs.
"The world will talk of this," Kodai said softly. "They will say that in the time after the Great War, when the world grew cold and cynical, there were those in the south who remembered the son of Yashoda. They will say that we found Him not in the high mountains or the deep caves, but in the morning mist, in the river water, and in the shared heartbeat of our sisters."
The girls began to walk back, their wet clothes clinging to them like the grace of the Lord. They did not speak much now, the silence was pregnant with the presence of the One they had summoned. They had begun the thirty-day journey. Each step back to the village was a step closer to the heart of Narayana.
The first submission as a paasuram had been lived. The invitation had been issued. The universe itself seemed to lean in, eager to hear the next submission from Kodai that would never end.
(c) Bharat Bhushan
19 December 2025
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