Arunachala Shiva!!! We travel distances to return, to you...

"Arunachala!" He called out, "Why do I need to travel, if I am to return to you?"

Muniswamy heard the sadhu call out in prayer at the Esanya Lingam temple. He was almost at the end of the Girivalam path, having walked his way on the fifteen kilometer pradakshana around the sacred Arunachala. After offering his homage at the Esanya Lingam temple, he could complete the walk with prayers at the Annamalai temple. He had been here, on the Girivalam path on a number of occasions in his 65 years, and had been able to complete the entire pradakshana without any problems. He had had no troubles for today, having started from the big temple as early as 5 a.m., and walking slowly he had made it to the Esanya Lingam temple by 9 a.m., before it would get too hot and sultry.

Having come on a number of occasions earlier, he knew of the burial grounds and the cemetery that you had to cross before arriving at the Esanya Lingam temple. Very soon, they were near the cremation grounds. He would have to walk for more than 800 meters at least, bordering the burial grounds. There were two bodies on the pyre, and the smoke was coming their way. It would be better to sit outside, awhile, and go inside the temple only after some time, he felt. Where could he sit? There was a stone-ledge alongside the burial ground, and the families who had come to cremate their loved ones, were gathered nearby. Two local vendors were standing nearby selling flower garlands. He could sit near them.

The flower vendors looked at him curiously. They were not able to place him, as a devotee, or pilgrim or as a member of the families who had gathered here for their loved ones. Muniswamy sat quietly, thinking, watching and wondering. His brother at Chennai had explained about the guardians of the eight directions. He had told him that if you would start at the Indra Lingam, then you would come to a logical end at the cremation grounds near the Esanya Lingam temple. What begins, has to end. If you began on a journey, you had to end it at some point. After you concluded your journey at the Esanya Lingam temple, you walked through the cremation grounds, cleansing yourself of all your actions in this life. You would then go ahead to surrender completely to Annamalai at the big temple. On each occasion that you would enter the great temple after a pradakshana on the Girivalam path, you came out without any baggage from your previous journey.

Muniswamy sat on the edge of the cremation grounds, between the Esanya Lingam temple and the funeral pyres. He watched the families standing near the pyres, and thought, to each one present, they would all return here, one last time. This place was their real destination. Smiling at the truth, Muniswamy went to the Esanya Lingam  temple. This was the only one of the ashtalingams that was placed lower in the ground, almost underground. One had to descend a small flight of stairs to reach the Esanya Lingam. This was also supposed to be the largest and the most ancient. The priest was conducting prayers for some families who had come earlier and Muniswamy did not disturb him. He offered his prayers to Shiva who was Esanya himself at this place, and came up to the outer sanctum and sat outside the premises.

The images were extremely overwhelming. He had seen some pilgrims breaking down in tears at the Esanya Lingam temple. Today was not to be one of those days, he thought. His mind went back to some of his earlier visits on completion of the Girivalam pradakshana. Once, there had been an oldish gentleman who had been quoting the sacred Annamalai Venba and had explained some of the verses to him. It had left a profound impact on him. He kept hearing the verses again and again inside his head. He had not understood any of the words at that time, and he did not do so, to this day. He could not even remember the words. But, he could certainly sense the references to Esanya and to the cycle of life and death.

An elderly lady, silver-haired, dressed in a much wrinkled, well-worn saree, with a very largish circular crimson red kumkum bindi, came walking leisurely and sat next to Muniswamy. He greeted her respectfully, as one pilgrim to another, and sat quietly. He did not want to end up talking to her about anything, for he dearly wanted to get back to the big temple and conclude his Girivalam walk with prayers to Annamalai. He looked up at Annamalai and gestured to himself, almost in gratitude. The elderly lady watched his gesture and smiled.

As he feared, she began to speak, "Swamy, you seem to have been here on a number of occasions. Do you come here often? Do you sit here often?" Muniswamy hated when it happened in such a manner. He hated to talk to people when he could be better placed by walking on the Girivalam path. However, he replied, "I have to get back on the pradakshana. But yes, I do come here often. I usually sit here for sometime before going forward to the big temple. Why do you ask?"

She did not reply. She was watching a new family enter the cremation grounds. It was a very small group. Four men carried an old lady and placed the body near an empty pyre-site. The moment they placed the body, they stood away from it and walked away to stand under the shade of a large tree at a distance. Two women had accompanied then, and they stood near the compound wall of the cremation grounds. They did not enter the grounds. They just waited in the shade of another tree. Soon enough, an elderly gentleman came running behind them, with a young boy accompanying him. They stood near the two women. They were all silent. They did not go near the old lady's body that had been placed on the ground. This went on for a while, as Muniswamy watched quietly.

The elderly lady smiled and pointed and said, "O Swamy! Do you see that! They are all alone. Now, perhaps, they understand. As a family, they are all alone at this moment. A member of their family has passed away, and they have just about done their duty. Both those women are sisters, and that elderly man is their brother. They are standing there silently, waiting. Do you know, O Swamy, what is it that they are waiting for? They are waiting for people to come to help them to untie the lady and place her on the funeral pyre. Do you know why they are waiting? Because their caste does not permit them to go near the funeral pyre or to touch the dead body when it is inside the cremation ground. That is why the four who brought the old lady here, placed her on the ground and rushed away. Little do they realise, that they will also come here on their final journey and this is their fate. Yet, they cling on to their caste and pride."

Muniswamy looked at the people and agreed with her. The brother and the two sisters seemed to be waiting for some help to come along. There were similar help at one of the other pyres. They were placing the firewood and dung cakes on the body over there. It looked like it would be well over an hour before they would move over from their task to help out with the old lady who had been placed next to an empty pyre-site. He spoke to the elderly lady, "Who are those two sisters? Are they related to the old lady? Do you know them?"

"Yes! They are related!" exclaimed the elderly lady, "That old lady is my elder sister and those two ladies are her daughters and that elderly man is her son. She had passed away in here sleep and they rushed her here within two hours. They did not inform me, though I am her only sister. They fear that I will claim a share in her property. They did not even bother to take her to a good hospital to see if they could revive her. The medical doctor who gave them the death certificate in ten minutes, remembered me and informed me. That's why I have come here and I sit here."

It was too bad and depressing, thought Muniswamy. This was very unwise. When would people learn? She was their mother, and they made her wait, thus, in her final journey! He sat next to the elderly lady. The final part of the walk on the Girivalam path could wait, he thought. This lady needed his companionship now. She looked so courageous, but could lose control at any moment. They sat together, watching. It was almost high noon now, and the men from the other funeral had completed their tasks. They received some money from the family and came up to the body of the old lady. There was no conversation or instructions. They went about their job silently and without any discussion from the family.

The sisters and brother left the cremation ground by the time the pyre was burning fiercely. They would probably return tomorrow, Muniswamy thought. Or, if there were more bodies coming in, the pyre-helpers would sweep up the bones and ashes and retain them in a mud urn and hand them over to the family if and when someone would come to claim it. The elderly lady stood up as the family left the ground and took Muniswamy's hand for support. He walked with her silently to the funeral pyre and stood while she wept and circled around the burning pyre. She called out to a cremation priest sitting nearly and gave him some money to recite prayers. The sisters and brother had not conducted any prayers for their mother. Muniswamy stood, listening to the prayers, watching, his eyes lost in the leaping flames.

The flames made him weep. He was standing too close. He thought of his father and mother. He had done good by them. He had been able to carry them to their cremation, along with his brother, and his uncles. They had had no second thoughts about bathing them by themselves, dressing them up and conducting all the rites with the help of a regular cremation ground priest. His uncle had been close to his father. He had sat at the cremation grounds at their village near Satyavedu in Andhra Pradesh, holding on the ash-urn for eleven days, without returning home. They had gone to the cremation grounds to ask him to return, but he had refused. some said that his uncle had been talking strangely during those days.

Death was strange, funny and abrupt, thought Muniswamy. The only definite aspect of it was that it was final. It was complete. It got over and there was no way that you could change it. You had to accept it. Perhaps, those two sisters and the brother were more pragmatic. They had come to terms with the passing of their mother immediately. He stood quietly, as the elderly lady completed her prayers. She sat down in the shade of a tree nearby and said, "O Swamy, thank you for your help. I am ok now. I will sit here till the flames go down. You go ahead on the Girivalam and complete your walk. Later, if you feel good about it, please bring me some flower garlands from Annamalai himself so that I can offer them to my sister here, at the Esanya Lingam."

Nodding in agreement, Muniswamy bowed low with folded hands and went back to the Esanya Lingam temple. There was a water tap nearby. He removed all his clothes, right down to his loincloth, and had a quick bath in the cold water. Without drying himself, and with only a dhoti around his waist, he walked in to the outer sanctum. Nobody thought his appearance to be strange. He worshipped at the Esanya Lingam and sat on the stairs, at the last step. The priest had closed the doors to the inner sanctum. Muniswamy could sit silently, contemplating the aspect of Shiva as Esanya. What was this circle of life, he wondered, and why enforce the aspect so vigorously at this temple?

Muniswamy felt his question, being asked directly to Shiva. What could Maheshwara reply to the most profound of questions of humanity, he thought. Why should we be reminded of death when it is futile, for we cannot prevent death? Death was certain. Should one think about it or should one fear death? Is it just a moment in one's life like any other? If so, then one would have to remember that there would be nothing after death. The death of a loved person led to sorrow, but the death of a person in pain and sorrow should mean liberation. Would they take their pain and sorrow with them in their onward journey? Or, was one free of their misery? If one would get free from one's misery, then perhaps, one should look forward to death.

"Questions, questions, O Maheshwara! Who would give me answers?" thought Muniswamy, looking at the peaceful image of Shiva as Esanya. These were questions that nobody could answer, he knew. A family of pilgrims, having come from their walk on the Girivalam, came in to worship at the closed doors of the inner sanctum. There seemed to be three generations, grandparents, parents and a grandson and grand-daughter. The grandson was helping his grandmother down the stairs while the grandfather preferred to sit and crouch on the top step to get a glimpse of the Esanya Lingam. The grand-daughter sat alongside her grandfather. The parents came to sit alongside Muniswamy at the lowest step. Silently, they went about organizing the items for the prayer that they conducted  themselves without waiting for the priest.

The grandmother watched everything patiently and turned to her grandson and said, "Muruga, you are a good boy unlike your father who is now lost in rituals. He has walked on the Girivalam path with me and his father on so many occasions but has yet to understand the ONE with no form. What prayer can you render to the ONE who is beyond everything? With which ritual can you bind HIM, who is impossible to contain? Your father will also die as surely I would. Muruga, ask your father to lead his remaining days in being a good teacher to you and your sister."

Muniswamy was amazed. He had asked a single question to Shiva as Esanya and had wondered if he would get an answer. Immediately, here was this lady, who explained that even such questions and rituals were only mundane in our surrender to the great ONE without form. Perhaps, he could be selfish and ask his questions, maybe one question, just one question, to the grandmother. And maybe he would get his answer.

Taking courage, with a silent prayer to Shiva as Esanya, he asked, "Amma, I heard you speak the truth to your grandson. I am sitting here in front of Esanyan, and I had asked him a question. Perhaps, you could help me with the answer. Here, at this ashtalingam, why should we be reminded of death, if death was certain, and we need not fear it. Is it not an actual liberation of our soul, and should we not look forward to it? Pray, help me with this answer, for it may benefit this boy and his parents also."

The grandmother smiled with true happiness, and without any surprise, replied, "Thambi, I see that your clothes and your feet are wet. No wonder you ask these questions as you sit here. You must have come from the cremation grounds and your mind is troubled about death. You sit here, without being able to get your feet to take you to the big temple, to complete your pradakshana. There are lines on your palms, and even palmists can predict your life. So, why worry about death? Just go to a palmist. There are people you meet, who are not related to you, and they go to their homes after work. You lose them for some part of the day. But, they come back. You board a bus to go to Chennai. You do not get the same driver. Yet, in both cases, your friend at work comes back to you and you do your work as usual. Your bus driver is not the same, but you go where you wanted and you arrived correctly."

"So, what is important? The journey or the destination?" She asked, "Your relatives or your friends? Your work that got done or the work that you could not do? Nothing matters. Bhakti and faith are also not real. Accept your tasks, go on completing them. Accept your successes. Go on with your work. Accept your faults. Begin a new journey. Death is certain. That much is certain. Do not go about seeking answers to the riddle of death. It is there. That's all. Seeking death is of no purpose. Not seeking work or your responsibilities is not going to help you avoid death."

Muniswamy stood up happy. He was not certain that he understood it entirely and that he now knew what to do about death or life. He was extremely happy, that he had just sat here, asked questions to Esanyan himself, at his sanctum, and a person came to give him some answers. You had to ask and you had to push. "O Arunachala!" He exclaimed, turning to the grandmother, "Your ways are not at all mysterious. I have seen you and I now know that you hear everyone in this magical path. Give me strength, for I would now run to complete this journey, for I know that you will bless me with new life and a new journey, that will bring me back, to you..."

Shiva, in the aspect of Maha Mrityunjaya

the conqueror of death... 

Arunachala Shiva!!! Bless me, that I will always return, to you...

"Arunachala!" he whispered, "What is this amazing family of the night that you create!"

Rangabhashyam sat at the open seat-ledge outside the Kubera Lingam temple. It was a Girivalam full-moon night, around 2 a.m., and he sat amazed, watching the nearly hundred devotees and pilgrims walking, sitting, worshipping, chanting, sleeping and eating about near the temple. The Kubera Lingam temple was amazingly comfortable and perhaps, thoughtfully improved, this year in 1975, he thought. Pilgrims starting on the Girivalam walk from the Annamalai temple or Sri Ramashram would be happy to take a break by the time they would reach the Kubera Lingam temple. There were open spaces alongside the temple, and the pavement was ample here, with some improved amenities in the mid 70s. Devotees, pilgrims, vendors, sadhus, mendicants and local volunteers, everyone found a place near the temple on the Girivalam full-moon night.

He had started walking at 11.30 p.m., and it had been slow progress, walking with the groups of devotees along the path. There must have been at least a thousand or more pilgrims walking on the Girivalam path tonight. Somehow, slowly, resting when possible, Rangabhashyam had managed to get up to the Kubera Lingam temple. the devotees had queued up outside the temple and there were clusters of devotees standing around the outer sanctum. Some devotees were throwing coins towards the temple, as was the unusual or usual practice at the Kubera Lingam. There were also groups of 3-4 sadhus and mendicants seated in a disciplined manner on the pavement seeking alms from the devotees. Vendors were selling foodstuffs, devotional items and memorabilia.

Rangabhashyam loved this experience. He had been on the Girivalam path, years ago, with his parents, when they had traveled up from Srivilliputtur with his two sisters. They had stayed at a choultry, cooking their own food, traveling meagrely, and enjoying every aspect of the pilgrimage. He had many memories of that visit. His father had been very enterprising and loved to travel. They had traveled all over Tamil Nadu, Kerala and as far north as Ahobilam and Tirupati. Those were the years between 1910 to 1925, and these places were not even named as such. Later, he had made one more pilgrimage to Tiruvannamalai, after his marriage, with Kodai, his wife, and  three of his children, journeying from Srirangam, where they had migrated to, from Srivilliputtur. From one pilgrimage center to the other, he thought, a Vaishnava in search of Shiva!!!

Those were the only two pilgrimages to the Girivalam path, as he remembered. His father had been traveling all the while and later he had moved away from Tamil Nadu. Memories, he thought, memories were a treasure. Walking on the Girivalam path in those days, with his parents had been a true adventure. The road as one saw it today was not there. It was a network of cart-tracks inside thick forests and scrublands and one had to walk from one of the ashtalingams to the other. Each of the ashtalingams were in the custody of a resident sadhu who had settled at the premises. Beyond the 2-3 other helper sadhus in those days, ten pilgrims were considered a crowd. Years later, when he had come with his wife and kids, they had hired a local couple from near the Agni Lingam temple. The man had carried their bags and the woman had helped them cook food and took care of the children. It had been difficult, he remembered, thinking of those days.

Today, it would be his third pilgrimage, he thought. The road was much better, with comfortable walking tracks, volunteers providing food and water, eating-stalls, quick prayers at the ashtalingams, and the sight of thousand pilgrims being recognised as not being enough. Rangabhashyam sat at the Kubera Lingam, thinking of all those who had gone ahead, of those who he would not meet again. And yet, he thought, as he sat there, he could almost reach out and talk to his father and mother. In spite of his marriage of many years, his children having grown up and with their own families, for Rangabhashyam, the most precious and most treasured memories were the years that he had been blessed with his parents. If given a chance, he would give away everything that he had gained to be back with his parents. That would not be, he thought, but being on the Girivalam path, brought everything back, flooding in.

There was a significant memory of his visit with his parents to the Kubera Lingam temple, sometime in 1910 or thereabouts. He had been 10-11 years of age, and his mother had been tired and she worried about the night journey with the girls. They had been advised by the priest at the Kubera Lingam temple to stay at a nearby hut across the cart-tracks towards the sacred peak of Arunachala. A mendicant sadhu covered in a blanket, had gone ahead and informed the family staying there. His father had paid four annas for the night, and had given a half-anna to the sadhu who had helped. The family was very unique, and that was why he had remembered them, after all these years. The man was a dwarf, and his wife had been incredibly tall, compared to him. Rangabhashyam's parents had not thought it to be amusing but he had never forgotten them.

The dwarf, tiny as he was, had been extremely fat, with a big belly. He had had a golden necklace and walked about with the support of a stout staff. He had been very kind and had asked his wife to warm up goat milk with jaggery for the two girls. One of his sisters had disliked it intensely and had passed on the clay container to Rangabhashyam. He had thought it to be very tasty. Today, sitting here, at the Kubera Lingam temple, he thought, what would he give, perhaps a month's salary, to get that hot cup of goat milk sweetened with jaggery. His mother and the dwarf's wife had been chatting all the while, and worked out the dinner together and Rangabhashyam could remember the snip of the tasty coconut-oil flavoured sambar to this day. Those days were gone, forever.

In his second visit with Kodai and his children, Rangabhashyam had delayed the pradakshana at the Kubera Lingam temple. Would he find the dwarf? Would that house be there? He had wondered about it and had keenly crossed the earlier ashtalingams quickly. Kodai had not known about his intent. It was sometime in 1929 or 1930, he remembered, two sons and a daughter had accompanied them, and Kodai was keen to seek the blessings of Arunachala after tragedy had taken away a child earlier. Rangabhashyam had asked the priest at the Kubera Lingam if he knew of a family across the road towards the sacred peak of Arunachala, of whom, the husband was a dwarf, and who had kept goats for their milk.

The priest had explained that he was new to the temple and he went back daily, by dusk, to a village near the panchamukham area. He had never crossed the road to explore the settlements in the lower slopes of the sacred Arunachala. They were all newcomers in any case, and there were only 6-10 houses in the area. Rangabhashyam had asked the local mendicants and sadhus who were camping at a small prehistoric type of ancient stone temple-structure nearby. None of the sadhus had helped him. But, Rangabhashyam had been keen, and had gone to a nearby hut and requested their help for his family to stay the night. They had allowed them, but they did not speak of a dwarf, his tall wife and his goats.

Now, in 1975, and in his third visit, Rangabhashyam was alone. They had all gone earlier, parents, sisters, Kodai - his beloved wife, and five of his children, had all journeyed before him to the great temple in the heavens. He had come down from Bombay, where his two sons had settled, to visit his daughter in Madras. With time to spare, he had got away by a bus and got a bed to sleep at the Gentlemen's Choultry at Sri Ramanashram. It had been pure bliss, getting away, finally. He could not remember when he had been entirely alone, by himself. Walking on the Girivalam path, all the memories came flooding back. He had actually sat down at the Yama Lingam and Niruthi Lingam temples and had broken down in tears.

Sitting here, he could sense his mother holding his hand, and sometimes he could remember the feel of his sisters' hands in his, holding on to him for support. He could close his eyes and feel the loving hands of Kodai, seeking his strength, and later asking him to carry their three year old son over the stony path. The roads were well made now, tarred, with buses and cars driving by, and night lighting at some spots providing the welcome feeling. Pilgrims no longer cooked their food on the Girivalam path, out of absolute necessity. Eatables were available easily. He had taken a break at a 'tiffin kadai', actually a simple shanty made of palm leaves. They had served him a medley of two idlis, one masala vada, two types of chutneys and a small container of buttermilk - all for one rupee. He had almost laughed at the cost. It would have been at least two rupees in Bombay.

Rangabhashyam walked about, within and around the outer sanctum of the Kubera Lingam temple. Whom could he ask about the family he had met, nearly sixty years ago? Who would know? Turning towards Arunachala, he looked up at the sacred peak, in sharp silhouette under the full moon. It would not do any harm, he thought, and he spoke to Arunachala, within himself. "O Shiva! O Arunachala! My father taught me that you are the first Vaishnava. As you did, so did my beloved Kodai. She carried the Shankhu and the Chakram on her bare shoulders, and yet, she loved you dearly. Who was it that allowed my parents and sisters to stay the night, so close to you? Who was it that allowed you to love my parents, sisters, my Kodai and my children so much, that you have taken them in your embrace?"

As he said these thoughts, he saw a sadhu, aged, walking towards him, distinctively covered entirely by a blanket around him. There was something in his confident walk, the way he walked proudly, the repeated glance towards Arunachala, the steadfast denial to look down, and in his strong shoulders. Rangabhashyam extended his hands towards him and placed a five rupee note in the sadhu's palms. The sadhu looked startled. People rarely gave more than fifty paise and the rich would sometimes give a rupee. But, five rupees? This was surprising. He looked at Rangabhashyam enviously, and blessed him, "Swami, may Arunachala bless you!"

Hearing his voice, Rangabhashyam was sure. This was the same sadhu who had guided his parents to the dwarf's house. His father had given him a half-anna for his help. Smiling, Rangabhashyam said to him, "Periyanna, this is my resolution to a very old debt. Sixty years ago, you had helped my parents and my sisters stay for the night at a kind family's house for the night. My father had given a half-anna for your help. Do you remember? How can you remember? You meet so many pilgrims every day on his sacred path. Perhaps you can help me. Do you remember the family who had alowed us to stay at their home for the night? The man was a dwarf. Is the family alive?"

The mendicant sadhu smiled. He looked closely at Rangabhashyam and asked him to sit with him at the stone ledge outside the Kubera Lingam temple. He said, "You are that small boy, about ten years old, I remember, on that day. That dwarf, as you say, is my stepbrother. He could never stop talking about your family. He stayed in touch with your father, and they met each other once or twice at Tiruvannamalai. Yes. He is alive, older than me, of course, but very much present. His wife is also alive. They had moved their house to a secluded place inside the forest."

Rangabhashyam was happy. He looked up at Arunachala, conveyed a quiet prayer of thanks and spoke to the mendicant sadhu who was covered up with his blanket, "Periyanna, I never knew that you were related to the family we stayed with. Who was he? Why is his memory so strong in me? Why do I feel like I have to know about him? I had come here, when I was married, with my wife and children, sometime 45 years ago. But nobody knew about him. They never knew that there was a dwarf and his wife in the foothills of the sacred Arunachala in front of the Kubera Lingam temple."

The mendicant sadhu replied, "That is the tragedy now. The newcomers do not know of the siddhars who are the real guardians of the sacred region. Some say that they have been for hundreds of years. As much as you can remember, and as I can, all changes have taken place in these hundred years, and as I feel, for the better. My brother seeks solitude and has very minimal needs. He is happy to be with Arunachala. Actually, he is a very rich man. Coconut groves, cultivation and dairy farms, away from Arunachala belong to his family. His wife's family and his children manage his properties. He lives as he taught. There are no personal needs in life. He does not need anything. I have been with him since my childhood. Sometime people like you place alms in my hand. I use it for the stuff that I cannot get in a normal way."

Rangabhashyam nodded and asked, "Can I meet him? can I talk to him? He has been a part of my memories that I have not shared at all with my children, grown up as they are, with their children. I have thought of him, every day, in my prayers, in my sleep, in my thoughts about my parents, my sisters and my children who are no longer with me. Is it possible to go to his house and meet him?"

The mendicant sadhu said, "Wait here. Tonight is a full moon. He has to come to the temple. he has not come until now. It would be about time now. After his prayers, he will sit here for some time and watch everyone. He loves to watch the crowds, the devotees, the families and the manner in which the Girivalam path has become accepted among everyone. You wait here. I will join you when he comes."

It was about 4 a.m. or thereabouts, and devotees were moving about in waves. Many dropped coins at the open area outside the Kubera Lingam temple. Some families sat for a while. Several devotees placed coins in the open bowls in front of the sadhus who were seated in groups and chanting some prayers. The mendicant sadhu covered in a blanket stood silently, away from the crowd. He seemed very calm, unaffected by all the hustle and the numbers of people. He did not seem to be in need of alms. He was watching the dark lower slopes of Arunachala. He was waiting. After a while, he seemed to have spotted something. He shouted a prayer loudly and went inside the Kubera Lingam temple and took up a place in the premises in the outer sanctum. 3-4 mendicants came up from other places in the crowd and stood with him.

Rangabhashyam looked towards the lower slopes of Arunachala. He could not see anything. He continued to search. Then, he heard it. A faint bleat of a goat. There was an ancient prehistoric sort of medieval temple structure on the outer side of the road. It was a deserted place and in the darkness of the night, it looked like a haunted place. Suddenly, as he watched, a goat stood there, quiet, watching, waiting. He kept looking at the goat. he was there, he could make out, a small shadow alongside the goat. The dwarf was there.

The goat stood still at the temple-like ancient structure while the dwarf man crossed the Girivalam path from the side of the sacred Arunachala to the Kubera Lingam temple. The groups of mendicant sadhus stopped singing. Some stood up to greet him in silent respect. He did not look like he was ninety years or more, in the manner in which he walked. He strode confidently, covered in a shawl, looking around, smiling and not stopping to talk to anyone. At the entrance to the temple, a group of 3-4 mendicant sadhus bowed in respect and touched his feet. At that moment, Rangabhashyam saw, he did not seem to have changed at all in his rotund shape.

He was fat, with a large belly, but despite it, nobody seemed to be noticing him for his shape at all. he had a golden necklace and was carrying a money bag that he handed over. One of the mendicants accepted the money bag and went over to the groups of waiting sadhus and kept handing over fistfuls of coins to them. As he saw, Rangabhashyam could notice, he now had a full-length silvery beard and a great moustache. Silvery hair that seemed to make him look like a very wise man.

The mendicant sadhu with the blanket walked up to him from the outer sanctum and went with the wise looking dwarft to the temple. He did not push the pilgrims aside and did not break the queue. Quietly, without any showy display, he conveyed his prayer, and walked out to the garden area. He seemed to be carrying some pomegranates in his hand that he handed over to the kids who were picking up the coins being thrown by the devotees. The mendicant sadhu with the blanket spoke to the wise looking dwarf and pointed towards Rangabhashyam. Nodding, the wise looking dwarf came up to him.

"It has been a long time, Son. A very long time." He said, "You are an old man now, with your own grandchildren. Why did you not come earlier?" Rangabhashyam broke down in tears, and bowed down to touch the feet of the wise looking dwarf. The mendicant sadhu with the blanket said, "Anna, he has lost five of his children. They went back to Vaikunta as kids." The wise looking dwarf looked at Rangabhashyam quietly, thinking of all those who had gone, and made him sit on the stone ledge. He said, "I understand. You are in search of your people, you are in search of your memories. I am in search of that family who came to meet me sixty years ago. I remember your mother and your father. I remember your sisters."

"Come, come with me to my hut on the foothills of Arunachala, and stay with me for 2-3 days. My lady will be so happy. She remembers your family. Mind it, you were the only family to stay with us in all these years. The memories of that single day have made them feel like they were our family. We can talk to you about what your father and mother said, and how they loved to take care of you and your sisters. My lady will tell you how much your sisters loved you and how they gossiped. Come. My life has not changed much. My friend, my beloved Arunachala, does not allow me to go back to him, though I ask him to call me to him every day."

Rangabhashyam stood up and walked away obediently with the wise looking dwarf to the foothills of the sacred Arunachala in the hours of the early dawn. this would be his longest Girivalam pradakshana, he thought.

Kubera

From - http://mythology.wikia.com/wiki/Kubera?file=Kubera_on_man.jpg

Arunachala Shiva!!! My loved ones journey back, to you…

“Arunachala!” She spoke unknowingly, “Are you there for all my loved ones?”

Kalpana was excited at this new and very amazing journey of discovery that she had begun, all by herself. This was the first occasion that she was on a journey, so far away from her family and her work and friends, all by herself. Alone! Wow! Somehow she had managed to get away from everyone on this very different journey to Tiruvannamalai. Her cousin had put her up to an appreciation and understanding of Arunachala, Bhagwan Sri Ramana Maharshi and about the Girivalam Path. A walk of fifteen kilometers? She could do that, she had told herself. And now, she was here, at Tiruvannamalai, and on the Girivalam Path.

She had been offered two choices, of starting on the Girivalam Path, from the Annamalai temple, or from Sri Ramanashram. She had chosen the latter, as she was staying at a private lodge near the ashram. They day before had been entirely taken up by the activities at the ashram. Her mind had just exploded at the feelings that had come over her, and she was unable to place any manner of definition or any form of understanding of what was happening to her. The meditation halls had been the most amazing part of the time that she had spent at the ashram. This was the first occasion in her life that she had sat among so many people who were serious about silence and meditation.

Today, Kalpana had been at Sri Ramanashram in the early dawn, and had begun walking by 7 a.m. and stopped for prayers at the Yama Lingam temple and the Niruthi Lingam temple. She had started alone, but since it was a Sunday, and because there were many other random devotees at the temples or along the Girivalam Path, Kalpana did not feel alone by herself on the pradakshana. A family of four from Chennai was walking with her from the Yama Lingam temple, and later, they had been joined by a group of six women from Andhra Pradesh while at the Niruthi Lingam temple. Somehow, Kalpana was adopted by the family and the group of women.

They had arrived at the Varuna Lingam temple by 8.30 a.m., walking at a comfortable pace, without tiring themselves. There were other groups of pilgrims at the temple, sitting at different locations in the outer sanctum. It seemed like a good moment and place to sit for a while and gaze at the sacred peak. It had been cloudy in the early hours, but now, at the Varuna Lingam temple, Kalpana could look at Arunachala and understand the peace that came about her. Every glance provided a different perspective of the sacred peak. As she gazed, and sensed the happiness, she was content that she was on the Girivalam path today. Strangers all, but companions on the path. It was beginning to get more and more exhilarating within her, and she was happy and content.

She went up to the inner sanctum of the Varuna Lingam temple and worshipped along with the others. It was a splendid experience, gazing at the Shiva Lingam within. She had felt the same happiness at the Yama Lingam and Niruthi Lingam temples. Kalpana had never felt like this before, and she wondered about it. Why was she so very happy? How did this feeling come upon herself? She had accompanied her parents to temples in New Delhi with her sisters, and later, with her children. On visits to Chennai, meeting her parents’ cousins, brothers and sisters, during weddings or extended visits, she had gone with them to temples and had waited patiently or impatiently for the visits to get over. But, this was different. This was a trip that she had wanted to be on, and she wanted to sponge all the experiences within her. She had been to the big temple and had gazed upon Annamalai yesterday, and later at the two sanctums at the Sri Ramanashram. The panorama of the temple and the ashram, the devotees, the visible peace and happiness on everyone had amazed her. Was it always like this? Why had she not noticed it earlier?

The family of four from Chennai and the six ladies from Andhra Pradesh were seated at a corner. They were sharing some bananas and lemon rice among themselves. One of the ladies offered some rice and a banana to Kalpana who accepted it thankfully. She had been feeling hungry and had been wondering if she would have to sit up at any of the ‘tiffin kadai’ along the Girivalam path. Was it allowed? Perhaps it was ok to eat while on the Girivalam path. She would survive the entire path and complete the pradakshana, now, with some food within her, she smiled to herself.

As she sat content, Kalpana became aware of someone sitting close to her, staring at her and watching her intently. Disturbed, she turned away from her newly found friends to look for the intruder. An oldish bald man sitting nearby was watching her silently. Instinctively, she thought, who was this ugly looking bald guy? Why was this short and fat man staring at her? Kalpana looked at him curiously, while eating her lemon rice. The man seemed to have got encouraged, for he stood up and walked up to her. She could barely stop herself from breaking up in laughter, for he looked absolutely out of sorts, and was out of breath in the very effort of standing up and sitting down.

The dysfunctional looking man spoke to Kalpana, “You seem to be very happy with yourself, smiling and thinking. My apologies for disturbing you like this. Your happiness is very obvious. You seem to have been seeing Arunachala, again and again!” She was surprised. Why was this strange man talking to her, as though he knew her from a long time? He did not seem to be embarrassed at all. Back at home in New Delhi, in her school or college or in her south Delhi neighbourhood, boys would not have had the guts to talk to her or any girl without proper introductions. Especially not oldish, fat, balding or ugly uncles! They would never have had the courage to talk to younger women.

One of the ladies from Andhra Pradesh replied to the strange bald man, “Seeing Arunachala again and again? How do you say that, Prabhuji?” Kalpana was startled. Why was this lady replying to him and encouraging him? Why was she treating him with respect? Why was she giving him an honorific, as ‘Prabhuji’? Who was he? Was he some sort of a Swami or a Sage? She looked at him more closely. For all his unpleasant appearance, he seemed very different. He had several Tulasi-malas around his neck, diamond ear-rings that were designed like crocodiles, turmeric and crimson coloured thick cords of twine around his wrists. Must be a holy man, of some sort, thought Kalpana.

“She is very different from you all, she has a very distinctive appearance of peace and happiness,” He said, “This lady is unlike you. She is extremely happy at this moment. She keeps looking at Arunachala, all the while that she has been sitting here at the Varuna Lingam temple. Each time that she looks at Arunachala, the sacred Arunachala, it seems like a love story, a story that seems to become better every time she gazes up again at our beloved Arunachala.” Kalpana was surprised. Was this strange-looking man talking about her? How did he realize that the happiness in her face was entirely different from the others with her? Nobody had spoken to her in this manner before, and she knew in her heart of hearts that she had certainly not been totally happy for some years now.

Kalpana felt guilty. How could she have been so happy about herself? So many of her loved ones, those closest to her, had gone ahead to the great temple in the heavens. She had stayed happy and courageous, for the sake of her sisters and children. She had carried her emotions and sorrow within herself and allowed herself a life that was as normal as it could be. This was the most unusual thing that she had ever done in her life. Even her children had been surprised at her decision to go all by herself from Delhi to Tiruvannamalai, and to walk on the Girivalam path. With all the weight inside her, and all those memories, how could this stranger have seen so much happiness within her?

The ladies from Andhra Pradesh had gathered around the strange looking man and were chatting among themselves. He pointed to the sacred peak and said, “It is said that one must walk on the pradakshana with humility. One must exercise devotion as one proceeds. One must be silent so as to listen to oneself. This lady, who travels with you on the Girivalam path, is a very different person from most other devotees. The six of you, the family here, the other devotees, the priest and the local villagers, you are all familiar with Arunachala, with the great Annamalai temple and Bhagwan Sri Ramana Maharshi. So many people come here, after they get to know about the reason to be here. They think that they understand. We think that we understand. We are not wrong. It is our manner of devotion.”

Kalpana was fascinated. Some part of her had never questioned the reason for traveling from New Delhi to Tiruvannamalai. Her sister had helped her fly out to Chennai. A cousin brother had helped her get a taxi to Tiruvannamalai. There had been no hassles at all. A decision made suddenly had become a journey within 24 hours. It was amazing. There had been many journeys that she had made with her parents, her sisters and her family. They had all been perfect journeys, sometimes into the Himalayas. But, they had all been planned for weeks, and some had taken months of anticipation. What had made her decide? An accidental and unexpected mention by a cousin about the temple and the Girivalam pradakshana, and here she was.

The strange looking man was speaking. “But, look at her. Everything that she sees,” He said, “She smiles at. She saw you eating lemon rice, and I saw her smiling. You shared it with her, and she did not hesitate. She accepted it happily. She looked up at Arunachala, as though it was a miracle! That someone she did know yesterday, was sharing food with her, and she accepted it. Each time she ate something, she looked up at the sacred Arunachala, and smiled and was happier and happier. Watching her, I saw Arunachala in her. It was amazing.”

Kalpana was curious about the strange looking man. The family from Chennai had begun to walk out of the Varuna Lingam temple. They would be walking slowly. She could catch up with them. The women from Andhra Pradesh were also getting ready to move on. Kalpana did not want to go without talking to the strange looking man. But she did not want to give up on her new friends. She would have to walk alone, she worried. Why not walk alone, she thought. She had come all the way to be alone by herself. She gestured to the six women and said, “You go ahead. I will sit here, talk to Prabhuji for some time, and will be back on the pradakshana after some time. God willing, we may meet again on the Girivalam path or at the Sri Ramanashram or at the temple.”

She sat close to the strange looking man and greeting him with a respectful Namaste and said, “Prabhuji, I do not know you at all! Honestly, the first time that you spoke, I was in panic and frightened. I was also angry. May I know who are you? How is it that you are able to remark on my happiness? Is it so wrong to be happy? Is it wrong to watch Arunachala with so much contentment and happiness? You do not know anything about me. Barely, 2-3 days ago, I would never have believed it if anyone would have said that I could be so much at peace just by looking at a mountain. How can this mountain be different from any other? I have seen so many mountains in the Himalayas.”

The strange looking man smiled and Kalpana could see that he had very obviously protruding teeth, and disturbingly, had strange yellowish red eyes. He answered, “My dear girl, what do you see, when you watch me? I can see it in your eyes. You see a fat, bald, ugly and short man, and just now you noticed my teeth and my eyes. Do you try to measure all these details when I mention that I noticed your happiness? Did you try to examine me and come to any judgement about whether I was happy or not? When the priest conducted the prayers for you, did you notice if he was happy? When the lady gave her share of lemon rice to you, did you wonder if she was happy?”

“Most of the time we go on with our lives, measuring people with what we see from their appearance, clothes, manner of speech and perhaps, their affluence or poverty.” He continued, “Rarely do we notice if they are happy. Do you know the secret to this? It is deep within us. Each time that you see Arunachala, as you walk, as you sit, as you rest and as you pray or chant, you pull HIM out, you take HIM within you, deep within you. The moment HE is within you, it is then that you realize that HE is within the other person too. Every step that you take on this Girivalam path, you see him within the others that you meet. You realize that the cows that graze on the slopes of Arunachala are the most fortunate. The birds that fly into the forests of Arunachala, and perch on the trees there are very blessed. The wind that blows out through the clouds and the water that flows down, brings HIS blessings to everyone.”

Kalpana listened to him in fascination. Nobody had spoken to her with such clarity before. Just by looking at Arunachala, just by that, could Shiva be residing within her? Was HE the cause of her happiness? Similarly, was HE within every devotee that came here? What would happen if Shiva was within her? How would that matter? Would her life change, suddenly? Could she tell anybody back home, at Delhi, at her workplace? Would they not laugh at her? Her questions and doubts must have been very obvious, for the strange looking man smiled with affection.

“My daughter!” He said, “There are those who do not believe in God, and there are those who may doubt his blessings. They are the truly fortunate. They are more blessed than you or me. They are already blessed and therefore they do not search for HIM in all his many forms or manifestations. There is nothing complicated in all this. Do not worry about it. I can sense a very dark cloud of sorry, worry and trepidation that you keep going back to. And then, you get back to joy and happiness. Both are true. Our memories are our most unforgiving friends in our lives. But, without our memories, how would we remember the most precious moments in our lives?”

Kalpana nodded, and said, “True, Prabhuji, sometimes I want to sleep for long hours, and not wake up, so that I can be within my memories. I talk to the loved ones who have gone ahead, and sometimes I cannot sleep. I do not want to get lost in my memories. I know that they are not real. I have never sat in meditation and I have never been in search of silence. But, yesterday, when I sat with so many others in a small room to meditate, I was amazed. I could sit silently. At first, I heard all the sounds of the ashram, and heard the sounds of the people moving about in the meditation room. After a while, I was silent. There were no memories. I sat silently, wondering.”

“I went back today, early morning, and sat for some more time. Again, I found silence. Once or twice, I heard the peafowl outside the room, but they did not seem to be disturbing. Then I realized, that the sounds of the peafowl were not sounds. They are meant to be as they are. The noise that people make, the sound of traffic, the sound of people talking, all these, are not sounds. They are meant to be as they are.  It is the noise that I make within myself, that is the most frightening of all! I am able to understand that, as I walk on the Girivalam path. And each time that I look upon Arunachala, I do not search for Shiva. And when I realize that I do not need to search for Shiva, I do not need to make an effort to sit and drown myself with my memories, I see both! I see silence! Can you see silence? Is that possible, Prabhuji?”

The strange looking man laughed and his crocodile-design diamond ear-rings sparkled in the sunlight that hit him. He exclaimed, “Arunachala! Arunachala! Your ways are mysterious and yet are so very child-like. O Shiva! O Maheshwara! So many years on this path have I worshipped you, O Rameshwara! So many years have I sought you! And you have blessed this daughter of yours in so many magical ways? She did not even know you, and she did not even seek you! Yet, you have pulled her to your embrace and allowed her to gaze upon you within herself!”

He placed his hands together in reverence, and spoke to Kalpana, “My daughter, you are truly blessed. For you have a question that none can answer. Can one see silence? I do not know. O daughter of Shiva! Keep walking, go slowly, and go alone, without any disturbance. Keep looking at the sacred Arunachala. Ask HIM yourself. If HE agrees, I will meet you somewhere, sometime. Pray, bless me with the answer. Go. Be happy as you are. May all your loved ones journey back to HIM, and rest in HIM.”  

Varuna on Makara