Conversations with the Dead

With every passing day of life and despite the integral presence of the mundane, (which is nice but I don’t always appreciate it) the thought that I am here for a limited period of time has not failed to cross my mind several times. I am still trying to grapple with the purpose of life, the basic reason for my existence and of course where am I headed from here. 

I have been immersed in the sacred scriptures, they are the source of all wisdom that has percolated into my mind. They are extremely enlightening in their poetic realm and yet I feel the lacuna, that I am not doing enough to answer this very deep and pertinent question. It has been even louder ever since two individuals left their earthly states, one who I loved dearly and one who I didn’t. They both affected me, in good and not so good ways. One ensured she remained relevant emotionally to me and the other ensured she messed with me completely, not intentionally though. They have left without a trace, owing nothing to the world and probably never to be remembered again. They had little to share materially and yet they had a significant impact on my mind.. the living mind. To keep it simple, let me refer to them as the good one and the lost one. 

What intrigues me is not just their exit, but the way they left their earthly sheath. The good one led a life of authority, keeping her herd together, ensuring the “family” didn’t break into nucleus bits. She guarded her fort ensuring no trouble from the outside and ensuring no trouble from the inside though she did come with a bus load of bias. She made rules and we toed the line. For all her autocracy which did get to her children at some point as they took pleasure in letting her know she needed to withdraw rather than govern, she did what she had to despite the inner opposition. Blamed, defamed and shot at almost every day, she ensured her pack stayed close to her taking all the brickbats in her stride. What mattered to her was a homogeneous family though that rule had started to fade quite a bit. What may have looked like an old age of turmoil, culminated into the most peaceful death within half an hour. She suffered no disease, she simply gave in to the call of death when it came… yes she had been waiting, we all had been waiting. She had not been super spiritual, she had deep attachments and she ensured she fed that desire well. She had outlived her time and yet it was the most peaceful exit that unfolded in front of our eyes. I held her hand one last time before she turned cold, she had left but her body remained plugged in at the hospital… just the mass of flesh breathing, the consciousness that was her had found its way out of her earthly sheath already.

In contrast, the lost one had been nothing but a trouble maker and maybe she didn’t even know how much of a trouble maker she was. She had given sleepless nights to many, created chaos in households and believed she wasn’t wrong at all. Spinster till death, she proclaimed to be the mystical one, the spiritual one and yes, we have crossed swords in the past. She defined her life differently, scoffed at the institution of marriage and the fall out that are children. Men were still her prey, and she craved for that attention. And yet, spiritualism for what ever reason was her definition of who she was. A master at communication with a charm that I could die for, yes she had a presence that couldn’t be ignored no matter how much I tried to push her out of my world. She came to haunt me in the weirdest of ways. For the spiritually inclined and one who had dedicated her life to Arunachala, apparently, her passing was a hell only she would have known how much she was subjected to. Lonely, misguided and with a host of physical ailments she fought her last war with the God of death, screaming her way through uncontrollable pain before she succumbed. She left me even more baffled, as the news of her last days trickled into my world. How or why was a person so mesmerised by the spiritual given such a torturous death? 

It has been a while since the passing of these two women, and yet their last days remains etched in my mind, keeps me speechless and makes me wonder about what impact the nature of the passing has with respect to the life we have chosen to lead. I wouldn’t believe it if we said, we have no control… we have all the control, we just need to define how we want to use it. It would be naive to believe that the one who was seeped in attachment of the family should have been granted a more painful death than the one seeped in spiritualism. And yet the reverse logic made me sit up and think, what exactly is the purpose of life and does it have an impact in the method of what death is inflicted on us. Death has intrigued me a lot more than life, and I have contemplated endless hours on the connect between these two realities. The life I live is incidental, what I make of my death is more important. And if I have to ensure the peaceful exit that I crave for, what would it take to fix the remaining of my life while the clock ticks on. 

I am still thinking, while the loud mundane shows its glamorous self to me I am trying very hard not to be enamoured by its presence. The silence that beats within my mind while I watch the chaos outside, is something I want to explore more… the answer lies there. I am here, you are here, we have a relationship undefined. Is there more to this connect or are we just spending our time coping with the mundane around us… its a decision we need to take, now, seriously to ensure a little that we have some answer to our earthly presence before we let go this sheath. The question really is do we fight the Lord of death, or embrace him. 

Consciousness at the great mountain of Thiruvannamalai

Arunachala Mountain

When all knowledge fades into oblivion
When the curtains of faith are drawn to look beyond
When the essence of existence is defined by consciousness
I am here, and now, at the great mountain of Thiruvannamalai.

Srinivasan stared up at the great mountain of Thiruvannamalai and contemplated over his spiritual journey realizing that he had been so blind, so theoretical, so completely stubborn all these days. It had been such a struggle despite all the accumulated knowledge. He had read many books, he had researched well, he had taken to changing his lifestyle into a real, though provoking journey laced with ritual. He now sat in front of the great mountain of Thiruvannamalai wondering why he had missed the point for so long.

He stared on, the gentle clouds covered its peak, like a silent glowing halo that danced around its pinnacle. It was so beautiful and so breath taking and he kept staring at its majestic presence in the otherwise flat landscape. It had been theory till today, that this mountain was the Kailash of the south. These words rang in his mind as he took a deep breath, what did these words really mean?

Like the great Kailash of the north, that doesn’t allow any person to set foot on itself, this great mountain too has many myths that surround it. Considered to be the very form of Lingodbhava, this mountain gave Srinivas the feeling of the self. These moments while he stared at this majestic piece of natural art were all about him, all about his life energy as the breath he took in consciously and the stark view of the mountain in an otherwise silent afternoon. Nothing else really mattered.

All that he had read, all that he had assumed he had achieved, all that he had considered to be part of a supreme thought, were now only ways to get there. Each way, be it tantra, yoga, or ritual, embedded this truth very subtly into their methodologies. Srinivasa realized it was not any one route that would help him in his journey; it was a combination of all of them. And now he was here, he, his mind and his body present together, having kept aside all these prescriptions to salvation he had come across so far. It was only him, and the mountain, and the rest of his life was put to silence for a few moments of complete consciousness.

His problems slowly faded away, his activities slowly died in his thoughts, his memories faded into oblivion and his worries didn’t exist anymore, he was one with the peak, he was a part of this mountain, egoless, selfless, bodiless... just consciousness.

His body was the home; his breath was the passage as he felt the energy rising in and out of it. He was an entity, a drop of consciousness that felt imprisoned within these walls. With every breath, he felt the tingle in his muscles, the gentle movement of air through his lungs and the cool feeling at his throat that lasted even longer with every oncoming breath. He prayed in his mind, to all the great beings who rested at this peak, to all the siddhas who has lived and worshiped here, to come down and bless him in their own silent way.

The great mountain of Thiruvannamalai now represented a composite geometry of the great Lord Shiva himself, every peak on itself represented a gateway to inner truth guarded by cosmic dwarapalas who make their presence felt only when one is conscious enough to tune into them. This peak, with its undulating surface, rocky slopes and lush green vegetation, in its form somewhere appeared like a stone cold rishi always in meditation, seated in padmasana, with his jatas falling over the pinnacle of his being. His body was this form, his breath was the ever living energy that surrounds this mountain, his consciousness was the living reality; the swayambhu linga that grew over this ground to now stand here, stark in this pale countryside.

Srinivasa looked up at the mountain and felt, he was such a miserable example of the same great truth. He was pure consciousness that had lost its way, he was the atma linga that had not realized its potential and he was the very same atman that lay deep, dormant asleep still within his bodily home. Breath and consciousness were his only weapons to fight the great battle of silence in his head and bring him remotely closer to his inner self.

To the great mountain of silent truth, to the ever present consciousness he was blind to, Srinivasan bowed down and prayed in all reverence, hoping to achieve something during his lifetime.

Photo courtesy: http://davidgodman.org/asaints/powerofa1.shtml

The magical world of Thiruvannamalai

The aura:
An imposing form that towers over the landscape which appears to stay still and aloof even as my car speeds ahead to make it to the great shrine at its foothill. The feeling of excitement rises as one sets eyes on the hill, its sheer presence brings alive happiness, bliss, love for life, love for the Lord. The sun dances on, casting its light on the mountain through the spots in the clouds that bring this mystical world of charm and secrecy to the wandering devotee. What a picture it creates to just view the enormity of this hill as the car speeds on into this little land of divinity.

The temple:
Walking on the rocky floor of the temple, there is peace reigning supreme. The people have not yet started to come and the sun has not burnt the rock floor. The sound of the wind echoes as it plays through the carved pillars and walls of this ancient temple that houses the very form of Lord Arunachala. Gopurams rise imposingly into space, bringing to earth a divine ship of mystery that is shrouded by time. One step after the other makes oneself breathless as the great stone walls lead the way into the sanctum. Walking past the main entrance, the imposing Gopuram displays a magical world of dance, of song, of movement, of motion as 108 dancing sculptures dance down into my vision. The great lord of Bharata presents in silence for those who wish to see the 108 Karnas of Bharatnatya. Within the inner courtyard stand idols, larger than imagination, graceful in attire representing the iconography of Lord Shiva.

The courtyard presents a feeling of peace within these ancient rocky walls. On one end is the sacred tank with water to purify oneself, on the other leads the passage into the main sanctum, around is the chill in the pure air that sings and ahead is the imposing peak of Arunachala, towering, magestic, overwhelming, silent. An enchanting thought crosses my mind to wonder, was this the same hill that was firey and ablaze in the Krita Yuga, that shined brighter than the sun as a golden peak in the Treta Yuga, that held its purity in shimmering copper in the Dwapara yuga and now stands jewelled with a beaded string of rocky bolders in the Kali Yuga! Be it the temple, or the greenery, or the tank or the drifting clouds, my eyes stayed locked on the very form of Arunachala.

Lord Arunachala resides deep within the sanctum, in his chamber surrounded by oil lamps, visited by all. He resides at the center of this jewelled crown of fire that flickers around him. His presence envelopes me as I break into tune, singing the little bit of Rudram that springs from my heart. No one moves, no one pushes, the air is still and all that I can feel and see is this opportunity that allows me to recite the Rudram to the lord, loud and clear that it kills any other noise that dare storm this sacred interior. Few moments of bliss and my heart dances around as I walk past these walls. On the South side Lord Nataraja dances on, such grace and beauty that it makes a difference to a thirsting devotee who would have just loved to immerse herself in the divine vision of his natya performance. To be even apasmara is a blessing, to feel the Lord's feet on oneself is a blessing and to be granted his favor to give a performance and enjoy that grace is pure liberation.

The magic of the hill:
The cool air sings, the trees sway and the wind blows gently bringing with it the song of the birds and the pleasant smell of the herbs around. The rocky path leads on into the thin forest that has recently been fed by waters from the heavens. Its green and fulfilling with tiny creatures starting out on another busy day, scarcely aware that they live in paradise. In this quiet, on this earth live plenty of greater beings, invisible yet present, flying around the great hill worshiping the Lord in his entirety. Higher intellects swing by floating through the air as they do Pradakshina around this great hill. The bright light of the sun merges with the light of these celestial beings who grace this earth with their presence increasing the purity of this land and the people who visit it. Its strange that while the feet stay on this hill and while we lesser devotees be a part of its self, the mind lingers into clean thought, the mind is quiet, the mind is at peace with itself and no harmful ideas spring up. The purity of the hill, the clarity in the air, the divinity within this earth wipes out all the dirt from the mind, for a little while as long as the feet stay in touch with its divine soil. What a magical world of divinity and how subtle this truth that while i am there, I think clean!

The silence in Skandashram:
The mind is quiet, the room is dimly lit with the sunlight that penetrates through the narrow windows open to the world outside. The garden is in full bloom, the trees are in song with birds awakening us to this world where nature is an integral part of our lives. I sit here in silence imbibing this peace, this pleasing world for I know it wont last long. The eyes close to listen to the wind, to the birds, to the stream of water and probably to the rhythm of the rudram that continues to ring within my head. There is rhytm in this universe, there is rhythm in these strange sounds of nature and there is silent music to listen to only when the mind stops to rest. And when that happens, the great lord performs, the dance of grace, vigorously moving to present to us a firey wall of flames that burns us to ash, sacred ash, to nothing merging us to his very being.

To the great Lord Arunachaleshwara, I bow in all humility, still clinging to his blissful world of frangrance, magic, rhythm and dance.

Courtesy:
Arunachala Blog

Tulsi, at the seat of Samadhi

Far away in the ancient country side of Andhra Pradesh, along the silent ripples of the Tungabhadra that toss around the stony sides of this great river course, lies the Samadhi of Sri Raghavendra and 8 other great saints of the 16th cen. AD. There is peace and tranquility all around, and the air is so pure within this strange compound of rocky stones. Its a divine world of silence, of intellect and of superior life that lies buried deep within, under these stones.

What a magical picture it paints in this spectacular moment when the silver rays of the moon toss around the gentle waves of the Tungabhadra and shimmer in the pure waters as it bathes the stone slabs of ancient Samadhis in its silvery presence.

Sri Ragavendra's Samadhi brings alive the presence of divine potency to our existence, one that we would love to strive towards but simply lack the drive, courage and enthusiasm to do so. All that is left to echo back the ancient superior sense of living, are a few boulders of stone uniquely designed and put together to form a structure that resembles the potted Tulsi plant back in our courtyards, the Tulsi Vrindavan.

The original meaning of Samadhi, was not just a burial place of great beings, but a sacred and pure spot that continues to house their mortal remains "mummified" in holy sacred ash within a chamber, purified with worship, sacred mantra and ingredients of worship of centuries long gone. The belief then was that they could return to this mortal body if they chose to come back to our world. The human body buried deep was symbolized more as a vehicle that would house the returning Aatma if it so willed. The purity of sadhana, the evolved sense of living, the divine grace constantly surrounding them, the Samadhis have since grown into places of not just worship but of a silent serene ambiance where herbal purity is felt at its best.

Tulsi, the herbal plant of purity and longevity that wards off disease of any kind is typically housed in today's households within a pot that has a very unique design. The plant is worshiped and considered sacred and has the lady of the house light a lamp at its foot every evening, with a belief that this lamp of divinity will spread the purity of this plant and the superior energy that rises from it around her home and bless the inmates with a more prosperous life. But this light also makes me believe that its original intention was probably to revere the great soul buried beneath in the original prototype of such a structure - the Samadhi.

The shape of the Tulsi pot in the house strangely looks very similar to the traditional design used to make a Samadhi for the departed. This is a small example of purity, a small example of fragrance in the air that will attract all the celestials and siddhars to come and reside within. The much larger example of a great samadhi that hosts a whole forest of herbal plants both tulsi and vilva is that of the great hill of Thiruvannamalai. Here is the living mountain of Lord Shiva that is the home of many siddhas, that is the home of many herbal plants and that which is the home of the great parent Shiva and Parvati. Myths hold that many Siddhas reside here, worshiping the Lord and his consort within this divine hill. The potency of this hill, and the divinity it spreads around itself is beyond words to express.

There is silence within, there is tranquility, and the mind remains blank without thoughts trespassing and rests on the idea of this symbolism in this beautiful plant of unique life promising purity and longevity that grows out of a structure that houses deep within, the most pure form of the human body. A body that is preserved in sacred ash, seated in meditation, lost in eternal bliss. This is the definition of the ultimate form of preservation, of sustenance represented by Lord Ranganatha himself who lies in Ananthasayana, as the world churns around him.

With this saturation in symbolism that echos within the mind the very presence of the Lord Preserver, the silence in the mind begins to submerge into this great realm of calm and tranquility, of peace and harmony, of clarity and depth. Let the waters of life role over me, let the stones of every janma fade, let the tree of life take deep root and release me from this misery of living this haphazard meaningless life. I merge with this tree, my soul departs, what remains is a stony presence whose fading memories get washed away by the flowing waters of time.


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