THE WORST FACE OF HINDUISM

There are newspaper reports of sacrificing six children in order to have a son. In fact, a tantric advised the couple to sacrifice eleven children, but the whole thing became public and they were arrested by the police.

New born babies were routinely sacrificed at Kali temple in Calcutta, where sacrifice of goats is still taking place. At Kodungalloor Kali temple, hundreds or even thousands of cocks were killed, by wringing their neck, during Bharani festival, before it was banned. During Dussera, baffallows are beheaded in Nepal.

Self torture is another shameful practice.  One day I saw a young man pulling a car, tied to the skin of his back, by piercing the skin. A large number of people were watching and encouraging the poor fellow.  This happened right in the capital of India.

Piercing thick needle through the cheeks is still common during kavidiyattam in Murugan covil.

Real Hinduism is just enlightened philosophy. In ancient India there were no temples even.

Many great men tried to enlighten the uneducated public; but nothing succeeded. We are still feudal; only industrialisation and universaal education can achieve the results.

THRIKUR SHIVA TEMPLE

 The cave temple at Trikur near Trichur is something of a marvel.

 On the bank of the river Karuvannur puzha, a long flight of steps lead to the summit of the rock hill, where the deity of Shiva is installed in a cave, which appears to be natural. Water continuously drips from the roof of the cave and wets the idol. We could not find any source of water in the rock.

We were invited for lunch, as meals for half a dozen Brahmans are always provided for which some trust has been established which maintains the temple. There were very few devotees.

 Every year there is elaborate festival. Kathakali, the famous costume drama of Keralam, is an essential item. The parade of caparisoned elephants, with drum beating  (panchavadyam) is a must in all temple festivals.

From the top of the hill, one can see the surrounding country side for at least ten miles, including Trichur town. As the land at the side opposite the river is at the same level, vehicles can come up to the temple and there are regular bus services.

ELEPHANT AND MAHAUT

It actually happened.

Elephants have to be led from one festival to another, during the season. One mahaut sits on the neck of the animal and the next one walks briskly by its side.  The elephant likes to travel long distances. In the forest also they go in search of food.

At Wadakancherry level crossing, the gates were closed as the the train was expected. Instead of waiting for the train to pass, the mahauts decided to hurry and cross the barrier. The command was shouted aloud to the animal.

Now, the elephants are slow in understanding an order. Their hearing capacity is limited, though they can “hear” each other through “trunk call”.

In this case, by the time, the animal put one foot over the barrier, the train was seen coming at great speed.

The mahauts panicked. One told the animal to stop, but the other prodded it forward. The confused animal was hit by the train and died.

Several questions beg for an answer:

What was the gate keeper doing?

There will be a long line of vehicles on either side. Did they not shout to stop the mahauts?

Were the mahauts drunk? If so, why were they not stopped by the traffic police?

I suggest some electronic gadget to enable the elephant to hear clearly even a whisper.

MY LIFE – CS PURAM -7

We were too much worried about Sudhir. In history, there is not a single case of a schizophrenic who has recoverd from his illness and been rehabilitated. How can he be an excepton?
This was like a wound.Some slight touch and it hurts.
I never tried to hide this fact. All people in our cirle knew about it. I did not have the guts to ask for girl for my son. All are afraid of a mad man, though we are all mad to some extent.
There are millions of people seeking His intervention,to help them against their fate. Can we expect Him to favour us  against our enemy?
I decided to do shayanapradakshinam, of our Shiva, of CS puram village, where the temple compound is full of shrubs, to be cleaned once in a while, during festival. I did  not mind it.
In the morning I had a dip in the river and went to the temple, in the wet condition with the bath towel arond my waiste. I made only one round. The pebbles and thorny weeds hurt me, but it was all right. When Murugan, the poojary saw me, he just smiled.
I felt happy, as if He had actully seen me rolling in the ground, and felt pity for us helpless old father and mother.
I was ready to spend the rest of my life in the village, as a sincere devotee.

 An old, pot bellied Krishna Iyer there, gave me a volume of Bhagavatam, with translation in simple Malayalam prose, in addition to the Samskritam text, which I was not very eager to read. Having nothing else to read, I began reading it and then found it very absorbing. The whole narration is in flash back. The motive is disenchantment with life.
There was no news of Krishna, who had gone back to Dwaraka, after the end of the horrible war.
Arjuna was sent to enquire about their savior, without whom, they would have lost the war. After six months, he returned, but could not face his brother.
Why, what happened?- enquired the elder brother.
Tears rolled down Arjuna’s cheeks. With much difficulty, he began;
When I was coming back, ordinary ruffians attacked me. I was helpless. When I tried to use my Gandeev (the famous bow) I was unable to lift it.

Dharmajan knew that Krishna was dead. 
This simple story contains the essence of the book. We are like earthen toys.
Or like a kite, soaring higher and higher, when the wind is favouurable. In a moment, we come down like a stone !
 Unable to understand this eternal truth, we go on wasting our energy in senseless quarrels.
I resigned to my fate. I closed my intellectual box and concentrated on bhakti marga.
Earlier, I had vainly tried to get some job, like that of the manager of a temple. The temple had plenty of assets, including rent of land etc. which they did not want to entrust to an audit man, who will definitely go into all the details, causing inconvenience to some of the committee members!
I even thought of becoming poojary of Ayyapa temple at Haridwar!

MY LIFE – CS PURAM-2

HISTORY
Two hundred years ago, Tippu Sultan ruled Palakad District of Keralam. He built the fort in the town, now a tourist attraction. The Hanuman temple there, attracts thousands of devotees evey day. It is believed to be there, even when Tippu captured the town. He did not demolish it.
Our village was on the opposite bank of the river, which was conneted to the Palakad town by an old road, via Pazhayannur. Fearing harassment by the Muslim soldiers of Tippu, the  village was shifted to the present location. As there was no road on this side of the river, the Brahmins there felt secure; the pooja at the Shiva temple, which is very, very old, was resumed, after the Brahmins, who had fled elsewhere, returned to the new CS puram village. 
Until the land reforms act of 1975 totally ruined them, the villagers were prosperous land lords. Each house had a big wooden chamber, to store paddy received as rent of the land, leased to the tenants. It is said that one Sankaracharya of Kanchi Kamakodi, with all his paraphernalia, stayed there for almost a month, and all expenses  were met by the villagers, who had their own carpenter, blacksmith, barber, washermen, farm labour etc. etc.
Every year, Sastapreethi is celebrated with all pomp and show. The festival lasts for three days, with elephants parade, drum beating, fire works etc. We do not cook food for these days. All eat at the Shiva temple, where special arrangements are made for acommodating guest Brahmins coming from neighbouring agrahara villages, for which no invitation is required. We will wait till the guests are served.
All our villagers working outside, make it a point to attend this function, for which compulsory donations are extracted from all of us residents. Visiters also donate liberally. For us living in metropolitan cities, it may be a real, enjoyable surprise, to be a guest there.

There are very many such Brahmin villages at Palakad. The rath or chariot is similar to the one we see at Puri.
There is a warium family for the temple. When  we first settled there, the old warriar was stll alive. He was always grumbling and cursing all. The film song “oh! blind gods, mere clay creatures! “he wold sing aloud. His son, a young man who had no issues and was an asthmatic patient, wold curse him in low voice, and the whole atmosphere at the Shiva temple, where I would be the lone devotee in  the evenings, giving company and comfort to Murugan, the  poojary, in darkness, often visited by snakes, as the whole temple is infested with rats, was gloomy. I would repeat the mantra “ohm namah! Shivayah!,”thound and eight times, morning and evening, after darshan of Shiva, Ganesha and Devi, all in the same building, and return with Murugan. We became fast friends. He had seen the world, was at Jamshedpur earlier, was only an employee there and woud ask repeatedly: are you comfortable among these aiyers here?, myself being a namboodiri.
One day, I placed a bundle of notes, Rs. 5000, at the entrance to the sanctum of Shiva temple, as is normally done by the devotees, who want to give Him the money. Murugan could have taken it; he didn’t. Instead, it was handed over to the manager, who asked me whether I had any particular object in mind. I mentioned the difficulty in approaching the Shiva temple, a few hundred yards away from the last house of the village, partially submerged in slush in the rain, dark at night. Could something be done?

He nodded yes.