Diaries of a vacation : Part 3

Diaries of a vacation : Part 3

While describing the crucial period in Western mind when philosophical thought was just about incubating at the dawn of recorded history, Gustav Flaubert , the great french author beautifully wrote “Just when the gods had ceased to be, and the Christ had not yet come, there was a unique moment in history, between Cicero and Marcus Aurelius, when man stood alone…”. We could slightly modify this brilliant insight and write “Just when the gods ceased to be and Adi Shankara had not yet come, there was a unique moment in Indian history , between Buddha and Vikramaditya, when Man stood alone, lost in the alleys of discursive abstractions…”. And then Shankara arrived! And what a life it proved to be... The life and work of Shankara is a turning point in revitalizing and resurrecting the purest strains of mysticism that lay buried under the hubris of intellectual debates and arguments of a thousand differing schools of thought. And in a brief life time of 32 years, he established the metaphysical scaffolding that was required to hold the fundamental insights into nature of man that until then lacked the intellectual rigor to stand on its own.

Kalady in Kerala is the birth place of Shankara. Legend has it that he was born to a pious couple, devotees of Shiva, after considerable time. Orphaned young, without a father, the young child grew under the loving embrace of his Mother Aryamba who symbolized the best Brahmin traditions of the time. Shankara flowered in the ritualistic milieu that surrounded him, yet found himself strangely aloof from its mechanical and stringent injunctions. There was an inner movement that pulled him away from peripherals and tethered him to a deeper core. After a vague but uneasy restlessness grips him, he becomes a mendicant with the blessing of his mother, promising her that he would be back when she needs him the most. Thus begins an inner and outward journey that would bring the young boy into contact with the teachings of Upanishads and Vedanta, refurbishing those ancient discoveries with fresh interpretations, experiencing truth as it is, and composing copious tracts that would suit the intellectual yearnings of a confused population. If not for his singular effort, Hinduism as we know it in its purest essence would have been lost forever.

The journey to Kalady from our house is about an hour and half. We left around 8 in the morning, and by the time we reached Kalady, we had left the city behind and roads started narrowing down to quiet alleys, and a perceptible decrease in urban noise. Very quickly we reach the spot which historically has been established as the birthplace of Shankara, based on unbroken records maintained by Sringeri math since 4th century AD. What an unpretentious place! Neat, quiet, nestled on the banks of Periyar (called Purna in olden days). Legend again has it that this river altered its flow to accommodate the wishes of its young son who wished that his mother would not have to walk a long distance to fetch water - and lapped Shankara’s feet. Hence the name Kalady (means “under his feet”) This may or may not be true, but one could physically see a little turn near the edge of river’s onward flow, as if, it decided to meet someone midway. Apart from regular shrines that adorn most Hindu sacred spots, Kalady has a special shrine from Shankara’s mother. This is a small lamp that is kept burning there all the time in memory of her. This was truly a revolution at that time. Shankara trudged his way back from the North to perform the last rites for Aryamba. Even at this distance, one shudders to think of the immense moral and spiritual rectitude of this young mystic, who had the audacity and understanding to defy all known scriptorial rules of Monk hood (sanyasa) and arrive at his home town to cremate his mother. It was a consummation of a promise he had made as a young boy. I know of only one another saint in Modern times who though liberated internally cherished motherhood with all care and affection - that is Ramana maharishi. In both these instances, they demonstrated that inward liberation is not incompatible with outward conformance to social roles. A teaching that resonates though ages. Close by, there is a temple consecrated to Krishna, personified as a small boy. As is typical in temples around Kerala, the shrine remains closed for many hours during the day for various rituals. The priests and public take this closures in their stride. When Mom and I went inside the temple, the sanctum was closed, and an elderly pious gentleman near me told in hushed and reverential terms: “They are feeding the baby. We have to wait…” He said this with great conviction and belief. I nodded “Yes sir, I understand.”

In all we spent about two an hour around Shankara’s birth place. We are accompanied by my mother’s companion (we affectionately call her Bhai Amma) and Regi, who by profession manages our Apartment complex, but to our family, he is almost a son. It was great having them on this trip. As we drove back, all of us were quiet, immersed in the solitude that Kalady permeated. It is extraordinary, how the brain becomes quiet when it encounters purity. It was thirteen centuries ago that young Shankara awakened to his reality, and the quality of that pristine experience still reverberates in every crevice of his memorial. His commentaries, hymns and mystical texts have survived undiluted through time, nourishing each generation in its own way. Not all can understand the higher reaches of his insights, but therein lies the profundity of his message - that whether one understands one’s true self or not, the reality is “Tat Tvam Asi” – “Thou art that”, and none is ever away from bliss, happiness and fulfillment.

To round off this journey, our final stop today was to buy “Paal ada pradhaman” (Sweetened cream of milk). It is one of the finest delicacies of Kerala. Tastes like Milk kheer, but sweetened and fattened with extra care in typical southern style. Doctors may advice you to be careful about this, but believe me, there can be nothing better than a bowl full of this nectar… It’s been a long day, and great sweet finish to it..

God bless…

Yours in mortality,

Bala