At Sivagiri, Dakshina Kailasa- The Final Abode of Sree Narayana Guru: The Journey 21

If there is an indirect connection between the Sree Narayana Guru Samadhi architecture at the top of the Sivagiri Hills and myself, it is the age that we share; both are forty eight years old. To be accurate this architecture is one year senior to me as it was consecrated in 1968. Somehow, there is always a karmic connection between myself and this place, exactly the same way many people from the villages near and around Sivagiri feel. We all revere Sree Narayana Guru as the ultimate Guru and his great philosophical sayings, ‘One Caste, One Religion, One God for human beings’ and ‘Whatever be the religion, the human beings should be good,’ and so on, have been there always as the backdrop of our intellectual and world view formations. If you ask me what made Marxism successful in Kerala I would say it was the teachings of Sree Narayana Guru. The ground that he tilled was fertile enough for the Marxists to sow their seeds. Sree Narayana Guru stood for uplifting the downtrodden caste and class. He stood against all what had been dubbed as Brahminical then. He consecrated a non-Brahminical Shiva in Aruvippuram and established an Ashram in Aluva called Aluva Advaita Ashramam in order to impart the Vedantic education to the downtrodden castes through the medium of Sanskrit which was denied to them for ages. Interestingly, Guru found the place for this Ashram exactly a few kilometers away from Kaladi where Adi Shankaracharya was born.

I have not been visiting Guru Samadhi at Sivagiri for many years and this time I make it a point to visit the place. Varkala, where Sivagiri is located has changed beyond recognition. When I get down from the bus, the very same town where I had spent three important years in my life (the formative years between the age of sixteen and eighteen) looks absolutely strange. The layout of the town has been changed by the arrival of an underpass. When I was a student at the SN College, Varkala this underpass was not there. There was a level cross which used to cause a huge traffic commotion and delay in those days. There had been a demand for making a fly over or an underpass since then. However, it took many years for that to happen and by that time people like us had grown up and left the place. There are two important junctions before we enter Varkala town. One is the General Hospital junction, the roads that run parallel to the sea shore and the road that comes from the undulating landscape away from the sea shore converge at this junction and I used to think that only the sick people got down at that junction. Now with this underpass we enter the town directly and reach the heart of the town called ‘Maithanam’ (literally means a ground). If you take a left turn and travel for around two kilometers you could reach the famous Papanasam Beach and the illustrious Varkala Janardhana Swami Temple. If you take left and go further you reach the Guru Samadhi. In those good old days, the junction that led to Sivagiri Guru Samadhi was an important one. There were two movie halls at that junction, namely Varkala S.R and Vimala, not really twin theatres but stood side by side. S.R was a famous brand in Varkala and it had several buses in the local routes. Also it is was said that Vimala was S.R’s wife. The other two movie halls were Saina at Maithanam and Vasu beyond Varkala Railway station. All these single screen halls went into various changes over the years and I believe Saina has been closed down by now.

I cross the former railway crossing which was once a busy area now looks absolutely abandoned. There are two workshops on the either side of the tracks; one is a motor bike repair centre and the other is a car workshop. People who have something to do with the motor vehicles hang out there. Some auto rickshaws are parked under a tree with their drivers sleeping inside them. I reach the S.R junction and find that the theatre is still in business. I see the posters of one of the latest Malayalam movies. It was in this theatre I had seen my first movie with a pornographic clip inserted. In those days the college boys used to skip afternoon classes to catch up with such movies where were exhibited as ‘Noon Shows’. Getting into a theatre for a Noon Show was a difficult task as we needed to hide from the public eye. We were constantly afraid of being caught by the elders. We also used to conjure up the funny scenarios in which the elders from our own families or neighborhood sitting next to us or in the near rows and pretending not to have seen us. Though we were afraid of being caught by the college authorities and even by the theatre owners who we foolishly thought would betray us by reporting our presence in the theatre to the college authorities, never thought that the Noon Shows were run for people like us only. We did not have the smartness to think so. My first experience of watch a porn clip was revolting and I never attempted to watch such movies again.

The road that leads to Sivagiri is a broad and winding one. The sun is too hot to bear. I look for some shade and to my frustration I found the shade giving trees are alternatively grown on either side of the road. That means, if you walk under the shade for fifty meters, the next fifty meters you have shade on the other side of the road; either you have to cross the road and go under the shade of the trees or you have to wade through the scorching sun for another fifty to hundred meters to get under the shade of another row of tree on this side itself. As I find the zigzagging would be dangerous though the traffic is almost nil on this road, I prefer to remain on the left side of the road and walk. Before you reach the foot of the Sivagir hills, you have to cross a small bridge that in fact is the bridge that goes over the famous Varkala Thurappu (Varkala Tunnel). Once upon a time this canal was the main waterway that transported people and goods from south to central Kerala and further. As coir and coconut crops were the main business items, they used to be transported in huge boats with manual oars. As it took many days to reach from one place to another as the manual rowing was taxing and slow, the workers in such boats used to live inside the boats. As they cooked inside the boat, they had developed a special menu for themselves, which now has become a part of the water tourism in houseboats in Kerala. The houseboats are modeled after the erstwhile goods carrier boats, which were known as ‘Kettu Vallam’. Today that tunnel and canal looks absolutely abandoned and clogged by weeds and creepers. Ironically, this is the case with Allappuzha which is known as the Venice of the East. Recently in my visit to the place, I noticed that one a stretch of the canal is cleared and in use for touristic purposes but rest of the canal is choked by weeds and disuse.

On my right I could see the huge open space which provides the stage and auditorium for the annual Pilgrimage in Sivagiri to commemorate the life and philosophy of Sree Narayana Guru. In 1928, the same year Guru entered Samadhi, a few of his disciples had approached him with an idea of conducting an annual pilgrimage to Sivagiri. Though Guru was against the idea first, finally he accepted the request of the disciples. He asked the Pilgrims to wear yellow clothes, observe ten days of vrat and propagate the ideas of education, cleanliness, organization, trade, trust in god, agriculture, handicrafts and technical training. Guru was not only a philosopher and spiritual leader but also a practical thinker and social reformer for he knew very well how a society without education would remain groping in darkness. To education, he joined all other life missions to create an integrated system of living. And Guru thought of using the occasion of Theerthaadanam, Pilgrimage as a rallying point for these ideas. On 30^th December to 1^st January of every near, this Pilgrimage takes place in Sivagiri and during all these three days there are cultural and spiritual congregations, public meetings, ideations and presentation of art and culture by the reputed professionals as well as the local talents. Sivagiri Theerthadanam is one of the biggest annual spiritual congregations that spread the ideas proposed by Sree Narayana Guru. The open space now remains empty; but during the Pilgrimage days this space turns into a huge make shift auditorium with state of the art facilities.

There has been an announcement recently by none other than the business magnet and philanthropist, Yousuf Ali that he would like to give Rs.2 crore to the Sivagiri Sree Narayana Dharma Sangham, an organization and Trust created for propagating Guru’s ideas, in order to make a permanent auditorium for the Sivagiri Theerthadanam. Mr.Ali did hand over a cheque worth of the same amount to the directors of the Sangham. I became curious on this philanthropic act only because it happened almost during the same time as a controversy regarding Sree Narayana Guru’s sculpture done by one of the organizers of the Kochi Muziris Biennale. This artist who hails from the Muslim community in Kerala soon dissociated himself from the controversy by making no public statements regarding this. The same Yousuf Ali had contributed Rs.2 crore to the KMB Foundation a year back. When I read these two events parallel I could see some deeper meanings to it. Sooner than later this same business tycoon was elected as one of the members of the Pravasa Bharatiya Friends of Modi Award committee. Reading these things together I could understand that Yousuf Ali is one such business man who despite his religion keeps good relationship with the so called RSS backed BJP Government at the centre. I do not have any problem with Mr.Ali. But what I see is the larger politics played by the KMB through Mr.Ali. The KMB is making its position safe even in a scenario when the BJP becoming a power in Kerala. This is the same KMB that talks about religious persecution and intolerance of the BJP government. I would say, if you see it carefully, the artist who has done the controversial Guru sculpture is the most apolitical and opportunist artist in India, who in order to cover up his cowardice and double standards keep talking about ‘political’ in art.

I walk towards the foot of the Sivagiri Hills where the famous Sarada Mutt temple is located. Consecrated by Sree Narayana Guru himself this is one of the rare Saraswati Devi temples in India. Guru gave prominence to education in his philosophy and he thought it was important to have a Saraswati temple than any other temple at the foot of Sivagiri hills. The Guru Samadhi is further up and there is a new flight steps have come up. In those days, though there were latterite stone steps, one could feel the soft sand under one’s soles. But now they have been made into concrete steps with a coat of cement over it. At the first bend of the steps, I could see a new temple coming up. Artisans from Tamil Nadu are working there; I am sure this new introduction is to turn the Guru Samadhi area into a more ritualistic and ‘Hindu’ space than a spiritual space. I am not surprised. Wherever I go these days I could see new temples coming up and old temples getting renovated. Guru was for making more temples for he thought that these spaces could become the centers of education, organization and above all cleanliness. But today temple making is a good business as more and more people are inclined to the ritualistic side of the religion than the spiritual side of it. They do not even acknowledge the fact that Adi Sankaracharya who had organized Hindu religion as we see today had said it categorically that Vedic Rituals were also to be discarded at some stage for complete spiritual awakening. In Ramana Ashram I could see Vedic rituals getting prominence. And Sivagiri too, I could see things changing.

The Guru Samadhi temple architecture is unique and quite imposing. The yellow color bell shaped building is visible even from a few kilometers away from the site. As there are tall trees and coconut groves around it, the vision may not be as clear as we see certain other monuments. But the sight of this monumental structure even seen through the foliages is so soothing a vision and one gets attracted to the place. As I reach there, some kind of puja is going on and a group of people are thronging in front of the white marble sculpture of Sree Narayana Guru. The architecture, which has no parallel perhaps in India, was conceived and designed by LM Chittala, an architect from Madras. In my childhood, I had seen the making of it in a movie titled ‘Kannum Karalum’ in which Kamala Hasan and Sreedevi were child actors. As we were growing up this architecture became a part of our consciousness. As the students of the Varkala SN College, we could not have passed a day without seeing this building even if we did not go to the hill top every day. Finally the aarti is done. I go towards the crowd and manage to go before the idol of Guru, which is one of the best Guru idols ever made. Sculptor Pasupathi Nath Mukherjee, the then professor at the Banaras Hindu University arts section did this sculpture. I have not heard anything more than this about this sculptor. Almost all the sculptures of Guru that we see today all over the world are modeled after this sculpture. I take a pinch of holy ash smears it on my forehead and do circumambulation of the structure three times. One young swamy is giving cut banana and dried grapes as Prasad. I go there and stand there extending my palm in the crowd. It takes almost three minutes for the swamy to put a spoonful of that delicious prasada on my hand. What scandalizes me next is the priest of the main sanctum sanctorum calling out the names of people with their ‘stars’. From this understand that no longer people treat Guru as a philosopher but a God who could fulfill their wishes. Does it put me off? I ask myself. But when I think of it, I need not be put off by this. Everyone is not a reader of Guru’s philosophy. Reading is the way of a Jnana Margi; those who trust the idol could be Bhakti Margis. For them it is real what they believe as real. So long as it does not reach the level of fundamentalism, it is fine and perhaps even worth encouraging.

Photography is strictly prohibited there in Sivagiri. There is a board saying that if you want to take photographs, ‘do ask someone’. People hide behind a jackfruit tree within the campus, the only one tree which they have taken all care not to cut off, and take photographs stealthily. I walk out of the building and come on the road going around it. I click a few pictures from there. I climb down and enter the Sarada Mutt. I used to spend a few hours every week here when I was a student in the SN College. With a lot of trees the campus is always cool. Soft sand cover the whole area and walking barefoot is a wonderful experience here. Sarada Devi is the idol here. I believe that I have been blessed by the Goddess of learning and writing. ‘Like waves in the ocean, Oh Goddess, make me remember the right words in time,’ sang Ezhuthachan, who recreated Ramayana in Malayalam (Adhyatmaramayanam). I say these words every day. Whenever I used to go to Sarada Mutt, I used to pray for the same. I want only words; I could create worlds with those words for I am nothing but a wordsmith. I stand in front of the sanctum which is in an eight cornered building (ashtakona kshetram). The door is closed. Through the glass door I could see the face of the Devi faintly. I train my eyes I until I see her and smile at her. Then I walk back and sit at the hall in front of the temple. You just sit there, it is a meditating experience. This place calms you down. I fish out my mobile and think for some time. The name, Johny ML has been a burden for me for quite some time. I want the name Aksharananda, the name that I have given to myself permanent. I ask permission to Devi. She gives me permission. I change it into Aksharanand in the facebook. After sitting there for a long time I come out and go to the book stall and souvenir shop which is now a well stocked one compared to the one in my memory of college days. I buy a small framed picture of Sarada Devi. And she is going to be with me. I buy the pictures of Guru and a couple of books. Then I come out into the fire of a mid noon sun. I feel it like Baptism by Fire. I feel good and I walk, this time without seeking any shade to sooth myself.

Miracles in Vizhinjam, Three Messengers and Poonthura Swamy: The Journey 20

Life is like a jigsaw puzzle. We keeping arranging the pieces; at times we are successful in getting the right to pieces together and at other times we do not know why we get only the wrong pieces. There is something karmic to it, it seems. The karma that we have done so far directs us to certain pieces that happen to us as the effects of those karmas. Those people do not believe in karma call it chance; an accident. Some people think that life itself is an accident; the birth is accidental. I believe that such people miss the point. Sages have talked about the ways in which life takes many forms in successive births depending on the karmic deposits. However, those people who believe in the materialistic political ideologies suddenly counter it with the argument saying that such belief in karmic theory is only made to consolidate the social division and hierarchies. In India, today if we speak of karma, they would definitely say that it is all made up to justify the casteist logic or the caste system prevalent in India. Nobody likes caste system; and there is no reason why there should be caste system at all. But it is said that in the beginning caste came as a part of social division and no caste was looked down upon. None was considered high or low depending on the caste. It was more like a labor division or professional categorization. But the idea of caste system took root when organized societies started handling more and more centralized power and affluence. Hence, we should say that caste system is more of a socio-political derivate than a religious imposition which unfortunately got colored by the theories of religion only to gain more authoritative and convincing parlance among the common people. If we keep a debate on the caste system out of this context we could continue to say that karma gives everyone a chance to improve their lives in which ever strata they belong to or whichever form they assume to have. Materialists would say that if someone is deprived of the chances of improving how could they achieve a better life? Ironically, everyone attaches improvement to material flourish. You could be absolutely blind and ignorant in terms of knowledge and vision but if you could amass a lot of wealth you would be passed off as a great personality. But the idea of karmic improvement does not have anything to do with the materialistic improvement. It is all about turning the life into a pious act of living on the earth.

I would like to believe that each encounter has a karmic predestination, whether it is with another human being/s or with a place or event. Life is led by a chain of karmic suggestions and the job of a human being is to attune him/herself to those suggestions by sharpening one’s sensory powers. So many people meet so many others and they simply forget having come across such people. People read and forget; people experience and forget. Their encounters are absent minded and devoid of any karmic intensity. But if you are intense in your approach and intense always in all your sensory faculties, then nothing leaves you without it becoming an experience. All the experiences are not fundamental; but fundamental experiences would change you for good. These are called life changing experiences. Interestingly, each experience is a life changing experience though most of the people do not see it as so. The life changing experiences however do not take you to different directions; if you are attuned to life, it would definitely lead you towards the ultimate mission of life; the realization of your own self and attaining in complete bliss. When you become the seer and seen in that state of being, you do not differentiate between one experience from the other as you understand that everything is a part of the whole. With the gross body in place and so much focus on the gross body, human beings often miss the experiences and take whatever comes as a part of the routine. They are afraid of new experiences and they define experiences as going for vacation; the purposeful means to make experiences. An intense living is something that you become fully aware of all what is happening to you, all what is coming to you and all what is going from you.

That’s why I think that my intention to visit Vizhinjam, the ancient port city in Trivandrum, South of Kerala was karmic in many ways. Couple of years back Vizhinjam became the talk of the country when the Government of Kerala gave the contract to develop this port into a state of the art port to the Adanis who are supposed to be close to the BJP party and its leader and India’s Prime Minister, Narendra Modi. There was a lot of hue and cry about and against this allotment. Though I had journalistic interest in that subject at that point of time, I did not feel like visiting the port. But recently when I was searching casually about the ancient sites in Kerala, I found that in Vizhinjam there was a rock cut cave which was dated in 8^th century CE. The pictures that I saw in the websites were not very attractive but I thought that it was some sort of an indication that I should be taking into consideration. I checked for the other sites near around Vizhinjam and found out that the place was inhabited mostly by the fisher folk and there were a few mosques and churches in the area. When I decided to visit the place, I had no idea that there would be something waiting in store for me that would directly connect myself with Poonthura Swami whom Gopikrishna was extolling the other day. I definitely had no intention to visit Poonthura and even if I had wished for it, I would have postponed it to another occasion. But the jigsaw pieces of life were falling differently before me and I had to do nothing but pick up the pieces and try. Karma is such that when I picked up the pieces those turned out to be the right ones to complete a beautiful picture.

In this trip I am accompanied by my nephew, Arvind Prakash, who has a special interest in this visit for he wants to do some photography near the sea apart from having a Biriyani meal from some restaurant. We get down at the Trivandrum central bus stand and take another bus to Vizhinjam. The noon is hot and had it not been to a new place I would have slept all the way for the breeze that comes in is so soothing. As we approach the Vizhinjam area, the quality of the breeze changes; it becomes salty, cool and I feel sea in it. As a person who has been brought up near backwaters and sea, I could sense the change in the wind and I could differentiate between a wind coming from the eastern direction and the ones coming from the western direction. I anticipate the site of a sea. At Vizhinjam bus stand, which is moderate and less populated, we get down and come out to ask for the directions to the rock cut cave and the churches. The local guys who come forward to direct us enthusiastically show us the way to the rock cut cave temple and they point out at the opposite direction to say that it is the way to the churches. I make a quick decision to visit the rock cut cave first and the churches later. We thank the people who have directed us and walk. The sun beats down on us and we regret to have not taken umbrellas or caps with us. The whole town has gone behind the shades, I feel, because there are very few people on the roads and even the tea shops and restaurants look deserted. Only a lottery ticket seller looks hopeful. Kerala is full of such fortune seekers; the sellers and buyers of lottery tickets. They say they make a decent living out of selling lottery tickets. I believe the lottery makers have now created a lot of small sum prizes so that huge number of people tests their luck. What you lose is Rs.50/- and if you get you start getting Rs.500/- onwards. In all the town centers I see people thronging before lottery counters. Also in the night buses to villages I see lottery sellers sitting in semi-darkness and comparing the day’s sales.

From the Vizhinjam bus stand, walk a few yards up and take a left turn and immediately after ten meters you see an inconspicuous gate that leads to an enclosed plot with a signage of the rock cut cave. There is a slender paved way leading to the cave. At the edge of it you are supposed to remove your shoes though there is no instruction written anywhere there. We go near the cave and the name cave does not match to the idea of a cave. It is a moderate monolith with a small square door cut into it and a broken bust of Dakshinamurty Shiva is kept inside. The shrine is not on a pedestal so that it stands below your knees. Due to the constant lighting of lamps and agarbattis, the idol looks dark and oily. I could see red kumkum and yellow turmeric powder smeared on it. On the right side of the square encasement, on the flat front portion, we could see the faint depiction of Veenapani Shiva (Shiva holding veena). Though the face and other gestural details have been chipped away by time and perhaps vandalism, one could understand the iconography by closer observation. On the left side of the frontal portion we see the relief life depiction of Shiva and Parvati. The same erosion of the surface is visible here too. We go behind the rock and climb up and then climb down by the other side where a huge banyan tree stands. An old dog has taken refuge there. Arvind kneels down in front of the cave and takes some photographs. Someone makes a polite cough and says that it is a live shrine with puja done every day so we should not take any frontal pictures of it. We could step back and take pictures. It is when I notice that apart from us there are three more people in the campus. Slightly hidden from the view they have been sitting on the other slender pavement under the cool shade of a huge tree. I profusely make apologies and tell them that we did not know that it is a live temple. They give us a friendly smile.

The setting is serene and there is a pervading calmness and it is the right backdrop for any conversation to start with absolutely strange people in a given temple context. They are three people. We wear our shoes and are about to leave the place. Then one of them asks our whereabouts. I tell them that I come from a village called Vakkom near Attingal, they show the smiles of familiarity. One of them recounts the name of a famous politician who hails from our village and I tell them that exactly the same place. Then they ask what has brought me there. I tell them that I live in Delhi and while searching for the sites to visit in Kerala I found this place out and thought of visiting it. One of them asks me how this place is described in the net. I tell him what I have read about it. Then he tells me the history of the place which is not officially mentioned in the websites that I have gone through. The official story is that this place came into prominence between 8^th century and 12^th century CE under the Ay kingdom. They had developed this port and a fort and this place had a name ‘Kottappuram’ too, which literally meant Fort Area. Then there were wars with Cheras and Pandyas, and the eventual prominence was that of the Cholas. There are historical evidences from the place that this port had relationships with Greece and the Arabic world. According to this man who is ready to impart his knowledge about the place, this area had around twenty four temples of different sizes. Around 1000 years back there was a Tsunami in this place and around twenty temples were sucked away by the sea. Now there are three abandoned temple ruins in the area, which nobody visits these days and the fourth one is this rock cut cave, which withstood the onslaught of the ancient Tsunami. Another person chimes in with another side of the story. He says that the shallow encasement in this rock cut temple is in fact a door to a deep cave which has been blocked with granite slabs for preventing people and animals going into it. I look at the cave once again and if I want I could believe it and if I do not want I could do that also. I prefer to believe it for it gives a mystic aura to the place.

“Apart from the website, who else has talked to you about this place?” one of them asks me as if there is a larger purpose behind that question. I think for a while. “None has told me apart from the websites,” I say, then I add, “But such places of power and spiritual pull naturally attract people. For example, the other day I visited a friend of mine and he was telling me about Poonthura Swamy. Nobody used to tell anybody about him in those days but siddhas and avdhoots used to come there even from the North. Spiritual paces perhaps do not need such advertisement as they have this natural ability to attract,” I conclude. I look at their face. They look different. They smiled alike. Their eyes were sending glances to each other. “What did you say, did you say Poonthura Swamy?” one of them asks me. I say that I did say it. Then they tell me in unison that they come from Poonthura Swamy’s ashram. I feel shocked. How come? They say that they have come there for some purpose. I do not ask them what the purpose was. They introduce themselves to me. One of them fishes out a laminated picture from his pocket and gives it to me. I look at the picture and see an old man sitting on his haunches. “This is Poonthura Swamy?” I ask. Yes, says the man and adds, “It is for you.” “We are here to take you there,” says the first man. I say, no. “I want to go the churches first and then I will come there,” I assure them. “We can take you there right away,” says the second man. “No, let me come all by myself. Let me finish visiting the churches,” I say. “There we will give you calendar also,” the third person entices me. I smile and tell them that I really would like to have that calendar. Then I take leave from them and walk out of the premises. I do not want to look back for the simple reason that I do not want them as human beings. I want to see them as karmic angels who have come to direct me to a place that my friend had mentioned a couple of days back.

At the fisher folks’ village on the other side, Arvind goes berserk with his photographic enthusiasm. The number of boats moored there are simply a visual treat. Along the horizon line I could see two mosques and I find that walking to them would take at least an hour and I do not dare to walk under this sun which shovels down fire from his celestial workplace. Just above us, on the hill there are two temples; the one at the foot of the hill has a huge and imposing sculpture of Jesus Christ. He reminds me of the Angel of North by Anthony Gormley. Suddenly a drunken man appears and I show him the picture of a church that I have been wishing to visit. It is a church named ‘Our Lady of Good Voyage Church’. As the name mentions the Mother Mary of the church is supposed to protect the fishermen who venture into the sea for their livelihood. The drunkard shows us the way. We have to walk through the winding narrow paths that run in between maze like houses. Finally we reach the church and at the peak of it I see that the tower is designed like a fishing boat. Inside the church some parish function is on the one side of the hall. On the other side of the altar a group of worshippers are singing hymns. On the right side of the altar are the pews that have been pushed to a side. A host of worshippers who have come by a tourist bus now come to the altar and start taking photographs than saying prayers. Mother Mary holding the infant Jesus on the left hand has a boat held high in her right hand. On her right side there is a Crucified Christ and right under his feet He is seen laid to rest in white clothes inside a glass casket. Two old women sitting on the floor and saying silent prayers just call out to me and say in a language which is a mixture of Tamil and Malayalam, “Periyavare (Sir), did you see the kurisadi church?” I say that I have not. They get up from there and ask me to follow them. They take me to the boundary wall of the church and points to the foot of the hill where the huge Jesus Christ stands. I pretend that I have not seen it and promise to see it while going back. Though I have already seen it and even photographed it, I tell this lie to them in order not to dampen their enthusiasm.

After the church visit, I decide to go to Poonthura. I ask my nephew whether he is energetic enough to follow me. He says yes and reminds me of the Biriyani. We get into a bus which would take us to a place called ‘Ambalathara’. From there we need to take an auto to Poonthura Swamy’s ashram. At the Ambalathara junction we see a decent restaurant and we eat Biriyani there. Biriyani is a food that would never be upto an imagined mark. Here too the food is not upto the mark, passes a judgment by Arvind. I could not help agreeing with it. Then we take an auto rickshaw to Poonthura Swamy’s ashram. The moment we get down from the rickshaw, inside boundary wall of a temple I see one of the men who have just met me there in the cave temple. He waves and asks us to come inside. Poonthura Swamy was living in the road side hut and the temple is a bit away from the hut. The temple is a good granite structure and he tells me that fifteen years back on a Pooradam day Poonthura Swamy attained Samadhi. His physical body was lowered and on which within two years this stone temple was built with Lord Shiva as the shrine. We see the ashram head, Swamy Sugathan. He is a scientist retired from the Indian Space Research Organization and now has huge dread locks. He offers us tea and biscuit which we take it in a shed where we meet Murugan, the blind helper of Poonthura Swamy. Murugan was a vagabond from the neighborhood who became the helper for Poonthura Swamy. Now he spends night in the temple and day time at the hut. The blind man is a happy person. Despite his multiple handicaps he seems to be very pleasant and enthusiastic.

That particular corner in Poonthura does not seem to be exceptional but it’s very ordinariness makes it exceptional. The roadside hut under the banyan tree is where Poonthura Swamy used to spend his time in mediation. He never used to talk to people. Those who came seeking blessings often got beatings and abuses from him rather. That story reminds me of the Mookkippodi Swamy of Thiruvannamalai. Mookkippodi swamy’s abuses and beatings are considered to be his blessings. This time when I visited Thiruvannamalai, in many a shop I saw the merchandise with Mookkippodi swamy’s picture giving me a clear indication that the people had come around him to make him an establishment. They must be waiting for his Samadhi so that they could start an organization and ashram around his name and start a good business. Inside the hut the floor is laid with soft sand. One could sit inside for hours together. I see one young man sitting in meditation there. Across the road there is an ashram coming up in the name of Poonthura Bhagavan, the one who had disappeared one day. Just behind the hut there is a huge palm tree and a temple. There are some small structures that house local deities like ‘Karanavar’ and ‘Karanvathi’ (Uncle and Aunt). Sugathan Swamy gives me a calendar with a picture of Poonthura Swamy. I buy a small book about Poonthura Swamy from him. He asks my name. I am very reluctant to say my name. Finally I say, “Johny Lakshmanan,” but I add, “I have another name; Aksharananda.” He smiles at me. The name ‘JohnyML’ seems to be pushing me down. I would like to do away with it. I want to be free from it. With this thought I leave from the place with a promise that I would come back again.

Monsters, Bikes and Siddhas of Real Life-Gopikrishna: The Journey 19

The person whom I have been waiting for all this while looking at the glass like sunlight falling on the courtyard of Chemapazhanthy Sree Narayana Gurukulam finally arrives. He is Gopikrishna, artist and my beloved friend. I had been to his home-studio last year and had written about his works and life. His wife had served me with one of the best and simple meals that I ever had in my life. Gopikrishna’s is a pleasant house with a lot of trees covering it from an open view. If they serve food on the floor I could eat directly from there without hesitation for this couple keeps their house so clean that one would wonder whether their idea of falling in love or even making love is all about cleaning the house. With no assistants and no made servants they achieve this feat with so much of creative finesse. This time I do not want to disturb their peace by barging into their home during the lunch time. When Gopikrishna comes, a smile and apology flank him on either side. The smile tells me that I am welcome to his circle of energy. The apology tells me that he has been busy with his daughter’s examination (she is in the tenth standard and Gopikrishna has just picked her up from school after the exam an dropped her back home and has come to meet me), hence the delay. I smile back at the smile and pat the back of the apology telling him ‘don’t worry.’ Gopikrishna has a small shoulder bag and I know that he has brought a book for me; a book I have been coveting ever since I came to know that Gopikrishna has published his collection of stories privately and has given a copy to a friend to hand over to me. But that friend somehow did not give the book to me. So here I have Gopikrishan and his book. However, I do not ask him to give it to me right away. Gopikrishna tells me that we could go to the Vayalavarathu Veedu and sit there for some time.

Once again Vayalvarathu Veedu is in focus. Gopikrishna tells me that when he was a school kid, he used to come here to absorb in the spiritual vibes once this place had. But now everything is changed. “Look at this canopy,” Gopikrishna says that much. And I know what he means. I have just gone through the same feeling of shock and dejection a few minutes back. We sit there on the granite steps and talk generally about art and life. When you see someone like Gopikrishna or an artist friend living in a village absolutely happy about what he or she is doing, somewhere in your heart you feel a tinge of jealousy; why you are not able to do it. Yes, you are able to do it. But why you are not able to achieve that kind of tranquility. I am a person who could sit in one place for hours, days and even months on end. I do not need any particular environment to keep me calm and tranquil. If I ask for something to be in one place for a long time, that would be a few books or some pictures to look at. But Gopikrishna’s aloofness and retreat is charming. For him it may not be felt in the same way. Gopikrishna had studied in Delhi and had experienced the allurement of urban life. He left Delhi because he realized that he was not meant to be there. So a person who has naturally chosen a rural life, it feels so natural; there is no romance in it but there is a lot of love in there, I could see it. “Look at those letters, don’t they look like snakes?” Gopikrishna points at the name of the liquor baron embossed there as the donor of the canopy. Here is a funny connotation in the word ‘snake’ and an irony too. Just a few paces across that embossed plaque, from a tree trunk there hangs a placard that reads, ‘Do not make liquor and sell it for it is poison.’ Sree Narayana Guru had seen how the Ezhava community, which used to consider toddy tapping as their livelihood and at time even brewing it, going from bad to worse situation due to this liquor consumption, lack of education and aversion for unity. So as a social reformer Guru had made this great exhortation: ‘Do not make liquor and sell it for it is poison.’ But the creamy layer of the Ezhava community today is constituted by the liquor barons as a historical irony. In Kerala, those people who stagger along the roads after getting drunk or hopelessly crawl on the floor in total inebriation, are called ‘paamb’ which means ‘snakes’. I understand the pun and we have a good laugh.

At times, I wonder whether there is a Parsi in Gopikrishna. Parsis are famous for maintaining anything in their pristine quality and originality. They are supposedly having most of the vintage items intact in their own collections for their immaculate sense of maintenance of which motor cycle maintenance has prominence. As we walk out of the Gurukulam campus I ask how Gopikrishna has come. I think of asking him to drop me at a bus stop so that I could catch a bus to home. But Gopikrishna holds my hand and insists that I should go with him and have some lunch at his home. I know that it would be a burden for the lady of the house if there is an unannounced guest for lunch or dinner. But Gopikrishna would not let me go. So we are near his motor bike which has a shining cherry red color. A sense of déjà vu engulfs me. This is the dream bike that every college going boy wished for three decades back. Gopikrishna has a Hero Honda 100 cc bike which looks as if it was just taken out of the showroom. Hero Honda launched this bike in late 1980s changing the history of two wheelers in India. Bajaj was the market leader and its scooter variants in different brand names, Bajaj Super, Bajaj Priya, Bajaj Chetak and so on had brought in a change on the India roads and revolutionized the way families moved as a single unit. Many a cartoonist had made cartoons on the Bajaj Scooter travelling. The daring ones used to go for the Enfield Bullets. However, the youngsters preferred Yezdi, a brand variant from the Jawa motors. Rural roads were ruled by Rajdoot that used to make a sound like (Utattatt…trrrrrr). Then came the biggest collaborative experimentation in two wheel industry in India. Hero and Honda put their hands together to bring out the first 100 cc four stroke engine bike. The catch line for the new vehicle was ‘Fill it Shut it Forget it’. This bike could go on for many kilometers in a single liter. The cost conscious middle class reveled on this bike. Yamaha’s 100 cc bike with two stroke engine, though fuel efficient could not stand in competition with the Hero Honda 100 cc bike.

Here Gopikrishna has one of those first series of Hero Honda 100 cc bikes. And he has a story to tell about it. Gopikrishna had an Enfield Bullet Classic. After using it for three years he thought of selling it off as it was not working for him. He used to maintain that bike too well and it was in a very pristine condition when he sold it off. All those years, his first bike, this Hero Honda was lying there, only used occasionally. Then Gopikrishna decided to give it a new lease of life. He took it to one of the efficient mechanics in town and asked him to restore it. The problem that he found at that time was this; though the engine parts were available, the body parts were not. A few years back Hero and Honda had separated ways with Honda separately launching its own new age bikes for Indian markets. Hero Honda, in the hay days of their collaboration itself had stopped the production of the 100 cc bikes for they had other popular brands like Splendor, Sleek and so on. Gopikrishna and the mechanic put their heads together to create the body parts and restored the bike to showroom condition. I see that right in front of me. From Chempazhanthy SN College, the boys and girls have just come out. They are hanging out under a tree and most of them have new age bikes and scooties with them. When Gopikrishna gets the bike out of its stand, all the eyes of those youngsters are trained at this bike. They talk to each other in hushed tone as if it were an exotic beauty just passing by. I enjoy the reflected glory as I climb on it as the pillion rider. The bike starts moving. Gopikrishna is a medium pace rider. He does not want to show off to anybody; not even unto himself. I could hear the heart of the machine throbbing, thud thud thud thud. The continuous four strokes of the engine is music to the ears. If you keep listing to the four stroke engine sound you could sleep or doze off. I had experienced it and many artists in India in their struggling days have experienced it; the soothing lullaby of a four stroke engine. As we go, Gopikrishna tells me that he restored the bike for some reason. He says that this is the bike that has seen all his love pangs. He has taken his love all over by this bike. It is on this bike they talked out all their dreams against the gushing winds that blew half of their dreams away from them.

At home, Indira, Gopikrishna’s beautiful and happy wife serves a simple lunch. It is so simple a lunch that it has unparalleled taste. I eat without leaving a morsel in the plate. Then we go upstairs where Gopikrishna’s studio is. Last time, when I visited him here the mango tree on the terrace was laden with fresh mangos. This time too the mango tree shows its humility with all those fruits, big green bulbs, like a proud mother showing off her talented children with all humility she could muster up. Gopikrishna has never stopped painting. He swims every day in a nearby swimming pool; he takes sun bath every day at his terrace. In his frail figure one could see the positive and calm energy of health beaming. There are five paintings all ready on the easels. Watercolors are also stacked up on a table. The drying and fresh oil color tubes are meticulously arranged on a table. All the tables in the studio are fitted with wheels so that without disturbing the calmness of the studio he could roll them to any side that he wants. All the paintings have a yogi like figure in it; a sage who seems to be absolutely unaware of what is happening around him. At the same time, he has the reigns of a many headed beast walking. So many different creatures are around him. All these creatures, Gopikrishna says, are he himself. This is how one lives; many lives and strange lives. But they are not let loose. They are trained and tamed by a power that takes the shape of a yogi or Siddha. “I have been making a lot of drawings of these Siddhas and these paintings developed from there.” Though, a novice to Gopikrisha’s paintings would think that they are surreal, they all are ‘realism’ for Gopikrishna. “This is how things are. What one feels as reality in the heart is real for him/her. It is not surreal or irreal. It is real. We can work only on realism and on the real only,” Gopikrishna says. His words echo the teachings of Yogavasishtam.

Why Siddhas and Yogis? “Everyone needs some training, taming and directing at some stage in life,” says Gopikrishna. For him life was not going so smoothly after his education. He was already married and had a son by then. He used to do some teaching job and that too was lost. Gopikrishna wanted to paint. But there is a stage in everybody’s life when one doubts whether the path taken is right or wrong. One needs assurance of some kind. A fruit seller could give you that assurance in that moment. A road sweeper or a scavenger could do that. But you have to meet that person to impart that knowledge to you. “It was when I decided to go to Poonthura Swamy,” says Gopikrishna. There is an interesting story behind Poonthura Swamy. From somewhere an avdhoot appears in the sea side village, Poonthura (six kilometers south west from Trivandrum city) and he spends time there for many years. He lives like a mad person but people feel that there is something in him. Soon a village officer from Thakkala (now in Tamil Nadu) comes to Poonthura and sits with the avdhoot. Then he does not go back. One day the avdhoot disappears. The village officer now stays permanently there. He leaves all his worldly ties. His does not eat any food. He smokes beedi. People bring beedi and agarbatti as offerings. He does not talk. He just sits there smoking beedi. But there is a huge pull towards him. Siddhas and yogis come from different places as the bees come to flowers to collect honey. While a student in college, Gopikrishna had gone to meet Poonthura Swami. When he was in trouble and he needed that assurance and direction in live, he decided to go and meet Poonthura Swami again. This time he bought some beedis and agarbattis. Indira accompanied him. He sat in front of the Swami for a long time. Indira insisted and pleaded with Swami to speak something. Gopikrishna remembers: “I had nothing to ask except a question. Could I continue painting? He nodded. That was it.” Gopikrishna says that there was no looking back since then. With or without money he kept on painting and today Gopikrishna feels blessed and directed by Poonthura Swami. “We are beasts inside and we need taming. What you see in these paintings is nothing but self disciplining. It is painful but quite liberating.”

It is time to leave. Downstairs in the drawing room, Indira has made a semi sweet dish and coffee. One feels a motherly presence in there. From the walls, the paintings done by late Sreedharan Nair, Gopikrishna’s father look at us. They are re-rendering of Ravi Varma’s paintings. They are not copies but slightly different re-interpretations. The drawing room suddenly becomes a part of the museum. It has some beautifully laid vintage furniture. “Slowly but steadily I collected them,” says Gopikrishna. Like his motor bike, this age old furniture also shines even in the reflected sunlight. Gopikrishna gives me his book; a collection of stories titled ‘Rahasyangalude Pusthakam’ (the Book of Secrets). I flip through them and ask when he wrote the stories. He tells me that he started writing stories when he was in college itself. “But they took many years to get the final shape. You could see the chronology and see myself there.” Gopikrishna says that his stories are not different from his paintings. “There is a perceived reality and a lived reality. These stories are the lived reality of my life,” says Gopikrishna. I put the book carefully in my bag. We come out and once again I am the pillion rider on that beautiful bike. At Sreekaryam junction, Gopikrishna drops me and bids a warm farewell and leaves. I see a multi-headed monster riding back on a huge fish with wheel for its fins. Then I see a long thread coming out of his Gopikrishna’s waist and running to a sea shore somewhere near Poonthura.