Parties

Nowadays, Event Managers organise parties. They are professionals – they ensure that nothing is left to chance. And they do not forget anything. The hosts are in tenterhooks - hoping against hope nothing goes against what was planned. They are generally in a constant state of delirium – have we missed something. They would have missed all the fun.

I do not remember a single party during my childhood. There was one – I would love to forget it. The food was served in glass cutlery and my parents dinned into my heads not to break them. I was paranoid just to touch those glass pieces. Even the food looked and tasted like glass. Was I glad to be back home.

I had fun too – lots of them. Only I never knew then that they were parties. Loads of them – all with simple things of life. When the summer ended and the first monsoon showers came in – I shouted for my friends and we used to get wet, jump with joy and watch the snails come to life. If there were hailstorms all the better – the lumps on head have never hurt. I never sent invites – I ran to my friends’ houses and dared them to come out in the rain and soon enough we were all over the place, wet and giggling. No cost, no timings, no eating and drinking – just pure joy – it was bliss. We never knew it could have been called a party.

One of these days, a cousin of mine came down visit us along with her children. We have enjoyed a lot when we were children. Now we are grown ups. Her children wear watches and so do mine. They are kids but mind their timings and talk of school projects and tasks. They act responsible.

My sister visited us at the same time. It was her daughter’s birthday. She distributed some chocolates and we all wished her.

We talked of the days gone by and how kids of today do not enjoy the way we did – for them the only enjoyment comes from watching TV. We recalled those occasions with nostalgia.

The hours went by and it was time for dinner and had not prepared any food not even for ourselves – let alone this army of half a dozen kids and another half a dozen once-upon-a-time-kids. The event manager would have chuckled.

My wife said she will prepare some plain rice and I prepared to go out and buy something to go along. My cousin joined me to shop for our dinner.

We went out. We bought some chips. Something was missing. The birthday cake and the ice cream and the things that children love. We went home and threw a surprise party – no invitation, no planning, and no fanfare – just pure fun. All of us had simple food but very tasty with the joy of the party as the main course.

Did we miss anything – our adulthood, for a while.

The D®ying Pond

This is a small story of a small temple pond in a small village.

Thirunangur in Tamil Nadu hosts several temples. One of these temples has a pond.

It is June and the North East monsoon is far away. The village in running out of water and the pond is in its last throes.

The deepest part is just a miniscule sludgy puddle. Here, the cosmic dance of life and death is staged in all its splendour and grimness.

All the fish are hopelessly trying to survive through the summer. The Brahmini kites (Garuda – the vehicle for Lord Vishnu, the Protector, whose temple pond this happens to be) and king fishers do not have to wait long for their next meal.

The fish cannot breathe at the bottom of the puddle and have to come to the very top to find clearer water to breathe in. They take a quick breath and dive down into the dark murky depths and cheat death one more time.

It is a difficult choice - Go down and suffocate or come up only to be picked up. It cannot last long.

The kites swoop down with their strong talons and sharp curved beaks make a quick work. Easy pickings.

For the fish, the suffering is brought to an end – The God looks on. The birds, with their stomachs full, look on satisfied and sit on the temple tower – The God looks on.

Then the village children come in with a piece of cloth and end the misery of every surviving fish in one scoop of the cloth through the sludge.

They also end the story of the pond – The God looks on. He knows its not the end.

Post Script

Well... I had been to the place again. The pond is well and thriving. The fish, the birds, the people and the God too.

Sami

He is over 75. He has Parkinson’s. Old and infirm, he had lost his wife last year and his two daughters are abroad. He is a total dependent, physically and otherwise. He is under medications with serious side-effects. He has no ability to control his mind and body.

I did not know he would join us on our journey. It involves public transport on rail and on road. It is the height of summer with temperatures soaring over 38 degrees and it is humid.

It started off without much difficulty one evening. We arrived safely the early morning, the next day. He was in high spirits or whatever we can make out of him.

Then we started off to a place 60 km away. The vehicle was a rickety old one going through bad village roads. At 11.00 am the heat began to show. It was getting sweltery and hotter. We reached the village after the sun peaked. He stayed back in the vehicle while we sprinted to the temple shade to escape our bare feet being scalded in the granite floor.

The temple pond was drying with dying fish and encircling eagles.

When we returned – I noticed. His eyes were dilated and he was running high fever. We needed a cool place – not possible now, and food. We arranged for food at the temple – very fortunate for us. He did not have any of it at all.

We had to abandon our plans to visit other temples and returned to the place where we were staying – 60 km again. His fingers got jammed between the door of the vehicle – I panicked. He did not express any pain – I panicked more. We somehow reached the hotel – all of us were silent throughout the journey.

It was here we got the shock – he cannot move. Not an inch. I looked at his face – it displayed no expression. He just cannot move. We got a wheel chair and I had to physically lift him and place him in the wheel chair. That was the closest I have ever come to face ‘old age’. I did not face ‘old age’ before – it stared at me right into my eyes.

I’ve never thought much of old age before. Anyway, it never scared me.

I’ve thought of death a few times before and have seen it at close quarters a couple of times. It has scared me.

As a matter of fact, ‘old age’ brings back pleasant memories for me. Both my grand mothers share a great deal of credit in shaping my life. Old age for me meant wisdom, benevolence and not getting angry at children. Old age for me was entertainment – with my grand mothers regaling us with folklore and sharing memories of my parents when they were children. They passed judgments which always seem to be right.
Now, when I lifted him, the ‘old age’ put a fright in me – it was worse than the fear of death. It was worse than the fear of life. ‘Old Age’ scared me more than ‘Death’.

Once one is dead - that’s the end all. However, one can experience ‘old age’. It’s so unlike death – one has to depend on others. Once I am dead – I am no longer a dependent.

Not old age. I feel I am useless. I feel I am a vegetable. I feel I am a burden. I feel I am neglected. I feel I am broken. I cannot think for myself. Mind is not free. Body is not free.

I feel I cannot feel. I would not know if others can feel me feeling.

Death is deliverance and you cannot have the pleasure of dying – that’s old age.

I recall a song what my grand mother sang for me regarding old age.

When I am old, when there is no one to depend upon, when the children are grown up and manage themselves, when my eyes are blinded, when my ears cannot hear, when all my teeth are gone, when my tongue slurs, when my legs cannot walk, when my hands are paralysed, when I lose my memory, when my brain is muddled, when the fear of death takes over, when the body slacks down and I ease myself in my clothes seeing the Yama Kinkaras, that is when, Oh God, please make me remember You.

I remember my grand mother.

Ps: Nothing to worry. We got a doctor to examine Sami the same evening. He said Sami was exhausted. Miraculously, he was up and ready next day morning. He did come with us to the temple next day without any ontward incidents and we completed our journey safely. Nevertheless, Sami gave me the fear – the fear of ‘old age’. He also gave me the strength. He is waiting to get his visa to join his daughters abroad.

Music thing

Music thing

Lord Narasimhaswamy, Haththalabetta, Rajatadripura

This magnificent temple is on the way from Tumkur (near Bangalore, Karnataka, India) to Tiptur. You cannot miss the huge arch on the right hand side of the road. You need to climb up the hill to reach the top. The view is amazing.

The Lord is very pleasant though He is Ugranarasimha. Last time he had a different face and this time it was even more majestic.

A place not to miss for Narasimha followers.

Sometimes, you can see people leading animals like chicken and goats being offered as sacrifice.

Sacrificial?

Temple Pond atop the hills - Rajatadripura, Haththalabetta

The Lord Nrsimha

Lord Narasimha, Rajatadripura, Haththalabetta

Lakshmi Narasimhaswamy – Vignasanthe

Vignasanthe is a sleepy small village just over 3 km from Nonavinakere which is less than 20 km from Thruvikere. Best way to reach is from Bangalore (Karnataka, India) – Nelamangala, Yediyur – Thuruvikere, Nonavinakere, and Vignasanthe.

Do not forget to take the priest with you as he stays at Nonavinakere.

This is a 13^th century temple built by a Hoysala King. The typical Hoysala architecture is unmistakable. It is a small but extremely beautiful thrikootachala temple. As you enter you can see the Chennakeshava in the garbhagrha. On the right side is Lord Lakshminarasimha with Goddess Lakshmi on His lap. Her leg rests on a lotus flower and because of her weight L the lotus is bent a bit and an elephant is holding the lotus us – what an imagination. The prabha has dashavathara sculpted (as with Chennakeshava). On the opposite side is Lord Venugopala with intricate carvings with Krishna’s epic stories in sculpture. At the entrance of Chennakeshava, we can find Ganesha on the left hand side and Chamundeshwari (extremely delicate and intricate carving to the last possible detail) can be found. Chamundeshwari is not worshipped as her arm is broken.

The main mahamantapa has magnificent carvings on the roof depicting the plantain flower motif. In addition, just below are eight wonderful carvings of the different devas.

The entire temple below the lintel level outside have very few carvings but the sculptures above are just so detailed that it would take days to see them all. The typical star shape is followed here too. However not enough care is taken to keep them in good condition – what has stood for over 700 years has to stand for posterity to enjoy the marvels of the bygone era.

There are no hotels nearby so plan well.

Front right
Lakshminarasimha - Vignasanthe -

Shikara - Left front
Lakshminarasimha - Vignasanthe -