Adhavan (2): The Realization of the Vocation

Chapter 1: The Realization of the Vocation

Amidst chaos, in a spur of the moment it blossoms very naturally.

Translation

Chasing on and on, after the lamp within

Seeking again and again, the days passed by

Grieving often about it, they died

Countless were the lives of such millions and millions

—Siddhar Sivavakkiyar Song (003)

The supremacy of the nature is explicit, its presence is overwhelming and magnanimous, even the floating of a log, far from the place Adhavan got hooked into has its place in this colossal universe. It is a colossal, dynamic, ever changing art of work, splendidly drawn over an immeasurable, unfathomable, infinitesimal canvas that has painted all creatures born, living and yet to be born in such an intricate pattern, encompassing softest of soft and hardest of hard under one hood in vivid wild colors, is this massive grand design ever created in the human history by unknown hands conceivable to the creator alone and nonetheless, can flourish and revive on its own even if all of the mankind is expunged to very fine specks of dust.

It was around six in the morning, earth was blanketed by dizzy mist that rarely allowed a glimpse of happenings on the other side of the river bank. Adhavan was intrigued by the two feet log floating near the bank of the river. The sides were covered by common reed that almost stretched outwards to the edge of the unending world. He watched the log floating on the water freely, unbound yet bound and aligned by the course of the river. The ballet of the log and the water to the rhythms of the sun and the wind was the spectacular event on a prosaic day. Their fall and ebb was mysteriously in tune with the chirruping of a sparrow; whistling of the wind and belching of the goats nearby. It seems that all happenings around him including his own breathing laps were in harmony with the dancing logs. The glorious onset of the rising Sun shone on his face and his joys soared high in multitudes. He was immensely enjoying the moment.

He closed his eyes, took in everything the morning had to offer him, and slowly let himself ponder beyond the physical realms of the mind. It wasn't sleep and he didn't dream, rather his spirit stretched and embraced the log. He sensed the chillness spread over his physical body. He remained in that state. The sun in all his grandeur started an uphill ride. The time was now half past six. In solemn grace, a fly rested on the thin line of Adhavan’s mustache and started pricking the insides of his nostrils with complete authority; even certified doctors would admire the grace with which it operated. Unaware of it, Adhavan was spell bound by the dance of the log. His senses were shut, his eyes were still closed, but he noticed being watched by someone, few paces away. The gaze was so intent and warm that it broke the trance and set ablaze every nerve bundle in his body. The stimulus was electric and the undercurrent charged the insides of his body and rushed upwards to the crown of his head. Though he felt jolted, he was completely rejuvenated by the touch of this sacred being.

He opened his eyes and searched for the thing that gazed at him. It wasn't there his eyes searched for the log. The log wasn't there too. He felt a sudden grief engulf him, but to his wonder he saw a formless being crossing the river, the same being that gazed at him leaving the foot-prints trails to be washed by fresh gush of flow. It didn't have a form. It did something to him that he knows by heart that can’t be undone. In whimsical seconds it crossed the river in few paces. It moved so fast, it shot through the space and was on the other side of the bank. At each step, water rippled as though it was touched softly by feathers of the Peacock. The ripples that it created grew in gobs and heaved a strong wave to the river bank and the log was shoved onto the bed.

At other side of the bank the being turned and looked at Adhavan. It shook his whole body and tossed him up and down in the mid air. The body literally quivered under its stupendous power—by the touch that wasn't actually physical but merely a powerful focused gaze. It took few moments for Adhavan to realize and gather himself. The river was almost two hundred feet wide.

Now, this is no normal incident for him. He wanted to cross the river and see it all for himself, but the crossing of the river is strictly forbidden. It is an uncompromising rule of the village for almost seven generations. Hence no one from his village dare crossed the bank of the river and those who tried never came back for whatsoever reasons, including one of his great great grandfather. From a very young age, he was threatened by the other side of the bank. It was said to be an abode of mighty creatures with astonishing strength and power. They travel at the speed of light; dwell in the realms of fire; carve mountains to create their resting space but Adhavan had this sense of liking and intimacy for this peculiar beings. He found them harmless, mysterious, charming and graceful. He started feeling as though he is part of them, something innate in him started pulling him vehemently to the other side of the bank.

He looked up to the heavens, stretched his arms wide, and uttered a prayer, pleaded for solidarity and integrity of the mind. He didn't know to whom he was praying to and what was being given to him? This is one another thing that is still elusive and inconceivable. He was very sincere to himself and he didn't want to pretend, as though he knew all about God. He decided to know everything about it for himself in its truest and grandest form. He made this staunch decision at a very young age. He remembered the day he was thrown out from the Bhagavad Gita class at the age of eight, for showing disrespect to his teachers, by questioning supremacy of their knowledge and beliefs,

“Have you really seen the god you are talking about?”

“Do you actually know him?”

“Can you show him to me?”

“Can you ask him to speak to me?”

Though, the questions were asked with utmost sincerity, it was considered to be rude on part of the eight years old child, especially by the orthodox society he came from. This incident broke Matangi’s heart, his elder sister, and caused a personal rift between them. She being a strict follower of Lord Krishna was never able to fathom the radical mind of his younger brother and his questions were of such nuisance to her. Unwelcome, she turned out to be the only patient listener of all his impeccable discourses. She took care of him on her own, after their grandmother left them with a flock of sheep. Even after she got married to an eligible man of stature and cadre she accommodated her younger brother as her own sibling to the obvious displeasure of her bridegroom’s family.

Thinking about his sister gave him some repose and helped him to lead the life he is going through. Other than the God, now there is one more thing he must know about. Before knowing it he wanted to give a name to it. He kept thinking about it over and again, neither a masculine nor a feminine name did fit it. It became a hectic task. To add to his miseries even the quest for the name remained unanswered.

On the other side of the bank the being was watching Adhavan, softly now, without revealing its presence. It smiled at him, turned back and almost glided towards the hill—source of the river Nayili, the one it crossed few minutes before.

On this side of the bank, Adhavan flocked his sheep and was ready to guide them to greener pastures, but his mind was filled with names, pouring out from all known places and people. He was not able to withhold the pressure that started building in his mind and the ramming questions that hammered his soul. He wanted to deal with all of them immediately. He decided to share this unspeakable incident that happened today with Matangi. He trusted her more than anyone else in the world and confessed with her all his personal beliefs, likes and dislikes.

He stood tall, looked down at the path he has to stroll back home. The house was hidden from the view; he took multiple curves and leads before he landed upon the straight road leading to the village. Then again he looked at the Sun, took a deep breath and started pacing down in a rhythmic manner, towards the squarely built, towering one-storey hut in the middle of an expansive paddy farm. The hut was surrounded by green lustrous farm spread on all its sides, covering acres of fertile land, well irrigated by canals that cut through the farms and supplied water in a leisurely pace to ever hungry paddy field. The richness that encompassed the massive hut was clearly visible. Not a penny of that belonged to Adhavan though he was part of all that richness.

He saw his sister, a pale, hard working women in her mid-twenties; mother of a very beautiful child, Andal, who had every resemblance of a divine goddess written on the fine strokes of her delicately lined face. He felt a huge relief on seeing his sister and her daughter. Whereas, Matangi was shocked to see Adhavan in the morning hours and much more worried to see that he did not bring back the flock with him. He read her mind, only then he realized, in the frenzy to find his sister and empty the emotional turmoil, he has let his flock astray near the banks of the river Nayili. He felt clumsy, as at any point of time wild animals may make their way down to the river bank to quench their thirst. He sprinted back with all his energy to gather his flock and lead them to a safe place.

He stood gasping for breath, what he saw in the bank gave him creeps, pack of wild foxes were feeding hastily over the remnants of a tethered sheep. He hid behind the trees, tears started flooding his eyes. He felt stifling pain in the chest and he knew the day has come for him to make his final call. Even during this moment of painful thronging of stifling anguish he looked up to the heavens and gasped for relief. There on the hilltop on other side of bank he saw bright glowing light disappear in to the wilderness of the mountain. The thought of the being, sent down cold shudders to his heart. He knew he is going to take the unsought path.

He gathered his flock and drove them back to the plains. As he neared his dwelling, a place that he shared with the flock, his eyes welled up. Stroking back his gliding hair he tied the end into single knot and let it drape his back, it fell graciously into long curls and slithered to the end of his back, hiding well, the cleavage of his buttocks. He collected himself; looked up to the heavens and slowly packed is meager owning. He collected whatsoever that he considered as personal in a separate sack along with his life time savings. For himself, he took few langotris and a blanket used by his mother in a much smaller sack that made him wonder if he would need them at all.

He gathered courage to meet his sister, went straight to her, placed the sack to her right and prostrated before her. Got up, took her by the arms; looked deep into her eyes infusing part of him into her. Her heart stopped and it was a dizzying experience, she almost fainted. He then neared Andal, landed a kiss on her forehead and swiftly vanished into the greens of the paddy. By the time Matangi regained her senses, Adhavan almost left the farm. His agile, athletic body shone bright and merged with the glittering Sun. He moved with grace, composure and elegance that resembled the strides of a Lion in a smooth kill. To her, he has stepped into the glowing Sun, unto the depths of warmth and glory she was not aware of. Inside her heart she was happy, that finally he has taken the call to placate his insatiable quest for human excellence. That moment she closed her eyes, right there in the vast stretch of green field, she touched her heart with her right hand and prayed to Lord Krishna to keep him safe from all evils and dear him to his aspirations. Then she knew for sure, the day will come, when he will return victoriously, not as her eighteen years old brother but as a man who has mastered himself and the universe.

Adhavan’s strides grew longer and faster, with his well sinewed muscles and flexible movement he lunged into an exceedingly high tempered flight. It seemed that he crossed the boulders and disappeared into the thickness in no matter of time. In this run, he almost missed Abdullah’s desperate act in stoning the unripe mangoes. Adhavan’s eyes traversed the tree and counted fourteen mangoes in the periphery, the ones hiding behind them will always be more than what you see in the outset. He guessed more than twenty eight mangoes. He paced down towards Abdullah, held him by his hand, a simple gesture to hold him back. In three leaps he was at the bottom, in the fifth leap he positioned himself at the center of the tree, and then he started swaying it back and forth and in rounds till the tree shed almost all its ripe mangoes. By the time Abdullah has collected thirty-two ripe mangoes Adhavan plucked a half-ripe mango for himself and disappeared far into the wilderness. That was the way of Adhavan, very little talk and never ending action. Abdullah (He belonged to the family of the early Arab traders, Nabataeans, who settled on the Malabar Coast of Arabian Sea, during the Roman era.) knelt to the ground and prayed to their supreme deity, Allah to keep Adhavan in good health and vigor. Though they were close friends during their childhood, Adhavan’s radical thinking has inexplicably parted their relationship, that too when he questioned the existence of God.

Adhavan almost reached the bank of  Nayili he looked at the Sun and it stood straight above his head. He was not able to see his shadow. He collected his Bamboo staff from his hiding, eight feet tall and an inch rounded on either side. He clasped it with the sureness, whirled it in rounds and gyrated it in a wavy motion. The command he had over the movements were startling, as he swirled faster and faster, the whooping sound grew into continuous booing of higher amplitude. The thrust born out of the spin even created stirring in the banks of the river some fifty feet away. When he stood still the whole place seemed to have quietened with him. He started pirouetting his staff again, this time intently with all his might. This has become the way of Adhavan to empty his mind of emotional debris that has got accumulated over a period of time. Finally he dropped the staff, knelt down on the ground and panted heavily. Slowly he looked around and saw the rustling of dried leaves, the least twenty feet away from the spot he was kneeling. It gave him a sense of joy over the staff mastery. He then touched the moist barren ground deprived of the dried leaves. He placed his warm lips on the soft ground, rested a while, in the knelt position, face downwards and forehead touching the ground. This slight elevation in the mood surged him to walk the waters. He desperately countered his will and confidently took strides on the Nayili, only to find himself walking on its bed, wrapped by laughing Nayili to his chin. He smiled from the heart and along with him the being in the mountain smiled. It had overcome the drowning by waters; hence Adhavan named him “Athri”. The purpose of this life Journey is to meet Athri and seek his help in finding God.

(To be continued...)

Date and Time of Writing: 02/05/2015 10:30 AM—02/06/2015 00:38 AM

About Adhavan