“Arunachala!”
He thought to himself, “Protect me, tonight!”
His father had
warned him repeatedly in his school days, “The eldest son or the only son
should not walk alone after midnight in the open. Demons and ghosts will catch
you.” And, for good measure, he had added, “Lightning in a thunderstorm can
recognize the eldest son. In a stormy night, it will come searching for one,
and will hit you, even if you are in a crowd!” Balaji Naidu wondered about his
father’s words as he looked up at the silhouette of Arunachala, the ever
merciful peak of Tiruvannamalai, hidden in the stormy night clouds, with the
moon nowhere to be seen.
The bus journey had
been very tiring. He had not been able to get the express bus and had somehow
managed to get on the regular inter-city bus from Chennai. The normal 3-4 hour
bus journey by an express bus took longer in this one, stopping at every small
mofussil location. The seats had been extremely painful, and Balaji Naidu was
exhausted. It was past midnight, long past midnight, at Tiruvannamalai. There
was a rainstorm pouring down and he had no umbrella or raincoat with him. The
streets were empty, and he searched the skies for protection from the
silhouette of Arunachala, with the moon behind.
The city had gone
to sleep in this storm, and he walked alone, talking to himself, “O Balaji, do
not be frightened. This rain will not harm you. Demons and ghosts will not come
for you. With Arunachala Shiva as your protector, this storm will not
even attack you with its lightning.” He walked from the bus-stand and past the
great temple. He had to get back to the lodge, but it was too far away and
there was no transport at this hour past midnight. The roads were empty and he
was frightened. He had come all the way from Chennai and wanted to walk on the Girivalam,
the path around the sacred hill of Arunachala Shiva. He would have to
start on the fourteen kilometer walk, maybe early dawn, and be able to complete
the entire route before it would get too hot.
It did not look
like he would be able to reach the lodge in the pouring rain, he thought. He
was near the Agni Lingam temple. He knew that the temple would also be
closed at this time of night, for this was not the date for the Girivalam.
He remembered that there were some shops nearer to the temple and they would be
closed now. He could take shelter in their shaded shop fronts. He turned into
the lane for the Agni Lingam temple and came up to the shops. As he had
guessed, the shop front was dry, and the awning would protect him. He could
rest here for the night, in front of the Agni Lingam temple.
He could see the
sacred Arunachala, resplendent in the thunderstorm. It was lit up by the
moon and the silhouette made the peak look very magical. Balaji was drenched,
but he was happy. He was camped on the porch of a deserted shop front, opposite
the Agni Lingam temple and he was protected by Arunachala.
Opening up his haversack, he took out a dry lungi and towel, changed his
clothes and placed the wet ones to dry on a nylon rope that was hanging outside
the shop shutters. This was good, he felt. He could sit it out in the rain
here, get his clothes dried, and early morning, if the rains stopped, he could
begin his walk on the Girivalam, with prayers and offerings at the Agni
Lingam temple, right here.
It must have been
nearly 1.30 am, he thought, and he could sleep here, until dawn, without any
disturbance. He could see Arunachala getting drenched, and the clouds
bowing to its glory. The puzzling aspect was, as he thought back to his father’s
advice, the thunderstorm was devoid of any lightning tonight. It must have been
his prayers, of course, though Balaji to himself with a smile. He spoke a quiet
prayer, and turning up to Arunachala, he spoke loudly, “Arunachala,
Arunachala Shiva! Nandri, nandri! Thank you. I am in your protection
tonight. Thank you for not sending out any lightning to seek me out! I will go
back to my father, with your grace and tell him that Arunachala Shiva
protected me in this thunderstorm, and did not allow any lightning to get me!”
Upon speaking thus,
in that dark stormy night, in that deserted shop front, Balaji got ready to lie
down and sleep it out, resting his head on his haversack, and covering himself
with a shawl that he had brought for this purpose. He must have drifted off to
a deep sleep, and must have been in a strange dream, for he could hear some
dogs growling nearby and a goat bleating softly. A man was talking and all
these animals and the man seemed to be talking to Arunachala. Puzzled,
Balaji woke up and sat still, worried and frightened at this very strange
dream.
He could not see
anything. The rain had increased in its intensity. He could not see Arunachala,
and this frightened him some more. In panic, he looked at the Agni Lingam
temple, and he could barely see the closed gates. He closed his eyes and looked
up at Arunachala, and started chanting, “Arunachala! Arunachala!
Arunachala!” Pacified a bit, and beginning to breathe normally again, he
turned to look for the Agni Lingam temple. There seemed to be someone
there, at the gate, ghostly, or not, he could not make out.
“Yaar ange? Who
is there?” Balaji called out in fright, “The temple is closed. Come into this
dry place and get out of the rain. Come here.” The person materialized from the
pouring rain, and Balaji was calmer. It was an actual person. Not a ghost or
demon, as his father had warned him. The man must have also got caught out in
the rains and must have been seeking shelter in the rains. The man came walking
up to Balaji and seemed to be accompanied by some animal that was following him.
It was a goat! So,
it was not a dream after all, thought Balaji, in relief. He must have heard
this man and the goat calling out, trying to seek shelter from the rain. The
man and his goat entered the shelter of the awning and sat quietly. He seemed like
a villager from the hills, for he had the appearance of one who would not be
from the cities. The goat was huge and very strong, but quiet and docile. It
came up on the stairs and sat next to the man from the hills. There seemed to
be some sort of a complete understanding between the man and the goat.
He was indeed a
very strange looking man, Balaji said to himself, for he could see him more
clearly now, as he was sitting on the stairs in front of the shop front. He was
huge, firstly, and the colour of his skin was unlike anyone that he had seen.
Balaji had traveled through India, and in his job as a tour operator at the
Chennai international airport, he had seen all sorts of foreigners. This man
was certainly not a foreigner, for he was a local man from the hills. His skin
was of a deep red colour, very reddish, dark, and not brilliant. He was dressed
in some sort of a dhoti, encumbered around his waist, and dropping down
to his ankles. Waist-above, he had no cloth or shirt or qurta or banian
of any sort.
But, he did not
seem to be feeling uncomfortable at all. He did not seem to be noticing the
rain or the night or the thunderstorm. He looked very relaxed, and patient and
accepting. So was his huge goat that was sitting so very peacefully alongside.
The man was watching the Agni Lingam temple very intently and
demonstrated some amount of irritation, from time to time, muttering and
speaking to himself. Suddenly, he looked up at the peak of Arunachala
and grumbled about something, and shook his hands in seeming disgust. And
again, he would sit patiently, waiting it out in the darkness of the thunderstorm.
After a while, he stood up angrily, looked at the temple, spoke something,
almost scolding the temple, and then, turned to the sacred Arunachala,
and again, spoke in an irritated manner.
Balaji could not
understand his speech. He was amazed and surprised that someone so very
obviously familiar with the location, with the Agni Lingam temple and
the very sacred peak of Arunachala, could be so angry with various
aspects. What would it be that made him so very angry, he thought to himself,
without talking it out with this strange man from the hills? He was wary about
talking to this very strange reddish looking man. He looked large, and moment
by moment, he seemed to be appearing larger and larger. It must be his
imagination, thought Balaji. He looked at the quiet goat sitting nearby, and he
was content and smiled. The goat seemed the same size, and it had not grown.
After a while, the
man sat down quietly, and did not remonstrate at any aspect, including the
temple or the sacred peak. He kept grumbling at times, and started talking to
his goat in the unintelligible language that he spoke. The goat sat quietly,
happy to be out of the rain. It looked quite happy to have the reddish looking
huge man talking in bursts. The goat must have been familiar with this sort of behavior.
Balaji wondered if the man would relax and sleep for a while, for if not, then
he would not be getting any sleep until dawn, and he would be very tired in the
Girivalam.
Getting curious,
Balaji decided, that it would be better to talk it out with this strange man.
After all, he must have just been some person from the hills nearby, and who
was he to wonder about the colour of his skin or the language that he spoke.
Taking courage, Balaji spoke, in the local Tamil dialect, “Hello, Saar, you
know that you do not have to get upset about the rain. This is the season for
rain. But then, who am I to tell you about the rain, for you look like someone
from the hills of this region. Do not worry about it. Very soon, it will be
daylight, and one can expect that the temple will be opened. If it continues to
rain, we can take shelter in the temple. But, it cannot continue to rain like
this.”
The man looked at
Balaji, and heard him speak. He did not reply. He turned back to grumbling with
himself and continued to talk to his goat. Since he did not get angry, and did
not beat him up, Balaji thought, why not take up some more issues? Why not ask
him something more about himself? Again, taking courage, Balaji spoke, “Ennaa
Saar, do not get angry or upset. This rain will not harm us at all. My father
used to tell me that such a thunderstorm was very dangerous, but I am sure that
Arunachala Shiva will protect us. Are you from the nearby places? You do
not look like you are from Tiruvannamalai or Gingee. Are you from Kanchipuram?”
The strange man
looked back at Balaji, seeming to understand that he was being asked a
question. He chose not to reply again. He looked angrier and angrier, and
perhaps, was getting upset with the questions from Balaji, or in his attempts
to be drawn into a conversation. He turned back to shaking his hands at the
sacred peak of Arunachala, and kept talking to himself, muttering almost
angrily, talking to the goat. Balaji decided that it would perhaps be safe to
make another attempt. He said, “Do not worry, my friend. This rain will soon
stop and you will be able to go and get whatever it is that you are upset
about. I am not frightened about this rain, and my father had advised me that I
should always be careful about not going out in such a thunderstorm. Do you
know why I am not frightened?”
Having been asked
such a direct question, the strange man looked back at Balaji, and waited,
expecting an explanation. He did not ask anything, but the intention was very
obvious. Balaji continued, “My father had told me to be frightened about
lightning during a thunderstorm. Do you know what I did? The first thing that I
did when I got frightened, I prayed to Arunachala, and requested him to
protect me from lightning. I was the only person moving around in this heavy
rain, and I must have been the only devotee on the Girivalam route, and
therefore, it must have been the only prayer tonight. Ha! Ha! Ha! How could Arunachala
not refuse me? See for yourself, in this entire thunderstorm, there has not
been any lightning, through the night. I knew that Arunachala Shiva would
protect me.”
The huge
reddish-looking strange man with the goat looked very startled, on hearing this
explanation from Balaji. He seemed to get angrier and perhaps, thought Balaji,
he may actually resort to some violence. Why would this strange man be upset
that there was no lightning in the thunderstorm, or that Arunachala Shiva
was protecting his devotees? The strange man got out of the shade of the shop
and walked back to the Agni Lingam temple gate, touched it, and turned
back to face the sacred peak of Arunachala, and raised his hands, and
spoke something angrily. He did this, 2-3 times, and returned to the shade of
the shopfront, and sat with his goat, and grumbled.
What a puzzling man,
thought Balaji. He actually looked angry that there was no lightning in the
thunderstorm. What would he want with the temple, and why was he so upset with Arunachala?
How could anyone be angry with Shiva himself? Did he not know that he
was getting angry with the deity? He could not understand this man. He was
actually angry. Let him be, reasoned Balaji. Better to get some sleep, and save
himself for the Girivalam. Let this strange man argue it out with Arunachala
and let him worry about his answers or any angry reaction from Shiva, he
thought.
The man came closer
to Balaji, and stood facing Arunachala, and spoke, and this time, Balaji
seemed to be able to understand, though it was not spoken in Tamil. The strange
man spoke angrily to the sacred peak of Arunachala, “How can you allow
this? You do not allow me to do my work? What is the wrong that I have done? Do
I harm your devotees? Do I stop them when they are on the Girivalam?
This is not correct, O Arunachala!”
Amazed, Balaji
looked at the strange man. He did not actually hear him speak in Tamil. How did
he manage to understand what he spoke? Perhaps, it was because he could
actually hear him clearly, finally, for he had only been muttering and
grumbling in undertones to the goat, and at the Agni Lingam temple and
at Arunachala. Who had not allowed this strange man to do his work? How
did Arunachala stop him from his work? What was this strange looking
reddish man’s work? How could his work harm the devotees on the Girivalam?
So many questions, he thought.
Suddenly, the
thunderstorm became more intense, heavier and the sound was angrier. Was Arunachala
getting angry with this strange man? Balaji spoke to the strange man, “Swami,
why are you angry? I only spoke in jest. I did not mean to stop you from your
work. How can I stop you? I do not even know you. Please do not get angry with
my Arunachala, and please do not accuse HIM of being wrong. How can HE
be wrong? HE is the most graceful.”
Hearing Balaji, the
strange man spoke again, to Arunachala as before, “Did you hear him? He
had not even asked you to stop the lightning in a serious prayer. He did not
even mean it. And, you stop me from doing my work! It is my job, as given by
you and you have denied me, my tasks. He was merely frightened of some rain,
that’s all. Let me do my job, for, never have you stopped me from doing it. O
Arunachala! Let me do my job in this thunderstorm. How can it be a storm
without any lightning?”
Saying thus, the
strange man stood still, and worshipped Arunachala, in a steady chant,
and began to relax and drop his anger. As the chant grew in its intensity, he
turned to face the sacred peak, and raised his hands and clapped. The sound was
enormous; the sound of the claps grew in its volume. Balaji looked on in
amazement, and wondered at the man’s devotion. Suddenly, the strange man
stopped his clapping, and beckoned, and said, “Come, come, O Arunachala,
release me from inaction tonight. Release me from not doing my duty tonight.”
And, in that very
instant, the sacred peak of Arunachala looked that much calmer, almost
content, and peaceful, within the great rush of the thunderstorm. In the next
moment, there were two thick lines of lightning bursting out from the skies, and
they were followed by an amazing unstoppable roll of thunder, that kept going
on and on. He looked for the strange man, and he saw him, with his goat,
walking up the slopes of the sacred peak of Arunachala, in the heavy
rains, in the darkness. Balaji did not feel any fear at the sound of the
thunder and the sight of the lightning. He sang, “O Arunachala, do not
bless me anymore, for I am blessed a thousand and million times in your
presence. Let the lightning take me away, to you, to you, to you.”
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