pardhu's manuscript

8/8/2019 Pardhu's Manuscript

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Autobiography

Of

a

Phoenix


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Vasantham

(Poorv Bhaag)


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Dedicated to

The Holy Feet of Bhagawan


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My Lord in Heaven and in my Heart

I would pester thee for more, if I had the sky with all its stars and theearth in all its grandeur; but I shall lie in great solace and gratitude withthe tiniest corner of land if only she were mine.

Albeit the letters on the paper had slightly effaced over years, the twinge of pain thatseized my heart while I penned them was still tangible to me. That piece of paper, I foundsomewhere in a diary among the litter while browsing through my old briefcase.

Sudha, my wife had gone to her mothers house and I was desolated. I couldnthelp it. Her sister had landed from the States a week before and Sudha wanted to re-enacther long cherished happy-go-lucky moments with her sister. I pleaded her to leave Ramor Radha with me at the least. Ram is my ten-year-old son and Radha is my six-year-olddaughter. She readily defied my proposal, rather asked me to come over there whenever Ihad a holiday and left along with the children for as long as a month. With no grudging, I

would concede that Sudha well nigh rules the roost in all matters at home. In fact I lovethat. I abhor wrangles and altercations over daft things. Of course there would be tongue-in-cheek Punch-and-Judy shows staged with express intention of beguiling away our timeamidst the gurgles of Ram and Radha in jolly nights.

I thought a months partition would be intolerable but it was justified for a siblingwho was so dear for two decades and suddenly abandoned to the far-off lands because of marriage.

And then I turned a pseudo-bachelor. I had to cook, serve, eat and sleep all alone.It was a Sunday and I was just browsing through my old books in the storeroom.Suddenly the L.I.C Diary of 1990 caught my attention. And yes. that memoir wasenough to throw me back into my very fond nostalgia. Yesthat was enough to delugeme with the sweetest memories of my first and only love Prema .

I picked up the diary and comforted myself in an easy chair in the balcony. Theweather was dramatically hazy as if to fuel my moods. I made some tea for myself. Oh.that goddamned tea reminded me of Sudha again. How would I relish a cup of tea on a

pleasant evening without Sudha to share it? Tea and coffee are the things, which I believe, should be had while singing the praises of the one who made it. If its made byyourself then you should have someone sipping it before you, adulating your consummate ness.

I pushed one of those IllaiyaRaajas experimental classics How to name it? into the player. Whenever I love to contemplate or hark back, I would necessarily pleadRaja. The latent tinge of poignancy that figures in the veterans music, which is probablyredolent of his spiritual quest, has always enticed me. After all I owe most of thefledgling fantasias I composed to the maestro.

The tranquil evening though a little murky beseemed the moment. The breeze thatsojourned among the flowers in the garden for quite a bit of time had reached me carryingtheir entire fragrance. I sensed an ambience perfectly conducive to retrospection.

As the raga emanating from the lento violin wafted around and began plucking atmy heartstrings, I opened the diary in a sublime languor that was magically conferred onme by the profound theme playing.


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SAITEJA ---- My name engraved in beautiful letters. The fact that it was written byPrema pleased me more. I leaned back and set forth on a frenzied cruise into my juvenilelove, the glimpses of which had already began fleeting through my mind

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Prema . How would I describe her?The words in my repertoire would stand mute if asked to delineate her.

Because a pen and paper cannot synthesize the elegance of her presence.Shall I attempt to enumerate the myriad changes her advent had brought in my life?

I shall concede that it would be in vain and for that matter a fundamental blunder.Because she did not make a difference to me, she recreated me. Elementarily I can tellyou she resurrected the dead resistance in me. She just showed me what I was.She taught me how to look at things.

An excerpt from my diary in her birthdays date, the 23 rd of November 1990.

If at all you would ask me to unbosom in a tranquil night under the infinite sky withumpteen tiny stars, I shall flow this way.I was unconscious of my purpose, afflicted by the little pleasures around, what you

call, groping in the vague penumbra of flesh. And when the time was ripe, I could not bear the worlds tremendous touch and suddenly became cognizant of the pain and anguish. My lady, you were the hammer to break the dormant resistance in my mortal body, todispel the dirges I sang to myself like a living corpse.You were my usher, the one to show me the high and grand vistas around and those

eternal truths shut off in my own cells.You set me adriftyou must embark on my human playyou mustyoumust..And then I trail off.

************************************************

Let me tell you, nobody who saw her or spoke to her had ever called her a stunning beauty. Again nobody who saw her or spoke to her could ever desist from admiring themystic zest that beamed out of her looks and words. All those faces that frown, the mindsthat fret and the souls that lament are bound to delight in her appearance. Believe me,every time I met her I felt I had discovered the joie de vivre.

The first time I saw herno. I heard her first The melody of her ghungroo (ankle bells) mingled in her giggles reverberates in

my heart even now.I was in Kaikalur, my grandmas village. It was a Friday and I went to a recently

constructed temple very near to grandmas house. I went inside and stood gazing at themoorthi for so long as I loved. The sculptor was blessed; he could imbibe the incredibleradiance of Sais eyes that captivated me. I just waxed lyrical about their glow. Then I


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came out and sat in the corridor. After spending some serene minutes contemplating over the magnificence of His creation, I was walking out. It seemed Sai was not content withmy eulogies admiring his grand architecture. Perhaps he wanted me to sing in an eternalecstasy glorifying his ingenuity. He decided to show her to me.

And then I heard her for the first time

The melody of her paayal mingled with her gigglesI wanted to find out whosegala was that. no. I craved to find out who was that. I was almost running along thecorridor and it was around the corner that the most gorgeous curio I ever saw flashed

before me.She was running to catch her little brother (I thought so) giggling in a frolic. I was

not in a state to realize that I was standing in her way. For the next two seconds, whichmy heart reckoned, she espied into my eyes. That was an ample span for me to record theaudio and video sequence of the most enthralling rendezvous of my life on the inner cores of my heart. Then she went her way leaving me spell-bound.The day was 10 th of August 1990. It is dearer to me in two ways.The day I met her. The day I wrote a poem for the first time.

Today I happened to see a girl. I happened to think of a girl. I happened to remember nothing else about today. And I happened to question myself constantly who she is. Andfinally I happened to express my languish in the following form:

WHAT A FERVOUR!!!

Is she the reflection that waved my mind in every sublime dawn and dusk? Is she the Aphrodite that gleamed in my thoughts day and night? Is she the bliss that embraced me in every drowse? Is she the melody that accompanied the rhythm of my heart beat? Is she the jubilance that glistened in my eyes when I sang His hymns? Is she the zenith I tussled to attain, the dream I dreamed to realize?

My heart sings a thousand ballads,My body feels like flowing unboundedlyNo spring has ever been so enchanting No thought has ever been so pureNo dream has ever been so tantalizing

If you call this love,Then, dear, Im in love for all eternity

.*****************************************************

I was never appreciative of the so-called love-at-first-sight. I never believed in thosetales of lovelorn people who yap about the tornadoes that storm your heart when youmeet the special somebody made exclusively for you by the Godhead. Those songs andstories of anguish really seemed damn hilarious.


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Isnt it daft that some person whom you have seen once and exactly once has made a permanent abode for herself in your heart? The possibility of sustaining a single thoughtfor hours long, days long seemed quite surreal to me. This was all till I met her.Why should I think of her? Why not somebody else? Did her beauty entrap me? If it wastrue it should mean I had never seen a more beautiful person earlier. A more impeccable

assertion would be that she is beautiful to my eyes. Why should she be? NoI cannot reason this. In fact I do not try to reason my love as I dread that I wouldlose my reason.

My dear friends, the best thing that I learnt having fallen in love is that you cannotreason all things in this world. And as far as human behavior is concerned nothing isconcrete and deterministic. The golden rule is that there are no golden rules. You cannotsay why a person had carved a niche for him/herself in your heart. And I shallsimultaneously caution you that all these grandiose ideas of mine are not reserved for justa few romantic fools.

Love is universal. It is a basic instinct. Bring all those faceless amorphous menand women to me. Rugged, dispassionate, apathetic, machine-minded or rock-hearted, I

bet I would show a soft corner in each of their hearts for some esoteric person whom theyworship mutely. They may be dissembling. You should just have the key to make themunbosom.

Brethren, there must be somebody in this world who alone can make you feelvehemently elated, as if you have won this world, simply by their presence and cheers.There must be a day when you would find the elixir for all your banes, your own instant-energizer.And then you would be a living exponent of all the paradoxical vagaries. You would liveto savor a sour delight, a sugared grief, a living death, and an ever-dying life. Theaftermath is not all significant when compared to the ineffable delight of being in love.Lord Tennyson is the truest man who declared

IT IS BETTER TO HAVE LOVED AND LOST,THAN NEVER TO HAVE LOVED AT ALL

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It was 3:30 in the afternoon. I had just finished L.Subramaniams Euphony and wasabout to take a short nap when I overheard somebody calling my grandma aloud. I

peeped through the window. An old lady of about 45 years of age was standing beside thefamous round-table rock. That was the rock on which my grandma and her pals meetfor analyzing the daily chronicle of the village.Granny came out of the kitchen. Sundharamma? Where are you coming from? What would I tell? Manu had got into a squabble with that insane boy roaming down thelane and he hit Manu with a stone, Sundharamma sighed.Granny asked anxiously, I saw you warning Manu so many times not to play with thatrogue. How is Manu now?He is alright now. We took him to the doctor down the lane and Manu had got a

bandage round his head.When did these yobs defer to us? Granny put forth her angst.


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I felt I heard the name Manu somewhere. After short forage, I recollected that it wasthe name I heard my lovey calling out, the girl I saw the day before evening. Yes, it washer little brothers name. So, I thought that the woman Sundharamma must be a neighbor or relation sort of a thing to my dream girl. As soon as I realized that I shifted my

position nearest to the window and brought myself to concert pitch. I hoped to hear her

name somewhere in their chitchat. I thought her name must have been daintier thanherself.As I anticipated granny asked about her. What about the marriage of Manus

sister? What are they thinking of it?I dont understand why the hell these old people keep agonizing unnecessarily over themarriages of children.

Sundharamma again sighed, Not now. Manus sister has just returned fromMadras. She finished her intermediate there and now she wants to go for degree.I could not understand why they should keep repeating Manus sister Doesnt she havea name? Anyway, I wasnt disheartened and kept glued to the window.

Sundharamma continued, Her father wants to get her married as soon as

possible. But SHE is very adamant about her studies. I know SHE is a very obedient girl.At the same time SHE is very cogent too. SHE would not acquiesce but softly cajole her father and get things done her way.I muttered helplessly to myself, My dear Sundharamma, why are you so fond of

pronouns?And the gaggle of veeranaaris that gathered over there along with a grand

gamut of sarees within the next few minutes drove the last nail into my hopes of findingHER name. The topic was diverted. For the next half-an-hour they analyzed the sareesthey brought. After that each one of them gave a detailed account of what theyaccomplished at their houses right form the morning, the purpose of which remainedunknown to me. Then one of them began enumerating what dishes her husband relished.This ignited two others and they started enumerating the dishes and dress their childrenloved. Initially there were 3 speakers and 4 listeners in the group. The number of speakers slowly increased while the latter slowly diminished. Finally at a mystic moment,the number of listeners was zero. Each one of them was lecturing blissfully withoutcaring if anybody was listening to her. I did not understand why such things happen.Suddenly I realized I was the real fool there to hark at them. I shut off the windowmourning over my own pathetic condition and slid into forty winks. *******************************************

It was a Sunday evening. Almost a week had gone by after the college started again. Thesecond year of M.A in English in Chennai. Life was trudging in weary bovines. I thoughther memories would keep haunting me. But, somehow, I was able to work with the sameconcentration despite of her quiescent thoughts lingering at a corner of my mind.

I sat beside the window staring out like a drifter. Raghu, my roommate came in putting an end to my desultory thoughts. Raghu, what a life? Insipid, tedious, prosaic. I badly need some rejuvenation. I criedout rather meekly.


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Raghu never replied in the same mood of my question. He, Im going to Vinayakatemple. Some of our juniors are giving a concert there, probably a ballet inBharathaNatyam. Would you like to accompany me?In Besant Nagar? I asked.Yeah.

Five minutes. I shall change my dress and come.

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Watching Bharathanatyam in a temple is really a great experience. I thought the open-sided mantap could make for poor acoustics. But the shortcoming was more thanredeemed by the aesthetic, a wee bit divine ambience of the temple. Children playing inthe street, who had come in and were squatting in the front rows looked at the stageunblinkingly. The audience also encompassed worshippers and stray visitors.

Firstly, the guru of the dancers about to come, gave a brief foreword about thethemes they were going to present. Daughters of the ocean was the take-off point.

Alekhya, the artiste was very graceful while portraying the goddesses Lakshmi, Durgaand Saraswati highlighting the celestial qualities of power and resistance that are presentin every woman. Finally there was a background voice saying She is Shakti, the capacityto doshe is the beauty of dawn for every night of your life. she is the other half of you.

Then it was the turn of Anita whose ballet was totally indistinct to me. The finalewas Woman Thy Myriad Moods. The title seemed so compelling to me. And when thedanseuse came on, I was nonplussed.

It was none other than the one I saw in the temple that day in grandmas village.I quickly recalled the name I heard before she came in. Premawhat a beautiful

name!!Eyes painted in the contours of a fish, adorned with antique jewellery and clad in

a specially designed costume, reminiscent of a yesteryear temple dancer or a classicalsculpture, she entered. Her saree swayed wave-like, as she whirled across the stage,

performing a vandhana, invoking the divine and the presiding deities of the stage. Andtruethere was a grace, a rhythm in her every movement. A gentle pace and poiseenriched her appearance. And again every movement of hers seemed to be very muchknown to me.

I could hear the temple bells ringing out for the evening pooja. I could look straight into the shrine and see Deeparadhana being performed. These were not intrusions

but, rather, part of an appropriate backdrop for the dance of the angel over there.Her theme was celebration of womanhood. Who else could have been more

apposite for that? She was Rukmini for sometime, Radha for sometime and then she wasSatyabhama. It was charming to watch her sportively spurning her lover (Krsna) for notgranting her the promised gifts. I could never forget what her eyes spoke to the imaginaryKrishna over the stage in each of those portrayals. She was deftly pouring out the essenceof the poems sung behind through her sparkling eyes. I was simply enthralled by thespontaneity and lucidity in her.

And then she was the vengeful Droupadhi. From a tranquil self, she breezed toexpress gushing emotions and then back to the original calm. Prema then turned lively


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depicting Yashoda showering maternal love over her kannayya. More interesting was theway she winded up each dramatic strip with clearly cut stances and gestures.

Finally, she personified Shakti, dancing intensely as the unshackled power whomultiplies herself endlessly when evil befalls. It ended there.

As you may presume, I was blissfully deprived of sleep that night. Because I was

granted what I wished. The sight of Prema refreshed me again. It was as if life flowedinto me in all its glorious hues. It was as if I was a witness to the unfathomable beautystretching itself all over the earth. Each and every nerve in my body shook in an ineffableverve and the best thing about it was that it was undying and heralded the signs of ever lasting nature.

I closed my eyes. I could see myself talking to her the next morning before thesame Vinayaka temple while she stood with a basket of flowers in her hand and thesolemn rays of sun shone in her glistening eyes.

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I woke up with Sun. The auspicious day had finally dawned. The morning raga hadvitalized all the drowsy cells in my body and mind. I finished the quotidian paraphernaliaand started for the temple. The trees on the way seemed to wish me with all benedictionsswaying in the fresh breeze.

I prayed for a minute and then looked aside. She was standing there, her eyesclosed. Her face was clear like a crystal, lips curved in a nave smile, all the featuresregally imposing. An image of the face of a divinely innocent child sunk in a blissfuldoze waved past my inner eye. I stood staring at her not caring for what anybody elsearound might think of me. I gazed at her just the way I would have gazed at the Moorthiinside the shrine.

She opened her eyes, gently pushed aside the drifting hair that adorned her pristine semblance and looked at me. My eyes were still fixed on her. She greeted mewith a pleasant smile as I anticipated, turned around and began walking out.I reached her from behind and offered her the paayasam, I made in the morning as

prasaadham, uttering SAIRAM. She took it with a gentle smile replying SAIRAM.I am SaiTeja, your senior at college. I was privileged to see your performance

yesterday here. That was simply exquisite. I said.Thank you. she smiled, I am Prema doing my I Year B.A in Philosophy.There was nothing else I could speak in the next few minutes as we walked out together.She smiled again as an adieu and went her way. In fact I did not feel the necessity of anymore words to be exchanged. Silence conveyed lot more things.

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This was not the first time I met her. She saw me in the temple in my grandmothersvillage. I remember the way she glanced into my eyes when I stood in her way. But shedidnt remember me. Probably she was engrossed in frisking with her brother.The next day I alighted on her in the college library. She was searching for some book and probably could not find it.Hai! I said.


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She turned around and looked at me in delight. HelloIt seems you were hunting some golden deer. May I help you?Not exactly. I am looking for Savitri of Sri Aurobindo, she said smiling.OhSavitri? You would never find it here. Somebody had stolen it long ago. I have itwith me; I mean. not the stolen one. My own copyI can bring it for you tomorrow.

Thank you she said laughing a little louder.We slowly walked out of the library as I gave a brief introduction to Savitri to her.Shall we have a cup of coffee? I said rather hesitantly. I thought I made a hastyadvance. But when she nodded in affirmation, I felt relieved.Thank God!! I said to myself. I actually intended to perform the thanksgivinginternally. Somehow, quite inadvertently, I spoke it out aloud.She turned to me swiftly and looked at me sharply. Why did you thank God?I just yapped something tongue-in-cheek that came to my mind at the moment. I do itevery two minutes. My grandmother used to tell me in my childhood that God hadcreated these beautiful trees (I pointed to the trees beside), this beautiful sky (pointingupwards), those beautiful books (pointing to the library) and more beautiful persons

(looking at her). I could not trace any feedback for my thaareef.I continued, So she taught me to thank God every two minutes. Thank God I saidlooking into my watch. Really? she said laughing. Very much real. Please sit, I said pointing to the chair beside. What would you like tohave? I think we came here for coffee, she said raising her eyebrows strangely. Of course. We can always have it. But before that, shall we.She broke into my words, We shall have this water Saying so, she poured some water in the adjacent jug into a glass.Two cups of special coffee as hot as iron I grumbled to the bearer.Why so hot? Prema asked. More the temperature of coffee, more the time you need to complete it, again I let slip.Consequently a frown rose up on her face Why should you take more time?

Again grandmother comes into picture. She used to tell me that tea, coffee andGods prasadham are the three things you should relish as slowly as possible. Thank God I said again looking into my watch. I was at my concoctive best that day.She laughed and placed one of the cups brought by the bearer before me.When did you start dancing? I asked sipping the coffee.

From five years of my age. My mother was a very good artiste. We have a danceschool in our hometown. That is my Alma Mater.

So you began amusing people 13 years ago, I wondered.She did not pay attention to my blandishment as she reminisced, In those days, mymother would wake me up at 3.a.m., wipe my eyes with water and then make me

practice. I danced up to 5 a.m., took a short break and then practiced again from 8 a.m.I stopped blabbering and hung on her silently.

You know, one hour of morning practice is equal to two hours of slogging at anyother time of the day. Practicing in two kalams is of supreme importance is my mothers


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constant refrain And she went on into more technical details, which were a bitindistinct to me. We came out of the canteen and started walking home.Finally she ended up saying, Teja, did I bore you?

Certainly not. Of course, I could not quite get along with a bit of jargon, but Icould comprehend the thing as a whole. It was really great to hear of your dance.

Thanks. I shall go this way, see you, she said with her usual smile, Thank God. Do notforget your grannys precepts. Thats O.K. I would not forget my granny. What about Manu? Is he alright

now? I asked her feigning a bit of casualty. I thought this one was going to astound her perfectly.

Because, as far as she spoke to me, it was all about dance. Not a word about her family. She would never expect me to utter her brothers name, which is not known to meaccording to her, all of a sudden. This would work now forasmuch, as she doesntremember our very short meeting in Kaikalur temple

I was bang on it. She was simply astonished to hear the name from me.What. what did you say? she said looking into my eyes unbelievably.

ManuHow is he now? That gash on his forehead, is that healed now?, I said morecasually shrugging my shoulders.Manudo you know him? How do you know? First. first tell me who are

you? Do you know me already? Tell me she was just gasping in amaze and bewilder.Cool. PremaKeep your coolwhy are you so baffled? I kept on my

relaxed looks, Who doesnt know of this great dancer who had taken everybody bystorm with her enchanting dance. You know, Kaikalur from where you hailed has

become the talk of the nation after you entered the arena. It has won a place in the map of India also because of you. If you dont trust me, I shall bring Atlas along with Savitritomorrow. Hey Teja, enough. enough of your help. Pleaseplease tell meAre you fromKaikalur? she almost beat me.No, PremaI live in Chennai. I shall introduce my father to you tomorrow, if you dont

believe me. Should I belong to Kaikalur to know about you? I just know as much as anyaverage Indian knows of you.

TejaTejaTejaits the height. Its the height. Now stop puffing and pleasetell me the real thing? Who are you? I simply loved the way she shook her head whilesaying these words.

Prema, why dont you try to understand me? I am not from Kaikalur. Anyway, itseems you were a bit puzzled today. I shall talk to you tomorrow. I said picking up my

bikeShe was trying to hold me back. I escaped and started off on my bike. I turned

back and jabbered quickly Prema, go home, have a fresh bath, eat good food and relax. Ishall meet you tomorrow. If you ring up home to night, convey my best wishes to Manu,Sundharamma and your father.

I paused for a moment and added a quick and grand final touch Be a bit warywhile speaking to your father. Or else he might fix your marriage very soon **************************************************


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I thought my performance was fairly satisfactory and prolific on the first two daysof meeting her. Thanks to the quirk of fate, had I not seen her in the temple in grandmasvillage that day, my task wouldnt have been that simple. The paraphernalia of introduction saw a happy Indian summer. The next day I met Prema sitting in the library.Hi

She lifted her head and smiled, HiHeres your. I mean. my Savitri I pushed the book I brought towards her.Oh, Thank you very much. She took the book into her hands in glee.

Mention not. I said. Her indifference vis--vis the eagerness she showed theday before, to find out how I knew about her, really bewildered me.Premas next words pushed me into wonderment from bewilder.

I love your Athammas choice. This is the best gift for the birthday of a solon,she said looking into the book.There was nothing written on the book. How did Prema come to know that Athamma

presented it to me? How do you know my Athamma? I couldnt hide my avidity.

Just as you know Manu she shrugged her shoulders just the way I did the day before. After all she is an actor who personifies myriad moods on stage.Oh. thats good There was nothing else I could say.I rang home yesterday night. Manu asked you to send your new poems andSundharamma warned you to be regular to college. She pretended the same casualty Idid the day before.Oh. I see, I could not make out how she knew about all those things I did, the poemsand the indolence. But I could figure out one thing. Tit for Tat!! She was playing thesame game I did the day before!!What else, Sai? She raised her eyebrows ambiguously.Mmmmnothing, I mumbled. You brought me this precious book and made me happy. Why shouldnt I ravish you?she said foraging into her handbag.Finally she took out a cassette.I quickly read its wrapper Meenakshi Sthothram.Written by Shri Adi Sankara,

the great monk philosopher of South. blah. blah. blah. Composed byIllaiyaraaja.I was just flabbergasted. This was the album I was searching from many days and couldnot find.Thank you, Thank you so much. I whispered.Its O.K. Do you like that? she asked.Like it? Its stupendous, I exclaimed and turned aside.Suddenly I noticed Megha goggling intently at us. As soon as she saw me looking at her,she quickly turned her looks aside and shoved her head hastily into the book before her.Megha was Raghus close pal. Even I knew her well.

I started thinking fast. Why should Megha scrutinize us? Why should she getflurried on seeing me? It suddenly dawned on me that Megha could be the occult mentor for Prema. She might be the oracle who tutored and groomed Prema for this melodrama.But I should be meticulous while ascertaining the truth. I decided to try Prema first. When did you see Megha last? I asked her rather abruptly.


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Who is Megha? bang came her agile retort. I observed her face. The countenance was perfectly natural. I immediately realized there was no use arching a professional artiste.The next target was Megha. I knew she would not be as formidable as Prema.

I stood up O.K. Prema, I have a class now. I shall meet you after that.O.K. Bye she said. But I could see she was dubious of my words.

I slowly dropped my pen into the chair beside me, which would serve a precept to come back, in case my plan was foiled.I stepped out of the library, walked a short distance, turned back and quickly tottered intothe library. I was absolutely right!! Megha was walking eagerly towards Prema, her faceglowing like Sun. As I anticipated, Prema was gesturing to her not to come. But Meghawas out of control. What happened? How did he react? she asked Prema excitedly.By that time I was standing behind Megha, which she did not notice.He came back, Prema sighed looking at me. Megha turned back and was nonplussed to

see me.The next few minutes passed merrily in Meghas confessions about their conspiracy after which she left for a class.

As soon as she left, Prema began screaming SaiI cannot withstand it anymore. Youwill sleep complacently since you could unravel my plan. But how shall I? I am not goingto condone you if you dont tell me how you know Manu et al now. Cant you understandmy anguish? You love to see me in malaise with this tension? Im not going to. Sosaying she raised her hand and gave a rap on my head gently. It was like casting a spell. Ilost myself looking into her widened eyes. I could see her still admonishing me but hear nothing.The possessiveness and command in her words. OhI never dreamt this muchintimacy would crop up in such a short span.Speak out, Sai. What the hell do you think of me? Am I a stupid to yell like this

here?I felt rather reticent. I just wanted to stay quiet savoring her intriguing countenance. Butshe would not bear my silence. It rather turned her more vociferous. Finally I wascompelled to open my mouth. Shhhh!! Shhh!! I said waving my hand down indicatingher to be silent, O.K. O.KI shall concoct some story to gratify you. But can you behundred percent sure that its not an archetype of my craft? You had been with me quite a

bit of time.An air of solemnity crept into my words without my knowledge.No she replied rather meekly this time.Do you know why you cannot be? I asked.She simply moved her head sideways. She was not even blinking. There was none elsemilling in the library except we two.I continued, Because I am talking to you with my tongue and you are receiving it withyour ear. Both of which are sense organs. There are six ways in human body throughwhich Jnana enters. The first five are senses, all of which are imperfect. This quality of tainted ness deters them from transmitting the truth. Finally the absolute and immaculatesource of knowledge is Atman, the inner soul. This is the true teacher. So do not ask me to tell stories. Question your soul.I moved a little closer and looked straight into her eyes. Now look into my eyes. If at allthese eyes had encountered yours any time and if at all they made the slightest differenceto you, they would surely have a niche in your soul. Search your soul


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Just look into my eyes. No more words. Start the search I trailed off slowly.In her tranquil eyes, I could see my own image rippling. Again in the eyes of my

image in her eyes, there would be her image. And again I would be there in the eyes of that image. Then she would be there in the eyes of that image of mine whose eyes would

be filled with my image

This is an infinite loop. An infinite and inextricably intertwined bond between our images floating in the eyes of the Creator. I lost myself among those images for sometimeafter which I could see nothing. I could only hear her breathing and then my breathinginitially anachronized. After a minute or two the time lag between the breaths waned upand the two distinctly heard sounds of breath became one. I lost track of even that soundafter sometime. Then I could hear a heartbeat. I could not figure out whose heartbeat wasthat as there was only a single beat tangible to me. So there must be three possibilities.Either my heart or hers should have ceased beating which are obviously the extraneoussolutions. The only plausibility was that they were innately synchronized.

I never knew what happened after that till I was dragged out of abstraction byByaroo ke pad, the evening song sung in Krishnas temple present beside the library. I

looked at her. She did not move. I slowly rose up and started walking out of the library.The verses sung while serving the evening meal to Krishna wafted around. The archak would be offering warm milk to Krishna in a golden cup.

*****************************************************

The next morning I went to the library as usual. Not to meet Prema, it was for getting theGood Book. I was so confiscatory that I exploited it for my prayers also. I got the book and sat going through it.Sai!! I heard a voice from my back. I turned back. It was Prema, standing with a

pleasing countenance.Can you spend a few minutes with me in the garden? she asked rolling her eyesdaintily.What else would I seek on earth? That was just soliloquy.With pleasure, I spoke out and followed her. I could see she was more Junoesque thatmorning.There was more poise in her movements and a bizarre cadence in her words. A moresprightly Prema.We reached a tranquil part of the garden, which I could not recall having seen earlier,though I had spent many a pensive hour in the garden. The flowers, the plants seemed to

be disposed in a comely array with the clouds congruently sketched just above them. Themild Sun supplemented to the aesthetics of the scenario. On the whole, the milieuresembled a painting of a serene evening. Then I appended Prema to the vistas. It lookedlike an antique setting fabricated for shooting a duet between a fairy hailing from theabode of clouds and her Don Juan.

I was about to ask her something when she gestured to me that she was not goingto speak. She further conveyed that she was going to mime an event, which I was totranslate into words.Thats quite racy!! I exclaimed.


16/44

She espied into my eyes for a moment and waved her hand from East to West along theskyline. A day I said.She looked at me disagreeably. Are you going to show the day of the event?Then there was a smile of appreciation.

She posed like a person lying in sleep with his head resting on his palm. I could notconceive her idea. She gestured to me to observe her eyes. I looked at them carefully. Itwas like a person feigning sleep, not really sleeping.MahaVishnu? I guessed.I was absolutely right. Then she showed me the person massaging his legs.Lakshmi, of course I said.She wanted me to consummate the whole thing.It was a Friday? I said. She confirmed it nodding.It was a bit circumlocutory but intelligent.She rotated her forefinger showing the surroundings.Going to show the place of the event?

She confirmed it and raised her hands joining them over her head.A templewho is the deity? I asked.She shook her hands furiously from head going downwards.Fire?She nodded and waved her hand as if she was piling up something from the fire and then

poured the piled-up material into the hands of a fictitious somebody standing beside and blessed him.I thought it must be Sai bestowing the holy Vibhoothi extracted from Dhuni to people. ByJove, I was right!! So, it was a Sai temple.I could then conceive what she intended to mime. She was showing the day I met her first, in my grandmas village.She then came running in a frolic and looked into my eyes exactly the way she did at our first rendezvous. She did not stop there, but moved off and started dancing in jubilance.The pace and the timing in her movements were quite apposite. I dont know how Iventured to sing out of a paroxysm.

O Chandramukhi. How come you are here in this tranquil Sandhya dancing beforeme? Do you wish to unbosom in the language of your ankle-bells?

She suddenly stopped and looked at me in astoundment. I looked solemnly but benignly.She smiled away and continued her dance.From then there was no stoppingthe dialogue of operetta ran grandly. I would put forthmy anguish in singing and she would reply to it dancing. Now it was her turn to answer my question.

(Every word of mine below was what I sang and the dialogue after her name is her danceverbalized.)

Prema: O my beau. I cannot withstand your looks exploring the depths of my eyes.


17/44

You are the prince of my dreams who arrived on a snow-white horse. It is not fair on your part to leave the path I decorated for you untrodden.

Me: My Venus. I came here in the hope of savoring your untainted beauty amidst these singing flowers in a beseeming moonlite-nite

Prema: My loverplease do not woo me any more with your amorous song

O MohiniHow come a hue of flurry glitters in your eye? It was the frenzy of my heart when I saw you out of the blue

O Raagini. The spring has dawned everywhereon the earth and in our heartsEvery moment, a strain of sensuous raga springs out

True, my knightand when the odor of chandhnam emanating from my body fills your

breathLet me see my dreams fulfilled as you rest on my bosom

I thought I would repeat my initial phrasesa sort of refrain.O Chandramukhi. How come you are here in this tranquil Sandhya dancing beforeme? Do you wish to unbosom in the language of your ankle-bells?

She comprehended my idea and respondedO my beau. I cannot withstand your looks exploring the depths of my eyes.You are the prince of my dreams who arrived on a snow-white horse. It is not fair on

your part to leave the path I decorated for you untreaded.

My Venus. I came here in the hope of savoring your untainted beauty amidst these singing flowers in a beseeming moonlite-nite

My loverplease do not woo me any more with your amorous song

I thought the milieu was apposite for a duet but never dreamt that it would take asemblance. I never dreamt that this finesse would deluge me.

She continued How come I fail my restrain over you, my Sakhaa?

That is my question, my Aphrodite. how did you happen to me? How did this quirk of love happen to me?

It is all the conspiracy of the bewitching spring, my knightThat cajoled the flowers to unbosom and peacocks to dance

And you appear like a rainy night of elixir to me,What is the need of this distance between us?


18/44

She picked up the refrain finally My loverplease do not woo me any more with your amorous song O my beau. I cannot withstand your looks exploring the depths of my eyes.

You are the prince of my dreams who arrived on a snow-white horse. It is not fair on your part to leave the path I decorated for you untrodden

O Chandramukhi. How come you are here in this tranquil Sandhya dancing beforeme? Do you wish to unbosom in the language of your ankle-bells?My Venus. I came here in the hope of savoring your untainted beauty amidst these

singing flowers in a beseeming moonlite-nite Do you wish to unbosom in the language of your ankle-bells? Do you wish to unbosom in the language of your ankle-bells? I trailed off and she sat gasping in all smiles.

Simply stupendous. She said.What? I asked.Your poesy, your song. she replied.Then she got up and walked away. When she was about to get out of my sight, I shouted, So, you remember everything?

She turned back and stood still for a moment.Noyou made me remember

***************************************************

For the next two days I did not chance on Prema. After all I was not too intimate to ask her for a tryst. Finally it was the weekend, a Sabbath.I got up early and went to the temple. To my despair, she wasnt there. I waited for tenminutes and finally started wading back like a zombie. Then I saw her climbing the stepsinto the temple.Immediately, I stuffed the prasaadh, I was holding in my hand into mouth and startedafresh into the temple I was walking slowly allowing enough time for her to synchronizewith me.Sai!! she called out from behind. I turned back and pretended a short forage.She stood there smiling gaily as if she had given me a surprise.Premawhen did you come? I said.Two days ago.I was staying under the steps she said with a frown.Heythats just colloquial. I didnt mean it. I replied laughing.We went into the temple, had darshan and came back.I felt the span of time was too short, that too, seeing her after two days.I thought I should make the holiday with her. But I didnt how.What else? I mumbled.NothingWhat are you going to do today? I asked.


19/44

Nothing in special. I will sit reading something or dance for sometime. And then Ill goto church in the evening. Thats all. She replied.Which church?St. Johns cathedral. Its really magnificent. Have you been there anytime? she asked.I will, today. In fact I love churches. When I was a child my grandma took me to all

kinds of churches. Big and magnificent churches, small and dainty churches, medium-sized churches.I really love them.. There would be benches to sit unlike intemplesIsnt it? And there would be a father to preach a choir to sing, a Jesus to prayto. I smiled rather sheepishly, And..are you planning to go anywhere in theafternoon?She looked at me dubiously I told you that I have no plans. I will just sit reading.No.I am generally asking. You may not be planning right now. But when you gohome some of your friends may ring to you and ask you for a lunch outsidesomewherein their home or any other restaurant like Taj or Kandhari or.. I again smiled.I could realize I was being more than garrulous. But I just couldnt help it.I dont understand what you are trying to make out, she said laughing.

In fact .me too I replied.What? she couldnt stop her laughter. I meanits not always possible to make out something of whatever you speak.And in some express situations you inadvertently fall into such a dilemma that you reallydont know what you are speaking, partially or totally I was simply yapping.Enough, I think you should turn yonder way, she said.Oh.ThaanksBye I said and turned back.

**************************************************

I came home maledicting myself. But I did not want to waste the day. After three hoursof profound thought, I finally picked up the phone. That was the first time I ever rang her.I recited the sloka Suklambaradharam and then the first two lines of HanumanChalisa and rang her number.Hello The voice was that of Prema..Hellowho is that? she asked again.Meits me I somehow opened my mouth.Hello me. Hai mehow are you?Me meansits meSaiSaiteja I said.Hai Sai! How would I know if you say its me? Anyway whats the matter? she said.I thought she was a bit too direct.

Nothing.I meanI generally rang. You might be feeling boredNo? I said.No.. really noI am totally engrossed in vetta velythanil koti kidakkuthu HellohelloIs it Prema?. I said in a bewilder.Saiits mePremaWhy are you confused? she said casually.Nosorry...it might have been a crisscross of line. I heard something like Konkani or Sinhalese I said.Noits Tamil, she said laughing, vetta velythanil koti kidakkuthuit means MySpiritual Experiences. Written by IllaiyaRaaja. She said.


20/44

OhGoodTamil.Its a very good habit to read Tamil books also in betweenEnglish and Telugu. Its in fact my ardent persuasion that Tamil should be introduced asfourth language in the schools of Andhra. Thats why I distribute Tamil cassettes to allmy relatives whenever I go home. I said.I dont think its necessary or useful. She said firmly.

.Its O.K What else? What are you doing? she asked.Me.I am generally.There is a Tamil family residing in front of my room. I spendevery Sunday at their home. Im just coming from there. You know their son is verycutenewly bornjust 9 months. His name is Subbaraayan. Its me who had suggestedthe name. In fact I suggested the name Yaagnavalkya at first. They said it was a bittongue twisting. Finally they agreed upon this Subbaraayan. Its the name of the boysgrandfather. I said. I thought I was talking a bit of rubbish.You said you suggested the name? she asked.:YeahIts me who suggested to name the boy after their grandfather. I said

proudly.

Oh.And presently I am washing my shirt. Can you guess why? I asked.NoWhy?Because Subbaraayan has spoilt my shirt. Can you guess how? I asked againNoHow?Thats trivial. Subbaraayan is just 9 months old no? So he spoilt my shirt when I washolding him. Spoilt means I said laughing.Its O.KI got it. She replied quickly.You got it? How? I said. I could realize I was being totally senseless.Are you free now? she said rather seriously.

YeahIm superfree..Im.She broke into my words, I shall be at Taj exactly after half-an-hour. See you there.She didnt wait for my reply and disconnected.

**********************************************

I dont know how solemnity pervades my mind the moment I see Prema. She was clad ina white dress that day. As white as her smiles.

We sat for lunch at Taj. She was quite sunny and rosy.You never told me about your family She said.I began my story.My family? Its in fact a very small story. The important characters are only three. Myfather, My Athamma, I mean my fathers sister and myself. My mother died while giving

birth to me. According to my Athamma, my father had become totally disinterested after her death. He keeps himself aloof from the titillations of life and spends almost all of histime in solitude. He speaks very little and prays often. He has a library, the books he

procured when he was young. He reads them till the Sun sets and then retires to bed.Thats all about him.


21/44

And my Athamma, there is a lot that can be told about her. She is my matriarch or matron, whatever you call. And her home is my Alma Mater. I am today, what she made.She had seen all the facets of life and tasted all its vagaries to their extremity. She had aglorious childhood, her father being an affluent farmer, ultimately degenerated to anextreme poverty after his death. Again her life was revived when my mama entered into

her life. Their love story still remains my favorite. When full moon days sent her intoretrospection, she would share her juvenile memories with me. One night, she would singa poem she wrote delineating the imposing eyes of her prince in regalia. The other nightshe would sing a rhyme of her scintillating childhood frolics. But her spring was againshort-lived. Hardly five years did her husband live after their marriage and they didnt

bear a child. Thus she was abandoned to solitude.My father told she was a great virtuoso at Bharathanatyam. But she never danced

after my Mamas death. But, the best thing about her is she took whatever the fate offeredin her stride. She smiled away all those hardships and whiled away those troubling timesconvivially. And now she is a stoical and jaunty woman. Recently, she took to painting.Theres a short story about her tryst with the art. I paused and looked at Prema.

Please dont stop, Prema said disgustingly. She was too much engrossed.I continued, Once Swami created a portrait of my Athamma and gave it to her on her birthday. That day she picked up the paintbrush. She would have drawn at least a hundred paintings of Swami till today and a lot many other paintings. All those she drew shewould go and offer at His feet.

Whenever I feel frustrated, I would go to her for cure. The scintillating ladywould fix things within seconds and makes me laugh to the brim of my heart. Her storywould itself make an epic. Its better to see her than listening to my versionsFix the date right now she quickly said.Next Sunday? I asked.DoneWe finished the lunch and came out.While coming out, she said to me, Shall we sit in the temple there?

SureWe sat in a corner. I would like to hear of your first darshan of Swami I said.Thats the best thing ever occurred to me. A sudden profundity crept into her voice.Like everybody else, I didnt trust him at first, she continued, But the very first time Isaw him, I surrendered. I just couldnt evade his love. He is simply irresistible.I would be pleased to hear of your rendezvous. I said.Dont call it rendezvous. Call it Renaissance. You know, I was bestowed with thefortune of being baptized by him. But somehow I was not able to see him again beforemy 12 th class finished. It was my grandfather who was Swamis devotee and the oneresponsible for the auspicious ceremony of baptism. And again, he persuaded me to go toParthi after my 12 th; it wasnt out of my volition. I thought a month long stay would makeme jaded.I couldnt anticipate that I would lament my return.

I would narrate to you what exactly I felt throughout the stay, a bit impartially.This description obviously doesnt reflect my present mindset or persuasions. She saidand paused.


22/44

Thats a very good idea. Its only from initial ignorance that the absolute truthemerges. Night precedes day. I said. I could see the ecstasy that adorned her face whilespeaking of Swami. After all it is the bliss oozing out of His anecdotes that manifested inher face!!

Exactly!! she said and started narrating. I recorded it in my diary word-to-word

after I went home. The following is the exact replica of that.

O.K. let me begin from the beginning. After my 12 th exams, my grandfather called me one day and told me that I was to spend the next month in Parthi. I did notmince matters. I told him that I did not believe in his miracles. I remember what hereplied exactly.

Do you find it that hard to believe in miracles? May be its difficult for you, Ifind it very simple. Very natural. This gigantic universe, the titanic ecosystem, the naturaltendencies of all the biological beings, the spanking novelty exhibited by nature

Are all these not miracles? How much of them of them did you comprehend to believe them? He asked me looking straight into my eyes.

I couldnt speak out. I was just staring at him in awe. He smiled loftily, took mecloser and caressed my head.My child, Remember one thing, Truth is self-luminous. No evidence is required to proveit.

After a week I was in Parthi. My sister was along with me. But she wasnot feeling well and so could not accompany me for the first Darshan. A woman called

Nirmalananda, an ardent friend of my grandfather was our guide there. She took me tothe Bhawan where Swami resides. There were a number of people, men on one side andwomen on the other squatting on the floor eagerly waiting for Swamis darshan.

She looked around and said to me, Wait here, I suppose the morning interviewsare over. Ill just go and find out.

After a few minutes she came and took me into a small room. I sat there while Nirmalananda went out on some work. There were two other boys waiting beside me.Ten minutes later, the inner door opened. That was the first time I saw Sathya Sai Baba .He came out. He is short and lean, wearing a saffron colored gown, which extended rightfrom his shoulders to feet. He had a curly shining hair, black, luxuriant and lively. He hada blue complexion. Eyes were black and gleaming with benignity. His face was glowingwith a mystic innate zest. There was an ineffable radiance diverging out of his semblance.I was impressed on the spur of the moment.

He came towards me with a regal gait and smiled amicably. Baagunnaavaa bangaaroo Saying so he touched my head with his palm. I lost mysense. I felt a stream of energy flowing into me. I saw all my illusions and doubtsdispelled like the shades of darkness being blown off by the rays of sun. I felt an ethereal

paroxysm shaking me all through. It was as if I had been condoned for all my egregioussins and cleansed of all my iniquities by Christ Jesus. Mallee 17 yellaku gurthochaanaa bangaaroo? Innaallo gurthukuraani swaamiippudu Yesayya laagaa kanapaduthunnaadaa?

These words obviated the need of speaking out anything to Swami. The day before was my 18 th birthday and I was baptized by Swami on my first birthday.Nee hridhayame naa nivaasam. Ika nee manasulo maata vere cheppaalaa?


23/44

Uttering these words, he slowly moved towards the other two boys. I was justlooking at him in awe, while tears flowed inadvertently out of my eyes. One of the boysfell on his feet weeping aloud.Swaami, my sister.my sister I heard him stammering. He was trying to hand over awhite cover to Swami.

Repu udhyam aamenu theesukuraa Swami said and walked out of the room.The cover remained in the hand of the boy. He was still weeping.What happened to your sister? I asked. He silently handed over the cover to me.I opened it and took out the paper in it.

Bhagawaan,My sister cannot speak, walk or sit. Please treat her and give her a new life.

This is the one and only wish in my life.Sairam

A sharp pain pierced my heart. Why should there be this much suffering in the empire of

God, who is so benevolent? I asked myself.While I was returning the cover to the boy, he burst out, You know, she is just11 years old..Kethumy sister. We wake up at home with her prayer song. My father is the head of Seva samithi in our town. Not even he attends to the Samithis activities sovigilantly. Kethu looks after everything. The one who gave her such a great devotion atthis small age has maledicted her.

Every evening she sang Babas Bhajans and danced in ecstasy. Till a dreadfulmorning a car hit her. She never spoke after that. And now, when my father plays acassette of Bhajan, she drags herself to sit against the wall and claps her hands,stammering incoherently, her face glowing vehemently. She has no complaints. It is onlyher God who is ungrateful.relentless.

***************************************

The next day, I sat in the same room with my sister. She was whispering something in myear, that Baba hid the vibhoothi, he is supposed to create, under his full-hand sleeve andall that sundry. I couldnt do anything except pitying her. Just before Baba arrived the

boy I saw the day before came there. A wheeled chair followed him in which a girl wassitting. I could see her face gleaming with joy.The boy came towards me, My sister, Kethu.. he said turning towards the girl.The girl smiled and joined her hands in the form of a Namasthe. I did the same.The boy was trying hard to arrest his tears in his eyes, while his sister was smiling

jubilantly. If only men could be as pure as her smiles, the earth would have turned paradise long ago, I thought.This is the first time she is going to see Baba the boy said looking at his sister affectionately and pushing the hair that drifted across her face aside. She was lookingaround to see the people who were going to share the grand moments of seeing Swamiwith her.


24/44

Five minutes later, the inner door opened. Swami came out and pranced up to thegirl. Her joy knew no bounds. Tears rolled down her eyes when Swami touched her head.Bangaaru, naa kosam oka paata paadavoo Swami said looking into her eyes. The Lordwhose hymns she sang every morning and evening, was now standing before her, askingher to sing for him. Long ago, Lord Venkateswara has asked Annamayya to sing for him.

I was then witnessing such an event.The girl began stumbling incoherently, trying to utter His name. There was no stoppingfor her tears. She was helplessly clapping her hands as if to redeem her failure to speak out.Thallee paadavoo, nee paata vindhaamani vachaanu, nannu niraasa paruchakammaa sosaying Swami lifted his hand and rotated it in air. When he opened it there was Vibhoothiin it. He poured it into the hands of the girl saying, Idhi notilo vesuko She devoured theVibhoothi looking into Swamis eyes and began stumbling again.Sare nuvvu paadakapothe nenu vellipothunnanu. Swami turned back. The girl wasrubbing her hands against her face, and quivering all over. Her brother was weepingaloud.

She was trying to speak, at least to yell out and call Swami back. Swami walked towardsthe door without looking back. The girl was vehemently gasping and puffing. WhenSwami was about to step out. We heard her cry out. Sairaam.Swami suddenly turned back. Naaku thelusu bangaaroo, nuvvu naa maatakaadhanavani, The girl was shouting Sairam, Sairam , Sairam.Paadu thallee, paadu, gonthu vippi paadu Swami said caressing her cheek like amother.

Sai amma, the mother of mothers has come down to save her child. Theincarnation of the entire pantheon has proved the power of His Nama himself.The girl began singing in ecstasy while Swami sat beside in a chair closing his eyes in

bliss

adharam madhuram vadhanam madhuramnayanam madhuram hasitham madhuramhridhayam madhuram gamanam madhurammadhuraadhipatherakhilam madhuram

adharam madhuram vadhanam madhuramnayanam madhuram hasitham madhuramadharam madhuram vadhanam madhuramnayanam madhuram hasitham madhuram

hridhayam madhuram gamanam madhurammadhuraadhipatherakhilam madhuram

vachanam madhuram charitham madhuramvasanam madhuram valitham madhuramvachanam madhuram charitham madhuramvasanam madhuram valitham madhuram


25/44

chalitham madhuram bhramitham madhurammadhuraadhipatherakhilam madhuram

renoormadhuro renoormadhuraha paaneermadhuraha paadham madhuram

renoormadhuro renoormadhuraha paaneermadhuraha paadham madhuram

hrithyam madhuram sakhyam madhurammadhuraadhipatherakhilam madhuram

geetham madhuram peetham madhuram bhukhtham madhuram suktham madhuramgeetham madhuram peetham madhuram

bhukhtham madhuram suktham madhuram

roopam madhuram thilakam madhurammadhuraadhipatherakhilam madhuram

karanam madhuram tharanam madhuramharanam madhuram smaranam madhuramkaranam madhuram tharanam madhuramharanam madhuram smaranam madhuram

vamitham madhuram shamitham madhurammadhuraadhipatherakhilam madhuram

kunjaa madhuraa maalaa madhuraayamunaa madhuraa veechee madhuraakunjaa madhuraa maalaa madhuraayamunaa madhuraa veechee madhuraa

salilam madhuram kamalam madhurammadhuraadhipatherakhilam madhuram

gopee madhuraa leelaa madhuraayuktham madhuram muktham madhuramgopee madhuraa leelaa madhuraayuktham madhuram muktham madhuram

dhrishtam madhuram srishtam madhurammadhuraadhipatherakhilam madhuram

gopaa madhuraa gaavo madhuraavyashtir madhuraa srishtir madhuraagopaa madhuraa gaavo madhuraa


26/44

vyashtir madhuraa srishtir madhuraa

dhalitham madhuram phalitham madhurammadhuraadhipatherakhilam madhurammadhuraadhipatherakhilam madhuram

madhuraadhipatherakhilam madhuram

That was the sweetest song I ever heard. Swami opened his eyes and blessed the girl whowas brought to his feet by her exalted brother. Then He lifted her up and said, Vachedhasaraa panduga vedukallo nuvvu mahishaasura mardhinilaa aadaali bangaaroo

Then Swami turned towards us and said, Idhe raamanaamaaniki unna sakthi.Chinnariki maata yelaa vachindho thelusaa?

None of us spoke out.Yendhukante chinaari thana kosam maata raavaalani korukoledhu. Naa kosam,kevalam nannu aanandhaparachadaanikai maata thirigi raavaalani aathruthapadindhi. Nannu santhosha pettadaaniki paadaalanukundhi. Mare prayojanam

aasinchi kaadhu. Aaa niswaardha preme, aaa viswaasme maata raani chinnarichetha paata paadinchindhi. Kaabatti meeru chese prathi panee bhagavanthunikiarpithamgaa cheyyandi. Mare swaardha prayojanam aasinchakandi. Meebaagogulu nenu choosukuntaanu. So saying he stood up. And when he stood up, a cool breeze swept into the room, in hopeof touching the Lotus feet of Jagadhaanandhakaaraka. While his eyes shone withineffable radiance of love, Saijanani ambled out of the room.

******************************************

Both of our eyes turned misty by the time Prema consummated her narration.We stood up and started walking back slowly. She was about to bid adieu, when she said, I forgot to tell you one thing, after our stay in Prasanthi Nilayam ended, we vacated theroom and were walking back. A girl came running from behind and handed over the bagwe forgot before the room. It was none other than Kethu, the girl I saw that day inwheelchair. She told me she was able to walk from the next day Swami blessed her. Shealso told me she stays in Chennai. And we are now thick friends.

You know something.it was me who choreographed Kethus dance for Dussehras Mahishaasura Mardhini Prema smiled proudly, And after her dance,Swami praised her and gave her Paadhanamaskaarabhagyam. Then he looked straighttowards me. I was sitting at a corner among the audience. Is it difficult for a mother tospot her child? Swami approached the mike and said, aata aadina vaaritho paatuaadinchina vaaru koodaa raavachu. I cantered up the stage in elation and touched Hisfeet. When Swami touched my head, I said to myself Andharini aadinchedhi nuvvekadhyyaa ? and looked at him for reply. Gadusudhaanive bangaaroo Swami said smiling.

.*****************************************


27/44

The next morning, the phone rang when I was sleeping. I turned my head and looked atthe clock. It was 11:00. Somehow I waded through the bed towards the phone and liftedit.Hello. who is it? My voice was obviously somnolent.Prema.

Hai, Prema Good morning. How are you? My voice was obviously rejuvenated.So, you are still slogging on the bed.Yeah.actually, last night I slept late studying that..A fortiori you can do it early in the morning. She made a snide remark.Of course.butBut you didnt know that I would be coming to Vinayaka temple today morning. Isntit? I like people who get up early in the morning. And I would like the people whom I liketo get up early in the morning. .

O.k... I now rang you for a small help.Aap ki hukm I replied merrily.You might be knowing Saadhanaalaya?Yeah.The dance institute at Kalabharathi?Exactly. They are going to organize a carnival on the occasion of their Silver Jubilee.The festival starts next Monday. And they want me perform on the take-off day..But your finals start form Tuesday.. I said immediately.How do you know?General KnowledgeO.K.I tried to convince them and wriggle out. But they are too swinish. Can you

please parley with them on my behalf and help me outNow forget about it and talk something pleasant.. I said in an assuring tone.I am coming to your room for inspection in the evening, sharp 5o clock.

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.That was the first time Prema was coming to my room. I thought I would turn myroom spic and span. I called Raghu and alerted him over the impending Baptism of fire.He promised to help me. I relaxed till 3:00 when I suddenly remembered theSadhanaalaya affair. I pleaded Raghu to clean the room and ran to Kalabharathi.

After successfully consummating the matters, I came back to my room at 6:00.The compound was spanking clean. I thanked Raghu in mind and stepped inside. I couldhear Manavinaalakincha raadhate wafting around. I never knew Raghu was sosensuous. And when I reached the inner room, I saw Prema sitting in the chair.I quickly glanced at the room. It was white and bright. I thanked Raghu once again andwhizzed in.Prema.Welcome to my empire.when did you come?Exactly by the time I gave you on phone. She said.


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OhIm sorry, Im really very sorryI was out to Kalabharathi. That fellow isa real wretch. After a lot of song and dance, I could finally get rid of himThank you. Thank you very much. She said happily.Mention not. First tell me how is my room.Now or when I entered the room? she asked.

I was bewildered by her question.Now I mumbled.Now its like this. She said looking around.And when you came?Hold on. I would describe, she said and paused.I kept silent.Its almost the same except a few variations. Instead of being in the washtub, all thoseclothes were evenly distributed across the floor of the room while the washtub played thecenterpiece along with its venerable counterpart, the dustbin. The reading table wasorchestrated quite painstakingly with all the books wide open, while some of them bathedin the coffee flowing from the cup placed beside them. There were two withering

garlands of roses adorning the portraits of Krishna and Saibaba. And the artistic thick layer of dust that sprawled over the floor needs a special mention. She said sneering atme.Where is Raghu.I mean my room-mate? I asked in a low voice.He gave the keys of your beautiful empire to me in the above mentioned grandeur andwent out. She replied haughtily.I remained mum. I was simply looking at the portrait of Krishna, which was adorned witha fresh garland of Mandhaara. I never saw the floor of my room shining so brightly. The

books near the table were categorized as in a library. There was a sensuous order pervading the entire room. And there was an divine aroma that I usually sensed in atemple. It took me no time to realize it was the consummate ness of none other thanPrema. I looked thankfully at her.I hope you would soon get out of this maladroit ness. Your artistic thoughts shouldmanifest in your milieu. She said coming near me, Sai, do I look something like amartinet or a virago?:No, instead like an oracle, a redeemer. I almost whispered.If that is really so, listen. I do not want to see you remain a dilettante. Try to be more

meticulous. More solemn in your efforts. Remember, it will hurt me if you do not purgeout this frivolousness.She came still nearer to me.

Its alright even if you leave this room untidy when I come to your room. I would justadmonish and preach in anguish for sometime and go back. But remember, when yousing out in ecstasy, when you pray your heart out, He will come. Sai will come to listenyour song. Would you like to welcome Him into this den?No.certainly, no I spoke in a very low tone, But, Prema, it is only after I met you I

became cognizant of what I missed in my life. Only then an urge to better myself has born. Let me convalesce. I like that, Sai. I like that. I know you would soon heed to your Athma. That is Swamisconstant refrain. That one should frequently cleanse ones mind of the dust that smears it.One thing never returns if it leaves you. That is illusion. The second one doesnt leave


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you if it enters. That is wisdom. The third one doesnt come or leave. That is Athma-thathva Saying so she moved towards her chair.There was a deft change in the mood of her voice. Now that your room as well as your mind is revitalized, you are going to sing a marvelous song and regale us.Us? I said.

Yeah.me and Sai she smiled.Good..the choice is left to the audience. Which song would you like to relish?She pondered a bit and started humming Bhaavayaami Gopaalabaalam,manasevitham.Thathpadham chinthayeyeam sadhaa I picked it up.

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You were fretting and frustrated. You badly need some serenity and solitude.Then, all of a sudden, the sky turns cloudy and pleasant. It starts drizzling and from a

distant connoisseurs place, you hear a strain of a ballad resonating. How do you likethat?The advent of Prema created such an aura in my life.


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THE AURA

With your advent, there was light and aroma on my path,With your advent, there was a spell cast on my heart,My tale took a new twist; my life saw a new dawn.A new allegro shook my heart and home.

You stepped into my home and smiled,You didnt know the color it added to my den,You came and whispered in my ear,You didnt know the odes that I heard.

How would I convey you?That you were my muse

In those songs that bloomed in my heart, In those flowers that blossomed in my garden.

You raised your wrist and jingled your bangles,You didnt know the symphonies I conceived,You raised your leg and twinkled your anklets,You didnt know the ballets I composed.

How would I convey you?That you were my muse

In those dreams that haunted in every night,In those auras that jaunted in every breath .


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That was the last morning; I woke up after fiveo clock. That was the last time my roomsuffered my maladroit ness and carefree ness. I prayed for a day my vigor would berestored. At last, they were answered, Premas entry heralded the new chapter in my life.

Whenever, a Bhajan or a shrine threw me into contemplation there was atemporary rectification of my indolence. But only she bore the panacea. I always had a

feeling that Prema is nothing but a physical reflection or embodiment of my ownconscience. So, I could never do any work that was against my conscience. Earlier I usedto offer prayers sometimes, without a whole-heart. But now I couldnt do anything of thatsort, because I felt her watching me from the inside of my heart. So, there is no other go for me except being true to myself in whatever I did.

I came to know how would it be to live and work for a single non-egoistic purpose. And the thing to be adduced is the spirit of that work. I knew how would it be towork with ardor and finesse, simply not caring for what else anybody else may think of itor say of it. The judiciary in the government of universe is a one-man body, consisting of my conscience alone. I would be answerable to my conscience alone, none else on earth.

Every sublime morning, every pleasant evening I thought of her. Every ethereal

breeze carried her fragrance, every blossoming flower was redolent of her smiles, andthose gurgles of purling waters bore her voice. Whenever the sky was azure and calm, Isaw a life-size image of her embedded in it drifting benignly.

A single thought of her would regenerate interest in me, by interest, I mean theenthusiasm that bubbled in every tiny work I did. And her concern for me showed mehow my mother would have been. She condoned every fault of mine, while admonishingme deftly. She made me pursue my singing back by joining me at Semmangudi Schoolagain. She delighted at every betterment of my attitude.

One day, I held my promise by taking her to Athamma. The absolute absence of the initial thaw between them, as anticipated obviated the needless significance of mycharacter in between them. They spoke like age-old acquaintances, exactly the way Irelated with Prema in the beginning. Prema fixed up all appointments with Athamma tolearn painting and cooking. For more than an hour Prema sat marveling at Athammas

paintings. Only one painting was left undone.This one seemed quite formidable. I wanted to portray the fervor in Swamis

face when he extracts the Hiranyagarbhalingam on Sivaraathri. I had been a spectator of the holy event for as many as five times on account of some merit I had accumulatedearlier. But whenever I sit struggling to conceive Swamis anguish at that moment, Isimply end up bursting into tears. But I have no plans give up. I would go to Him again,

pray Him, request Him, beg Him to bestow the ability and bless me with the dexterity andI would complete it. Athamma said fervently.

There was a statue of Nataraja in the garden behind Athammas house. That wasthe only memoir remaining of Athammas past glory now in abeyance. Prema was totallytaken away by its splendor. She began dancing before it in vehemence. Athammaappreciated her dance. But the astoundment came when Athamma pinpointed a fewsubtle defects in her dance explaining the nuances meticulously. That was when I realizedshe was in fact a veteran in the art. According to Prema, her knowledge of such intricatenuances is generally a possession of only those who reached the pinnacle, those whodevoted their lives to the art, neither just dabblers nor even experts.


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It began that day. And then, whenever she felt like dancing, whenever her mindwas deluged with a paroxysm that needed to be satiated by dancing, she wouldcome to me. I had to take her to the Nataraja statue. She had developed anobsessive love for the place. She says the place had a certain mystic spell thatgalvanized her into action. And that whenever I sat in front of her watching her

dance, she felt herself volving, more vivacious. I was her impetus, she was mymuse.Sometimes she would ask me to sing while she danced rather than dancing to a

recorded song. A live voice would beget a lively dance. I saw my dreams dwelling in her expressive eyes. Which feature of Prema was less articulate? Her eyes, her eyebrows, her lips were all imposing. Her glowing face, those dainty palms and the rhythmic gait, allwere equally vivid. Her appearance would itself generate an aalaapana.

I could see her dancing stances animating in my dreams. The melody of the soundof her steps while she danced reverberated in my ears in serene hours. It happenssometimes that she would join me in singing. I can never define the verve that thesuperimposition begets. Even the nature rejoiced the communion by turning more

soothing. Every second of our meeting had to be savored painstakingly not to lose itsmellifluence.And all our trysts were scheduled when the day met with night. When she was up

with her dance, we would sit silently gazing at the drooping Sun, as if to find out wherethe earth met the infinite sky. In those tranquil moments I saw a temple where she wasthe deity and I was the archak. Our breaths that resonated in the silence, I conceived asthe dhoopa being offered and the sunrays that glittered in her eyes as Dheepam.

She would whisper whatever she felt into my ears. She says she was feeling as if she were a fledgling and she got her new wings. That she were a damsel flower experiencing the blossoming. And when the light faded we would silently tread our ways

back to home. She would arrive like a vivid gale and return in ethereal languor.

THE DIFFERENCE YOU MADE

Your smiles bore my identityYour eyes expounded my lifes obscurity

Your parting reminded my dreary yesterdayYour gazing heralded my hilarious tomorrow

Your hands shared my lifes burdenYour legs treaded my path woe-laden.

Your dark eyes portrayed the dawnsYour quivering lips revealed the bliss mysteries


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Im true. you made a difference to me.

SAVE MY SOUL

Come, my ladyThe auspicious hour has come to embark upon my dayCome, my lady

Dance in the ecstasy of our love Sing of the affinity of our bond

Come, my lady, my loveOr else bear to hear my requiems.

Dance in the ecstasy of our love Sing of the affinity of our bond

Let me see my love manifest In your looks, in your eyes In your tresses, in your locksOnly the love, only the fire

Let me see my love manifest In the beat of your heart In the heat of your thought Only the love, only the fire.

Dance in the ecstasy of our love Sing of the affinity of our bond Come, my lady, my loveOr else bear to hear my requiems.

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I did not see Prema that evening. In fact I did not feel like going to meet her.Probably because I was feeling her presence somewhere around me all the time. Theclasses ended and I reached my room.

Raghu wasnt there. I took a warm bath and sat beside the window as usual. Thathad been my favorite place since I took the room. I could see the sun setting straight

before me and the light fading slowly. Nothing But Wind was playing behind.For sometime I stared at the children playing outside the compound wall. As thelight failed, they moved off. The playback also stopped. There was nothing but silence.Suddenly I felt a tinge of pain somewhere around my heart. I cannot exactly put mylanguish in words. It had a strange hue of glee too. As the nights darkness slowlyswallowed the sky, I felt the pain piercing me more. But I stuck myself there.

After an hour, it started raining. Clouds were roaring like infuriated lions. I couldsee nothing, as it was absolutely dark. I felt some specters drifting around me. SuddenlyPrema flashed in my mind. I dont mean I didnt think of her till that moment. She was alatent feature of my every thought. But the express moment and the thoughts suggested a

jinx. I felt I would lose Prema. lose her forever.

A weird force dragged me towards the phone. I rang her and it was lifted. I simplystuck to the phone to my ear without speaking. In fact I could not speak out.Hello. It was Prema.

I tried to open my mouth. I could not.Hello she repeated..Hellowho is that?..Hello..Hello Teja.My silence was the giveaway.Teja.speak out, TejaAre you fine?I felt like I had won the world. I felt like.I felt like..No I just cannot tell thatO.K..Teja.dont go away. If you dont feel like speaking, just hold on. I shall speakO.K?CoolYou might be feeling lonely. Isnt it? I thought so because I was feelingthe same. I knew you would ring me tonite, but I thought you would ring me sooner. You knew? Somehow I opened my mouth.MmmmI knew. Dont know why, I was feeling like every move you make and everyword you spoke were known to me already!! she giggled.I didnt get you, please be clear I said.In fact I got her entirely. The sentence was perfectly laconic. I just wanted to hear more

from her. I know you understood me totally and I also knew you would ask me to elaboratethis she said and paused.I used up the interval to get over the jolt.She continued, I hope the interlude was sufficient for your convalescence. What I amgoing to tell you would be pretty well known to you. But stillAre you holding?


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Please continue. I gasped.She went on This is not a new thing. I was feeling it from that evening you asked me tosearch my soul. You went off leaving me there. I sat there till 9o clock. I was in a trance-like condition. Every word you spoke, I could guess it before you uttered it. And what allyou sang everyday. there was a hunch drifting in my mind prognostic of your

imagination. I think you might be feeling the same. This is the all thing I would like totell you, which you knew already. And would you like to tell me something that I knowalready?Yes. I said.I would love to hear that she replied.. Tejadont feel tensed. Just do remember, whatever you are going to tell me isalready known to me. I am feeling it in my heart .. she cajoled. I was feeling this from the moment I saw you in the temple that day.. I said and

paused. I might also be feeling, but latently, that took time to emerge she said.

Her voice was composed and equitable, quite unlike mine.I continued, And right from the moment I see you till you leave me and sometimes evenafter that, I hear a strain of raga wafting around suitably backed by a percussionresembling the heartbeat. Please dont laughI am quite solemn. I said.I do nothing except marveling at your finesse at articulation. Please continue. Shesaid.I continued, And the sequence of every meeting with you, I feel like it had alreadyhappened between us so many times in past. Even nowthis murky night. this roaringrain and this talk with you, these wordsI am feeling like I had been a witness of theexact sequence so many times in some distant past.. I paused for a feedback though Iwas not too keen to know that.She spoke, I was constantly asking myself, who were you to affect me so much?I already told you. every secret is stored in your soul. Ask it. I assure you anoverwhelming response, I said...I continued, Ask the dreams that pervade your eyes, let the lilt of your heartbeat answer your queries.She began, True, Meeting you. it was like waking from a slumber to witness anauspicious dawn. It was like meeting an old pal with whom I shared many a gleefulmoments in a distant past. On the spur? I asked.NoThisI wrote in a poem.Im just recalling. She replied.Then,,,,? I said.Then..Good Night. She did not wait for my response and disconnected.Of course I was expecting an abrupt close but not exactly at that moment. I replaced thereceiver and lied back.

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I could not sleep well that night. I just wanted to see Prema, I just wanted to see her. Iwoke up and went straightaway to the Nataraja statue in Athammas house and sat

beneath it waiting for her to arrive. That day was her birthday.She came and stood before me. I lifted my head and looked into her eyes. There was aweird apathy in her looks. According to my plans, I was to propose to marry her on the

auspicious occasion of her birthday. I thought that day would embark on a new wave inmy life and hers.But the ambience was quite contradictory. Somehow I forcibly opened my mouth

and jabbered, Prema! I had been planning to give you a great present for your birthdayfrom the past nine months. After continuous thought, I finally decided to give yousomething perfectly original of me. What could such a thing be? This body is not mine

because it would leave me when I die. What remained is my spirit. My soul. I want tooffer that to you. I just want to give away myself to you. I love you and I want to be withyou forever.She sighed and kept quite for a moment. Then she turned back, walked a bit away from

me and started talking. Every word she spoke to me, she uttered looking into my eyes.

That was the first time she was talking to me with her back facing me.I didnt know that the worst of my dreams is going to present itself before me.

Sai, this world is a big illusion. The people who live here are illusory. Their minds areillusory and the thoughts that originate from them are illusory. All the vistas around isfalse, deceptive. What I would like to say is that the love you felt for me and the love Ifelt for you is all ephemeral. The people that we meet in the sojourn of our life are justtemporary acquaintances and so are our relations with them. Theres no use andsometimes fatal to attach an emotional fervor to such daft things.

My father has decided to marry me to someone else, whom I do not know. But Iwont deny him for anything on earth. May be I know you, I have shared some delightfulmoments with you. But that is all. I cant be yours foreverI cant be. So its better to forget me forever. Erase all those memories of our friendship from your mind or heartwherever you have stored them. Forgive me if I had been a bit harsh or rude.

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ONLY YOUThe requiem .

A faint strain was emanating from the den of the Goddess of deathYet I dare sing.

Only you.Only you are every hue of my life.Only you.Only you are every due of my triumph.

My alter ego dwelling in the shades of my heart.

Are you La Belle Dame? If not, why do you play this game?Only if you are contiguous

My senses are conscious

Are you a dream? If not, why do stay in the extreme?Tell me, when would this tornado beam?

I know I havent brought anything to this land, And nothing would I take with me But your love remains my only hope and reverie.

BecauseThose eyes have touched me,

And slowly bewitched me, Igniting the fireOf your desire

Only youOnly you are my lifes aromaOnly youOnly you are my lifes panorama

And Manorama

Because..Those hands have embraced me,

And slowly absorbed me, Igniting the pain In this mortal body long ago slain

Only youOnly you are my lifes aromaOnly youOnly you are my lifes panorama


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And Manorama

Because..Those airs of your breath

Smeared me like a relentless wreath

Igniting the passionCulminating in the selfs annihilation


My alter ego dwelling in the shades of my heart.

Are you La Belle Dame? If not, why do you play this game?

Only if you are contiguous My senses are conscious Are you a dream? If not, why do stay in the extreme?Tell me, when would this tornado beam?

I can move no farther For I was imprisoned in your fist,

In your cist, In the mist of your lust In an ineffable zest. I can seek none further,For I already reached the crest

And found nothing best in the rest. Except dust Believe me, you are my lifes gist.

Meet me in the tryst I should shed the mortal coils lest. Meet me in the tryst I should shed the mortal coils lest.



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My alter ego dwelling in the shades of my heart.I felt the earth splitting under me. I feltmy heart ravished to pieces. I felt an acute pain piercing me relentlessly. Burning mealive would have brought a lot more solace to me. I saw the world being relegated into ametaphysical darkness. I felt blank for two days. I had nothing to think. After two days, I

began chronicling the events.

I saw a girl. I loved her. She walked with me, she talked with me. She smiled withme, she wrangled with me. She sang with me, she danced with me and finally she said itwas all illusory. It was all false. It was all deceptive.

If my love was to be false, firstly I should be false, my existence and myconscience should be false. Isnt it true that I was reborn after her arrival?Is it false to love somebody? Is it an egregious sin to see the dream of sharing the lifewith somebody?Kyaa Kise ke saath zindagee guzaarne ki sapna dekhnaa koyee gunaa hai?

I loved her. I placated her. May be I tried to ingratiate myself. Finally I ended up drawinga ludicrous caricature of myself.

I saw the bliss of my life in her. I saw the God I revered in her. I saw myself in her. Andshe said it was a trivia

pardhu's manuscript

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