The 10th man story!

If there is one story that is a great hit with children, it is the “10^th man story”. It is an ancient story. Adi Shankara (well before 8^th century AD) has referenced the tale in two of his works. In the 14^th century, the story was expanded by Swami Vidyaranya in his philosophical treatise "Pancha-dashi". These works are available today, lending credence to the fact, that the story is an ancient one.

More recently, in the 18^th century, the story was retold in Tamil by an Italian Jesuit priest called Beschi. His version called “Paramartha-guru and his foolish disciples” became very popular. It is this adaptation that I tried to narrate to my daughter, as a young parent, and she, as a kindergarten kid.

“Paramarthaguru was a teacher who had 9 disciples.  Each disciple was more foolish than the other. Their names were- “Matti”, “Madayan”, “Muudan”, “Muttaal”, “Milechan”, “Somberi” and others!” (It is tough to translate these names in English. We can loosely translate the names as “the simpleton fool”, “the total fool”, “the chronic fool”, “the pathological fool” etc.- essentially, increasing degrees of foolishness. The only outlier was “Somberi”, who was not only foolish, but lazy too.)

My daughter interrupted me immediately. “Appa! Why did these disciples have strange names like “Matti”, “Madayan” and “Muttaal”? Why didn’t they have names like the boys in my class- Aditya, Akhilan and Aryan? Why did Paramarthaguru have no girl students? Because they were not foolish? That’s why? How did the guru manage to collect so many foolish students?”

These were tough questions. I evaded them with simplistic answers and proceeded with the narration. “The guru and the students had to cross a river. Once they crossed the river and reached the opposite bank, they had to confirm that all 10 of them were intact. The guru asked Matti, the class monitor, to count. Matti counted- “1, 2, 3….” and found there were only 9. Matti was alarmed. One person is missing, he said gravely. Madayan knew that Matti was weak in Maths. He decided to count. Madayan counted, “1, 2, 3…” and reached 9 again! Indeed, one person was missing. Panic set in! Who was missing? Who was missing? Who got drowned in the river? Eventually, Paramarthaguru had to step in. The guru counted, but lo and behold, it was still 9! All of them started crying, fearing one student was lost. They just did not know who was lost!”

“Did they cry softly or loudly, Appa? The teacher also cried? He also? Did they have a handkerchief to wipe their face?” my daughter asked. Again, I side-stepped these concerns and continued.

“A passerby saw this bawling group and wanted to help. He heard the entire story. He lined up all of them. He gave a whack to each person with a cane! Each victim shouted out his name and the increment in the count. Matti-one, Madayan-two, Muttaal-three…and finally, it was Guru-ten! The 10^th person has come back, the 10^th person has come back, they screamed in glee! They rejoiced and hugged each other!”

As a parent, you couldn’t end the story abruptly, without elucidating the profound message that it conveys. Shifting gears, I went on a philosophical spiel. “What does this story convey? What was the problem? Each person counted the rest, without including himself. That is the problem in life. We feel the problem is outside and search for a solution outside. We never realize that the root cause of the problem is me. The problem is me. The solution is me! The 10^th person, for whom they all cried, was never lost. He was already there, all the time, even while they were crying. They didn’t realize that the 10^th person was the very “cryer”, the crying person! “Aham dashamah, aham dashamah”, I am the 10^th person, I am the 10^th person…that is the claim that must be made! That is realization! That is realization! Do you get it?”

I sat back, filled with the satisfaction of a parent, who had succeeded in disseminating the most profound teaching to the next generation, that too, so early in life. My daughter was lucky. She blinked back, rolling her eyes. “But Appa, actually…actually…who got lost and came back? It was Somberi correct? He was lazy and stayed back on the other side itself, right?  He played hide-and-seek and crossed the river when they started counting, no? I knew the missing person was Somberi! I knew that! I knew that!” 

Paramarthaguru may have found a new disciple and an original thinker!

An ode to the groundnut!

The train from Mumbai ambles into Lonavla station. It is late afternoon. The vendors make brisk business peddling their usual wares- tea, coffee, and other tidbits. Over and above the hubbub, a particular vendor catches your attention as he announces, “Chikki…chikki…Lonavla chikki…Maganlal Lonavla chikki!”

There is a certain mystique in this vendor’s enunciation- how he adds attributes in successive tiers, like a classical vocalist building up a raga step by step. He creates an element of suspense by starting with just “chikki”; he follows it up with more detail by mentioning “Lonavla chikki” and finally, he hits the crescendo with the grand, climactic finish of “Maganlal Lonavla chikki”! That’s how you market a product effectively.

Lonavla and “chikki” are synonymous. Like Tirupati and laddu, Tirunelveli and halwa, Agra and Petha…Lonavla and chikki are inseparable.

Several decades ago, Maganlal created a brand name around this groundnut delicacy. If someone asked, “Can I give you some “Madan Lal chikki” instead, or maybe, some “Madana-gopal chikki" as an alternative?” you were shell-shocked and flatly refused. You rose to your full height and declared, “Nice try! But I want Maganlal Lonavla chikki and no other chikki! Ok?”

This groundnut sweetmeat was packaged in an attractive cardboard-case filled with multiple slices of “chikki”. There was “groundnut-with-jaggery-chikki", “groundnut-with-caramel-chikki" and even a “powdered-groundnut-chikki” version. No self-respecting train traveler could resist the indulgence. The groundnut did the trick- it raised the sweetness level of the journey by several notches! By the time the train reached Pune, an hour later, you could scarcely believe, that the cardboard-case was completely empty. Only the chikki-crumbs were left- they lay scattered on the lap and on the train-seat. You ran your finger over the crumbs and gave the finger a good lick, to catch the last vestige of chikki!

If “chikki” is a favorite for the foodie with a sweet tooth, groundnut in its salty avatar is a greater hit. As you loitered around the great cricket maidans of South Mumbai, you were irresistibly drawn to the groundnut vendor. The vendor moved around with a basket strung from the shoulder and hanging at the belly. The basket was heaped with groundnuts, kept warm from the embers of a compact coal-pot. On one side of the basket, paper-cones were strung, cone upon cone, like a multistoried building!

The moment you expressed interest, with a flourish, the vendor drew out a paper-cone. His fingers reached out for a tiny, metal, measuring cup. One scoop from that measure filled the cone. But the vendor wasn’t done yet. He looked at you in the eye with overflowing generosity, took a few extra groundnuts in hand, and topped the cone. That way, he had gone beyond the call of duty (and his measuring cup) and given full value for your money and a lot more!

Warm, crisp, laced with a dash of salt, and with the hanging aroma of coal, the groundnuts were a delightful snack. In a few minutes, you shook the paper-cone for some more, only to find it empty. You now inspected the paper-cone in all its detail. It was indeed a piece of artwork.  It gave the illusion of being commodious…a tall cone, a veritable skyscraper, but was crafted so unbelievably narrow, that barely one column of groundnuts could fit in! Hungry for more, you ran after the vendor for a second helping!

Groundnut is often called a “poor man’s almond”. If groundnut had had a human face, it would have stoutly protested and filed a character defamation case against the almond! And rightfully so- after all, can anyone, least of all almond, beat the groundnut, for its taste and versatility?

In the US, groundnuts are called “peanuts”. “I slog like a dog at my workplace, but they pay me peanuts for all the hard work!” the American complains. I wish I could tell him, “You get paid in peanuts? You said…you get paid in peanuts, did you? Give me your job maan! I will make some sweet “chikki”, some “cooked-groundnut-sundal with coconut”, some roasted, groundnut-savory and munch away! I want your job maan! I want the peanuts…sacks and sacks…of peanuts!”

 

Writing a diary!

A month or two before the year ended, somehow, a diary made its way home. No one purchased a diary, back then. Still, each year, unfailingly, it had an uncanny knack to reach home.  Sometimes, it was gifted by a “client” at father’s office, or it was dispatched from a “company” where some “investment” was made. It didn’t matter.  All you wanted was a brand new diary.

A diary was irresistible- it compelled you to write. May be, it was the leather cover, may be, it was the paper. A pleasant aroma wafted in the air, the moment you picked it up. The pages were fresh and silken smooth, the kind, you wanted to caress repeatedly, and rest your cheek against. The diary had an inbuilt bookmarker, a thin ribbon that took you to the page of interest. In some cases, the diary was neatly apportioned into sections, with a discrete “section divider page”.

Sitting at the desk, with the diary in front, and with a fountain pen in hand, you felt like an artist pondering over his fresh canvas, and about to embark on his masterpiece! What should you write in the diary- was the million-dollar question.

One section in the diary had to be dedicated to “Maths sums”. The “interminable transactions between Ram and Shyam” went into this section. Ram had 16 mangoes. If he had to divide them equally between himself and Shyam, how many mangoes will each get? You tolerated these never-ending problems like a toothache, with the fervent hope that one day, even this will pass away! Strangely, copying these “Maths sums” in a new, gleaming diary, made even Maths look interesting and engaging. The diary did the trick!

From time to time, some advice came your way- “How will you improve your English?  You should diligently write down the meanings of all the words that you don’t know in a diary!” While the suggestion was well meaning, implementation was complicated. Any sentence you read, whether it was in the newspaper or in a storybook, there were at least a couple of words you didn’t know. “Gloat”, “Grin”, “stealing a furtive glance”, “wearing a pensive look”- random words and expressions, filled the diary. Once this section was populated, the diary had to be kept under lock and key. Imagine if elder sister looked at this wordlist. She will surely comment, “What? You don’t know the meaning of “grin”? “Grin” you don’t know? Grin? Do you go to school or simply hang around at 5-gardens and come home?”

Off and on, you needed the diary “to vent out your feelings” and “express yourself”. These days, it is called “journalling”. But this exercise existed back then too. On the first day, you wrote, “Today, I am feeling angry”. Once this sentence was written, you hit a writer’s block. What more can you write when you are angry? The next day, you felt the same, but some modification had to be made in the sentence to avoid repetition. “Today, I am feeling very very angry!” Soon, this section resembled the “degrees of comparison” topic in Wren and Martin- angry, angrier, angriest followed by a bout of happy, happier, happiest before slipping again to sad, sadder, saddest!

Everyone wrote English poetry- at least to submit a poem for the annual school magazine. Once the diary lay open on a blank page, poetry flowed. Just as Goddess Saraswati had bestowed the “gift of poesy” to Kalidasa by writing on his tongue, I had little doubt, she did the same through this diary! “I felt on top of the earth!” I wrote, and immediately…immediately…the next line wrote itself out- “The kind, I have never felt since birth!”  Reams and reams of sublime poetry gushed forth, with not one moment’s pause or deliberation. It was unbelievable!

The most interesting section in the diary was dedicated to Cricket. “S.M Gavaskar caught Rixon bowled Thomson”. At the end of the series in Australia, I planned to have a complete analysis on Gavaskar ready- how many runs he scored, the manner in which he got out, where his weakness lay, and how he could improve himself. Sadly, this detailed research stayed in my diary and did not reach the Little Master in time.

The diary was my “constant companion through rain and shine” (to borrow an expression from the diary itself). One day, grandma came by, and said she wanted a diary. I was alarmed. Why did grandma need a diary? Is she also going to write angry, angrier, angriest? Grandma was very clear, “I need a diary to write “shri raama jayam”! Everything else is useless tinsel!”

You cannot beat the finality of grandma’s pronouncement- everything else is useless tinsel!

 

 

 

 

 

Vatapi Ganapatim bhajeham!

Happy Ganesh Chaturthi! Using this occasion to exchange some thoughts on the musical compostion "Vatapi Ganapatim bhajeham". The reader will surely know all of this. Still, taking the liberty to dwell on this song.

This composition in Sanskrit, by Muthuswamy Dikshitar, is by far, one of the most popular kritis in Carnatic music. It is set to the raga Hamsadhwani.

Vatapi Ganapati refers to Ganesha who belonged to the place called "Vatapi". What is Badami today, in Northern Karnataka, was "Vatapi" earlier. In the 7th century AD, the Pallava king Narasimha Varma attacked Badami, which was ruled by the Chalukyas. As a trophy, this idol of Ganesha was brought back from Vatapi to Tamil Nadu by the Pallavas.

It is believed that the idol of Ganesha at the Tiruvarur temple, is this Vatapi Ganapati. Dikshitar lived in Tiruvarur. (Note: This is as per a book I have. There are other accounts that mention that this idol is elsewhere! It does not matter.)

With this background, we look at the composition, line by line.

Vatapi ganapatim bhajeham-  Dikshitar says- "I worship Vatapi Ganapati". The opening line is straightforward and expresses the intent. The rest of the composition adds details to this Vatapi Ganapati.

What kind of a Ganesha is he?

vaaranaasyam varapradam shri: The one who has an elephant face "vaarana aasyam" and the one, who is the bestower of all "varam" (boons). The trailing "shri" is an honorific. When the singer ends this line and goes back to the first line, it will now read as "shri vatapi ganapatim"!

Why is Ganesha specially mentioned as "vara-pradam"? It is said, before worshipping any deity, the first deity to be worshipped, is Ganesha. It's as if, other deities can bestow boons, only if sanctioned by Ganesha! Otherwise, even the "vara-providing capacity" of other deities, will be rendered null and void! (There is a shloka on this). Hence, vara-pradam for Ganesha.

Bhutaadi samsevita charanam: The one, whose feet (charanam) were served/worshipped by "bhuta-ganas". Ganesha is "ganaanaam pati"- the lord of all the ganas of Lord Shiva. "gajaananam bhuta-ganaadi sevitam" is a popular line. Dikshitar uses the same idea here.

Bhuta-bhautika prapancha bharanam: The lord of the entire creation (prapancha). The creation is made up of 5 elements: "earth, water, fire, air, space" (pancha-bhuta prapancha) as well as the combinations of the 5 elements (bhautika prapancha).

Veeta raaginam, vinuta yoginam: That Ganesha who is "free from raaga" (i.e. free from attachment) and who is worshipped by the yogis "vinuta yoginam". It seems awkward to say Ganesha is free from attachment- after all, he is the Almighty! We have to look at it as follows- the devotee wants to be free from attachment and hence invokes that particular aspect in Ganesha. 

Vishwa kaaranam, vighna vaaranam:  The one who is the cause of the world...vishwa kaaranam...and the one, who removes all obstacles "vighna vaaranam". Here, Dikshitar mentions Ganesha's main department- he is vighna-harta, vighneshwara etc.

Puraa kumbha sambhava munivara prapujitam: The one who was worshipped (pra-pujitam) by the great sage  (muni-vara) i.e. Agastya, long ago (puraa). Why is Agastya suddenly mentioned? We have to go to the story related to how The Kaveri River was born. Ganesha in the form of a crow, toppled Agastya's kamandalu, and from that, The Kaveri River flowed. Since Dikshitar spent his life beside the Kaveri, he is reminded of this incident. 

Trikona madhya gatam: Dikshitar is a "Shri-Vidya upaasaka". In this form of worship, the Shri-Chakra is made up of triangles "tri-kona" and at the center (called "bindu") of all the triangles (madhya gatam), the supreme being is present. Hence, he sees Ganesha, as though at the centre of the triangle.

Murari pramukhaadi upaasitam: That Ganesha, who was worshipped by Murari (Vishnu) and other (adi) prominent beings "pramukha". Why is Vishnu brought in? It will be fitting to translate Murari as Krishna, since today is Ganesh Chaturthi. Ganesha and Krishna are connected on this day. It is said, that Krishna saw the moon on this day, and as a result, underwent a terrible time (when he was accused of even murder). The reader should refer to the story of "syamantaka mani", where this episode is narrated. It is said that the one who remembers this story of Krishna and syamantaka mani on Ganesha chaturthi, is spared of all ills, even if he accidentally sees the moon today! 

Muladhaara kshetra sthitam:  The one who is present at the base of the spine "mulaadhaara chakra" as "energy" (praana-shakti) in every person.

Paraadi chatvaari vaagaatmakam: It is this praana-shakti (mentioned in the earlier line) that helps in all activities including "speech" (vaak) (vaagaatmakam). It is said, before speech comes out of the mouth, it goes through 4 stages where it changes from "subtle sound to finally audible sound". The 4 stages of sound/speech-production are "paraa, pashyanti, madhyamaa and vaikhari". Hence "chatvaari" (4 fold nature) of "paraadi"- i.e. "paraa + adi" starting from "paraa" and going through the stages of pashyanti etc. till it finally becomes audible, oral speech. 

This point is connected to the previous idea of "mulaadhaara" because "paraa", "pashyanti" etc. are also mapped with particular chakras starting from "mulaadhaara". Hence, Dikshitar mentions them together.

Pranava swarupa vakratundam: What is the synthesis of all sounds (mentioned in the previous line)? It is "om" i.e. pranava. Hence, "pranava swarupa". And vakratundam- the one with a curved trunk. It is ironical- after talking about the science of sound and speech, suddenly, we get the mention of the trunk. The trunk covers the mouth (of the elephant). When we speak before a mahatma, we cover the mouth and speak- this gesture conveys humility (vinaya). Hence, Ganesha exemplifies both vidya (speech) and vinaya (humility)

 Nirantaram nikhila chandra khandam: Note: There are alternate, slightly different words for this line.  Ganesha is the one who wears the moon on the forehead. We have the name "phaalachandra" for Ganesha. The moon represents time...since time is measured in terms of the phases of the moon (tithi). Ganesha holds the moon on his head means that he is the lord of time. Hence, he is nirantaram- permanent. 

Nija vaama kara vidruta ikshu dandam: In these words, we have a description of Ganesha for the purpose of meditation (upaasana). We saw previously that he has a trunk, and holds the moon on the head etc. Here, we have a reference to his hands. In his left hand (vaama kara), he holds an "ikshu dandam" (sugarcane stick).

Karaambuja paasha beejapuram: In his lotus-like hands (kara-ambuja), he holds a noose (paasha) and a fruit (beejapuram). Apparently, beejapuram is a kind of lemon. Though we can ascribe some signifance for paasha, fruit etc, essentially, these descriptions are used to complete the picture of Ganesha for upaasana (for meditation).

kalusha viduram bhutaakaaram: The one who destroys all negativity (kalusha viduram). Next, bhutaakaaram. Aakaara is form. The one who has the 5-elements (bhutas) as his very form. Earlier, we said, Ganesha creates/sustains this world made up of pancha-bhutas. Now, we say, he not only created the world, but also exists..."as the world" (bhutaakaaram). 

haraadi guruguha toshita bimbam: The one who was pleased (toshita) by hara (shiva), guruguha (kartikeya) and adi (others). Bimbam means original. Pratibimbam means reflection. Hence, Ganesha is the original, the Truth, while everything else exists as his reflection. We can extrapolate more. Guruguha is of course Dikshitar's trademark signature also.

Hamsadhvani bhushita herambam:  The one who is adorned with Hamsadhvani raga. Dikshitar embeds each composition with the name of the raga. This composition is in Hamsadhvani raga, and this composition is offered as an ornament to Ganesha. 

Hamsa is a swan. Mythical swans had the ability to separate milk from water and drink only the milk! Hence, hamsa can mean- separating the good from the bad and taking only the good. Or separating the impermanent from the permanent (atma-anatma viveka etc.) Hamsa mantra is also the maha-vakya- "aham sah" ("aham sah" becomes "hamsa" when repeated multiple times!). I the indvidual (aham) and He (sah) the Lord...are essentially one. Hamsadhvani refers to this hamsa-geeta.

Ganesha is called "herambam" here. Heramba is Ganesha seated on a lion. An elephant is mortally scared of a lion- we say "simha swapnam". But in Heramba, the opposites...elephant and lion, come together. It's as if, in the Lord, even the opposites exist, integral to him, without conflict.

Such a Ganesha, I meditate upon, says Dikshitar- "vatapi ganapatim bhajeham" and we come back to the first line.

Once the krti is over, we cannot end it abruptly! We are reminded of musicians singing their favorite swara-patterns at this point...."paa ga ri sa ri...vaa..taa...pi"...."saa ni paa ga ri ni ri...vaa...taa...pi" etc!!!!