On Fevicol!

As part of the "Golu" celebration during Navaratri, there is always some cut-and-paste job to be done. This time, it was a picture that had to be stuck on a cardboard to serve as a backdrop for the golu idols. That's when "Fevicol" came out of the shelf. If there is one common factor...that runs...in and through life's most fun moments, it is Fevicol. Who can forget those umpteen science projects when we were in school? And a re-run of the same projects, yes, this time with our kids! Fevicol was that constant companion- kal bhi...aaj bhi...kal bhi! 

Back in the day, as kids, Fevicol began with its share of edgy moments. Apparently, before Fevicol, there was some bloke called "Araldite". Grandparents were forever calling him Araldite- "Get that Araldite. I need to fix this broken cup!" You felt like responding emphatically, "Grandpa! There is no Araldite at home. No Araldite! Only Fevicol!" Thankfully, I never saw this Araldite fellow. Had I seen him, I would have punched Araldite's nose, for trying to steal the thunder from my Fevicol! 

They say an elephant's trunk is the most versatile instrument- the trunk can pick up a needle, the trunk can uproot an entire tree. Fevicol can rival that versatility and more! You stuck postage stamps on an envelope with Fevicol. And when a  shiny, sun-mica sheet had to be stuck on the wooden wardrobe, the carpenter reached out for...well....Fevicol!

During high school, we had our share of challenges. One fine day, billboards and advertisements screamed- "Fevicol is now Movicol". Araldite was bad enough. And now Movicol. Who is this Movicol? Why is he here? What happened to my Fevicol? Had we known Jantar Mantar back then, we would have surely protested. Without Fevicol, life lost all cheer. Like Guru Dutt, for an entire year, we wallowed in sadness- "Yeh duniya agar mil bhi jaaye...to kya hai!"

And then, the miracle happened. Apparently, no one accepted Movicol in the market. We knew it! Fevicol made a grand re-entry! Life was rosy once more! Guru Dutt,  his black shawl, his sad song....everything vanished.  With Fevicol, life was "Eena meena deega", lively and effervescent...once more! 

Part of Fevicol's allure lay in its unique fragrance. Like Amrutanjan, you knew it was a Fevicol home, the moment you entered it. It was unmistakable. When the tooth filling came off from the cavity and you rushed to the dentist, you felt like asking him, "Did you use that Movicol chap by any chance, doc? Can you use Fevicol...at least this time doc?" When friends moved closely, you made a sly remark, "Look at them- stuck like Fevicol!"

In some ways, Fevicol was unforgiving. When you applied Fevicol to the back of a paper and had to stick it to a piece of cardboard, you had only one chance. Even life gives a second chance, but not Fevicol. There was no scope for alteration- having stuck the paper horizontally, you couldn't change your mind, and stick the paper back vertically. You felt as helpless as Vibhishana. In a moment of indiscretion, the idol of Ranganatha was kept on the ground at Srirangam.  The idol stayed stuck to the terra-ferma for good. Vibhishana could never carry the idol back to Lanka. I bet....it must have been Fevicol! 

Fevicol was too finicky. Sometimes, the paper smeared with Fevicol...stuck to itself, before you could place it on the cardboard! That's it! It was now completely ruined. Too much Fevicol made the paper look wrinkled and unsightly on the cardboard. Too little Fevicol made the ends of the paper curl up like dog-ears, from the sides of the cardboard! Couldn't Fevicol be a little flexible, a little...may be?

This golu, the cardboard picture backdrop was finally ready. My fingers tips were shiny, white and wrinkled, yes, with solidified Fevicol.  I spent the next half-hour pealing the Fevicol off, strand by strand. That's when all the above lines came to mind. 

There was just one song on my lips- from the Bollywood film Dabangg-2- "Chipka le saiyaan Fevicol se"!!!

What if you cannot dance?

An all-important component of a modern, Gen-Z Indian wedding is "sangeet".  It does not matter if it is a North Indian or a South Indian wedding. Sangeet is non-negotiable. For the unversed, sangeet is not your "kalyaana kutchery" of yesteryears where Semmangudi mama regaled the wedding audience with a nuanced rendition of Bhairavi raagam. No! Sangeet now...is more about dance than music. A DJ plays assorted film music, that blares over the speaker at an intolerable decibel level. Everyone joins the dance-floor. It is a loose, free-for-all, dance-as-you-please format. The bride, the groom, the Gen-Z attendees, the young, the old, the kids, the Gen-Jurassic- almost everyone lets his or her hair loose and dances as though there is no tomorrow.

The problem is for the outlier- what if you cannot dance? The outlier sticks out like a sore thumb, unable to join the revelry. He stands squirming in a corner, arms tightly folded across his chest, nervously gritting his teeth and watching the unfolding spectacle. He cannot quit and go home for that will be rude and discourteous. He cannot join this dance equivalent of "kumbal-oda-govinda" for obvious reasons- he cannot dance. Silently, he prays that he should be spared from this agony- that these sangeet hours should melt away in a second. Tough luck! "Appadi podu podu podu" song is over....only to be replaced with "lungi dance...lungi dance"! The audience loves it- they dance as though possessed by some spirit at a Bhuta-Kola. Even the Mahabharata may end after 100,000 verses but not sangeet. 

Matters get worse. The outlier is not allowed to stand in a corner anymore. "What do you mean you cannot dance? Just dance man! Just give it a shake man! Groove...this way!" Sometimes, he is bodily dragged, at times lifted, right into the dance ring! Like a mortally scared goat that digs its heels at the prospect of imminent doom, he recoils and resists. If the outlier had had his way, he would have added his name to the hashtag Me-Too movement for gross, physical violation! The outlier now finds himself right in the middle of the dance ring. Around him, the adrenalin is flowing in torrents- hands, legs, hips, heads all gyrating. What do you do now? "Abhimanyu....chakra-vyuuh mein phas gaya hai tu" that's the only song that comes to his mind! How does he get out of this? Spare a thought for the outlier- the only coordinated activity with hands and legs that he has ever been a part of, is the PT left-right-left "march-past", way back in high-school. 

The exit strategy is simple. Never stand in a corner doing nothing. That will brand you as boring, uptight and a party-pooper. You need to "look" interested. That's enough! Use your mobile-phone and pose as though you are recording the dance proceedings. You move from one vantage point to the other, displaying your mobile prominently. You needn't even switch the video on. After all, how many Gigs of data can your measly cell-phone store? Just move around, with a smile on your lips, and a thumbs-up sign to whoever makes eye-contact with you! That's it! The technique works like a charm. It has bailed me out...100% of the times. 

This dancing requirement has gone out of hand. There is no escape. Like CPR, it has become an essential life-skill. The school curriculum needs revision. We need a new subject- not that Bharatanatyam "thai ya thai" drill silly, it should be Bollywood-dance-101, starting from "Kajra re" and going all the way, till you can dance to "Naatu Naatu" with elan!

They say, learning has no age. We hear about "bathroom singers"- those who are afraid to face the public but confidently howl, completely out of tune in the confines of the bathroom. We will soon have a new breed called "bathroom dancers"! Hear that loud music and the stomping of feet behind that closed bathroom door, as though the floor and 4 walls are about to collapse? That's me..."Left leg aage aage..right leg peeche peeche....! Hrithik Roshan, Allu Arjun, NTR Jr...move out the way! I am coming!

The Great Bannerghatta Road

For over 20 years now, I have been going up and down Bannerghatta Road. It has become so much a part of me, that it is not just another road. It is my connect with civilization. History books talk about Chandragupta Maurya- how he built the Grand Trunk Road connecting Takshashila (modern day Pakistan) to Pataliputra (modern Patna, Bihar). Bannerghatta Road may not have such high aspirations. However, in its own humble way, it runs North-South, straight as an arrow, cutting through vast swaths of the city of Bengaluru! 

They say- one should never probe into "rishi-mulam" and "nadi-mulam". "Road-mulam" should be added to this list. Learn to trim your curiosity when it comes to the origins of a rishi, a river or even a road! The Ganga flows through sub-terranean caverns and makes its first visible entry at "Gomukh". It is hard to imagine that this little mountain stream at Gomukh cave, the size of an oversized cow's mouth, will grow to be the mighty river that we associate it with. 

So too, with Bannerghatta Road. Close to the zoo, it is but a tiny, nondescript, piddly lane. But don't you take it lightly, as though it is just bland "idli"! It is not! Slowly, but surely, as it covers more ground, the road swells in girth, and by the time it hits Jayadeva Circle, it has grown to those monstrous proportions that we know this great and mighty road to be! Like the roar of the Ganga at Rudraprayag, the cacophony of traffic has risen to its peak. It is here that you feel like pumping your fists in the air, the forehead veins throbbing with emotion, with full throated shouts of "Har Har Bannerghattey! Har! Har!"

The Ganga has numerous names- Bhaageerathi and Jaanhavi to name a couple. So too, with this road. Some call it affectionately "banneru"-ghatta. For others, especially when they run out of space, while filling those forms, it is as simple as "BG Road". The similarity with Ganga doesn't end there. If Prayag's Triveni sangam is Ganga's crowning glory, for Bannerghatta, it is its triveni sangam towards BTM. (For the unversed, BTM stands for Byrasandra, Tavarekere and Madiwala, some of Bengaluru's sprawling townships). 

Ganga is a perennial river. You guessed it, Bannerghatta is a perennial road. There is no time, when it is traffic free. Even at 2am, it maintains a steady flow. And when it comes to peak hour, it is verily a wild river! The glacial bunds are broken, the traffic is let loose; it flows in torrents, covering the road and more, till even the footpaths are taken over by the two-wheelers! Caught in one of those traffic deadlocks at a junction, with intertwined criss-cross traffic, it's exactly like getting sucked into Ganga's treacherous whirlpools. Extricating yourself from the crocodile-like traffic grasp requires divine help, the kind...the elephant Gajendra got! For Ola, Uber and other taxi drivers, even mention of the name- "Bannerghatta" is like simha-swapna- they quake with fear! "Bannerghatta? I will not come come! Baralla Saar! You get down saar! Bannerghatta baralla saar!" 

It is said- blessings from the river Ganga, is gained in a 3-fold way- by mere sight (eekshanam), by using words of praise (stotram) and by dipping oneself in the water (snaanam). Bannerghatta blesses in much the same way- you see the traffic, you talk about the traffic, and finally, you immerse yourself in the traffic!

Many an attempt is made to tame a ferocious river by constructing dams and canals.  But, what about this road? Presently,  the metro pillars are all up, the stations are ready, even the trial runs have completed many sorties. "The metro is about to start"- we've been hearing for months now. Can an unruly river be tamed...ever? We know...a river always has the last laugh. Can this mighty road be tamed? Time will tell! 

Two fistfuls of coins!

 A couple of months ago, we had to make an offering at our village temple. The stipulation was straightforward- my daughter had to take a fistful of coins in both hands and make the offering to the deity. The day prior to the temple visit, I tried to procure these coins- just enough to fill those tiny palms.

It may be easier to stumble upon a Gupta Age coin by digging the ground, but there are no modern India coins anymore. Even beggars have moved on. Rummaging through the closets and shelves at home, I found no coins. If at all a coin peeped through the rubble, it was either an American cent or a Dubai Dirham stuck from a previous trip. It was unclear if the village deity accepted foreign currency. 

Thereafter, I tried the neighbourhood shops- small tea shops, paan-outlets, grocery stores, and of course malls. The reaction was the same from all shopkeepers, "Sir! This is UPI age sir! This is AI age! Coins? Coins? Are you a relic from a previous Stone Age?" Desperation increased by the hour. How are we going to get these coins, that too, two fistfuls? Sticking out a 500 rupee note at each shop, I tried to plead my case, even if it was a bad bargain, "Do teen coin de de baba, aap ke baal-bachche khush rahenge! Do teen coin de de baba...!" Thankfully, some good Samaritans obliged and saved the day.

We are yet to uncover the long-term consequences of this coinless age. It has not sunk in completely. Take Cricket. How will the two captains start the game if there is no coin to toss? The romance of Cricket will be totally killed without the toss ritual. Coins gave wealth a fitting imagery. When Tenali Rama retorted with a witty answer, the delighted king rewarded him with a bag of coins. It made an impact. Imagine if Krishnadevaraya said- "Nice answer Tenali Rama! I will now make a UPI transfer to your account! It just wouldn't cut it, would it? When Bhadrachala Ramadas was imprisoned at Golconda Fort for siphoning away the Nawab's money, Rama and Lakshmana appeared in person and returned the money in coins. Those coins are still available. Imagine if Rama had to ask for the Nawab's UPI ID! Adi Shankara pleaded on behalf of the poor lady, who had nothing to offer, except an overripe gooseberry. His prayer melted Goddess Mahalakshmi so much so She rained coins for an entire muhurtam (48 minutes). No such miracle is possible anymore. Magicians are also an impoverished lot- those tricks centred on materializing coins, and getting them to disappear, in the blink of an eye, are suddenly irrelevant. 

As children, coins were a constant companion. Every child carried a "piggybank". Each time it inserted a coin, earned from a guest's good-will,  the child's eyes twinkled. It visualized a future- a future where these jingling coins would swell and multiply in the pig's belly, so much so, one day, the entire room would be filled with its choicest toys! Will a UPI transfer give the child a similar kick? At school, Sridhar made some of the most innovative sketches in his drawing book. Placing a coin underneath the paper, he vigorously stroked the pencil over the paper. Soon, the coin came alive- complete with its denomination and peripheral designs. The solar system in the geography note-book could never have been drawn without coins. The 1-rupee coin was always the sun, the 25 paise coin was the earth. 

With the depletion of coins, life has been robbed of all dramatics. Back then, life's greatest decision, "to be an engineer or a doctor", was made by flipping a coin. Bollywood's biggest blockbuster "Sholay"- its entire plot centred on a coin, a double-headed coin, a secret that was revealed at the end of the film. Try using the UPI idea for Sholay- it will fall flat, with mud all over its face! And what about those tacky expressions in English, "Heads I win, tails you lose!"? 

Thankfully, every dark cloud has a silver lining. As a youngster, the topic on "Probability" in Mathematics was my eternal bugbear. "If I have 3 coins and I tossed them, what is the probability, that I will get 3 heads?" What kind of a question is this? I pondered over this question endlessly. It just didn't make any sense. I felt like answering, "It depends on the person, how lucky he is! No?" What else can I say?

Thankfully, we have moved on....moved on from coins to UPI. The world is a better place. There are no coins, no heads, no tails, and surely, no more Probability questions. 

The Platform Ticket

The traffic in our metros is such, no time-estimate can be accurate. If you need to reach the railway station, it does not matter how early you start. You will still be scampering to board the train, and will barely make it, minutes from the train's departure. 

Sometimes, you are not travelling but have the onerous responsibility to assist a relative to board the train. The ride to the station is nervy. You assure your relative, "Don't worry! We will surely make it! We still have 30 minutes! This traffic jam will clear up very soon!" By now, the relative has given up and looks at you with total mistrust!  

It is a nail-biting finish. Tension is writ large on the face...the moment you reach the station. You must quickly spot the platform number from the overhead display. And then, make that 100 metre dash...yes, with the relative in tow, along with the pieces of luggage! In this overwhelming commotion, one vital point is completely missed- buying a platform ticket.

The train leaves- the rear of the last compartment melts into the horizon. It is now...it is now...that the platform ticket comes to mind. How did you miss it? How do you make your exit now? 

The mind comes up with some brilliant suggestions. One part of the mind behaves like Raja Harishchandra, "Dude! Just go straight to the ticket-collector and confess. Tell him clearly- I forgot to buy the platform ticket. Punish me!" The other part of the mind is practical, "Don't be silly! You cannot be so idealistic in this day and age! Be smart and plan your way out!"

Planning your way out when you are guilty is not easy. The guilt is written all over the face. The eyes are shifty, like a prisoner who has just emerged from a daring jailbreak. You look this way and that....to check if any ticket-collectors can be spotted. Every human face looks like a prospective ticket-collector, about to nab you by the ear, sporting an evil grin. "You thought you could be over-smart and beat the system, did you? The arms of the law...are long and inescapable, my dear! Kaanoon ke haath...!" he trails away.

Fear takes over. A shiver runs down the spine. You shuffle your feet to the over-bridge at the platform. You check over your shoulder every few seconds, "Is someone watching? Is someone watching?" By now, a dog on the platform is alerted. Dogs can smell fear. You feel as though...not just this dog, rather, the entire pack of dogs, from all the platforms, are gunning for you, and they will collectively hand you over to the ticket-collector! 

The mind comes up with an alternate approach, "Relax! Pretend as though nothing has happened. Be bold! No one will suspect you do not have a platform ticket. You can fake it and make it!" You take a few deep breaths and go for a complete makeover. You force your face to relax and wear a hint of a smile. You brush your hair back with a flick of the fingers. You roll up the sleeves. The palms go into the trouser pockets. Some self-advice is always good, "Walk with an irreverent, confident, swagger. And perhaps, even hum like Dev Anand- Har fiqr ko dhuen mein udata chala gaya! Who is going to suspect now?"

The railway platform dog is now thoroughly confused. His ears prick up- he has never seen anyone happier! After all, no one whistles and sings merrily, with such abandon, at a railway station. He comes up the over-bridge stairs, following closely at the heels. If the dog is suspicious, what chance do you have with the ticket-collector? None. Once look, and he will catch you by the ear! 

You quickly scan other exit strategies. What if you cross the tracks on foot, from platform-7, and can get to the railway gate? One jump, and you will get to the road. But...but.. is it safe to cross the tracks? Ok! How about pretending that you are not an escort, but a traveller who has just alighted from the train? That should work, shouldn't it? But...but...the lack of any luggage in hand...will be a definite giveaway. 

The last resort was to "prop up a Shikhandi". For the unversed, Shikhandi was a soldier in the Mahabharata war. When Arjuna could not face Bheeshma, he used Shikhandi as a shield. He propped Shikhandi upfront, hid at the back, and faced Bheeshma. This method should be effective. You go with a crowd of people, stick to them closely, but behind them. While the collector is busy checking the platform ticket for someone, quietly, unobtrusively, slip away! No fuss, none whatsoever! In Tamil, this is called the "Kumbal oda Govinda" strategy. It works all the time. What if you still get caught? You chide yourself, "Shut up! There is nothing in life...that is risk-free. Some calculated risks must be taken!" 

The over-bridge walk was a never ending one. I stuck close and mingled with a motley crowd of passengers, on their way out. Suddenly, the walk ended in the open. The sky was blue, and the sun came down, nice and hard. There was no ticket-collector anywhere! 

Some worries...have unexpected, simple endings! Har fiqr ko dhuen mein udata chala gaya!

The inflatable pillow!

In this age of Artificial Intelligence, we have seen some life transforming inventions. We totally agree. But mind you, every generation had its own inventions that took the world by storm. One such invention was the "inflatable pillow". It made overnight train journeys an absolute pleasure. Much like one would flaunt an iPhone today, back then, your status symbol was defined by carrying an inflatable pillow. It was your priced accessory.

Before this novel invention saw the light of day, life was not easy- you had to carry your personal, oversized pillow from home. The pillow was stuffed in a "hold-all" and lugged into the train coupe.  And when it was time to sleep, the hold-all was unwrapped on the train-berth.  The hold-all body served as the cushion, and the bulbous pillow was the headrest. 

That's when the "inflatable pillow" made its grand entry! Suddenly, you didn't have to carry your pillow from home. It was replaced with a sleek, petite inflatable pillow. It looked like an oversized handkerchief- a piece of canvas, that could be carried easily. But this little, diminutive fellow was a pocket-sized dynamite when it came to utility! At one corner of the cloth, was a tiny aperture, fitted with a plastic cap. You blew into the aperture. With each puff, you watched it grow like a balloon. Soon, your pillow was ready!

Stretching yourself on the train-berth, with this pillow as the headrest, you stared at the overhead, grilled fan. The steady rattle of the rail and the rhythmic rocking lulled you to sleep. Needless to say, it was a pleasure like no other. You owed the experience entirely to the inflatable pillow.

Inflatable pillows had a quirky sense of humour. Sometimes, you blew your lungs out, but the pillow wouldn't budge. It stayed flat and stubborn like a rebellious  child. Totally breathless, you examined the sides of the pillow, only to find a tiny incision. Yes, a safety pin left carelessly open in the suitcase, had done the deed- it had successfully managed to burrow a pin-hole into the pillow! Now, the pillow was as purposeful as a punctured bicycle tyre!

Inflating this pillow was no mean task. It required the power of a Naadaswaram artiste. The cheeks were full and puffed, the forehead veins throbbed, the eyes bulged, the ears went red- all of this...all of this...to gather that lung-power to pump the next bout of air into the pillow. It was hard work.

Sometimes, after expending your entire energy in inflating this monstrosity, towards the end, you fidgeted with the cap and struggled to close the vent in time. The pillow punished you mercilessly for your clumsiness. By the time you got your act right and managed to plug the aperture, the pillow had deflated to its original, flat, 6-pack self! The hard work was now completely undone and you had to start from scratch! 

At times, your fingers lost control over the inflated pillow, while trying to plug the cap. It was now a free spirit, much like a run-away balloon. It darted across the coupe like a meteor across the sky. You ran after the meteor and retrieved it...in the process, providing ample, comic relief to the co-passengers.

All said and done, an inflatable pillow had some serious weaknesses. Once inflated, you were never satisfied with its shape, size, feel and comfort. There was always some "room for improvement" much like the advice you hear in parent-teacher meetings. If the air was too full, it bounced about ungainly and summarily threw your head out when you pressed yourself against the pillow. If the air was less, it felt as though your neck had no support. Getting that right balance was an unending battle. Often, you spent the entire night blowing hot and cold- till eventually sleep took over...and you slept...regardless of the pillow!

Inflatable pillows had a strange fragrance that hung around them...all the time. It was tough to classify the smell as pleasant or unpleasant. May be, it was the musty odour of the canvas. May be, it was the excess saliva, may be, it was the smell of that plastic cap. Perhaps, it was just the fact that it stayed in the closet for months on end, and brought out, only when it was time for the annual summer vacation! 

Nonetheless, the inflatable pillow was your faithful, travel companion. What would I not give...to get those days back?...to lie down on that train berth, with that blue, inflatable pillow as headrest, to stare at that grilled, ceiling fan, and to hear that TT's voice, "Yes, the train is late by 2 hours. We are yet to reach Cuddapah. It will reach Renigunta only at 3 am. You can sleep till then!"

Gems from the acharya: On Lord Vishnu

Continuing our study on the Harikatha by Smt Sharada Gannavaram, we are now going to focus on the 6th and final deity in the Shanmata (6-deity) pantheon- i.e. Lord Vishnu.

As mentioned in the previous articles, this harikatha is unique because all the verses are taken from compositions by the 34th acharya of Sringeri - Sri Sri Chandrashekhara Bharati mahaswami.

In this essay, we will see 3 verses by the mahaswami on 3 aspects of Lord Vishnu- as Lord Narasimha, as Krishna and as Rama.

Verse 1: On Lord Narasimha

The Narasimha parvata at Sringeri is sacred. The acharyas of Sringeri visit this mountain peak from time to time and offer prayers to Lord Narasimha.

In this verse, the mahaswami shows his intense yearning to visit this mountain. He says, "O Narasimha, kadaa tvaam pashyeyam...When will I see you?  When will I be present at that sacred mountain...pravara giri shringa sthitam aham?" What does acharya want to do, having reached that spot? He says, "I would like to sit there and do your mantra japam...tava manu japam kartum uchitah".

The longing continues in the next line. He says, "kadaa sat-chit saannidhye...When will I be immersed in your divine presence? When will I be in your saannidhyam...such that all the divergent thoughts can be gathered...and focused on you....vishama vishaya aasakta hridiram....sadaa saktam kuryaam?" These words are addressed to Lord Narasimha, who is extolled as the one destroys the cycle of birth and death..."jani-mrti harey....hey nara-harey".

This verse is similar to Adi Shankara's verses in the Shivananda Lahari, where he expresses the same yearning, in similar words- "When will I see you at Kailasa (kadaa vaa kailaase), where the happiness is so intense that even yugas and kalpas pass off...as though in an instant (kshanam iva)?" Similarly, Adi Shankara expresses the same longing in Saundarya Lahari for Devi...where he uses the same  "kadaa" construct..."When will I get the opportunity to worship your feet..."kadaa kaaley maatah...kadaa dhattey" etc.

Spiritual progress is measured in terms of the intensity to reach the goal. That burning aspiration, that anguish...as though the hair is on fire...and we need instant relief...is expressed through the repetition of "kadaa...kadaa...kadaa"...when...when...when? We see that extreme intensity in these verses.

In the Harikatha, this portion is sung in "Aahiri", a raaga used to portray "yearning" and "longing".

Verse 2: On Lord Krishna

The mahaswami has composed a sweet verse on Krishna as a baby, baala-krishna. We are familiar with Krishna and the adorable stories centred on butter. He is after all the "navaneeta chora", the one who steals butter. 

Poets and composers use their rich imagination to describe these butter episodes in interesting ways. For example, Muthuswamy Dikshitar, in his composition "Cheta shri Baalakrishnam bhajarey" (Dwijavanti raaga), says, Krishna has been eating so much butter, that when you go close to him, his face itself exudes the fragrance of butter! We see this in the line "navaneeta gandha vaaha vadanam"!

The mahaswami lets his imagination loose in his verse on Lord Krishna. He says, in the Vedas (in the Chandogya Upanishad section), it is said, that the "food that we eat" (annam) consists of 3 parts. The "gross part" of the food caters to the tongue alone and is ejected by the body. The "middle part of the food" nourishes the physical body. And finally and most importantly, the "subtle part" of the food, becomes the mind. The mahaswami expresses this point in the words- "annamayam maanasam iti shruti ukta". At this point, the mahaswami expresses surprise, that only now (adya), he understands what this message in the Veda means (shruti ukta arthah anvabhaayvam adya)!  He says, this statement in the Veda, that the subtle part of the food...becomes the mind of the person, is seen in Lord Krishna! 

Note- The term "mind" and "heart" are used interchangeably in scripture. "Manas" is the "hrdayam" and hrdayam is manas.

The acharya says, Krishna has been eating so much butter...that the "subtle part of butter" has become Krishna's mind. Butter is soft, the subtle part of butter, must be softer. And Krishna's mind, being the subtle aspect of butter, must be softest! Hence, he ends the verse, by saying...compared to butter also, "tasmaad api" komalam hrdayam...Krishna's heart is softer than the softest butter! 

Any number of examples are available to illustrate Krishna's soft heart. When he met his long, lost friend Sudama...and hugged him and served him, we get a glimpse into Krishna's heart. How easily Krishna moved with Arjuna..even tolerating and enjoying Arjuna's pranks (as confessed by Arjuna...in his own words in the Geeta, Chapter 11), shows how soft Krishna was!

As far as we are concerned, Krishna's softness is seen in his "pratignya vaakyam" in the Geeta. Krishna says, "Api chet su-duraachaarah, even if you are the worst of criminals (su-duraachaarah), the moment your heart turns to Me, I will accept you...entirely! This is my promise!" 

This is..."tasmaad api komalam hrdayam"!

Verse 3: On Lord Rama

The acharya composes a verse to illustrate a particular point (a neeti), by taking an incident from Lord Rama's charitra. He says, "A devotee must cultivate the mindset to have bhakti towards the guru, even if the disciple feels that the guru has treated him in a harsh way". Sometimes, the guru may be harsh towards the student. The student may require such chastening so that he can evolve as a better person. He must give this benefit of doubt to the guru, even if the student feels aggrieved (adhari krtopi mahataa...nityam seveta saadaram bhuushnuh).

To illustrate this point, the mahawami takes Rama's paadukas. Rama's feet presses against the paadukas when he walks with them. Figuratively, it is as though, "Rama is trying to put-down the paadukas". But the paadukas do not protest. It is as if..."It is Rama who is pressing me. My rough edges are getting smoothed. It is for my own good!"

And what was the end result of going through the "harsh" treatment? The paadukas got elevated...to such an extent...that they ruled the entire kingdom of Ayodhya! Such was the bhaagya that the paadukas enjoyed! Hence, the mahaswami says- "paadaakraantaa-api paadukaa raajyam samaye alabhata".

So too, with every student. The guru may chide him in a particular context. It can even be life's painful situations that the student goes through. The student does not complain. He remembers, "These harsh experiences are for my growth. They have been gift-wrapped for me. I will go through them...without protest or murmur! And one day, just like the Rama paadukas, I will also inherit the entire kingdom...raama-bhakti saamraajyam...the moksha saamraajyam!"

This is the lesson that we learn from Rama's paadukas.

With this, we have completed the study of "shan-mata" (6 deities) through the harikatha. We pray to the acharya and to bhagavan in his 6 aspects to bless us with "sakala mangalam"....all auspiciousness...now and always!

References:

The Harikatha:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X8do3so7s0M