The time was 5 am. The street leading to the Main Guard Gate, usually bustling with activity - vendors selling everything from flowers and garlands to clothes and electronic appliances - was for the first time deserted and devoid of all activity. The distant signboard "Singapore Plaza" reminded me of Singapore's very own busy shopping mall Plaza Singapura - a sprawling 7-storeyed shopping complex, full of eating houses, expensive branded-item shops (where the only type of shopping we did was the type that had Microsoft's famous invention for a prefix), a cineplex and a supermarket, with a train station at its basement. However, the Singapore Plaza in question was basically a row of street shops, each shop large enough just for a row of ten cordless telephone sets (most probably purchased in Singapore for 80% of their current price or less) and a 2-ft square area where the shop owner sat on a cushion - shouting his deals all day to attract the passers-by. But the earliest bird among these birds (pun intended) was probably still at home brushing his teeth with a healthy twig from the nearest banyan tree.
As our car took a turn, the graceful Rock-Fort came into view - the new golden 'vimaanam' glittering in the night lights for the final hour before dawn. The symbol of Trichurapalli or Trichy, the Rock-Fort somehow demanded respect and gave the kind of feeling that Lord Vinayaka was overseeing everything that happened in this South Indian town. As we drove out of Trichy northward along the bridge on the river Kaveri, the spire of the Srirangam temple rose majestically in the distance in the middle of the lush folliage on the island formed due to the splitting and rejoining of the river into Kaveri and Coleroon or Kollidam. To my knowledge, I have never seen water in Kollidam. But Kaveri used to have water to its brim and the speed of its flow always frightened me as a kid. Today the river was but a solitary stream of water a few feet wide, with sufficient water for the washermen to wash clothes. The rest of the river bed was bare, waiting only for the lorries to pick up loads of sand as illegal construction material.
The Ayyan Vaaikaal is a creek off the mainstream Kaveri and flows for more than twenty kilometers in the area North-west of Trichy and is one of the three branches at the Melanai (The Upper Anaikut dam) at the Mukombu (Three branches). A State Highway has been laid along the river, closely following the bends of the river. Drivers who prefer driving on straighter roads would curse this design. But it only adds to the beauty of this eastward road - on one side the meandering stream, and beyond it, the broadest section of the Kaveri river; on the other side: lush green fields of paddy and sugarcane stretching as far as the eye can perceive; and at every third bend, a small temple dedicated to one of the many local deities.
A by-lane into what looks like a banana plantation brought us to our native village - Amoor. We were here for the Balaalayam, or the initiation of the renovation and the Kumbabishegam, of the temple of our family deity - Goddess Angalamman. "Bala alayam" literally means "small temple". The aim of the Balalayam was to ceremoniously transfer the power from the main spire atop the sanctum sanctorum(s) to a smaller replica or painting of the spire, after invoking the blessings or in other words obtaining official permission from the presiding deities to proceed with the renovations. Its amazing how the most complicated of rituals and ceremonies usually have the simplest of meanings.
The Shivaachariyaar, the main priest conducting the ceremonies of the day, seemed to have the same energy and lustre since the last time he conducted the Kumbabishegam at our temple twelve years ago. He and his four assistants kick started the ceremony with the Poornaahuti which means "complete offering" and is meant to symbolize the integration of all our abilities into a particular activity with unified dedication.. The 'aahuti' or the offering contained a dry coconut with nine types of grains and coins all tied in a piece of cloth and was offered to the fire with ghee while chanting Vedic manthras. "Pledging the dedication of every member in a team is the first step in any project.", the Shivaachariyaar explained. Coming to think of it, this simple one liner could be applied to any field as the underlying principle for success.
The Shivaachariyaar moved on to the next ritual which I call the 'Transfer of Power' - the main purpose of the Balalayam. The 'kudam's or the holy pots with water were first consecrated and the 'abhishegam' was done on replicas of the 3 temple towers of the 3 main deities with towers. Apart from these three main deities, there are 4 other deities with colored statuettes and no towers - all the Goddesses incarnations of Goddess Paarvathi and the Gods incarnations of Lord Shiva - all local Protector Gods with fiery eyes and wielding huge swords, one of them is even shown devouring the flesh of a probable demon defaulter. The transfer of power for the deities without a tower was done onto 4 miniature paintings quickly drawn by the chief construction engineer or the 'Stapathi'. The Transfer of Power complete, the Stapathi, followed by a few of us, gently hammered one side of the tower with a sword - symbolizing the official launch of the renovations and painting work for the temple.
One of the best parts of these traditions apart from the divinity of the actual rituals, is... you guessed it right - the Food! Sadly it usually comes at the very end. But the spread is usually something to look forward to. This time too, we were not disappointed. The two cheerful cooks ensured we ate till we dropped. Our street housed the upper-middle class of the village population. Unlike the condominiums or bangalows of the crowded cities which somehow have an element of egotistic pride attached to them, these old-fashioned mud-and-stone houses interspersed with some more modern concrete houses, had an unassuming appeal about them. As we walked past, our neighbor allowed us to take a couple of drumsticks from her tree. I initially struggled with the long stick which had a hook at one end, much to the amusement of the villagers. I couldnt do much until one of them actually taught me the art. Once I knew how to do it, we decided to rid the tree of the burden of carrying so many drumsticks and brought home whatever we could.
A huge mirror in the hall of the house we stayed in, had not too long ago been shattered to pieces, thanks to the bunch of termites who had happily made a mid-day meal out of the mirror's decades-old hook. But for these occasional signs of deterioration, more due to the neglect of the owner than anything else, the house was comfortable. It had a superb ventilation system, no mosquitoes, and a brilliant old-fashioned feel about it. Somehow the entire setting, of the Kaveri, the fields and the rustic scenes made me feel I was in some other world - much more beautiful, much more peaceful and far far away from the hustle and bustle of savage civilization...
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