• Abstract and Figures
• Public Full-text

M Spark Y Word.World.Wisdom P L M A Y C E S O U May 2011 L 05 May 2011 Spark—May 2011: Dear Reader, The Team We are pleased to present the May 2011 issue of Spark, which is based on the theme, ‘My Place, My Soul.’ There’s a de- lightful collection of content for you this time, one that we are extremely proud of —art, photography, short stories, personal reflections and poetry that touch upon a wide variety of perspectives of the theme. Contributors: We hope to leave you feeling nostalgic Amrita Sarkar about places that have touched your soul Anupama Krishnakumar too. Arnab Rudra Balaji Iyer So, get going and catch all the action in Bijesh Krishnadas the issue. Don’t forget to let us know Maheswaran Sathiamoorthy what you thought of this edition of Spark. Manali Rohinesh Mail us at Parvathi Jayamohan [email protected]. Preeti Madhusudhan We will see you next month with yet an- Rashmee Karnad—Jani other interesting edition! Sandhya Ramachandran Till then, goodbye and God bless! Sonnet Mondal Swetha Ramachandran Cheers, Vani Viswanathan Spark Editorial Team Varsha Sreenivasan Vivekananth Gurumoorthy Coverpage photograph: Writer of the Month: Bishwanath Ghosh Nickwheelroz Concept, Editing, Design: Anupama Krishnakumar Vani Viswanathan TABLE OF CONTENTS S PAR K —MAY 2011 : MY PLACE, MY SOUL Coin Purse by Rashmee Karnad-Jani The Call of Kottiyoor by Varsha Sreenivasan Falling in Love with Calcutta by Bishwanath Ghosh My Campus, My Soul by Maheswaran Sathiamoorthy The Great Indian Cynical Class by Bijesh Krishnadas A Pale Pink Dawn by Preeti Madhusudhan Pond of My Tears by Sonnet Mondal Melbourne Magic by Bijesh Krishnadas An Undying Love for Big Cities by Vani Viswanathan Of Places and Fond Memories by Swetha Ramachandran The Many Moods of Key West by Vivekananth Gurumoorthy Rail Duniya by Balaji Iyer Ripples in Jaipur by Parvathi Jayamohan Hide and Seek by Amrita Sarkar Bye Bye Ahmedabad by Sandhya Ramachandran Little Joys at Marine Drive by Anupama Krishnakumar Sunset at the Great Salk Lake by Arnab Rudra Eternal and Ethereal Kashmir by Manali Rohinesh Coin Purse Poetry by Rashmee Karnad-Jani In from the softly falling snow buying coffee to keep me going through the next few hours the change in my purse makes me smile some rupees, some two some dollars, some quarters and dimes just like me all mixed up together the Indian and Canadian bits of me with a ‘small decaff, one milk please. To go’ here and a ‘kitna hua’ there and each part special each part just right just me. Picture by Ollie Crafoord The Call of Kottiyoor Non-fiction by Varsha Sreenivasan The journey to Kottiyoor. Varsha Sreenivasan takes us on a journey through the beautiful greens of Kerala, to a little place called Kottiyoor which boasts of two temple shrines. Read on to know more about the place and the history that precedes it. Text and photographs by Varsha Sreenivasan. Nestled in the lap of the beautiful Sahya mountains in Kerala, lovingly nurtured by the evergreen Wayanad forests and closely guarded by the intimidating Western Ghats, lies an ancient mystical place called Kottiyoor, reverentially prefixed with the salutation Sri in recognition of its divine status. About 70 km from my hometown of Kannur, Sri Kottiyoor is cocooned within the eastern border of the district, and steeped in centuries-old myth and legend. The road to this legendary place snakes through lush green landscape bordering the Wayanad forests, depositing you at the banks of the gushing Bavali River. Deep within the green sanctuary on either side of this river and hidden from view are two ancient temple shrines dedicated to Lord Shiva and Goddess Sati. The shrines are called Akkare Kottiyoor and Ikkare Kottiyoor, referring to ‘that bank’ and ‘this bank.’ While ‘this bank’ shrine is accessible to devotees through the year like any other place of worship, ‘that bank’ is open to pilgrims and priests for only 28 days at a specific time annually. The occasion is a cause for celebration for anxious devotees fasting in the period prior to the much await- ed opening. They celebrate the event marking the end of their wait as the Vaisakha Maholsavam or the Vaisakha Festival. If ‘that bank’ is so special to everyone converging in thousands every single day for nearly a month, why then is it shut to all throughout the rest of the year? This has been a source of great wonder to me for quite some time, being one among the countless who share the same deep, inexplicable bond with the place. The mystery still remains, though the history is more commonly available. In the lap of Nature—cloud covered Ghats overlook Kottiyoor homes It is said that ancient records by scholars describing significant places of pilgrimage and their im- portance, mention the place of Kottiyoor as the location of the fire sacrifice performed by King Daksha in ancient times. Texts say this event was brought to a sharp halt when the King’s young- est daughter Princess Sati, the divine consort of Lord Shiva, gave up her earthly form in the sacrifi- cial flames, anguished by the insult of her lord by her father. The story goes that on seeking par- don, the Lord forgave the King and at the behest of the worried Gods, he himself completed the interrupted fire sacrifice or yagna for the benefit of all beings. A grieving Shiva is then said to have taken the form of the Swayambhu or the self-manifested lingam next to the site where Devi Sati offered her mortal form in yogic fire. This is the event, which many Indians believe, became the trigger for the tradition called simply as Sati– the tradition of the Indian wife offering her mortal being in the funeral pyre of her dead husband, marking the end of their earthly journey together as soul mates. This tradition initially began in ancient times with the voluntary act of renunciation of the form bound to all earthly attachments in yogic fire called yogagni – the fire of awareness of divine unity. Over the years, it gradually degraded into a gruesome practice of crime against women, where her immediate soci- ety forced the act upon the individual. This custom was prevalent in several parts of India and spread out across the sub continent, until it was officially outlawed in 1829. Rohini Aradhana - Crowds throng to witness the priest embracing the Shiva Linga to console Shiva. But the word Sati means the feminine, the true one. To me, this is the meaning closest to my heart. To me, Sati signifies the innocent daughter true to her father, the impartial wife true to her husband and the enlightened soul true to her knowledge of dispassion and divine unity. To me, Sati signifies divine equilibrium inspiring her father to recognise the failings of ego and vanity; inspiring her lord toward earthly renunciation. To me Sati signifies the heart of all creatures, the quiet silence that speaks as the conscience of every individual, whispering the truth of ego and pride on one end and love and for- giveness on the other, asking it to choose and choose well. Anxious crowds brave rain and storm to just be there. To me, Sati is the divine balance that must be kept, to rescue my soul from the clutches of blind ego, to deliver the ego into the all knowing flames of Supreme Unity of all beings and all creation. Sri Kottiyoor to me like to many of my countrymen, is that mysterious altar that has unmistakeably be- come my place, my Soul. Well looked after - Temple elephants await their turn of their own special worship and food offer- ing. FALLING IN LOVE WITH CALCUTTA Bishwanath Ghosh is the author of bestselling travel book 'Chai, Chai - Travels in Places Where You Stop But Never Get Off' (Tranquebar Press, 2009). His next book, a portrait of Chennai, 'Tamarind City: Where Modern India Began', is due for publication later this year. Ghosh's stories have also appeared in 'Urban Shots', a collection of short stories published by Grey Oak Publishers. He blogs at http:// bytheganges.blogspot.com What does Calcutta mean to Bishwanath Ghosh? The writer offers an interesting perspective on his relationship with the city. Not just that, Ghosh has something to add about the place he has lived in over the last ten years – Chennai. Chennai, he says is like his wife, and Calcutta, his mistress. More, in this special column for Spark. Bishwanath Ghosh is our Writer of the Month. Wife is someone who you resign to. Mistress is someone you yearn for – she has things your wife doesn’t, which is why she became a mistress in the first place. I’ve been married to Chennai for over ten years now. She’s been a traditional and dutiful wife, who looks after me well, prays in temples every morning and evening for my success, has no complaints against me except when I light up a cigarette, who wears nothing but sarees (only when she is about to get into bed does she change into a nightie that is buttoned up) and makes sure her midriff remains covered when we have guests over. When I wake up in the morning to the delectably sour smell of idlis being steamed, I find her in the kitchen, already changed into a saree, preparing coconut chutney. When I hug her from behind, she shyly pushes me away: “This is not the place. Neighbours can see.” Our immediate neigh- bours live some 500 metres away: they are an elderly couple, whose two sons live in America, and the daughter is married to an engineer, also living in America.

Load more

  57

Copy Link