Of Changing Times, and God
It is said, change is the essence of life.  The evolution of humankind itself is a testimony to this eternal truth.  Years ago, when I came to the Capital from my hometown 3000 kms. away, for my higher studies, I happened to visit a friend’s uncle who was a very senior officer in the Foreign Service.  During the conversation, he asked me, `So, how do you feel about being here?”  In all my innocence, I replied, “Oh, it is a big change” which, indeed, it was. And the very widely traveled gentleman said, “See, as long as the change is for good, it is okay, or else, it can be quite disastrous”.  And for effect, he added, “It is for you to take the right decision about what course your life should take in these formative years”.  I am not too sure whether I fully comprehended the sweep and scope of his advice.  The fact that, years later, I still remember his words (may his soul rest in peace) means they did have an impact on my then impressionable mind.

Speaking of change, every year, when I make my annual visit home, (my mother tells me, “you are a `visiting son’, like a Visiting Professor!), I realize how much times have changed – not just the times, but individuals, everything around you, including yourself. Well, change is the law of nature as well.

The everlasting march of time and change doesn’t spare anything or anyone – not even Gods and Goddess!  And I see this on my ritual visit to the temple near my home.  It is like this – we have this old, small, beautiful Shiva temple a few minutes’ walk from my home.  In fact, I would claim that ours is the nearest home to God!  (nearer to Church, farther from         God - eh?)  Only the Highway separates Him from us!  So, we have a special attachment to, and bond with, Him!  Religious as we all were - and still are, though in a lesser degree and in a less ritualistic manner – my grandfather donated, among other things, a lamp which is hung right behind the main Shiva idol in the sanctum sanctorum.  Every day, we send a cup full of oil which is poured into this lamp, and a mala (garland) which is placed on Shiva, before the evening puja.  And it was my duty to take this to the temple every evening. 

I still remember those days vividly.  As we enter the temple complex, the first thing to do is to go wash my legs and hands in the pond – which incidentally used to be swarming with a particular species of harmless fish!  Outside the main complex is a smaller temple which also was abode to a Shivalingam.  On the periphery was the Oottupura, the place where the Sadya is held in case there is a marriage.  But we kids remember the Oottupura more for another reason – it was he that the Kathakali artistes used to get the make-up done for their annual performance on the Shivaratri!

Inside the temple complex, Lord Shiva reigned supreme, with a small, stone-made Nandi keeping a close watch on all those who entered the premises.  To a side sat Ayyappa and Ganapati in a small enclosure.  The ageing peepal tree provided shelter from the Sun.  The Kalithattlu beside the peepal tree came handy in case of rains – we could rush in, to avert getting drenched.  The white sand remained white – there was no littering by any one.  Outside, the paddy fields were a treat to watch – either a green pasture or a golden hue!  Early mornings, the birds chipped, there was a gentle breeze, the Sun emerging in all its glory on the eastern horizon, and the sanctum opens to the blowing of the Shankh, the sound of the temple bell tolling, the soft lilts of the Thudi.  As the Sun sets, it is time for the evening puja, and dutifully, I am there! All around, peace and tranquility, and Godliness prevailed, I would say.

I recall those days and I can still feel the elevating experience every time I used to be in the temple.  I particularly remember many evenings during the monsoons when I used to be the only one there – a small, school-going boy, other than the thirumeni (priest) and the person who blows the Shankh during the evening puja.  Often, there will not be electricity, meaning the few electric lights will not be working, which made those evenings more special.  Only a few oil lamps will be lighted, the rain will be falling in sheets all around you, and as the thirumeni opens the sanctum for the last puja of the day, the sound of the Shankh goes up above the thunder, the bells toll (on many occasions, I had to do it), and the Lord gives His darshan to you, His eyes benevolently upon you, on His only devotee who braved the elements to be at His feet!  It is something which can only be experienced, not explained.  And then the priest comes down, he does the puja for Ayyappa and Ganapati, and then comes out in the rain, for the puja in the outer abode.  I return home, mostly dripping wet, but feeling special, as the only one who could be with Him in such inclement weather!

Years later, as I make my visit to the same temple today, I realize how much everything has changed!  The whole complex has now a wall all around – as if the Lord needed to be protected from trespassers!  The huge temple pond has been cut to size, as it were, with one-third of it filled up.  A string of shops sell cosmetics, condoms, eggs, hairpins, bangles, and may be even the local brew! The splashing of the shoal of fish is missing in the pool.  A devaswom office functions near the Oottupura where a clerk ensures that you can pour oil into the lamp only if you paid a token amount.  Tube lights are put up all around the complex.  Mikes blare out so-called devotional songs to the tune of popular Malayalam or Hindi songs!  The age-old peepal tree has given way to a much younger one.  Brothers Ayyappa and Ganapati have been separated arbitrarily and the former made to sit in a separate enclosure in the complex.  Another space has been carved out for the Yakshi and the Nagas.  A huge bell aloft a tall pillar has come up (my family’s contribution to the series of changes) which tolls at the time of the evening puja.  The sound of the Shankh is drowned out in the cacophony of entreaties of the devotees to the Lord.  And you hardly get to see His benign eyes in the throng who crane their neck to beat others to catch His eye!

And more than that, people – wherever you turn, you find only devotees – of all ages, sizes, both sexes.  In my childhood days, we used to wear dhotis, the torso bare, as we take off the shirt once inside the complex.  Today, you find Killer jeans and Live-in jeans, Arrow tee shirts and what not!  The shoal of fish is missing in the pond, but the complex is swarming – with people.  As I walk around lost in thought, in nostalgia, I realize who is missing in the crowd – He is missing, at least to me!  But then, I console myself – times have changed, the world has changed, I have changed – may be, even He has changed, to move with the times!  After all, change is what He Himself has prescribed as the elixir of life.