What I Missed While Walking Past the Kanchi Mutt

Image
A place I passed every day without really understanding it. As a kid growing up in Malleswaram, devotion wasn’t something we discussed — it was just in the air. The smell of agarbathi in the evenings. The noise of vendors lining up on 8th cross before a festival. The quiet expectation that you showed up, bowed your head, and moved on. Ganesh Chaturthi. Varalakshmi Vratam. Deepavali. Janmashtami. Ugadi. The calendar moved, but the pattern stayed. The Kanchi Kamakoti Peetham in Malleswaram was part of my daily route to school. Not something I questioned. Not something I deeply understood. Just… there. Every morning, on my way to school, I would slow down for a second in front of the Mutt. Just enough to bow my head toward Kanchi Kamakshi from outside the gate — and then hurry along before the school bell. It was a ritual for as long as I can remember. I don’t know if it came from devotion. I did it because my parents did it. The street...
Post a Comment

Visualizing the moment

The days fly by so fast these days that it's so hard to keep track of them.  Every other day is more or less the same, and the differentiating factors are governed usually by the daily monotonies.  "Oh, it's a Tuesday.  I have to take my son to the swimming class." Every day has a set routine.  Monday to Friday is fast, and the weekends go by faster.  Our days are dictated by our kids.  One of them is shouting and the other is running around.  Or, it's both shouting and both running.  Let's make it even better.  It's the four of us shouting and running around.   My wife and I would literally be at our wits end.  It's not easy managing two kids.   

Friday was a slow day.  Mom was late from work.  Dad was busy playing with the kids in the backyard.  After finishing our dinner, we were just hanging around.  I was sitting on the couch with my laptop.  Akhil came and sat next to me.  

"Appa, what you doing?", asked Akhil with absolutely no regard to grammar or to anything in life at this point.

"I am going to play some songs by MS Paati.  Do you want to listen?"

He nodded quite unsure of what exactly I was hinting at.  

So, I played my usual favorite, Bhavayami Gopalabalam and this Annamacharya Kriti can bring even the notorious stoic to display emotions.

Akhil sat in silence absorbing the music around him.  I put my arm around him as he snuggled comfortably looking intently at the laptop.

"Who is this paati?", asked Akhil.

This is MS paati, I reiterated.  (paati means grandma)

Then, we moved on to Brochevarevarura, which is another classic. 

My wife was at the dinner table looking at both of us, wondering if she was in some kind of an alternate universe.  Being at peace at home is not something that happens even occasionally.  Here we were, not only sitting quietly but also appreciating some heavenly Carnatic music.

When we dispersed for the evening after the renditions, I was somehow overcome with emotion.  I told me wife, "If I have to visualize life with family and kids, this is the moment.  A quiet evening with father and son bonding over MS Subbulakshmi's wonderful Carnatic music, mom watching from the sidelines and little sister in a blissful sleep, is a moment that will forever be etched in memory."

If there is something called as simple happiness, this is what it would be, I thought to myself.

There was something beautiful in those moments.  I am sure this is just one of many.

Comments

Post a Comment