Episode 3/Chapter 21: What, If Our Dreams Come True!

Chapter 21

The eclipse started at about nine thirty in the morning and lasted nearly two hours and fifteen minutes. The Sun went behind and there was gloom everywhere. People believed that Rahu and Kethu, the two ‘snake constellations’ were swallowing the Sun during eclipse and so the eclipse period was considered inauspicious. I waited for the eclipse to be over. When the Sun appeared again to signal the end of the eclipse, I was ready on the river to take a bath. There were priests waiting near the river bank, offering their services to those who wanted to perform ‘tarpan’ and these priests were usually offered a small ‘dakshina’ for their services. (Dakshina is a small fee paid to a priest). When I was about to finish my bath, Adhi Kesavan too came running to join me and pleaded with me to wait for him for the tarpan. We finished our bath, changed our dress and went into the mandap on the banks of the river. The mandap looked cleaner for that day’s ritual. We joined a small group of people who were about to begin their tarpan. When the tarpan got over and people started dispersing after offering their small dakshina to the priest, we too approached the priest to offer ours. As we neared the priest, I was aghast with what I saw.

There, where the priest was sitting, just from above his head, a beam of sunlight passed through the ceiling and fell exactly on the crown of his head. His head was completely shaved except for a small tuft at the back. He, probably, felt the heat of the sun rays on his head. For a moment he looked up, raising his right hand just below his eyebrows as a cover, squinted, murmured something to himself and moved a foot to his left. Where the sun rays fell on the floor, we saw a two by two foot stone slab fixed to the ground and on this stone slab, was cut a small sculpture of a Brahmin prostrating before the Sun. And the sun rays fell exactly on this stone.

I looked at Adhi Kesavan and he also noticed this. His face brightened like thousand Suns. We knew what it meant. We quickly went out to a secluded place along the river bank, to work out our strategy.

*****

We allowed things to rest for a few days. Then, we chose a full moon day for our operations. When the village had gone to sleep, we slowly crept to the river side. During the intervening period, we had silently uprooted and cleared many bushes, for our easy passage to the mandap on the river side and we had also practiced moving through this passage even in darkness.

We went inside the mandap and located the small, two by two foot stone slab, cut with the sculpture of a Brahmin prostrating before the Sun, fixed to the ground. We had carried with us a chisel and a hammer besides a stick wound with cloth wig on one end to be used as a torch and a few other commonly available sundry items that we felt might be needed for our job. We chiseled along the edges of the stone slowly and steadily, but in the silence of the night, the noise was deafening. It appeared our forefathers were great engineers and they had far superior technology. The binding material was very strong and didn’t come out easily. We didn’t want to break the stone slab and make a shoddy show. We didn’t want people prying into our operations. Our bodies hurt, as we tried harder to separate the stone slab from the adjoining ones. It was past midnight and we hardly had two or three more hours at our disposal, as we knew most villagers would come out of their houses in the early morning hours to ease themselves in dark corners of the river side.

We tried and tried. We froze for some time when we suddenly heard the sound of a bullock cart moving on the roadside. ‘Would the farmer driving the cart have heard the noise of our chiseling?’ Probably not!

If he had, he would have responded with a loud shout. He ought to have been half asleep; the only sound that came from him was calling forth the bullocks ‘hei, hei’ to keep them on their track. From the distance, we heard the feeble sound of the bells tied to the neck of the bullocks. Nothing more!

Once the cart moved away, we continued our operations. Something crawled close to my legs and I jumped frightened. It could have been a snake, I didn’t know. Luckily no damage was done. My heart pumped feverishly and I breathed heavily.

‘Am I committing a mistake?’ I wondered for a moment.

Adhi Kesavan seemed to be stronger than what I originally thought. We were in the middle of peak summer and the air was damp. He was sweating profusely, as he concentrated on the job. I felt sorry that I couldn’t provide much physical help.

Suddenly, Adhi Kesavan raised his both hands jubilantly, signaling he had succeeded partially in disjointing the stone slab. It took some more time before he could completely remove it and we could touch the soil below it. With great urgency, we removed the subsoil. It went deeper and deeper until we hit with something.

‘Was it a lid of a box?’ We moved our hands slowly on the crest and tried to determine what it was. We avoided lighting the torch unless it became essential. After several minutes of inspection, it dawned on us that it could probably be a lid for something below. Could it be a trap door to a tunnel? It was made of metal. We tried to locate any bolt or handle, but there was none. We moved our fingers slowly along the edges and tried to lift it. It didn’t budge. We tried several times, but in the darkness we couldn’t find a way to open the door.

We noticed the wee hours lighting on the horizon and we knew soon people would be out of their homes. Feeling dejected, we hurriedly dumped the soil back into the pit, covered it with the stone slab and left the place.

*****

“I am sure there would be a passage or tunnel below the trap door.” I told Adhi Kesavan. The map pointed towards such a possibility.

“Will it be accessible?”

“I don’t really know. But there are some issues involved.”

“Like what?”

“You know, if at all we locate something beneath the ground, whatever that be, we need proof that it was retrieved from such and such place. People want proof. Anything underground is government property and we can’t claim private ownership. Besides, people might say that whatever we found was a hoax. So, we need witnesses that we indeed recovered something from there. And that witness must be irrefutable.”

“So, what should we do?”

“I have an idea. People tend to believe anything that is Western. We don’t seem to trust our own abilities, heritage, and talents unless an Englishman or an American vouchsafes for it. Many good things about us need to be lauded from abroad, for us to recognize. Our self-esteem had fallen so low these days, thanks to our subservience to Mogul, Europeans and British for centuries. So, I am planning to write to one of my friends over there. He is a very trustworthy person. He is now in England.”

Adhi Kesavan was looking undecided and confused. Then I explained to him about my association with William who gave away all the money he received from the sale of his estates for the construction of dams in Papanasam area. I also told Adhi Kesavan about Jhia, the street gymnast and acrobat, who had since married William and was now in England. They were happily married, before William finally left India and they now had a daughter.

“What can William do?” Asked Adhi Kesavan.

“He has contacts there. He can arrange for a television crew who would film our entire operation as a witness. If we find anything, they will telecast it as a story and discovery. The whole world will know. Then our rulers will tread cautiously in dealing with the issue, whatever might come up. We may have some defense and protection. If something very valuable was found, I am sure we are bound for a long legal battle.” I told him.

He was still unsure, but nodded his head - may be due to his realization that after all he had no choice in this matter.

*****

William’s mail arrived after a few weeks. It said he was trying to pull strings with a few influential people over there, to arrange for a TV team from a popular international television channel. He added that he needed to be extremely discreet about revealing details of our operations and that as soon as he succeeded, we would be intimated. He also wrote with pride that his daughter Dweepa had now picked up several words to speak and she had carefully learnt to pronounce my name too. The letter also said Jhia was very particular that Dweepa spoke Tamil too. Dweepa looked very cute and sweet in the photograph attached to the letter.

After a suspenseful wait for a month, his next mail arrived. Within the next couple of days, I was in Madras to receive the television crew. The crew arrived by a British Airways flight. We met at the airport and introduced each other. Welsch was a national broadcasting corporation’s reporter and he was accompanied by Donald, the cameraman. Welsch was once a cameraman too and so he too could cover the event if needed. We reached Ambasamudram by train, after changing over at Tirunelveli and they were put in a hotel that came nowhere near the standards they were used to. But they were quite accommodating and were excited about the work we were about to begin. I briefed them about what we might expect from our operations. I also briefed them about the legalities of the issue to the extent I knew.

Within the next couple of days, we left for Brahmadesam.

“Shall we hire a car?”I offered to Welsch and Donald.

“No, we shall use that…..” His fingers pointed out at the bicycles parked outside the judicial court complex. So, we hired bicycles from a cycle shop for a few days and we pedaled our way to Brahmadesam. It was hot during the day and we were sweating profusely. But the Englishmen seemed to be enjoying the hot weather and the cycle ride. A few onlookers wondered what we were up to.

I introduced Adhi Kesavan. Once again we briefly narrated the history of the place and the history of our apprehension about the possible evidence that might lie buried underneath somewhere that might entitle Adhi Kesavan to the ownership of properties that were endowed for public good several centuries ago. We reiterated our commitment that if such evidence was ever found during our operations, we intended to recover the properties and put them to good use benefitting people at large. We also explained that in our country many properties that rightfully belonged to several public trusts, temples, mutts or even peromboke lands belonging to the government had been usurped and that we had no personal agenda in the whole exercise.

Our entire conversation was video-graphed and recorded. We had to decide upon the timing for our operation.

“Do things that people least expect you to be doing,” said Welsch after inspecting the mandap. Initially, when the Englishmen arrived, the locals looked on with great curiosity. Many were eager to photograph themselves with the Englishmen. Donald liberally obliged them. Many villagers invited them to their simple houses for morning breakfasts that invariably happened to be some porridge made from cereals and vegetables. The Englishmen enjoyed their breakfasts. Donald was particularly very accommodating about the food, people and village atmosphere, though Welsch was much different.

“We have two choices. Either do it when everyone is asleep. Or do it during broad day light when no one bothers about us. Personally I would prefer the latter. That is during broad day light. The mandap and the riverside are deserted during the mid-afternoon. No one seems to notice anything. That is the ideal time. Besides, we may have better lighting, if we really have to go under the ground.” told Welsch.

We all agreed.

One fine afternoon, when Sun was at its peak, we went to the mandap. By now, many in the village had seen us together going around in bicycles, taking pictures, sitting at odd places, sleeping under the trees, doing nothing in particular and th villagers gradually learnt not to take us seriously.

We removed the stone slab and once again removed the earth beneath. We hit the lid. We examined the lid carefully in the broad day light. We found a small slot which could be used to lift the lid. We all tried, but it didn’t come off. The edges seemed to have been sealed with some kind of chemical and it stuck without budging. Where did they find such binding chemicals centuries ago? Or, had they become rusted and sticky over time?

“We might better bring in a welder to cut it open,” said Welsch.

“But the problem is  - the news would go out,” feared Adhi Kesavan

Undecided, we abandoned our operations for that day and we all returned back to our places.

*****

That night, I had a severe stomach pain and I struggled for long to get sleep. When I finally slept, I had a dream. In that dream, I saw someone resembling Sudalai, the one who was in charge of cremation ground at Papanasam, laying his hand on the lid under the stone in the mandap and the lid coming off. I saw him stepping inside the opening and disappearing for long. I was jolted and woken up. I couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night, though my stomach pain disappeared mysteriously.

That day, there was a postcard for me from Papanasam and the sender was none other than Sudalai. Someone had written the letter on his instructions.

“Respected Sir,” thus began the letter. “I had served in the cremation ground for more than five decades and have now decided to take retirement. Burning dead bodies, day in and day out, all my emotions and feelings seem to have frozen. Now I want to go on a pilgrimage, to lighten my heart and I wish to see you before I proceed. My son Marimuthu, who started off helping the workshop people when the dams were under constructions near Papanasam, is now a professional welder and he has his own shop now. He has asked me to convey his enquiries and regards to you. I am coming to see you in a week’s time.”

What a coincidence!

‘Thank God! We now have our welder who we can trust to maintain discretion.’ I immediately dispatched Adhi Kesavan to Papanasam to find Sudalai and his son Marimuthu and bring them here.

When they arrived, I explained the job on hand and the need for secrecy.

“Probably, my first pilgrimage would begin under the ground inside the tunnel, if there is one,” Sudalai commented promptly. He continued saying, “If my guess is correct, the tunnel might lead us to the temple. I have heard people saying that in old days, the temples and palaces had secret exits under the ground through tunnels for the safety of kings and queens and also to bury valuables.”

Marimuthu went back to bring a complete welding set. We began our effort once again enthusiastically. Sudalai cut open the heavy lid. The strong hands of Sudalai and Marimuthu lifted the lid. They stepped back quickly to avoid the heavy dust and pungent fumes that came out of the opening.

*****

Episode 2/Chapter 10 - What, If Our Dreams Come True! An Extraordinary Meeting with Lord Siva

The Story so far…..

Armed with the extraordinary power of the blessings he received from the mysterious sadhu at Courtallam, not knowing what exactly lay ahead, Poornam walks all the way to Ambasamudram, on his way to Papanasam. There, in the Siva temple, on the banks of Tamirabarani, he encounters another sadhu-like mendicant. Developing a conversation with him, Poornam hears about the colossal damage that had happened in Ambasamudram region due to the flash floods in the upper regions of the river. Ambalam, the mendicant narrates a few stories of people who suffered due to the floods.

What follows is the narration of the series of stories of people who suffered in the floods……

Chapter 10: The story of  zamindar Rathnam

Rathnam was a respectable ‘jamindar’ in that village. He generally helped all villagers for their needs. He never missed local functions at people’s homes and he liberally gifted money on those occasions. He was the principal attendant to receive all honors during local temple and other functions. He lived in majesty with all comforts. However, his wife Meena was his opposite, though she never showed it outside. She was extremely beautiful and was the envy of many other women. She was very demanding, greedy and she feared that Rathnam would lose all his possessions by his charitable dispensation. She started extracting more and more money from her husband.  Rathnam loved his wife very much. This was his one single weakness. They didn’t have a child for long and Rathnam’s wife was always suspicious about him. She accused him that he was camouflaging his weaknesses and demanded more money, wealth, jewelry and other possessions. Gradually over time, Rathnam was unable to meet her demands from the income from his properties and started looking out for borrowing money.

Shailesh Babu, a shark from the neighboring town was enormously rich from his money lending business and he smelt Rathnam’s predicaments. He somehow convinced Rathnam that everything would be kept a secret and managed to persuade Rathnam to take money from him as loan for short term. Rathnam pledged his properties as security for the loan, believing that he would be in a position to repay the loan soon after the harvests. The money thus obtained as loan was given away to Meena to meet her extravagant demands and soon he found himself short of money again. Rathnam kept everything as a secret, even from his wife. His loans spiraled out of control and soon Rathnam was deep up in debt. He never discontinued his other charitable activities too. Gradually, most of his assets got transferred to the money lender, while the real benefits went to his wife, who accumulated wealth in her own name.

Rathnam adored his wife so much that he never complained about her. Slowly, rumors started leaking out in the village town. Some of his well-wishers advised him discreetly about redeeming himself. Seeing this, Rathnam’s wife became more poisonous and stepped up her pressure on him. Rathnam gradually lost all his assets and became a pauper. The news spread and people started talking openly about this. They accused the money lender of plundering Rathnam and his wealth, but they could do nothing.

One day, Rathnam’s wife said that she was going to her mother’s place and thereafter she never returned. Rathnam came to streets. Initially the villagers took pity on him and helped him in every way. His modesty didn’t permit Rathnam to accept the help that voluntarily came his way. Not knowing any other trade or business, he had no clue as to how to run his life. He was pushed into depression. When many in the village offered him help, his self-respect took a plunge. When he initially accepted some food from some villagers to sustain himself, he died of shame every day. One day, he decided to end his life.

He never thought nature would come to his rescue in an unexpected way. That day, he was sitting on a small rock in the middle of Tamirabarani river as usual and brooding. This had now become his favorite spot whenever he was depressed. He would tell his story to Tamirabarani and he thought she listened to him. She appeared to wash his feet and seem to assure him that everything would be all right. But that day, he noticed that the water level was slowly rising unusually and the rock on which he sat was slowly submerging in water. It had rained very heavily that morning and the previous day. The sky was dark and cloudy, but he didn’t care. It never occurred to him that the river was rising and flooding the place. He saw at a distance, people rushing back to the banks of the river and looking at all sides, bewildered. Some called him out to rush back to the banks, but he didn’t want to hear them. As the water level rose, one or two who recognized him, tried to get into the waters to pull him out to the safe shore, but the water current was strong and unmanageable. The water was breaching the banks and people started rushing towards safer shelters or towards hillocks.

Now, the rock on which he sat was submerging in water and Rathnam was wet below his waist. But he never bothered and continued brooding over his life. He got angry with himself. He called, “Oh, dear Tamirabarani! Come and take me. My life has become meaningless now. Please oblige me.”

Some villagers went and brought others, in an effort to forcibly rescue Rathnam. But many were busy in rescuing their own kith and kin and their belongings, as the water slowly inundated many parts of the village. The current was high and people found it difficult to wade through the water. Even with their sincerity, they couldn’t come to his help.

Now, the rock had completely submerged in water and Rathnam found it difficult to manage to sit on the rock. The current was pulling him away. He knew swimming well. But he didn’t care anyway. He remembered his wife and all that she did for him. Strangely, he had no ill-feelings towards her. He thanked her for being his wife and for bringing happiness in his life during good days. He even said goodbye to his wife and wished her well, as she was in a safer place.

All of a sudden, when he least expected, the water current pulled him away forcefully from the rock into a twirl. For a moment, he struggled to come out, but the next moment, realization dawned on him that, after all, he didn’t want to continue his life. He surrendered himself to the currents and was carried away swiftly in the current. He lost all consciousness, as the water entered his lungs.

*****

He must have been in hell, Rathnam thought, as his whole body hurt him. Everything looked hazy. There were people surrounding him. He could recognize ‘Yama’ (The God of Death) with his wild unwieldy hair, a big moustache stretched between his two ears and egg-like eyes, popping out of its place.

What was this! His wife was also there among the crowd. ‘What are they doing in hell?’

‘Are they here to pronounce judgment on me?’

“Am I in hell?” he tried to ask. His voice was feeble and unable to rise.

He saw his wife looking at him curiously.

“Are you also in hell? You don’t deserve to be here. You did no wrong. Why are you here?” he asked his wife feebly.

The vision was better now. He saw several on-lookers. Everything was smoky. “Why is my wife here?” he wondered.

Slowly, his vision was getting better. He could see more clearly now. He could recognize at least one face and it was not that of ‘Yama’ but his village chief. ‘Why is he here in hell? He was a good man.’

He slowly remembered. He was being dragged into the water while sitting on the rock. He wanted to surrender himself to the water. That much, he remembered. He was calling forth the river, to take him. That also he remembered. He was drowning and he was finding it difficult to breathe. He remembered water entering his lungs. Then what happened? How quick was his journey to upper kingdoms? ‘Why is my wife here?’ He asked himself again.

Again, slowly, he recognized the voices. He came to his senses and noted that he was not in hell or heaven, but very much on earth. He recognized he more faces, besides that of his wife and the village chief. But he couldn’t understand how his wife came here. He couldn’t understand her blank look.

“My God, finally he has regained consciousness. Give him something to drink. Let him gain some strength.” Someone in the crowd ordered.

Some brown liquid was brought and he slowly drank. He threw a questioning look at everyone.

Pazhani, the village chief told him, “You survived the flood by a miracle. Luckily, I was around when the river was flooding and some washer-men saw you sitting on the rock. They came running to me. I dashed into the river. But before I could get you, you had gone under water. I was strong. But the river was stronger. It pulled us apart. You were virtually gone, but I didn’t give up. Finally, when I spotted you, you were caught between two sharp rocks. I rushed and saved you. You were bleeding heavily with cuts and bruises. I brought you home. You ran a high temperature for the last fifteen days and muttering a lot. You were alternating between consciousness and unconsciousness. We had a tough time and we thought, we lost you.”

Things were becoming clearer for Rathnam. He pointed his fingers at his wife.

“She too escaped from the floods. Her village and several families there, too didn’t escape the fury of floods. Her parents too were swept away. She lost all her possessions. No one knows how she alone survived. She frantically ran for help and became hysterical at her loss. She had cried, laughed, threatened, questioned - but finally, became quiet. Somehow, she had reached this village once again and started searching for you. Once she saw you, she became totally dumb. She is just staring at you and you can’t expect any other reaction or response from her. We believe she has lost her mental balance.”

Rathnam’s wife was looking at him pathetically and Rathnam looked back. What consolation could he offer to her when she had nothing but a blank look on her face?

*****

Episode 2/Chapter 9; What, If Our Dreams Come True! An Uncommon Meeting with Lord Siva

EPISODE 2

My days with Sri Papanasam Siva

Chapter 9: My arrival at Ambasamudram

Like Adi Shankara, I too travelled to places by foot. Shankara could even reach the top of Himalayas, travelling through thick jungles, crossing over difficult hilly terrains and dangerous rivers. He had no map, no compass and no written travelogues. Today, conditions of travel had tremendously improved over the centuries and therefore my comparison with Adi Shankara is inappropriate and unfair.

Honestly, I didn’t have much direction while I set forth from Courtallam. I believed I was being guided by some inner voice. I passed through Tenkasi which was just at a walking distance from Courtallam and Lord Siva christened as Kasi Viswanathan majestically sat there in a colossal temple built during the days of Parakrama Pandian of 15^th century. The beauty was (or was it a pity), I learnt that the main temple tower at the entrance was damaged by a lightning sometime in the 15^th century, may be soon after its construction and had still remained a flat tower for nearly five centuries. Though I had frequented Tenkasi very often, for strange reasons, I never reckoned it as one of the places I was destined to. So I set Papanasam as my next destination. Besides, inexplicably, I had no engagement with Sri Kasi Viswanathan at Tenkasi and so I moved on. The chief priest at Courtallam temple with whom I had become very friendly over years had given me a detailed account of the region, especially about the river Tamirabarani. Papanasam attracted me much more than other places, to start with.

The river Tamirabarani had a great history. However much the North Indians may feel proud about their perennial rivers like Ganga, Sind or Brahmaputra that have their origins in Himalayas, Tamirabarani, the perennial river of South was unique in the sense its origin is yet to be discovered. Even today, it remains a secret and mystery. It is believed that Tamirabarani originates inside a cave in the Podhigai hills, travelling almost about twenty five kilometers through a dense forest of herbal plants, where it doesn’t even see sunlight, before it falls as ‘Banatheertham’ in the upper hills of Papanasam. During the course of its one hundred and fifty kilometers of travel till its final merger with the sea in the Gulf of Mannar, many other smaller river tributaries originating at different places in the Podhigai hills join it and enrich the whole region. From the days of the epic Ramayana, the river had assumed spiritual and religious significance for various reasons. There is also a mythological story that the river originated several thousand years ago from a small divine pot the sage Agasthiar used to carry around.

Ambasamudram was a small town on the way to Papanasam, on the banks of the river Tamirabarani. As I walked closer, I was beckoned by Lord Siva sitting over there in another majestic temple built almost thousand years ago by the Chozha kings. I walked, marveling at the tall ‘maruthu’ tree linings on the banks of the river Tamirabarani on the way to the temple. The trees with thick branches had grown sky high that even sunlight could penetrate them only when their leaves bristled with the wind. They presented a picturesque scenery of a marvelous arcade. I walked through the arcade of trees imagining myself to be a king, greeted by thousands of on-lookers lined up on both sides, waving their hands, and bowing their heads. Like a camera, I captured the image of this beautiful place, as I walked past the trees and reached the temple. Just then, it began to rain all of a sudden and I took shelter in the front corridor of the temple. It was mid-afternoon and the sanctum sanctorum of the temple was closed. I was standing there for sometime looking particularly nowhere.

An old mendicant sadhu, who blanketed himself with a torn rug, spotted me and beckoned me.

“Are you new to the town, thambi?”

I nodded. Having had a very powerful association with a ‘sadhu’ at Courtallam, I wondered whether I was due to have yet another encounter with a yet another sadhu.

Hesitantly, I went closer to him. He asked me to sit by his side. I obeyed without resisting.

“So………… you are an outsider, I know……………… I know most of the regular visitors here. By the way, did you eat anything at all? ............... You look so famished,” he remarked.

Looking at my blank face, he continued, “Don’t worry! The temple would be serving annadhan (free food) shortly and the food would be just good. Just bear with your hunger for some more time.”

He seemed to be reading my mind.

Actually, I was very hungry and looking for some food. I felt relieved. It was a long story how I had been managing myself in the last several days when I walked from Courtallam to Ambasamudram.

The sadhu continued, “My name is Ambalam. What is your name?”

“People call me Poornam.”

“Pardon me, I can’t speak loudly. My vocal cords got damaged due to a disease during the last heavy rains that flooded the whole Ambasamudram and nearby villages. Have you heard about it?’ he continued.

I shook my head in the negative.

“Paiya, you must have been very lucky not to have seen the gory calamities of that rain. It is a horrible story!”

As the rain intensified, I had nothing else to do. I was willing to hear the story. I urged him to tell me about the last rain.

“This river Tamirabarani has several tributaries. Some join it at the upper regions of the hills and some along the plains. Those that run at higher altitudes are wild, running uncontrollably through thick forests and hills. It was not uncommon for the river to get flooded every now and then due to heavy downpour in the upper hills. There are not many water reservoirs along the hilly path the river takes. A few barrages help diverting water for productive agriculture, but do not help containing floods. We don’t even know who built these dams and when. The terrains are difficult and the plains suffer because of flash floods. Several villages got inundated in water and disappeared as a whole. Hundreds of people had died. Serious diseases had spread post flood and had infected several hundred people. Who would want to hear the sad unpleasant stories of a few survivors, anymore? Do you want to?”

He knew he had my full attention and that I was eager to hear the stories. Ambalam didn’t wait for my answer. He started telling me stories of a few individuals who survived the last flood, five years ago.

*****

WHAT, IF OUR DREAMS COME TRUE! AN UNCOMMON MEETING WITH LORD SIVA

“What, If Our Dreams Come True!” is an Epic-style novel written by me. It is my first novel in English. It is my first full-fledged, published novel too.

What this novel is about

We all have dreams – both pleasant and unpleasant. Many psychoanalysts say that dreams result from our deep-rooted memories, emotional impacts from our past experiences, and our desires. Many times, we wish if only our dreams really came true. Other times, we pray that our dreams never come true.

We are all sensitive to things happening around us. This novel is an outcome of my anguish, my aspirations, my dreams and my emotional disturbances over many events. I was inspired by many news reports, books and articles of a few famous authors and columnists, and teaching from my gurus, to write this novel.

I believe, we can all collectively make this Earth, a better place to live in. We only want to be inspired. We await a trigger. We are all connected in some way. Relationship is the most important thing in life, and I believe it is worthwhile sacrificing anything and everything for the sake of relationship, though I myself struggle, imperfectly, towards this goal.

To achieve anything worthwhile, our physical, mental and psychological strength alone are not going to be sufficient. One needs spiritual strength too. One needs Grace. One needs Blessings.

Now, this story is about Poorna Chandran….

Poorna Chandran@Poornan, the narrator of the story in the novel starts off his life as a naïve, village teen, around the year 1945. Everything changes for him one day. He has severe stomach pain. Medicines fail to give him relief. All of a sudden, Lord Siva appears in his dreams and promises to cure him instantly on a condition that Poornan meets with him in seven of HIS places. His stomach pain is gone. The village astrologer opines that Poornan shouldn’t ignore Lord Siva’s ordain, lest he invites HIS wrath. So, on his advice, Poornan sets out along the banks of the river Tamirabarani – the perennial, sacred river of Tirunelveli District of Southern Tamil Nadu – to meet Lord Siva.

His first destination is Courtallam, famous for its waterfalls, herbs and siddhiks and most importantly, Chithra Sabhai, one of the seven abodes of Lord Siva. There, he encounters one siddhik who changes everything for him in his life. Incredible, nerve-racking experiences happen to Poornan during his encounter with the siddhik.

Armed with his experience at Courtallam, Poornan moves on to six more places along the river Tamirabarani. In each of these places, he has something, very significant, waiting to happen.

What happens in those places? You must read the entire novel to know………….

Epilogue

It took nearly two and half years for me to complete this novel in all respects. The novel took me to several small villages, towns, and temples along the river Tamirabarani and I gained richly from my visits, about my place.

The river Tamirabarani is, probably, the only river of Tamil Nadu to originate, run through, irrigate and merge with the sea within the State of Tamil Nadu. I read with great interest a book “Tamirabarani Mahatmiyam” published nearly a century back, lent to me by retired Professor Sri Sitaraman, one of my well-wishers in Tirunelveli. I read with great awe the mythological stories associated with the river. Another book “Tamirabarani Karaiyinile” written by Sri Muthalankurichi Kamarasu gave me a lot of insight about the river and several pilgrim centers around the river. This book, particularly, encouraged me to visit the ‘Nava Kailasa’ and ‘Nava Thirupathi’ kshetras on the banks of the river. I was only stopped at Sernthamangalam along the river, beyond which, I was advised I wouldn’t be able to go on my own as the river merges with the sea a few miles down the village.

I waited for more than a year to peep into the historic Chithra Sabhai and its paintings at Courtallam, which was closed for a long time for renovation works.

An Islamic stranger, whom I accidentally met in a tea shop at Kayalpattinam gave me very interesting information about the place and its surroundings that inspired me to pen a whole episode in this book.

In Cheranmahadevi, I had to wait for more than an hour for the temple priest to arrive to open the Siva temple on the banks of the river. The railway bridge across the river, touching the temple and the surrounding greenery inspired me to write another whole episode.

I learnt a lot from the priests of the magnificent Siva temples at Brahmadesam and Tiruppudaimaruthur. The bathing ghat along the river Gadana, a tributary of the river Tamirabarani at Tiruppudaimaruthur inspired me to write another episode of this novel.

I was awe-struck by the architecture of the Siva temple at Brahmadesam, built during the Rajendra Chozha period, almost a millennium back. The tall ‘Maruthu’ trees lined along the steep banks of the river at Ambasamudram formed a tantalizing arcade and lead one to the other Siva temple built during the same Chozha times. This, along with the steep stone steps just outside the Siva temple at Papanasam inspired me to write another episode.

When I crossed the old check dam along the river at Srivaikuntam and entered the town, I marveled at the uniqueness of the place – a holy place for both Vaishnavaites and Shivaites, a place where Lord Siva and Lord Narayana confluence – as a standing message about the Oneness of God. A place where all souls merge into One – Vaikuntam.

Rather, I can now write another entire book about how I wrote this novel.

I thank God for inspiring me to write this unique novel and I remain blessed.

“WHAT, IF OUR DREAMS COME TRUE! AN UNCOMMON MEETING WITH LORD SIVA” book is available on www.amazon.com as a kindle version and on www.pothi.com as print version.

I intend to serialize the novel through my website www.tnneelakantan.com and one chapter will be released every Saturday. I request readers’ to send their comments to info@tnneelakantan.com or neelkant16@yahoo.com

“Poornamadha Poornamidham Poornaath Poornam Udhachyathe!

Poornasya Poornamaadhaaya Poornamevaa Vachishyathe!

Ohm Shanthi, Shanthi, Shanthi hi!”

*****

“Mightier than Sword” – A book review

This is the 5^th Part of Clifton Chronicles, by the internationally acclaimed thriller novelist and bestselling author, Jeffrey Archer. As I hadn’t read the earlier parts, the dramatic opening of the novel with an IRA bomb exploding during the MV Buckingham’s maiden voyage across the Atlantic really confused me.

The novel revolves round

1.       Harry Clifton, the newly elected president of English PEN who launches a campaign for the release of a fellow author Anatoly Babakov, who is imprisoned in Siberia for a writing a book called “Uncle Joe”, the release of which is feared to seriously damage the iconic image of Stalin.

2.       Emma, wife of Harry Clifton, the chairman of Barrington Shipping that owns MV Buckingham.

3.       Sir Giles Barrington, the brother of Emma, a minister of the British Crown, whose diplomatic mission to Berlin didn’t end as a success and his political career is being challenged by his old adversary, Major Alex Fisher.

4.       Lady Virginia Fenwick, the former wife of Sir Giles Barrington, never giving up her efforts to bring down Emma from her position as Chairman of Barrington Shipping.

5.       Sebastian, the son of Emma and Harry, making a name for himself in banking and his beta noire, Adrian Sloane who wouldn’t stop at anything, to ruin Sebastian. There is a minor plot about the American Samantha with whom Sebastian was in love; but Samantha walks out because she doesn’t consider Sebastian to be a man of his words.

The novel plays around the on and off the courtroom battles between Emma and Lady Virginia to take control of the Board of Barrington Shipping and the battle between Adrian Sloane and Sebastian to control the bank that was taken over by Adrian Sloane using cruel and dubious means, even while Harry tries to get Babkov released from the prison. The novel takes a reader to London, Bristol, New York, and Berlin, before the collapse of the German Wall.

The first several pages of the novel appeared dragging to me, but then Archer gets control of the flow soon. The plots and counterplots thickens and intrigues, keeping a reader engrossed. However, a clever reader can make a reasonable guess of what is to happen. But the last para of the novel was something that baffled me and left wondering what really happened. A very important letter, written by Fisher, which could possibly compel the juries to come to an agreement in the libel case filed in the court by Lady Virginia against Emma, and carefully preserved from others seeing it by the Emma’s lawyer is found in the hands of Virginia’s lawyers. How come and what happened,I didn’t understand. Probably, I need to wait for reading the Clifton Chronicle 6 to understand.