THE ORACLE

THE ORACLE

Summer was receding and the light breeze signaling that rains are on their way blew softly such that it did not allow the sweat to remain consistently on my forehead. The pyre was burning slowly,  just then I heard a stern voice across the 2^nd field on the bunk of which stood a tall, strongly built gentleman with his locks of hair unto his back. The Red Vermillion on his forehead matched the color of his Veshthi (a loin cloth worn in Kerala) and if eyesight was correct, the forehead looked brighter and in turn it created an enigmatic aura around him. He was none other than one amongst many cousins of my Grandmother who was on the pyre. He was making sure from a distance that the rituals are performed in its earnest rightness. My cousin uncles who usually would fool around when an elderly person instructed them, were in their military discipline when it was him. They would only murmur “Sheri Ammama” i.e. “Ok Uncle”. The sight of an oracle fills you with mysticism, defiance of your scientific belief and for some it is mere fearful respect that he is GOD’s messenger.

I was fortunate enough to grow amongst parents who were socially active and I do not mean Facebook and WhatsApp. Being social meant doing something for the society and in that cause bring about an overall development in your own thinking standards. My father was part of a team which managed the activities who Shree Ayyappa Temple in Vartak Nagar, Thane from its inception days. In my growing days, I and my brother was treated to series of temple activities as they would be conducted in any major Kerala Temple though we were miles away from GOD’s own country – Kerala. The annual festival was ritually conducted in the last week of the calendar year and it coincided with our Christmas holidays. The festivities ended on the New Year day with the Annadanam (Charity Prasadam Distribution in the form of food).

Though the 6 days were power packed with all the activities as it would be in Kerala, I was ever fascinated with the Oracles and their ritualistic dance. The Pindi Ambalam (miniature temple replicas made of banana stem) are painstakingly prepared by the team of Oracles and then a ritualistic Pooja is performed by the designated priest who in turn gives his blessings to the Uddakku pattu team. Uddakku is an instrument which looks like an hour glass but a smaller version of Edakka or the Damru. The preferred leather is the goat skin on it and it gives a special tone to the instrument. The team sing songs to propitiate Lord Ayyappa and the rhythm is such that the singers used their fingers mainly index, middle and ring fingers, along with the inner palm for playing and the cloth strap is squeezed or released to adjust the tightness of the leather to attain pitch modulation with the other hand tightly modulating the strings. 

The melancholy of the silent night slowly turns mystical with the rhythmic beats of the Uddakku and the singer’s story telling vocal abilities. As the singers moves from slow beats and fast beats intermittently the story moves from the birth of Lord Ayyappa to his friendship with his folklore Muslim friend Vavaar. Just then in the darkness with only the numerous traditional lamps (vilakku) around you the sound of brass anklets, chilambu (bracelets) and aramani (hiplets or huge waist belts with bells) screams past and there you see the Oracles dancing deliriously to the mounting tempo of the Uddakku setting you and the nature around you in a trance. As they dance and stop and then again dance in abrupt gestures the sword in their hand which is part of their ensemble smearing blood from their forehead denotes us that belief and faith is unshakeable if it’s pure. My journey for the year was in a sense incomplete during this period unless I see the trance of the Oracle and it sort of ushered the dawn to all of us around in real as well as the cosmic sense.

Sundaramama – my wife’s uncle passed away last week. Once while visiting a nearby temple in Irjnalakuda, he happened to join us to collect the payasam. He rarely visited the inside of a temple due to some reason of his own. The sight of an oracle their scared him. I had noticed the scare in his eyes and his face. Sundaramama had lost a leg after he retired from the defence services and stayed with my wife’s grandmother. He was a character on his own and had stories on the oracle justifying why he was scared. While we awaited the relatives to join from Mumbai and Bangalore to complete the final rituals of his mortal remains, I happen to listen to the talks of the village and neighbor folks who had gathered over his death news. Most of them were his age and some older and were talking of their school days and some of their working days. 

Death as Marriage brings about a reunion of friends and family members. One of the jokes narrated by an octogenarian with his old school mates seated in the verandah outside was that during his school days he asked his school headmaster “Sir, the gap between the sizes of the door in the bathroom was disproportionate to the rectangle where it is bolted leaving a huge gap at the bottom. So a person’s vital parts sitting inside answering the nature’s call could be seen from outside though the door covers the face”. The School headmasters answer was “It does not have a number plate to identify the owner - Isn't it ? So why are you worrying ? “. The team of toothless grandfathers were laughing heartily on the witty headmaster’s reply. Though the mood was somber I must admit it did bring a wry smile on my face too. As we finished the rituals and while we were taking his mortal remains to be cremated in Parmekav Crematorium in Trichur, on the the last turn of his end journey I saw the Oracle in a nearby temple dancing and playing the mediator role. As the roller rolled Sundaramama to his last light of glory I could not but seek the blessings of the Oracle in my mind to mediate for his salvation. Vellichapadu as we call them “The revealer of light” always threw the first dawn of New Year on us when we grew up, this time I seek his blessing to reveal the light of salvation to the departed soul and us around. As I write this the Uddakku pattu that hums in my mind is Bhuthanatha ma ma Navil Ni Madhura Geethamay Kudikolanee …..Thalamela Lay Ganameki Shruthi Ragabhavaa Sukhamekaneeee… and let the trance of the mystical Oracle take you to Glory…..       

-         THE MYSTICAL PARIBRAHMIN Sanjeev