March 3, 2012
The hot, humid weather situation has been worsened by the overcast skies for the last two days. "Pongala alle? Shuddhi varan mazha peyyum" (It is because of the Pongal. It will rain to purify the place) Omana, the maid, gave the supernatural explanation. The famous pongala festival at the city's Attukal Devi temple which attracts hundreds of thousands of women and their hearths is scheduled for Wednesday. Purification or not, I will be happy to see some rain.
I am going to blame the weather for skipping the three day native percussion festival that was happening at the Vylopilli Samskriti Bhavan. It takes quite a bit of determination to venture out during the day in the sun. Besides, there is also the pull of good books and articles to be read under the fan.
Today, I started my first reading of Sukumar Azhikode's magnum opus, Tatwamasi.
Considered the single greatest modern commentary on the ancient Indian Upanishads, the books is gripping in its style and mind-numbing in the depth and breadth of Dr. Azhikode's scholarship. In the preface, he expresses gratitude for having been born in an era when his father could easily dismiss his childish, immature protests and force him to learn Sanskrit. Dr. Azhikode notes that in today's world where parents have become all too careful about never displeasing their kids, no matter how young, it would have been impossible for him to gain the scholarship in Sanskrit.
This reminded me of the mom and son I saw at Spencer's grocers few evenings ago. The boy had been irritating the mom to buy him a new pencil box. She initially dismissed his pleas. He grew more grumpy. She quickly gave in. After that, standing at the check out counter, she was begging the boy to smile. Literally begging. And the little dude was taking his sweet time enjoying her groveling. I really hope that boy is suffering from some major diseases that I am unaware of. Otherwise such obnoxious pampering is dangerous indeed.
In the first few chapters of the book, Dr. Azhikode traces the corruption and collapse of the quality of the Vedas as we move onto the Brahmanas which were meant as a means of livelihood and exploitation by the priestly class. All the philosophical meaning and careful analysis of the Vedas were lost during the period when only more and more nauseating rituals and sacrifices mattered. Then the Upanishads arrived recapturing the lost philosophical glory. This obscuring and recapturing has been cyclical all along and I think it is common to all the religions and thought systems of the world.
Dr. Azhikode calls the Upanishads a renaissance, a rebellion and a revelation!
Having read Paramasiva Iyer's Riks, it is easy to see how any real meaning of the Vedas might have been quickly lost over the centuries. Even in our times, the terms and concepts from fields like quantum mechanics are hijacked by folks like Deepak Chopra to sell their products. Consider the equaltion, E=mc^2. A very large section of the population of the world which has no understanding of Einstein's theory of relativity will still recognize that equation. For them, it is like a meaningless mantra. It can simply be remembered as a nice sounding collection of three alphabets and a letter. It doesn' take much to imagine that 4000 years ago, when alphabets were absent, and anthromorphic gods formed a living bulk of the common vocabulary, catchy, memorable mantras could be preserved in popular memory through such an orally transmitted jargon.
While crossing the road to get to Cafe Coffee Day, I was shocked by a big screech and thud combo. Turning back: a fallen scooter, a man next to it on the road, feet under the vehicle and his helmet rolling away on the road. Since it was a busy intersection, other vehicles were generally slow and so quickly stopped. Pedestrians closer to him and other drivers got to him first. Luckily, he was conscious and seemed fine except for a limp. The helmet had banged on the hard tarred road. It could have been his head instead. A few tomatoes from his grocery bag lay there, scattered and crushed. Impatient blaring of horns from the drivers stuck farther away who had no idea of a life's fortunate extension.
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