Time stands still here

Close to Kanchipuram is the place special in many ways, writes Geetha Venkatramanan.

March 26, 2015 08:17 pm | Updated 08:17 pm IST

the Meditation Hall in Kanchipuram and the Anaikatti Street patasala.    Photos: K.V. Srinivasan

the Meditation Hall in Kanchipuram and the Anaikatti Street patasala. Photos: K.V. Srinivasan

“Could you please take us to the Veda-patasala run by Sri Sankara Bhakta Jana Sabha Trust?” G. Vaidyanathan, trustee, is only too willing to escort this writer, the photographer in tow, to the places, where the Vedas are taught. Vaidyanathan, 81, after retirement from service has totally dedicated himself to the task that was close to Paramacharya’s heart.

Our first stop is the meditation hall opposite the Kanchi Math on Salai Street. A 100-ft pillar erected to commemorate Paramacharya’s centenary welcomes visitors. Enlarged pictures of Sri Chandrasekharendra Saraswati adorn the walls, a massive version of Shilpi’s portrait of Mahaswami doing Chandramouliswara puja providing a colourful backdrop.

“See him with the Travancore ruler and there with the Kasi Maharaja!” with childlike enthusiasm Vaidyanathan points out to the frames that capture Mahaperiyava in all those rare moments. “That is me, before my marriage,” he chuckles, showing a picture in which a young man is trying to keep pace with the swift gait of Periyava.

But for the perseverance and devotion of a few expert photographers, the exhibition and the books would not have been possible. “Tiruchi Ramesh, Voltas Krishnaswamy, Vignesh Studio… they all trailed him,” says Vaidyanathan. Did Periyava allow himself to be photographed? “Oh, you couldn’t be sure. Suddenly Periyava would say, ‘Enough, shut down your camera,’ and they would fold up. Another source was Sita Ravi of Kalki.Dinamani and TheHindu also provided a lot of pictures,” he adds.

The Mantap has superb idols of Periyava to which puja is done. The palanquins that Periyava used for his journey have been preserved here. This is where Sama Veda classes are conducted. Young students form a group to render a brief chant of the most musical of the Vedas.

According to Mr. Vaidyanathan, as many as 396 students have passed out of the Patasala so far. “It was started in 1978 as suggested by Periyava,” he recapitulates. “He was in Satara at that time. He also suggested the name Sri Mahaswami Vidya Pita Trust. He never allowed his name or picture for any kind of endorsement but made an exception for the sake of the cause,” explains Vaidyanathan, who was asked to be a trustee. Ananthanarayana Sastri, great scholar, was handpicked by Paramacharya. Along with another Vaidyanathan, nine trustees were appointed to take care of the project. “Periyava strictly said the Trust should not seek Government aid,” the octogenarian says. A corpus fund, replenished by philanthropists, is the source.

“It takes nine years to master the entire regimen including ghanam but in six years a student is ready to pursue vaidikam as vocation,” says Vaidyanathan. Not all will be at par when it comes to learning? “True, the teaching is flexible. You know, Periyava told us categorically not to turn any student away on the grounds of mediocrity. ‘Find a way to make him useful. Rejection will only lead to laziness and depression,’ an advice that is followed even today.”

Our next destination is Anaikatti Street. The mid-day summer heat does not bother Vaidyanathan. Stopping in front of a house, he announces, “This is where Kanakabishekam was performed.” A huge picture of the Acharya stands on the spot. A personification of simplicity, how did he agree to the ritual? “Oh, he shook his head several times and finally melted when we pleaded with him.” Rig Veda is taught here.

Vaidyanathan never fails to ask of the young students, “What did you have for lunch? Is the milk supply regular? Did you wake up early in the morning?”

Prativadi Bayangaram Annangarachariar, whose house is located on the same street, and Periyava shared a unique relationship. “Periyava never hesitated to approach him for clarification on Vaishnavism and the scholar obliged happily. Why, he even came to Brahmatirtham in the Thenambakkam temple to do his anushtanam , a gesture about which Periyava once teased him, all in good humour.”

With the ease of a man much used to the route, the driver steers the car to Sivaasthanam. Sri Brahmapuriswarar temple is set in quiet rural surroundings. A favourite destination of Paramacharya, the temple is untouched by urban intrusion. In a way, the clock seems to have stopped here, the presence of Periyava palpable. “This is the room in which he stayed for one year. He didn’t see outside world during that period and would communicate only if it was absolutely necessary,” Vaidyanathan shows the room that has been preserved. He was one of the few allowed to serve him. Huge portraits and an eternal lamp add to the divine ambience.

“See that small window? Food, a fistful of puffed rice, would be pushed through that. Initially he would sweep the floor with darba grass and also mop it. We begged him to let us do it when he was away for his bath. We would finish the job in a jiffy and flee,” Vaidyanathan revels in memories.

The well from which water was drawn for Periyava’s ablutions is maintained with care. “It was on that side of the well that Indira Gandhi stood facing Paramacharya who was at the door step. They hardly spoke but he blessed her raising his hand which eventually became the Congress symbol,” says Vaidyanathan. “We huddled in a corner unobserved by both,” he adds with a twinkle in his eye.

The small window through which Periyava had darshan of the Ganapati shrine outside is boarded up. The wooden steps that he climbed to have gopura darisanam is intact too. “Many days Periyava would just stand in the pose of Tapas Kamakshi, one leg lifted and both palms folded above his head.”

Why?

“Who knows? For that matter, why did he choose to live in semi-exile for a whole year, giving up what little comfort he might have got at the Math? Only he knew the answer.” Vaidyanathan’s voice trails off as his mind travels back five decades.

“The area was overgrown with shrubs with little human inhabitation around. One day, we were shocked to see a snake coiled on his lap as he was deep in meditation. We couldn’t enter the room and there was no way we could signal to Periyava. With bated breath we watched through the window and as he was opening his eyes we whispered the message. Periyava gently shed his clothing and the snake slithered away. Turning to us he casually murmured, ‘It has been visiting me for the past four days. What’s the fuss all about?’”

This is where Yajur Veda is taught. “The premises is private property. It was Periyava’s foresight that saved the place, which otherwise would have been sold to settle some debts,” we are informed.

The ground slopes several feet and the ditch is full of vegetation. “That is Brahmatirtham. The water was believed to have curative properties. A philanthropist has come forward to restore the tank to its original form. That will happen soon.” Vaidyanathan’s optimism is touching.

“Well, with Periyava’s grace, the Trust has managed to keep his pet project alive. He has laid out the path; our task is to continue the journey,” says Vaidyanathan earnestly.

0 / 0
Sign in to unlock member-only benefits!
  • Access 10 free stories every month
  • Save stories to read later
  • Access to comment on every story
  • Sign-up/manage your newsletter subscriptions with a single click
  • Get notified by email for early access to discounts & offers on our products
Sign in

Comments

Comments have to be in English, and in full sentences. They cannot be abusive or personal. Please abide by our community guidelines for posting your comments.

We have migrated to a new commenting platform. If you are already a registered user of The Hindu and logged in, you may continue to engage with our articles. If you do not have an account please register and login to post comments. Users can access their older comments by logging into their accounts on Vuukle.