The stretch of the road looked endless. There was no bend in that narrow road, like the Ganges that sure seemed to be flowing somewhere near, and yet far away. The distant snow clad mountain peaks looked mesmerising, but arid. The landscape had an eerie feel of a nightmare.
Papa was sure he was lost forever. From nowhere suddenly emerged a sadhu, he said. The hermit held him by hand. Very gently, with fond tenderness, said the holy ascetic, " You seem to have lost the way. Come, let me guide you back to the path." Soon they both reached the proper route to Kedarnath, now just a few kilometers away. With deep gratitude, Papa turned to thank his saintly guide. But there was nobody around. Papa was sure it was Lord Shiva who thus helped him. Absolutely certain he was that it was no hallucination because very soon, almost immediately, the other people in the pilgrimage met him, much worried about his absence, and safety.
This experience of Papa's in the 1990's partially engulfed Aai, too, in the early years of the new millennium. On the road to Kedarnath, she had to travel in the pittu. On one side were the snow washed Himalayan boulders, on the other side, the deep valley from where she could hear the bubbling river. Endless seemed the vast sky above, and the narrow road stretched behind. At places on the tract, she was all alone in that pittu. Yet no fear seemed to bother her `coz she said she felt a sense of a companion peacefully guarding her all along.
Well, okay, both of them were age-old (in all the senses of the term) devotees of Lord Shiva so much so that they chose to name their youngest son Pinaki because he was born on Monday. Pinaki means the Pinakpani Lord Shiv Shankara, Aai would explain, who had the divine bow named "`Pinakin" in "pani", his hand . Sure they never ever missed the Monday fast, dedicated to Lord Shiva. In a way, it could be argued that their lifelong faith shimmered as the deity for them.
How about Siddhartha then? He was not even ten when he was sent to the base camp. Hardly had he anything to do with faith which he would not even understand. Nor did he know Lord Shiva beyond the bedtime stories Aai told him. Yet he had the same experience. He would not remember how he st(r)ayed away from the trekkers' group. Not only he was lonely, but he was sure he was going to fall in a deep gorge. He was almost near the edge, just a step away when he says a gentle presence held him back, reached him back to the group. For quite a few days, he used to say that literally Lord Shiva saved him. In fact, he had actually visibly sobered for about a month. After all a child though, he was soon back to the naughty ways.
Indeed the Himalayas are unique, a place blessed. At the Bhairon Mandir at Vaishno Devi, some 7000 feet above the sea level, after a steep narrow road that almost was perpendicular to the horizon, the pujari gave me baby clothes that I had not even requested for. Others who had offered hundreds were left empty handed. My pilgrimage, it was said, was accepted, nay, blessed, said all.
My sense of total peace was awaiting me just beside the mandir though. A very narrow pathway led one to a vista one would never ever forget. Facing me were the untouched tall peaks of the entire majestic range, each one more mystical than the other, with a deep sense of quiet, and yet alluring and inviting. The mighty Satlaj literally looked like a ribbon far away deep down in the valley. Neither the monkeys chattering above nor the horrible smell of horse dung attacking one's nostrils the day long seemed to bother nor the day's tough trek.
I knew then why the evening before the distant lights of the Vaishno Devi Trikuta trek had looked like a diamond necklace glittering away to glory. No wonder, I could trek up the entire climb with a bottle of water, two coffees, and a few toffees. Why, after the Devi darshan, and the prasad of three coins, when most all were fainting with lack of oxygen, I could enter a cave coz Devi Parvati prayed to Lord Shiva there. Narrowest was the cave, my feet, given the fast, appeared literally leaden, but even an agnostic like me was determined to bow down to the natural Shiva pindi there on which some under boulder stream was eternally performing an abhishekam.
Well, there are places that can capture your imagination with their serene grandeur. Like the stretched to the horizon Pushkar lake, where even I would have managed to attain Moksha if I were to do Tapas/penance there. No wonder, Rishi Vishwamitra became a Brahmarshi there.
As for the Himalayas, such charms await one at every corner, near every nook and bend there. To stars are one's feet hitched there. I promised the rocks and boulders there, and the ecstatic eagle enjoying his fancy flights along a patch of the well-laid path where he was my only companion for quite some time, and, of course to myself, that I would return to the Himalayas as often and as soon as I could because there I felt so one with the entire universe that I knew my good wishes would sure have a re-action, albeit not only the Newtonian way.
pratima@ the Wordsworth-ean "Daffodils" feel
No comments:
Post a Comment