I was in the southernmost tip of India , at the confluence of three oceans - Bay of Bengal, Arabian Sea and the Indian Ocean in a coastal town called Kanyakumari. And the view from one of its fishing hamlets - Chinna Muttom is here for you to soak in along with the hues of the sunset . If you are here on a full moon day, you may be lucky to see the sun set and the moon rise around the same time .
To see more exciting skies around the world , visit Skywatch.
My column on a cult worshipping a mirror aka soul was published in The Hindu. Here is the story for those who missed it
The salts of the sea lure me as I can smell
it from a distance. Here, in the confluence of three oceans, lies buried
several myths, legends and stories. Kanyakumari
has
always been a mystery to me. Maybe it has something to do with the sea or the tale
of the virgin goddess by the sea shore, but the town has never stopped
fascinating me. Looking out of the window, I am lost in the many rotating
windmills, dancing to the tune of the sea breeze, when I am interrupted by the
laughter in the bus.
I join in the laughter as Sri Charanya , my
travel companion shares her memories of Kanyakumari when she visited the
coastal town as a twelve year old. “ You know I was told that I could see red ,
black and blue colours here , the red was the Indian Ocean, the blue being the Bay of Bengal and the black , the Arabian sea and I believed every word of it then , “ she says as echoes
of laughter drown her story. Memories come flooding back as I remember my first
visit here as a wide eyed twelve year old .
I am on a Naanjil Naadu tour organised by
INTACH, travelling through small towns and villages around Nagercoil and
Kanyakumari, visiting many temples, rock cut shrines, mosques, palaces and forts
. While we alternate between facts and folk lore, we learn from a team of
professors and historians accompanying us about the various dynasties that rule
the region. I am of course fascinated by the many landscapes painted in front
of me – natural, social , historical, political, spiritual , as I realize that
what is today considered God’s own country has its origins right here in
Naanjil Naadu, long before Kerala came into being.
We visit an ancient Chola temple dedicated
to Shiva or Guhanathaeswaran temple
as Dr V Vedachalam, Retired Senior
Epigraphist from Tamil Nadu State Archaeology Department explains the architecture and draws our
attention to the inscriptions and various cults of Gods and Goddesses. It is really Gods own country. The temples in
this region are built by various kings across different eras and each one of
them has left his stamp behind. From the Ay rules, to early Pandyas to the
Venad kings, the land is steeped in cults.
And I discover another 19th
century cult right on the shores of a small fishing hamlet called Chinna Muttom
.
While most of my travel companions are lost
in the beauty around, a few of us walk down to a small shrine located on the
rocky shores. A man in a turban is officiating as a priest as we gaze inside
the sanctum and look at our hazy reflection with the sea forming our backdrop.
There is no deity or idol – just a mirror which reflects and represents the
soul or the Vishnu inside you. A small board in Tamil explains the philosophy
about worshipping your body as the temple, with your mind at peace and devotion
and purity in your soul. The belief
rests in equality; hence the turban says the man where every devotee is a king.
Even Vivekananda he claims was influenced by it. The underlying thought is that you keep your
mind and thoughts pure and worship the God or soul inside you.
I later learn that the cult is referred to
as Ayyavazhi founded by a revolutionary called Ayya Vaikundar , also believed
by his followers as a reincarnation of Vishnu. However , speaking to Ahi Mohan,
coordinator of the Nadar Family Welfare centre in Trivandrum, I learn that he
was a 19th century social
reformer , who was born in Kanyakumari district with a strong belief in
equality of all people. He had built five main pathis, what we refer to as
temples and the 200 year pathi at Chinna Muttom was called Muthapathi. The followers believe that a dip in the sea
will sanctify them.
I stand and gaze at my hazy reflection in
the mirror for a long time and realize that my mind is blank, bathed by the
ocean and purged of all thoughts. Elsewhere in the haze of white foam and fury
of the waves, I can see a distant form of Sri Charanya calling out my name,
holding some wet sands in her hands. As she comes closer, we both laugh. In her
hands are lumps of black and brownish soil in her hands and the colours seem to
merge with the blue of the ocean.
