Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Start to enjoy the fish

"Start to enjoy from fish." - A Story From Guruvayor Temple There was a Bhattahari brahmana who was an expert poet, logician and tantric. A relative got a deadly disease. The brahmana transferred the disease to himself, thinking he could cure it. But he couldn't. So he went to a sage for advice. This sage said, "Start to enjoy from fish." Feeling disgusted, the brahmana went away. Friends asked him. "You saw the sage?" He said, "Yes, but he told me to eat fish. What kind of sage is that?" Then one friend said, "No, he didn't mean that. He's telling you to enjoy the pastimes of Vishnu, starting from Matsya, then Kurma, Varaha and so on." He thought, "But I'm a poet and logician. I don't know anything about this." The Guruvayor Deity appeared in his dream and told him to compose 100 verses glorifying the pastimes related in Srimad‑Bhagavatam. So he began. When there was some problem in composing the descriptions of the Lord, he went before the Deity and asked. The Deity would then reveal the answer. For instance, when he wanted to know how Lord Nrsingha moved, the Deity took that form and showed the movements. And he didn't know if Krishna broke the pots of yoghurt with His flute or something else. The Deity showed that it was with a butter‑churning rod. So, after finishing his book (called "Narayaniyam"), he used to read it in the temple. It was such a beautiful book that crowds of people used to gather to hear it. Three kings of Kerala became his ardent supporters; every morning they would gather in Guruvayor temple to hear the Bhattahari recite the Narayaniyam. People would not go to see the Deity until they'd heard the recitation. Plus, Bhattahari was cured from the disease. So, by becoming famous, he became a little proud. One day a simple man approached him with a book he'd written. The man was an ordinary farmer named Pundaram and his book was called "A Pot of Knowledge." Pundaram very respectfully requested the great poet to write an introduction to his book. Bhattahari was somewhat arrogant in his dealings with Pundaram. He asked him what language the book was written, and the man replied that it was in Malayam, which is the local language of Kerala. So Bhattahari told Pundaram, "It is not possible for me to recommend anyone to read a book that is not written in Sanskrit. Only the Sanskrit language can express poetry and philosophy properly ‑ what is the use of your Malayam writing?" The farmer went away very disheartened, as he did not know Sanskrit. Then, one day when Bhattahari was beginning his reading before the kings and the crowd, a brahmacari came into the temple and walked past the poet and the assembly to see the Deity. After obeisances and darshan, the brahmacari turned to make his exit from the temple. Bhattahari called him to his side. "How is it that you can go directly to the Deity for darshan without pre‑ paring yourself by hearing the Lord's pastimes?" he demanded. "I don't require to hear your poetry," the brahmacari answered coolly. "I'm beyond any need to prepare myself to see the Lord. As for His pastimes, He is showing them there, on the altar. If I can see them directly, why should I listen to you read this mistake‑ridden book?" Bhattahari and the assembly were shocked. "Mistake‑ridden?" Bhatta‑ hari shot back. "And I supposed you are qualified to point them out?" The brahmacari, ever so cool, answered, "You can begin your reading and I will point out the faults one by one." In the first verse, the brahmacari exposed five flaws, explaining them so expertly that the Bhattahari was forced to admit that the boy was right. In the second verse he found ten mistakes, in the third fifteen, the fourth twenty and the fifth twenty‑five. At this point the reading broke down in an uproar. After this public humiliation, Bhattahari discovered that the disease had returned. In great desperation He prayed to the Deity, Who chastised him by saying, "Whose book is that Narayaniyam, yours or Mine? I told you to write it, I gave you the inspiration, I even showed you how to write it. You were simply an instrument. Now that you've become very proud, I've pointed out the faults in the text. Why not? It's my book, after all. If you want to become relieved of your offenses, you establish Pundaram in this temple to read his book also." So Bhattahari raced to the home of Pundaram and took the dust of his feet on his head, begging him to forgive him of Vaishnava‑aparadha. He invited him to daily read his work in the temple, and Pundaram happily agreed. But some of the temple brahmanas did not like Pundaram to read there. So, they more or less forced him to recite vishnu‑sahasra‑nama‑stotram as a test to see if he was qualified to recite anything for the Lord's pleasure. When he came to the name "Padmanabho'maram", he pronounced it "Padmanabha maram", which means (according to different possibilities of interpretation) "Lord of the dead", "Lord of the trees" or "Lord of the human beings." The brahmanas then ridiculed Pundaram: "You foolish farmer, how can you recite here? You've just made a great offense by calling the Deity 'the Lord of the dead', 'the Lord of the humans', 'the Lord of the trees.' But He has nothing to do with this mortal world ‑ He dwells in the spiritual world." Just then a voice was heard: "If I am not the Lord of those entities, then who is? Am I not the Lord of everything? From this day forth, the name Padmanabha maram is to always be praised in the reading of vishnu‑saha‑ shra‑nama‑stotram in this temple." Even today, when reciting the thousand names of Vishnu in Sri Guruvayor temple, the brahmanas pronounce the words that way.

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