On May 1, 2019, I began a journey that I could not have anticipated would change the way I see myself as a writer. It was not born of ambition or grand design but of inspiration. Gopi Reddy and his wife, Tanya, nudged me toward blogging as a form of expression. Tanya...
Eternal, Ephemeral and I
Eternal, Ephemeral and I
I have always believed in the mystery surrounding this world. As a child, I believed in mythological stories, the stories in my textbooks, and the ones I heard on the radio (Television was not avaiable in homes until the 1970s). Then, when I entered the realm of books, I related to the stories there. Only after enrolling in GB Pant University and living surrounded by scientific institutions did rationality dawn on my consciousness. There was a great library there, and I used to spend hours reading books on humanities, driven by an irrational curiosity.
After coming to Hyderabad, the work pressure at the Defence Research & Development Laboratory (DRDL) took me away from books for a while. In 1987, I developed life-threatening ventricular tachycardia and was rushed to hospital in an emergency. When I thought about why I had that medical emergency and how was I treated in an ICU, which included medicines accessed from the U.K. through government channels, my enchantment with the mysterious returned. I met Dr B. Soma Raju in the hospital. Colonel R. Swaminathan, Chief of Management Services at DRDL, emerged as excellent support. In hindsight, that crisis propelled me to a higher orbit.
Dr APJ Abdul Kalam had chosen me to pilot ‘Civilian Spinoffs of the Defence Technologies’, a programme aimed at developing affordable indigenous medical devices. He created the Society for Biomedical Technology as an interministerial initiative of the Government of India. But as the Indian economy opened up and globalisation swept in, this initiative turned redundant. Dr Soma Raju, by this time a good friend-cum-mentor, established the CARE Foundation and Hospital,and I took a leap of faith, quitting my government job to work there. Dr Kalam was a steadfast pillar, offering constant guidance and support.
In 2004, I suffered a cardiac arrest. Thankfully, as I was working at CARE Hospital (a career path that seemed nearly impossible for a mechanical engineer), I could be resuscitated in time. On the eve of my bypass surgery, Mr Madhu Reddy, CEO of University Press and publisher of ‘Wings of Fire’, visited me and gifted me a copy of ‘Glass Palace’, a novel by Amitav Ghosh about the King of Burma. Later, I visited Myanmar, the new name of Burma, with Dr. P. Krishnam Raju, Cardiologist and Chairman of CARE Foundation. We visited the real ‘Glass Palace’. Our visit paved the way for the training of Burmese doctors in India, which led to the beginning of the healthcare revolution there, similar to the onein India in the 1980s.
After Dr Kalam departed in 2015, I took up reading scriptures and decoding them for young people by writing in simple English. Dr Soma Raju gifted me ‘The Hero with a Thousand Faces’ by Joseph Campbell (1904–1987), which explores how mystery reveals itself in the world of sight and sound to whoever is open to transformation. On my own, I have read, over two years, the collected works of the Swiss psychiatristCarl Jung (1875–1961), published in twenty volumes. Volume 14 is ‘Mysterium Coniunctionis’; he wrote it at the age of 81. He metaphorically said that peace descends only after the ego is discarded, just as the moon rises after sunset.
And then, suddenly, the Shaligram appeared.
The use of the Shaligram Shila in the worship of Lord Vishnu is a well-known Hindu practice. I remember Shaligram Shila as a part of our ‘Thakur Ji’ collection, miniaturised metal idols handed over by our ancestors. When I asked my younger brother Salil, who lives in Meerut, about it, he told me that it had accidentally fallen while children were playing with it, causing it to crack. Therefore, it was immersed in the river Ganga.
Shaligram Shila is a fossilised stone collected from the bed or banks of the Kali Gandaki River in the Himalayas, famous for its course that runs between deep gorges. The hallmark of a Shaligram Shila is its black colour and distinctive fossil marks, representing an ancient creature preserved in stoneover millions of years. Obtaining an authentic Shaligram Shila is not easy, as they are primarily circulated through exchangesamong devoted believers. Of course, fake stones are available in the market.
While studying the Shiva Purana to write my next book, ‘The Lord of Innocents’, I came across the story of Shaligram Shila. Lord Vishnu had to impersonate Tulsi’s husband to take away her chastity so that her husband, Shankhachuda, who was protected by that force, could be killed. WhenShankhachuda died in battle with Lord Shiva, Tulsi discovered that she had been deceived. She cursed Lord Vishnu to live as a stone on Earth. The innocent lady who was wronged, ended her life. Impressed with her, Goddess Parvati, took the body of Tulsi and transformed it into the Gandaki River, and from her hair emerged the Tulsi shrub.
Lord Vishnu assumed the form of a large rocky mountain,known as Shaligram, rolling over in the Gandaki river. To complete the punishment, worms with teeth as strong as the ‘vajra’ (the thunderbolt, Lord Indra’s weapon) carved out various markings on His stone body. So, whoever worships a Shaligram Shila with a Tulsi leaf bridges the ancient past and connects with the eternal strife between good and evil. Itreflects the complexities of discerning the right course of action in challenging situations, where even God may be required to take decisions that are neither straightforward nor conventional.
I usually share my learnings and interesting readings with Amol, my younger son, as a daily morning ritual, when chai (tea) meets coffee on our balcony. One day, I shared the story of Tulsi and Shaligram with Amol. Coincidentally, some of Amol’s friends were in Varanasi (Kashi) for a spiritual New Year celebration. He shared this story with them over the phone. The coincidence turned serendipitous as his friends were visiting the Bindu Madhav temple. The three presiding deities of Kashi are Lord Vishwanath, Lord Kala Bhairava and Lord Bindu Madhav, a Shaligram idol of Lord Vishnu. When Amol’s friends expressed the request for a Shaligram before the chief priest of the Bindu Madhav Mandir, he graciously gave away a Shaligram stone that had been housed in the temple for several hundred years. He refused to accept money for the favour and said, “It is going where it belongs.” Ever since I have received it, I daily offer it water and a tulsi leaf and experience a strange peace in performing this little ritual.
Fossil stones are found everywhere in the world. They vary in size from microscopic bacteria to fossils of birds, fish, trees and even dinosaurs, some weighing many tons. As for the Himalayas, they were created when the floating Gondwana landmass collided with another, causing the terrain to lift up. Several forests and animals were buried under the mass and their remains were etched on stones as time passed. When I worship the Shaligram, I feel connected to that distant past and the power of time over which water flowing over millions of years transforms rocks into smooth, rounded stones. Life is as ephemeral as it is eternal.
It is no wonder that life’s enigma attracts truth-seekers, from monks and philosophers to explorers and scientists. The best minds seek to unveil the mystery that governs these phenomena. My belief has grown that the universe is nothing more than a mystery, a benign enigma turned terrifying by our irrational pursuit of understanding it. Let us live purposefully, attending to our duties, and let the rest unfold. Some mysteries aren’t meant to be solved and why I exist is one such mystery.
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