I dream of Mahalaya dawn at such a water body, the air pristine
Photo from 2023 - retrofitted(!)
29th September 2016
Wow! The fifth day of this exercise. I do hope portals are opening and the first roots are being wound to form bridges to the chapters of the book.
But I digress. I am confused, tired and sneezy this morning. My hands are sore. The weather was cool at dawn and Canopus winked at me all the while that I listened to Mahishaduramardini. But the air was also stifling as the dawn slowly faded in. It was an oppressive feeling. The air smelt most unfresh. And this saddened.
A strange feeling on a morning that starts a new and special fortnight and welcomes a powerful and benevolent force that flows down a mountain into our homes and hearts as a clear, cleansing … well I can’t find the word so I will let cleansing play its role as noun.
It’s just that Devi and her essence this time seem to defy description. As the last hymn was playing, there was a familiar smell in the air. But it was not the usual smoking guns. I felt like I had been transported to the burning pyres. Yes I know that uneasy jolt to the senses. And I am taken back from the goddess to the Pitrus and the (not so) hallowed place where they all take leave of us. I did not welcome that scent for it was not the scent of welcome.
I tried for more sleep. Where was the awakening? I realize I am starting to find the Mahalaya experience, the dawn waking to listen to something that is no longer rare or special thanks to the ubiquitous Utube, strained. The art and craft of recording, of replicating and of holding on to and imprisoning what ought to be ephemeral, have changed the power of that ephemeral for ever. Reduced. altered, weakened, For the power of the fleeting is in its impermanence.
It is now bottled and marketed and we hold on to the shell and focus on all the trivia. It has to be four a.m. We have to feel autumn in the air. And so on. But what are we doing to bring the feel of autumn to that air? Rather we are vitiating every aspect of the divine and healthful in our air. Deliberately, carelessly, callously, mindlessly … I could go on.
I await a lesson from the goddess on how to let go and give HER a chance to approach us and find her favorite window or door or crack in our armor. I await lessons on a paradigm shift and the end of God For Sale!
Meanwhile the Pitrus have struck back. Late last night a friend posted the most incredible picture depicting the Pitrus and a hand stretched out with offerings for them. The Pitrus are inscrutable and they are beyond an unbridgeable gap. I will leave you with the profound image to express your own feelings. The image overpowered me and made me ponder the pitrus and their needs (or were they our needs?) for the best part of the night. I was restless, uncomfortable, anxious that a sleepless night would take away the pleasures of the dawn concert.
I have always associated that beautiful star low in the southern horizon with my dad. From the day of his passing, the star would twinkle at us through his favorite window and that star gave me company this dawn. It is a star of hope and the continuance of the cycle of life. A star has to rise and set and rise again. Even a long dead star whose light took all these years to reach us and which will continue its periodic reassurance through our own lifetime. Perhaps it is this assurance we think we are bottling in our recordings? There was a time when the ancestors were precious and we reached them just on that one morning and drew the year’s energy. I have a story of a precious perfume gifted to me that mysteriously escaped from a bottle. You can’t hold down what is meant to fly its own path beyond your ken.
Perhaps that is the meaning of an ancestor’s day and the old folks’ belief that you don’t disturb them at other times. While I may not agree on the details, I realized from Vidya’s painting shared below, that there were some deep yearnings within us which we reflect as the yearnings of the ancestors. In feeding them it is our own confined, bottled, trapped soul we are feeding.
I leave you with the power of the image
A strange feeling on a morning that starts a new and special fortnight and welcomes a powerful and benevolent force that flows down a mountain into our homes and hearts as a clear, cleansing … well I can’t find the word so I will let cleansing play its role as noun.
It’s just that Devi and her essence this time seem to defy description. As the last hymn was playing, there was a familiar smell in the air. But it was not the usual smoking guns. I felt like I had been transported to the burning pyres. Yes I know that uneasy jolt to the senses. And I am taken back from the goddess to the Pitrus and the (not so) hallowed place where they all take leave of us. I did not welcome that scent for it was not the scent of welcome.
I tried for more sleep. Where was the awakening? I realize I am starting to find the Mahalaya experience, the dawn waking to listen to something that is no longer rare or special thanks to the ubiquitous Utube, strained. The art and craft of recording, of replicating and of holding on to and imprisoning what ought to be ephemeral, have changed the power of that ephemeral for ever. Reduced. altered, weakened, For the power of the fleeting is in its impermanence.
It is now bottled and marketed and we hold on to the shell and focus on all the trivia. It has to be four a.m. We have to feel autumn in the air. And so on. But what are we doing to bring the feel of autumn to that air? Rather we are vitiating every aspect of the divine and healthful in our air. Deliberately, carelessly, callously, mindlessly … I could go on.
I await a lesson from the goddess on how to let go and give HER a chance to approach us and find her favorite window or door or crack in our armor. I await lessons on a paradigm shift and the end of God For Sale!
Meanwhile the Pitrus have struck back. Late last night a friend posted the most incredible picture depicting the Pitrus and a hand stretched out with offerings for them. The Pitrus are inscrutable and they are beyond an unbridgeable gap. I will leave you with the profound image to express your own feelings. The image overpowered me and made me ponder the pitrus and their needs (or were they our needs?) for the best part of the night. I was restless, uncomfortable, anxious that a sleepless night would take away the pleasures of the dawn concert.
I have always associated that beautiful star low in the southern horizon with my dad. From the day of his passing, the star would twinkle at us through his favorite window and that star gave me company this dawn. It is a star of hope and the continuance of the cycle of life. A star has to rise and set and rise again. Even a long dead star whose light took all these years to reach us and which will continue its periodic reassurance through our own lifetime. Perhaps it is this assurance we think we are bottling in our recordings? There was a time when the ancestors were precious and we reached them just on that one morning and drew the year’s energy. I have a story of a precious perfume gifted to me that mysteriously escaped from a bottle. You can’t hold down what is meant to fly its own path beyond your ken.
Perhaps that is the meaning of an ancestor’s day and the old folks’ belief that you don’t disturb them at other times. While I may not agree on the details, I realized from Vidya’s painting shared below, that there were some deep yearnings within us which we reflect as the yearnings of the ancestors. In feeding them it is our own confined, bottled, trapped soul we are feeding.
I leave you with the power of the image
Vidya Murali's capture of the essence of Pitru's Mahalaya
I will talk about the two Mahalayas of Bengal another time and of the one time my parents rightly muddled things up <smile>
signed off 9 a.m.
signed off 9 a.m.
Coffee calls!
Edit - the link to her image was removed alas so you see a blank you can fill with your imagination
Maya, this is a beautiful piece. Enriching and cathartic. Aparna's story resonates with me; you know why. Thank you for writing this. Love, Rijhdyuti.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for reading and commenting, Rijhdyuti. I can understand the resonance.
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