During the full moon dedicated to one’s teacher, walking around Arunachala, at the halfway point — if you’ve started out from Sri Ramanasramam, which is exactly south of the Mountain — at Bhagavan’s Bridge, where Ramana Maharshi always paused on his way around the Hill, celebratory colored lights and statuary form a fortuitous arrangement with our closest celestial neighbor, brightly reflecting the light of the sun, as the stars and planets, sentient beings and whole galaxies, all revolve around the still, unmoving, center — Annamalai.
I opted to walk the 14 km barefoot, in solidarity with the half-million other walkers making the great circle in the cool of a summer’s night. That’s the tradition, suffering transmuted into good karma and other merits. But never feel compelled to sleep upon a bed of nails in order to enjoy a good night’s sleep. The outer tradition is really only a pale reflection of an inner reality. In other words, where is one’s attention? Upon the Feet of the Guru? Most excellent! On every prickle and stab in the soles of one’s feet? Sorry. In that case, the evening would be better spent with said feet up, body horizontal, vegging out on yer fav serial unfolding gloriously across flat-screen, surround-sound, air-conditioned heaven.
We all have our inner, non-stop chatter, sans ‘off’ switch. It wasn’t termed “stream of consciousness” for nothing. But hang on a second. This mental movie appears to be continuously moving. It’s not. It’s actually perfectly still, an infinite series of stills. Slow down and stop, or pause, this incessant chatter and you’ll find, horror of horrors, gaps. Dare you look more closely or, God forbid, get lost in them. They get bigger and without your knowing, you’re gone. This is the great Cloud of Unknowing. Fallen down a wormhole? Who did this to me? Blame Alice of Wonderland.
Thanks to the benevolent grace of a higher power, I looked over my right shoulder and there she was, pale moon rising over the wooded northern slopes of Arunachala. When I finished shooting and turned around, I was no longer alone; a half-dozen cameraphone owners were busy with the same idea.
In navigating the space-time continuum of the Age of Darkness — Kali Yuga — there is a 911 (US residents only), or 108 if you live in India. The supreme being, Lord Shiva, has a staunch devotee who eternally stands before Him, Nandi the Bull. Whisper into his ear your heart’s deepest desire and he’ll pass on the message.
We set out on the inner path late in the afternoon, under a hot sun blazing through gaps in the monsoon clouds overhead. In the distance sounded a faint clap of thunder and a wash of walking rain curtained the horizon to the south. “I wish it would rain down on us,” said one of the party. As we sat upon a rock to catch our breath while climbing over the western saddle, her wish was granted, briefly and gracefully. We weren’t carrying umbrellas. On the other side of the Mountain lay the reward of tapas. Glancing up towards the peak we were greeted by this vista.
Sunday dusk, the Mountain merging into the night, but this evening there’s a shocking difference. The hillock by Yama Lingam is ablaze.
Tall lemon grasses, dry as tinder in the height of summer, burn fiercely, flames shooting up into the darkening sky. It appears visually spectacular, smoke billlowing from the extended flanks of the fire line. Lower down, the lights along Perumbakkam Road lend a sense of scale.
No need to sound the alarm as it’s not Arunachala that’s on fire and the “Annamalai Fire Fighters” can stand down. Putting out these fires is a physically punishing job and it’s best to conserve limited resources for the protection of the Mountain itself. There are no other responders.
To quote the local government District Forest Officer on the recent major forest fire on Arunachala, “Volunteers and forest department personnel are working hard to control the fire. It will subside once the lemon grass was completely eaten by the fire.” [The Hindu, April 21, 2012, "Fire reduces greenery in Tiruvannamalai hill to ashes" ]
So yes, on this Sunday, eventually, a few hours later the sweeping fire burns itself out and all is still and dark again.
Once on a high and mighty hill
above the morning mist
<3 x <3
the world stood still
Earth beneath our feet
Water of life
Fire of consciousness
Air we breathe
Space all-encompassing, everywhere
~ ~ ~
Just as it is said that the darkest hour is before the dawn, so also the light of consciousness shines brightest on the ‘Great Night of Shiva’ or Mahashivaratri, the moonless night at the end of the dark fortnight in the month of Phalgun, which this year falls on February 20th. What is apparently paradoxical is, in fact, a straightforward truth that is outwardly visible in the intensity and scale of human devotions on this most auspicious of occasions, one of India’s most significant and widely celebrated religious festivals.
Lord Shiva is symbolized as linga, and worshipped as this phallic form in any or each of the five natural elements: earth, water, fire, air and space. The preeminent tejolinga, or linga of fire, is none other than Annamalai or Arunachala, the sacred hill that gives the pilgrim town of Tiruvannamalai its name. Tens of thousands of devout worshippers converge upon Mt Arunachala on this moonless night of Mahashivaratri to fast, to pray, to circumambulate the holy hill, to listen to discourses or sacred music, to chant mantras, or simply meditate. It is a night-long affair during which each devotee freely follows his or her own preferred path while gaining support from the shared presence of other pilgrims and the lineage of local saints and sages.
It has been recorded that Sri Ramana Maharshi (1879 – 1950), when perusing the Shiva Purana on June 30th, 1936, made this observation: “Shiva has the transcendental and immanent aspects as represented by his invisible, transcendental being and the linga aspect respectively. The linga manifested as Arunachala originally stands even to this day. This manifestation was when the moon was in the constellation of Orion (Ardra) in December. However, it was first worshipped on Shivaratri day which is held sacred even now.” (Talks With Sri Ramana Maharshi, Sri Ramanasramam, Talk No. 218).
In the centre of Tiruvannamalai, as the darkness begins to gather at dusk, the spacious flag-stoned courtyards of the Arunachaleshwarar Temple are awash with countless clay oil lamps, all laid out in vast sweeping designs, outlining various motifs characteristic of Lord Shiva: lingams, Nandi the bull, the sacred syllable ‘Om’ or Mt Arunachala. Hordes of devotees, young and old, continuously replenish the lamps with more oil, or light fresh ones.
Elsewhere, gigantic, brightly-coloured sand murals larger than a badminton court depict scenes of divinity and devotion: Shiva as Nataraja, lord of dance, or a devotee worshipping a linga at the foot of Mt Arunachala. In the inner sanctum of the 25-acre temple, a dense stream of pilgrims continuously circumambulates the garba griha, or sanctum sanctorum, throughout the night. For the less energetic, or frail of limb, classical music and dance performances within the temple premises help to keep one’s attention alive and focussed.
And, of course, there’s the perennially fulfilling 13-km circumambulation of Mt Arunachala. As recently as twenty years ago, it was so silent that a visiting filmmaker could record the soft susurrations of unshod footfalls upon the ground. Today, those delicate sounds have given way to an explosion of public piety, enthusiastic chants of “Om Namah Shivaya” and groups of devotional singers. With the imminent dawn of a new day, the supreme lord must surely be listening.
The Times of India, Chennai, commissioned me to write and illustrate with my photographs the annual Kartikai Deepam festival, for their special full-page feature on Tiruvannamalai. Happily, it appeared on Kartikai Deepam day itself, Thursday 8th December, 2011, in their various upcountry editions throughout Tamil Nadu (the Chennai edition of the same day’s Times of India carried a special feature on the famous Madras Music festival instead).
My article appeared as written, except for some edits for space — more than half the page is devoted to local ads! Here’s the full piece, with the cuts restored. Please enjoy!
On the peak of Mt Arunachala (2,668 ft), the ancient holy hill more popularly known as Annamalai, the excitement of anticipation becomes unbearable as the hands of the clock approach 6 p.m. To the west, the sun has set. At the other end of the panoramic vista, the full moon rises silently into the evening sky. More than 2,000 ft below, at the foot of the steep hill, the pilgrimage town of Tiruvannamalai lies silent, still and dark.
Unable to contain themselves any longer, the hundreds of devotees densely packed into the small area of the hilltop break out in a spontaneous chant: “Annamalai! Arohara! Annamalai! Arohara!” Upon the large boulder that marks the very highest point of the peak, an iron cauldron nearly two metres tall has been packed full with white kada cotton cloth, ghee and topped with fist-sized lumps of camphor.
At the exact moment of auspiciousness, the camphor is lit. Instantly, from every direction, cries of religious fervour erupt from hundreds of thousands of pilgrims and devotees who had unwaveringly focussed their eyes upon the top of Mt Arunachala for this very moment. Fireworks and crackers loudly burst into the sky. As if by a single switch, all the lights of Tiruvannamalai are turned on.
The magnificent 8th century big temple of Lord Arunachaleshwarar, in the centre of town, is ablaze with decorative lighting, the fortress-like perimeter wall enclosing 25 acres, it’s Raja Gopuram towering more than 200 ft high, making it the largest Shiva temple in the world. In the inner courtyard (prakaram), the five festival deities (utsava pancha murtis) are at the centre of the dense throngs, themselves the divine VIPs of the Kartikai Deepam Festival: Lord Arunachaleshwarar, his consort Goddess Apitakuchambika, their sons Vinayaka and Muruga, and Chandikeshwarar.
More quietly and on a smaller scale, families and groups of devotees in homes and ashrams across Tiruvannamalai light their own small deepams with ghee and cotton, to the accompaniment of prayers and pujas. In the world famous Sri Ramanasramam, an international gathering recite the original Tamil songs of Sri Ramana Maharshi in praise of Arunachala, including Arunachala Aksharamanamalai, 108 couplets that express the longing of the seeker for union with the divine.
This Kartikai Deepam festival is not only an ancient commemoration but also an apt reminder for our troubled times today. The Puranic tale informs us that the gods, Brahma and Vishnu, were quarrelling, each asserting that the one was greater than the other. This fight was causing profound disturbances throughout the cosmos. The celestial beings finally appealed to Lord Shiva to put an end to the dispute and restore peace and harmony in all the worlds. Shiva appeared before the contentious duo as an infinite column of light. Confronted by this transcendental phenomenon, Brahma and Vishnu agreed that he who found the end of this light would be the winner. Brahma took the form of a swan and flew upwards. Vishnu assumed the shape of a boar and burrowed downwards. Vishnu returned defeated. Brahma, seeing a lotus flower falling from above, took it in his beak as proof that he had found the top. Then Lord Shiva revealed his true form. One of Brahma’s heads, the one that told the lie, was cut off, and he is not worshipped separately to this day. And that fiery pillar of infinite light is Annamalai, Arunachala, cooled down into the shape of an ordinary hill, out of compassion for humanity, so that devotees may draw near and bow to the supreme lord.
Every day of the elaborate, 10-day Kartikai Deepam festival is filled with spectacle and excitement. In the night, the deities are taken in grand procession through the streets of Tiruvannamalai. The most notable is the 7th day Therotsavam, the Big Car Festival, when Lord Arunachaleshwarar is borne upon a gigantic wooden car, nearly five storeys tall, and drawn entirely by the hands of thousands of devotees, pulling on heavy iron chains. The largest cattle market in the district also happens during the Deepam festival, when hundreds of local farmers gather to buy and sell their farm animals. At any given time, pilgrims by the thousand perform giripradakshina, the ritual 13-km circumambulation of the holy hill. This is especially popular every full moon night, and the Kartikai pournami (full moon) walk around Annamalai is by far the most significant.
Kartikai Deepam is truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and if the devotee has had darshan of Deepam once in this life, it is enough. And if even that proves impossible, divine providence has today provided us with the internet and live TV!
Dev Gogoi is author of the award-winning Arunachala Mountain of Light, 2007, a photographic study of the sacred hill. He is a Tiruvannamalai-based book editor and photographer, and student of Sri Ramana Maharshi.
And here are larger versions of the published pictures. Thank you Guhan for the suggestion:
And here are links to more of my Karthikai Deepam 2011 work:
Monsoon clouds roil in from the north-east, turning noon to night
buffeting birds into blurry blobs in the blustery breeze
darkening earthly Arunachala to reveal a mountain
Full moon again. Seems like day-before-yesterday since the last one. Maybe the cosmos is in fast-forward mode. This morning the road around the Mountain was already busy with pilgrims on their walk around Arunachala. We were on a moped, dodging speeding buses and trucks for whom lesser creatures appear not to exist, en route to the inner path for our regular walk along the flanks of this old familiar hill.
Arriving at the pond, we see five water lilies in bloom. Large and deep purple, far enough from the banks to discourage the casual collector, so more the likely to display their beauty for passersby who aren’t intent upon their toes.
The tamarind trees are laden with seed pods, as yet untouched. Newspaper reports say the wholesale price of tamarind has risen significantly because of the decline in crop harvest as a result of all the tree felling along highways to make way for road widening and expansion. Score one more for our relentless race into the future, where billboards substitute for trees, urging us to buy things man made, in that ever shortening interval between point A and point B, when a speed-induced state of euphoria needs nothing more than fossil fuel to sustain itself.
In the silence of the tamarind tree by the pond it takes a little while for us to become aware that we are not alone. There, upon the upper branches, sits a solitary langur monkey. Big, male, apparently doing nothing. Not sleeping, not picking at the leaves or fruit. A deep resonant “whoop,” the characteristic call of the langur, reaches us from somewhere upon the Mountain. This guy answers. Then all is quiet again.
Eventually, I lift the camera. A crow flies into the frame. I shoot.
When we leave, the langur is still there.
I wandered lonely as a cloud
Up hill, down vale, with friends who’ve met anew
When all at once we came upon
A concert just for You.
A white lily blooms at the feet of Arunachala, turning its face towards the peak of the holy mountain.
In the inner courtyard of the Arunachaleshwarar Temple in Tiruvannamalai during the annual Kartikai Deepam Festival, devotees swirl about the sanctum sanctorum, garba griha, as Mt Arunachala looms more than 2,800 ft into the darkening sky, the giant flame of ghee, clarified butter, lit upon its peak to commemorate the cosmic peace established by Lord Shiva, who ended the epic quarrel between Brahma and Vishnu by manifesting as an infinite pillar of light, embodied in this age by Annamalai, the mountain Arunachala itself.
The ‘sthala vriksha’ or ‘tree of Arunachala,’ in the inner courtyard of the Big Temple, all lit up for the Deepam Festival.
Botanical name: Mimusops elengi. Also known as Spanish cherry. Called ‘bakul’ in Hindi.
Flowers white and fragrant.
Five of the nine gopurams (entrance towers) of the Big Temple. On the left, the north tower: Ammani Amman Gopuram and its relatively small companion tower. In the centre is Killi Gopuram, “Parrot Tower.” Then Vallalar Gopuram and at far right the main entrance to the Big Temple, the Raja Gopuram in the east.
More photos at Deepam Festival illuminations at Arunachaleshwarar Temple