Compassion and Ecstasy (1014 words)

 

Devakipuram is a small place, not quite a village, yet not quite a town either. It had schools and a college, a government hospital, a railway station, and a bus stand. But what made the place truly special was the famous Krishna temple that stood at its very heart.

The presiding deity Krishna there was believed to be a Varaprasadi, one who readily granted the sincere prayers of devotees. Yet the temple was never unbearably crowded. It owned considerable property and was financially self-sufficient, so its affairs were conducted without difficulty.

The temple trustee, Narayana Chettiar, was a man of impeccable character. He was honest, disciplined, and never took the wrong path. The priest, too, performed his duties with deep faith and devotion.

But let us come to the story.

In a street adjoining the temple lived an elderly woman known to everyone as Sengamalam Paatti. She lived with her son and came to the temple every morning without fail. She and the priest knew each other well.

One night, at around eight o’clock, she received a phone call from Bengaluru.

Her only daughter, Kanaka, had fallen and suffered a severe blow to the head. She was unconscious and was undergoing tests in the ICU. Her son-in-law had called to tell her the frightening news.

The old woman was shattered.

Her hands and feet seemed to lose all strength. Before the temple closed for the night, she hurried there to pray to the Lord.

The sanctum was empty.

The priest was nowhere to be seen.

Overcome with distress, she stood before the closed inner shrine and cried out:

“What kind of trial is this, Lord? Krishna… Narayana… Please save my daughter! I came to perform an archana for her!”

At that very moment, the door of the sanctum opened from within, and the priest stepped out.

“When did you come?” he asked. “There was some oil spilt inside, so I was cleaning it. Shall I perform an archana? For whom? Sri Vatsa gotra? What is her name?”

The old woman froze.

How does he know the gotra?

“It is for my daughter Kanaka, Pushyam star ” she said hurriedly. “She fell and hit her head very badly. She is unconscious and cannot speak. She has two small children. Please do it quickly. I came in such a panic that I brought nothing with me.”

“Never mind,” he said.

And he began the archana.

After a while, he said, “I am going to perform the deepa aradhana now. Pray with all your heart.”

He circled the camphor flame before the Lord three times.

“Did you have a good darshan?” he asked.

Then, with a mischievous smile, he added, “Now look at this as well.”

And he circled the flame before his own face.

The old woman let out a sudden little giggle.

“What a strange and funny man you are?” she said. “Thank you so much. I feel as though a great weight has been lifted from my heart.”

The priest placed a leaf cup (dhonnai) filled with (kalkandu) rock sugar in her hands.

“By the grace of the Lord, your daughter will regain consciousness tomorrow morning and begin speaking normally. It is late now. I have to close the temple. Go home at once,” he said, hurrying her along.

The old woman had taken barely four steps away from the sanctum when the priest suddenly entered, rushing from outside.

“Please forgive me,” he said. “I was overcome by an urgent need to relieve myself. I have poured a bucket of water from the well on my head and have come back in fresh clothes.

The old woman stared at him.

A strange fear crept into her heart.

Who was the man who had just performed the archana? And who was this man standing before her now?

They looked exactly alike.

Her head began to spin.

“Who are you?” she cried. “And who was the person who performed the archana inside? I don’t understand anything! Oh, Lord… Krishna!”

“What are you talking about?” the priest said. “I am the only priest here. There is no one else. I closed the sanctum and came out. Come, let us go inside and see.”

He entered the sanctum.

“There is no one here,” he said. Then he looked at her. “Did you bring the rock sugar?”

The old woman stared at him in disbelief.

“What is happening here? This is like some kind of magic! Where is that elderly man? I came here in such a hurry that I came empty-handed!”

“There is no rock sugar in the shrine here,” the priest said. “There is only turmeric powder, kumkum, sandalwood paste, and (sambrani) incense. You are an elderly woman. Nevertheless, how can I believe that you saw someone else inside?”

 “Why would I lie?” she demanded. “Look properly!”

The priest searched the sanctum carefully.

“Yes…” he said slowly. “You are right. There are seven or eight pieces of rock sugar scattered on the floor.”

He paused.

“But still…”

“Oh, no! What is this insinuation?”  the old woman cried.

“Krishna… Narayana… If what I have said is true, please tell him Yourself!”

The instant she uttered those words, the bell inside the sanctum began to ring on its own.

The oil lamps suddenly flared brightly.

And all at once, the entire sanctum filled with the powerful fragrance of incense.

The priest collapsed to the floor.

He looked up at the Lord, tears streaming down his face.

“Forgive me, my Lord,” he sobbed. “For twenty years I have performed lakhs of archana rituals and countless abhishekams with devotion and sincerity. Yet I have never been blessed with such grace. I have never received such a divine darshan…”

His voice broke.

He wept with a mixture of wonder, humility, and deep regret.

Once again, the temple bell began to ring.

The lamps burned brighter.

The fragrance of incense spread everywhere.

The old woman and the priest stood transfixed, their bodies covered in goosebumps, gazing at the Lord.

And in that sacred moment, both of them were overcome by paravasam, a state of divine ecstasy beyond words.