The year was 1290 . A crowd had gathered around a clearing, where broken down pillars marked the presence of an ancient temple, now long gone. A young boy, just 14 years old, leaned against one of those pillars, deep in thought. Then, he began speaking, and the crowd fell silent, listening to his every word. He spoke without any notes, translating the Bhagavat Gita, from Sanskrit, which only the pundits knew, to the language everyone in the village knew and spoke – a variety of Prakrit which developed into the Marathi language. Even as he spoke, one of the men in the audience realized how momentous this event was, and how important this composition would be. He began writing down the words the young boy spoke, and this composition was named by its author and composer, the Bhavartha Deepika – the enlightening meaning (of the Bhagavat Gita). Now, the ancient, holy text, was no longer restricted to the pundits, but accessible to all, understood easily by them, composed as it was, in their...
Taking a break from my regular posts, I am sharing today an article that was published in Rail Bandhu a while back, titled - A Hymn called the Cauvery We stand atop the mountain , and peer into a tank. Around us are the lush green mountains of the Western Ghats, and, it seems apt that a river as holy as the Cauvery should originate here, in the Brahmagiri Ranges of Coorg, Karnataka. She bubbles forth as a spring, in this tank, during the monsoon months, and then flows down as a river from the foothills, giving the place its name -‘Talacauvery’. It is at these foothills, at Bhagamandala, that we first see her as a river, and this is also where she meets the first of her many sisters. Here, she merges with the mountain stream Kannike, and the invisible (and maybe mythical) Sujyothi, to form the Cauvery, as we know her. A temple at Bhagamandala enshrines both, Vishnu and Shiva, and the Cauvery, when she is in full flow, washes the steps of the temple, as if paying obeisan...