Nostalgie!!!

NOSTALGIE!

Having been born in the North to mixed parentage ( North & South) connect with great ease regarding the soaking and washing of the Earthen Diyas.

Making the cotton wicks ,adding oil with utmost care over the handmade wicks.

Keeping them all ready on wooden trays to be transported to the terrace as well as the garden wall and gate.

My dear Mothe would light the குதி விலக்கு ( kuthi vilakku) that was the centre piece in our Pooja mandapam with 5 wicks one for each of our family member.

Mother would light the lamp talking of her Mother and Father ,adorn kumkumam on the golden bell-metal Kerala -style lamp.

I have it with me today and have been lighting the same with my children and grandchildren.

We all would chant our SHLOKAMs and then chant with folded hands and closed eyes the special SHLOKAM -Mahalakshmyashtakam .

Then all the earthen lamps would be lit and each of us would arrange the lamps with great care equidistantly on the terrace wall, on the garden wall wherever we found space.

According to our dear Father all dark corners and even bathrooms would get a glowing lamp that would spread that exclusive golden light special to oil lamps.

So many memories, so many voices and shadows from the past coming to life vividly !

Sweet and yet so very sad!

My Mother used to quote Shelley a poet she admired no end :

Our sweetest songs are those tell of saddest thought!

Am going to take some liberty by changing this immortal statement to

Our sweetest thoughts are indeed those that are the saddest !

Wonder as to why the past always seems more beautiful than the present!!!

🙏🕉🙏SHUBHA DEEPAVALI🙏🕉🙏 TO ONE & ALL!🙏🏻🪔🔆🪔🙏🏻

P.S.

And today is the 6th December 2022 and in the South of Bharat we celebrate காட்டிக் தீபமஂ- कार्तिक दीपोत्सवम्. 

Thinking of Amma, Mausi, Bai with whom.as a child I recall having made Pori undai (खील-गुड़ के लड्डू and lighting lamps for brothers!

In truth are we not All Brothers & Sisters???

*शुभस्य कार्तिक दीपोत्सव* ।

This year Kartik Deepam falls on the same day as 6 years ago and strangely I checked that 19th December 2003 the day Our Dearest Mausi left us was Ekadashi and this year too it is सफला एकादशी!

🙏🕉🙏🕉🙏

A tale between two cities

The night was a moonless one and the taxi was speeding along the dark road. Not a glimmer of light or a sign of life was evident on either side except for the lights of the car in front.

We the passengers inside were silent.  The silence outside and inside were together in tune mounting towards a crescendo.

At intervals, the gleam in the eyes of the driver would be reflected in the rear-view mirror. My heart was beating at a pace which had been hitherto unknown to me. My mother had in the meantime removed all her jewellery - bangles, ring and diamond ear tops that were gifted by her dear mother. She had tied them all in a handkerchief and slowly lowered them down her 'strumfhose' down to her heels and redonned her shoes.

It was winter and the open countryside bereft of trees, light and human-beings appeared utterly desolate. It stirred within our hearts emotions bordering on the eerie and the bizarre.

The air was bitterly cold and at times one could hear the weird howl of a jackal that heightened our rising anxiety.

At times, fear prompts the brain to think harder and I remembered my black nylon scarf with golden thread checks. If a nylon stocking could do the job so many times, it could be put to use once again in self-defence. My hands and fingers were numb due to fear and the cold. In order to stimulate them I kept on twining and untwining the scarf around my fingers. It would be used to form a noose round the neck of the man.

All of a sudden, as the car was moving, the driver bent left towards the young man seated next to him and pushed the door open and banged shut it hard.

Our hearts were in our mouth! He could have just pushed Sharma out of the taxi!

Forewarned is forearmed. Every action of this driver pointed towards something sinister and unnatural. He had reacted to Sharma's mild request to drive carefully within the holy city of Varanasi most aggressively and rudely. Under normal circumstances, I with my fiery reactive temper would have just told him to halt and would have got off at once.

Here, however, we were caught between the 'deep sea and the devil'. Trapped within a moving taxi driven by a suspicious chauffeur on an utterly cold and dark night ! 

We were relieved to see some far away twinkling lights in the distance and knew that we were nearing human habitation. Actually we were midway between two of the most holy cities of Varanasi and Prayag. It is amazing how emotions ensnare and release us. Fear that had haunted us for such a long distance now just vanished at the sight of tea-stalls, voices of people talking, hurricane lamp lights and buses full of passengers. 

We felt foolish to have undergone such rigours of mortification. Had our imagination stretched too much and too far!

The driver halted the taxi and went off to the tea stall to have some eats and tea. It was then that my mother spoke to Sharma and warned him to be careful asking him to remove his jazzy neck-tie just in case the fellow tried throttling his neck with it.

This was a petrol - refilling station and the driver was told to check oil, water and air so that the last leg of the journey would be smooth without any more hiccups.

The chauffeur was most sulky and boorish in his attitude.

Once again with the taxi in motion darkness loomed all around enveloping us like a cloak. Only the headlights of the moving vehicle were transforming the tall silent sentinels of trees into grotesque ghostly figures with outstretched beckoning arms.

All of a sudden, very strangely without any warning the taxi driver switched on the light inside the taxi. It was indeed very abnormal as it could unduly stress and sap the energy of the battery.

Next he asked us the time. Our earlier interaction had been very unpleasant and none of us replied to this unexpected query. Our voices were frozen due to the cold and darkness within and without. And then he brought the taxi to a complete halt.

It was menacingly dark. And then we heard the rumbling sound of a heavily over-loaded truck. Its head lights lit up our taxi. 

Our taxi driver had got off and was busily rummaging the dicky. I could not but admire my mother's presence of mind. She got out of the taxi and started signing to the truck to halt. Surely the truck driver would have seen her in the powerful headlights but he just sped away leaving us to our descending doom. 

In the meanwhile, I thought I could try driving off  but the scoundrel had got out with the  vehicle keys. 

He was pretending to open the bonnet, meddling with something and then banging the empty petrol and oil cans. One wondered as to why and for what he was waiting in that dark and desolate place! Then as suddenly as he had stopped, he got into the taxi and started speeding in the direction of Prayagaraj our destination. 

In the distance, the headlights lit up a white, newly-painted mile-stone and we saw the words HANDIA written in bold black contrast. 

My mother involuntarily shuddered and held my hand within hers. This place had been recently very much in the news for criminal activity. Possibly this driver had pre-arranged a rendez-vous with some miscreants but somehow something went amiss. 

His lighting up the inside of the taxi, asking us the time and then stopping the vehicle without any cause or warning had all been ulterior and deliberate. 

The timing had most probably and most certainly misfired. After having waited for sometime without any result there was no other option for him but to continue with the journey. His accomplices had somehow failed him. 

What a relief it was especially for my dear mother, to see the twinkling lights of our sacred city of Prayagaraj! We had reached holy Prayagraj after an unholy and agonising drive. 

The gods had been benevolent on us!

This is a true tale and not a tall tale. 

We had heard and still do hear of people being robbed, kidnapped for ransom or even being done to death. 

Often, when my mother and I used to sit together on a wintry evening in the cosy comfort of our home, the mere mention of Varanasi used to make us relive that adventure . 

My very own dear mother has gone away, the holy city of Prayag is far away on another continent but I still have that black, golden- checked gossamer nylon scarf. And it vividly brings back the memory of that winter's night. 

I still often shudder to think of what could have happened had the gods deemed it otherwise!!! 

Memories of Prayag, Ganga River..... !

We both had gone to Mumbai, Bharat after my dear mother's passing away.

It was December 2003.

My brother had performed the last rites being the only son. 

My mother had shifted to Mumbai during her last years after my father's death.

Part of the ashes (अस्थि) had been immersed in Nashik and he had kept a part for immersion in Triveni Sangam which is the confluence of Ganga, Yamuna and (गुप्त - वाहिनी) - invisible Sarasvati rivers.

My husband and I took the remaining asthi (अस्थि) to Prayagaraj where my parents had spent the major part of their lives.

We had booked a room in the Yatrik Hotel where we stayed as our home in Tagore Nagar did not have electricity and had been uninhabited for quite some time.

After arriving in Prayagaraj, we had the sacred duty to go to Triveni Sangam.

On arrival, we arranged a boat and strangely the people on the banks of the Ganga intuitively got to know the purpose of our visit.

So two people in addition to the boatmen came aboard the boat. 

The boatman (मल्लाह) rowed us to the confluence of the 3 rivers. 

The colour of river Ganga is muddy whereas her sister Yamuna is dark bluish - black.

Sarasvati is invisible. 

Today the Sarasvati River has dried up but her sanctity is still preserved and Sarasvati is worshipped. 

Sarasvati Valley civilisation has been extensively studied by archaeologists. 

Bharat is the only country in the world where all our rivers are worshipped as Goddesses with the exception of Brahmaputra who is a male. 

I can see my husband's smiling face wearing a green sweater sitting on the boat and talking to the two men. 

It was a cold winter's day. The far side of the river was Jhusi. One could see  in the distance the Ganga Bridge. One side is the Fort supposedly built by Akbar. 

My husband, always a philosopher asked the elderly man about the state of Hindu Dharmic civilisation. He gave a very pessimistic reply saying it was ebbing away just as the Sarasvati river had dried up. 

It did sadden us. 

After we immersed my mother's ashes we had to give a dakshina (sort of payment ) to the other man. But the money is not handed to him personally. It is thrown into the flowing water and this person actually dives to get the money. 

Certain thoughts were passing through my head at that time. 

My mind was wondering about the transience of our own lives but the reassuring presence of my dearest husband so near to me, prevented me from going that way. 

That was something not for ruminating. 

This is how we humans delude ourselves and play the game of escapism. We humans do not have the courage and strength to face hard truths of life. 

As a child, I had gone boating many times on this very same Ganga when our elders would take the sacred water in their cupped palms and shower the water on our heads. 

This is called Prokshanam  (प्रोक्षणम्). 

This is believed to be as good as taking a bath. This is done when a person does not take a holy dip directly in the river. 

Both of us too did the same. 

It is believed in Sanatana Dharma that one drop of Ganga water can wash away sins committed over many lifetimes. 

Infact, there are Mantrams chanted whilst taking bath that are believed to transform and sanctify any water in any country into water as pure and sacred as the waters of the 7 most-revered rivers (Saptasindhu) of Bharat. 

Ganga, Yamuna, Sarasvati, Godavari, Narmada, Sindhu, Kaveri, are the 7 most sacred rivers of Bharat. 

गङ्गे च यमुने चैव गोदावरि सरस्वति ।
नर्मदे सिन्धु कावेरि जलेऽस्मिन् संनिधिं कुरु ॥

gaṅge ca yamune caiva godāvari sarasvati .
narmade sindhu kāveri jale’smin saṃnidhiṃ kuru ..

Ganga, Yamuna, Saraswati, Godavari Narmada, Sindhu, Kaveri, 

May all these 7 holy rivers become confluent in this water and purify me. 

After immersion of the asthi we returned to Yatrik hotel. 

Today it is more than 7 years that I am alone without my dearest husband. 

He is in my thoughts each second of the day. 

Each morning whilst taking bath I chant this स्नान mantra and this very scene flashes in my mind's eye. 

I wonder where he is!

On that fatal day, April 30, 2014 I saw my husband lying with eyes closed forever. 

Everyday I relive that scene too. 

His 'asthi' too was immersed in this very Ganga by my son. 

I too shall join him one day and unite with all our dear loved ones gone long before. 

To my mind comes one of the most beautiful Sanskrit Subhashitams...... 

आकाशात् पतितं तोयं यथागच्छति सागरम् ।

सर्वदेव नमस्कारः केशवं प्रतिगच्छति ॥

ākāśāt patitaṃ toyaṃ yathāgacchati sāgaram .
sarvadeva namaskāraḥ keśavaṃ pratigacchati ..

As the drops of falling rain from the sky reach the ocean; 

So too all the prayers to all the gods ultimately get to Lord Keshava.

My interpretation is different. 

As the drops of falling rain reach the mighty ocean , we two too will join together. 

We two drops will once again attain each other! 

This is my only lasting last wish! 

🙏🕉️🙏हरि ॐ तत् सत्🙏🕉️🙏

Some childhood reminiscences

 Have been resolving to write a sort of consolidated memory of certain things that I did with my brother & sister.  What we did as children! 

My grandparents whom we called Amma&Appa had taught us Shlokams and we had seen our Pooja being lighted with a lamp both morning and evening. 

Ayya - Bai were our dear Uncle and Aunt. 

Our dear Aunt's name (Periamma =Elder Mother) was KRISHNAMBAL & Uncle's name was Harihara Sharma. 

They were most loving & we 3 children spent 2-3 years altogether in Bombay (Ganesh Bagh, Matunga ) when our parents were away in UK. 

In addition, every summer vacation (for 2 months) we used to go to Bombay to be with them. 

Those were the years - very rich, when I as a child learnt Tamil & Marathi. 

My Periamma had 5 children who were much older than us and they were MOST LOVING. 

Eldest son was called चूड़ामणि and his name was Prabhakar Sharma. 

To us he was ANNA JI- (Elder brother) who told us Tales of Valour about Chattrapati Shivaji Maharaj. Who fought against cruel Muslim rulers especially Aurangzeb the Most cruel of Moghuls. 

Annaji married Sulochana (our famous Manni) who arranged my marriage to Appa. 

Manni passed away about 3 years ago. 

Their children: Usha(in Suisse) , 

Ashok-Poornima and Sushil-Kamala both brothers in Bengaluru. 

Anasuya was our elder sister, then Priyayamvada (whom we called Piri), next Sitaram (who named himself - He told his Father :Mera naam Sitaram) but he was called Baby by all and last brother was Krishna who's wife is Lekha. 

Except for Lekha, all the rest have become memories. 

Anasuya 's husband was Hariharan athimbair. 

Their children are Girija and Vinay. 

Priya' s husband was Balasubramaniam (Balan Athimbair). They did not have any children. 

Then as we grew up in Allahabad with grandparents fading away, we saw our Mother whom we called Mausi light the Pooja Lamp. 

Our paternal grandmother whom we called Dadi also followed the same Hindu ritual. 

Dadi was very orthodox and kept many fasts (jours de jeune) And we used to get delicious PRASAD after Pooja, & Arati. 

This was very normal in our home. 

One ritual that our Mother instilled was to say our Shlokams together in the evening. 

Coming back from school we would finish homework and go out to play but had been told by Mausi to come home as soon as it became dusk. This time is called GO.DHOOLI. Go =cow and Dhuli =dust. 

This is the time when Krishna Bhagavan, the Divine cowherd brought back cows home after grazing. 

And in the rays of the setting sun would be seen the dust raised by the cows coming home. =GO. DHULI! 

You children (Soumyarani & Aditya) know the Shloka :

"Godhuli dhoosarit komal gopavesham 

Gopala balak satai anugamyamanam, 

Sayandanai pratigriham Pashubandhanaartham

Gaschantum achyuta shishum 

Pranatosmi nithyam 

Gidhuli dhoosarit komal kuntalagram 

Govinda Bindu vasanam 

Gopala Balam manasaasmarami

So without fail,DAILY we used to BLINDLY OBEY.

Our parents used to return home LATER in the evening from the University. 

And were usually not at home. 

We would come inside the home , 

wash our feet well. 

And I being eldest and a girl used to light the Pooja Lamp. 

We would spread our special श्लोकम् straw mat and sit cross - legged and say our Shlokams with closed eyes and folded palms. 

However, we were very naughty. 

My brother and I being very close in years would chant Shlokams at different speeds, race each other and get into a real battle. 

And often my Mother would say :Are you saying your prayers or having a fighting match? 

But saying our श्लोक was something we did regularly and daily. 

And this discipline was due to Amma-Appa, Ayya-Bai, Mausi & our dear Dadi too. 

After saying our Shlokams we would take each family member's name and say Bhagavan, please protect & look after them in every way. 

After saying our Shlokams we would do namaskar in the Pooja room and go to every person in the family and say Namaste to them individually. Age did not matter. 

This was done daly. 

Today too I continue each morning and evening to light the Pooja Lamp. 

And the serene luminosity of the lighted lamp awakens many many hidden memories from the recesses of the mysterious mind.

First it reminds me of Mausi my Mother who gifted me the precious and beautiful Bell metal vilakku as an important part of the gifts given while leaving home with Appa after getting married. (10th March, Monday 1975).

My dear Aunt Bai had given me a Lakshmi-Ganesh framed picture that was at the centre of our Pooja wherever we put up our home.
Those are such sweet precious memories which I shall cherish as long as I am alive! 

As a little girl, seeing dear Bai, my dear dear gentle aunt lighting the lamp in Allahabad home every morning, I recall asking her  :Bai what do you think and pray when you light the vilakku. 

And she would give one of her sweetest smiles and say :O I pray to Bhagavan to keep you all safe, well, healthy and happy.
Such a simple but precious prarthana. 

And this is exactly what I do daily today!
For everyone in the family and also the world to be healthy and happy. 

My Grandmother & Grandfather taught us all the Sanskrit Shlokams that we know and I do marvel at their wisdom, patience and love to have bequeathed to us one of the most precious gifts of life for life! 

We as children (whether our parents were at home or not) came into the house at eventide, washed our hands & feet and would light the lamps (my Mother had two small silver lamps given to her by Amma our grandmother). 

We had a Popat Krishna (Sweet Krishna smilingly holding a parrot to his heart) at the centre of the Pooja shelf in our small study room that was shared by the 3 of us. 

Some of the Pooja items like the Deeparadhana item for Ararti, the small brass bell used during Ararti and a silver Lakshmi coming to me from Amma.
And brass panchpatra-uddharini, Shaligram and Shivalinga ((2)from Dadi my paternal grandma. I recall her taking these items to the Sangam-Thriveni for her annual Gangasnaan and they too had a purificatory bath.

So they have SPECIAL SACRED VIBRATIONS. 

While lighting the Lamp I also recall Bai saying to always take two wicks, never single. To use Til oil and say the special Shloka while lighting the lamp for 'enlightenment' and everything auspicious, good health and also 'over-coming enemies'. 

How naïve I was as a little girl! 

Enemies means the negativity within oneself but I used to interpret it as school friends with whom one had had a tiff! 

Such stark Immaturity! 

Time, experience and age has indeed made me a little wiser.
And one could never blow out the lamp. 

If one had to do so it was done gently with a flower that had been offered in prayer after application of milk on the sides of the vilakku.
Perhaps those reading this may wonder as to why so many rituals. 

Yes. Rituals connect us to those loved ones who taught them to us. 

And more importantly, we become more reflective and think deeply about the rituals. Why do we follow rituals? 

Thinking deeply one réalisés that they do hold weight. 

Rituals give a certain routine to be followed that leads to physican & mental discipline. 

Then once the child gains maturity and control he will evolve and understand the worth of rituaks that can be discarded. 

Rituals are just support systems that are besu in themselves. 

They are like arranging a table when guests are invited for meals. 

We set the table with new plates, shining cutlery, new table cloth and even light candles etc. 

If we can do this for friends why not do it for that ALL - PERVADING POWER ??? 

Of course, it all depends if one has Faith (Vishvas, Bhakti)! 

Lighting a lamp itself is beautiful as it spreads a glow all around and especially lighting up the eyes of our Devis & Devatas in the Pooja. 

Lighting lamps, agarbattis, offering favourite fragrant flowers to the diety, performing neivedyam (Brahmaarpanam) & arati are all part of the rituals of performing Pooja. 

This itself is a form of Meditation.

Lighting the Pooja lamp is something I grew up with. I saw my grandmothers, my mother and Aunt and all family members participating together.

Every Hindu home, however, affluent or poor always dedicates one small corner of their home to the Cosmic Power. 

And it is a beautiful custom. 

The same venerated deities are passed on from generation to generation and even if Bhakti /Vishvas are not the pivotal factors at least it is sentiment for the tradition that is carried on!
For me it reminds me and directly puts me in touch with all the great souls of our family. And their sacred memory gives me strength and courage to tide over little hiccups as well as the stormy events of life!

Just a short memoir of my sacred, childhood memories that I wished to pass on to you children. 

It may be of interest to you. 

Nature's way of self-protection!

Had gone upstairs to get my books to go into the garden when my eyes caught a fluorescent, big and beautiful beetle crawling on the dark floor.

As I had left my phone outside on the garden bench, I gently lifted the beetle onto a piece of paper to take it outside to photograph it.

Placing the beetle on the stone table, I found it to be still and lifeless. Poor little insect, I thought! 

Saddened by the sight of the beetle lying still, I started to sketch the garden view when suddenly a buzzing sound distracted me and I caught sight of the beetle coming alive to fly away leaving me to my solitude outside under the shade of the arbour.

How cleverly it had camouflaged itself appearing to be lifeless! 

How wonderful nature is!

My dear father (a botanist by training and a born nature lover ) had told me when I was just a little girl, very many long years ago that every creature from the minutest to the most gargantuan, protects itself in myriads of astonishingly clever ways! Survival at any cost! 

My father had introduced me to the famous Jean-Henri Casimir Fabre  a French naturalist, entomologist and author known for the lively style of his popular books on the lives of insects. We had a book in our home titled :The Insect Man. 

Fabre used to go out into Nature to learn about insects by lying on the forest floor for hours on end. Such was his passion and interest for studying Nature and insects that he was called the insect man! 

The more we learn we realise how much there is to know! 

Today the chance sighting of the 'little big beetle' stirred my mind and took me back in time ! 

It had the power to make me travel into the past, stir memories of my dear father and connected me to Jean-Henri Casimir Fabre who was born nearly 2 centuries ago 21st December 1823.

As my son would say as a little boy :I want to invent a Time travelling machine! 

And yes, we have our own individual, magical, travelling machine - our Mind that more than often takes us on rides! 

Thank you little beetle for making me fly into the past with your beautiful flight out into Nature from the bondage of being trapped inside the house!

Have you also ever wondered?

As a child i saw my maternal grandmother lighting the Pooja Lamp in our Pooja room. Then i saw my paternal grandmother doing the same. Then i saw my dear aunt and mother too following the same daily morning - evening traditions. Then while growing up I took on the role of lighting the lamp being the eldest daughter of our home.

I took great pride in washing the Pooja 'samaan' consisting of small 'vigrahams' of Ganapati, Sri Mahalakshmi, little toddler baby Krishna on his fours, the silver Shaligram and of course the beautiful lamp, Arati lamp, brass bell and agarbatti stand. 

This washing was a weekly ritual after which I would call my dear mother to see the brillantly shining silver, copper and brass Pooja samaan.

Then my mother would take cotton and roll out the wicks to be put into the lamp for lighting.

It is ordained in our Sanatana Samskaras that for auspicious times the lamp wick should always be in pairs never single. 

Single wick is used during times of sorrow after someone passes away. 

The use of two wicks symbolises the harmony and balance of the two forms of existing energies. Perhaps scientifically this explains the stability needed just like the positive proton needs negative electron. 

In our Sanatana Dharmic tradition, Shiva the male energy and Shakti the female energy are powerless without one another.

Shiva and Shakti are integral for one another.

Each day morning and evening the lamp is refilled with sesame oil or ghee and lighted for prayers and meditation. 

Much time has passed but this tradition continues in our homes.Each time i light the Pooja lamp, i connect with my mother,my grandmothersvand their sweet memories. I hear them chanting Shlokams. 

My daughter too follows this same beautiful generational tradition passed down through the ages and i hope that it will continue... 

Now let me not digress from the pivotal point of the title. 

I have noticed that the two wicks despite being being lighted together do not burn at the same rate! 

One remains longer and the other one gets burnt out faster. 

It is not just a one time happening. 

Have observed this happening perennially and  has made me wonder why! 

Each wick has a life of its own and its own individual burnout time. Is this a subtle lesson that the lamp is teaching? 

We all have a life span despite being together! 

This is exactly what i ask myself so many times. 

In the season of autumn I have watched falling leaves. Some fall earlier, some later and yet at the same time there are some leaves that are stuck to the branch refusing to fall despite violent autumnal winds and rain! 

There is a time exclusive for everything in creation. 

But yes they do fall finally reiterating the truth that after we come we have to go! 

Any thoughts??? 

When William became Vilvam......

It just happened recently that I was in the company of my summer holiday childhood  friends in Ooty.

This childhood friend has a lovely house in the sylvan green Ooty Hills.
Her elder sister along with another friend and I travelled by road to her place.
Bharat is such a wonderful land. People are so warm hearted everywhere and as we passed through rural areas we also stopped at eating houses to have tea, coffee accompanied by speciality eats of the region.

Vijayam knowing the place like the back of her hand knew where to stop for such eating breaks.

With my newly found 'freedom' of being in भारत भूमि  I could wag my tongue (not tail) with one and sundry!
At one place I met two young men from Odisha employed in the south in one such tea house.
Out of curiosity I put forward a query as to which city they were coming?
One of them said Bhubaneshvar (भुवनेश्वर in chaste Samskrit). So again I just asked him as to who was Bhvaneshvar after whom this city got this name. The answer I got was so disappointing.
He told me : O no no..... This is not a person but a place.
Yes I replied and then explained that Bhvaneshvar was the name of Surya the Sun with whose energy and light this planet
enlivened.
Then at Ooty we visited the Mysore Maharaja's Fernhill Palace which has been turned into a lucrative place of hospitality.
Our hostess treated us to some fresh fruit juices that were delicious indeed but turned sour by the price I observed she paid.
There the man who was at our service was exceptionally civil and courteous. Knowing my friend by face, he was proposing different snacks to partake. So finally we ordered some hot 'pakodas' of chillies, onion and potatoes.
The platter of freshly hot pakodas arrived. Just to make light conversation, I asked the man his name. And he said Vilvam. Now this name has great significance it is sacred to Hindus for the Vilvam leaves are offered to the Great God Shiva!
Pleasantly surprised, I congratulated the man on his name. He countered my statement and said - No no Madam, it is William.
O I said with innocent candour. He continued with great pride and said he was RC.
My questioning look made him clarify this term RC. I am a Roman Catholic.
This conversion expansionist tirade against Hindus of Bharat has been going on for a very very long time.
It is still being conducted in a war-like fashion. There was a Catholic of Italian decent called Robert de Nobili who came to Goa. He used to wear the clothes worn by sanyasis. He even kept the 'kudumi'. He studied Samskrit, Telugu and Tamil. In order to covert he used inculturation methods. He called the church as Matha kovil. The Bible was Vedam and he even wore the Rudraksha mala.
Such were the tactics employed.

To my mind came the thought of telling this man as to what pit he had fallen due to the weakness of his grandfather.
Conversion causes 'Breaching of the Sacred'. Original devotion, faith and respect of the converted victim is forcibly destroyed. The victim is forced to accept alien thought and philosophy and so becomes an alienated person in the very soil of his birth.
His places of worship are far away and his mind is occupied by thinking that is not akin to his origins.
So I went up to him and told him about the ravages of conversion. It is not a pleasant subject and neither easy to deal.
The West from where conversion continues do this not out of love or compassion. It is for getting followers so as to get numbers and numbers mean power.
In their own lands hardly are people taking to 'religious' life
They 'buy' people into Christianity by giving them money. Such people are increasing by the day and are called Rice Christians.
Was it not Bishop Desmond Tutu who said:When the white man came, we had the land and they had the book.
When he left, we had the book and they our land.
It is this that happens.
Moreover, there is a more sinister game at play. The West produces high grade weapons but at the same time preaches peace. One does wonder as to why this action is in exact antipodal position of the preaching !
Weapons get them money and conversion breaks nations. And then they get the opportunity of re-building war-torn nations with the advantage of greater financial power and better re-building technology.
So it is a win-win situation for them despite being the villains of this perennial on-going drama.
Mr. William nodded his head and heard me out solemnly and seriously.  I do hope he understood what really caused him to become Mr. William whereas he could have remained Shri Vilvam in this beautiful land of Bharatavarsham!
And so beware of these 'do-good' conversion organisations!
Saying this I folded my palms in Namaste and he followed suit in the manner, I do fervently hope, of an awakened Shri Vilvam!