Experience

My mother in law, whom we call Aai, is an ardent follower of the Art of Living. She likes to believe that her Gujurji plans all cosmic events in a way that put her in the right place, at the right time. For her, the blessings of Guruji are a step away. She only needs to take one step in the right direction. This belief of hers utterly amuses us. It also starts conversations with her son (my husband) that are punctuated with disagreements.

We were driving from Thanjavur to Kumbakonam. A visit to two grand living Chola temples were on the agenda that day. We had already stopped at the Airawatshwara temple in Darasuram. Enlightened by its grandeur, we were on our way to see the Gagai Konda Cholpuram temple located on the northern bank of the Kaveri river.

Small villages and paddy fields lined the hour-long road. The mature canopy of tamarind trees was taller than the Gopurams of the several smaller shrines we passed. Every once in a while, our car would come to a complete halt to let dogs, goats, cows, and the occasional elephant to cross the road. It is normal to acknowledge the presence of animals and for the traffic to stop for them politely. We hadn’t seen a single road-kill on the way. Most of the signboards were in Tamil, making it hard for us to discern the names of the villages that passed us.

“Papanasam.”

Aai had probably read the only sign board written in English as our car sped along the narrow and winding roads.

“Papanasam,” she said again.
“Guruji was born in a place called Papanasam.”

Aai asked our Tamil driver, Kannan, if this Papanasam was the same place where Sri Sri Ravi Shankar, her Guruji was born. There are a couple of villages by the name Papanasam in Tamil Nadu, and Kannan did not think this place had any association with anyone famous. He said it might be a different Papanasam, probably referring to Papanasam in southern Tamil Nadu popularly known among tourists for a waterfall attraction. I doubt that he knew much about Sri Sri Ravi Shankar. Other rationalists in our car were in plain denial too. After all, what were the odds that this was ‘the’ birthplace.

I am not an Art of Living follower by any means, nor do I aspire to be one. But when I heard that a famous spiritual leader was born in a place called Papanasam, which means ‘destroy all sins’, I was intrigued by this poetic association. ‘Papanasam.’ What an apt name for the birthplace of a spiritual leader!

As we crossed the final stretch out of that little village, something prompted me to search on Google for the birthplace of Sri Sri Ravi Shankar. The network connectivity was very poor. Two bars, sometimes even one. We were on the brink of approaching thunderstorms. ‘Papanasam’. It slowly appeared on my phone screen, and as the image cleared up pixel by pixel, I saw the banks of the Kaveri river.

“Papanasam,” I announced.
“Guruji was not born anywhere else. This village is the same Papanasam”.

Aai’s face lit up, and everybody else was dumbfounded!
The thunderstorms came and went and the landscape was suddenly bathed in a golden hue. We were lucky to see the spectacular Shiva temple at Gagai Konda Cholapuram. The lawns were fresh green, and the old stone statues looked like they were dancing blissfully after the rains. The pinnacle of the temple stood tall, almost tickling the passing nimbus right above.

On the way back to Thanjavur, Kannan the driver pulled the car in front of what appeared to be someone’s house. He looked back from the driver’s seat at my mother in law and said,

“This is where your Guruji was born”.

While we spent the afternoon in awe of the architectural wonder at Gagai Konda Cholapuram, the thunderstorm had cleared away. Improved network connectivity made Google easily accessible. All the forces of the universe mysteriously came together, and Kannan the driver, of his own accord, found out the exact location of the house where Guruji was born in Papanasam. And here we were standing right in front of that very house.

A caretaker who lived in house next door quickly came with the keys to open the locked gate. It was a stroke of luck that the caretaker was present at that time and promptly came over when he saw us. He was delighted to show us the home of Guruji’s maternal grandmother.

The house itself is spectacularly maintained, like a museum for followers and devotees to come and visit. The room where Guruji was born has been turned into a place where devotees can offer prayers. No one lives here anymore, but the caretaker said that sometimes Guruji visits with his sister, and they stay there for a few days.

The house has a classic Tamil layout with two stories and a four-sided courtyard. There is a Tulsi Vrindavan in the middle, and beautiful freshly drawn white Kollam designs decorate the floor. Childhood pictures of Guruji adorn the walls, and one could sit on a swing and reminisce about Guruji’s formative past.

A sense of calm prevails around this place. I will remember the joy and satisfaction of my mother in law’s face as she lit an oil lamp and offered her prayers.

We had come full circle. Indeed, Gujurji plans all cosmic events in a way that put my mother in law at the right place, at the right time, every single time! For her, the blessings of Guruji are a step away. She only needs to take one step in the right direction. Such is her faith.