[ Enter Manistambha ]
Time passed slowly and became oppressive. One day she took her vina and went outside to the garden. Suddenly, a Siddha, a man of powers, came flying through the air on a lion. A thin powder of ash covered his body; he had a hooked staff and a mendicant’s bag and reddish hair, short and tangled. He carried a book of potions, a cane shaped like a snake, a rather lovely lute, and a horn. His perfume was intoxicating. All in all, a pleasant sight.
Miraculously, he landed in the garden right in front of her. Recovering from her amazement, she welcomed him appropriately. He addressed her: “Hey Kalabhashini! So you’re not going for lessons from Krishna anymore. You’ve apparently completed the course. And that great sage has also stopped coming here. So you have nothing on your mind except for that Nalakubara. . . . When Narada left you, he gave you a blessing—that you’ll have your desire—and his word never fails. But you’re growing restless, and you’re worn out. Your friends can’t bear to watch it.
“Moreover, Manikandhara has stopped playing music ever since he’s taken to the discipline of self-control.2 My ears are starved for good music. It hurts. Please, play something for me on the vina. Help me put an end to my hunger for good music. In all these worlds, only the two of you can make me happy by your music.”
Every word of his astonished her. She listened, folding her delicate hands. Reverently, she said, “Who are you? A god? One of those Yogis like Kapila?3 Your presence amazes me. Could you tell me your name?”
“My name is Manistambha. I’m not anybody you thought I was. I’m a Siddha.”
“What an honor! The more I hear you, the more astonished I feel. How do you know all this, and so precisely? It looks like you can see everything with your special power. I don’t need you to tell me what I already know. But you just said Manikandhara has taken to the discipline. Tell me from there on.”
He looked at her. “I have the ability to see and to hear at a great distance, so I have seen everything from here. Whatever I said has verified what you already know. Now let me tell you what transpired from the moment Narada and Manikandhara left you, what they said to one another, and what Manikandhara did before taking up the discipline.”
“After Narada had completed his musical training and sent you home, he said to Manikandhara, ‘Sing to Vishnu at all times, and your musical training will bear fruit. God will be pleased, and you will become free. I do the same, with my vina, all the time. Visvavasu4 has Brihati for his vina. Tumburu’s5 vina is Kalavati. My vina is Mahati. The goddess of arts has Kacchapi. All of us sing without pause. Music is the best of all kinds of learning, and if it is offered to God, what could be better than that? You’re the luckiest of all. No one can reach Krishna by any form of discipline, but Krishna became your teacher. Think about it. Practise what you have learned. That will bring you whatever you desire, and you will live in beauty.
“‘As for me, I have to go quickly, to defeat Tumburu, wherever he is—in heaven, in Brahma’s court, in Indra’s world, or at Vishnu’s. I have to perform at my best to put down that puffed-up idiot.’
“Manikandhara listened, cupped his hands, and asked, ‘I understand from what you say that you are eager to defeat Tumburu in music. But how did this rivalry come about? What have you gone through in order to overcome him? Won’t you tell me that?’
“Narada began. ‘This was some time ago. Vishnu was holding court in great splendor in Vaikuntha, his heavenly world. Brahma and other gods were in attendance. Great Yogis were chanting. God was protecting the world. Everyone was there—Kaundinya, Marica, Daksa, Kapila, Agastya, Aksapada, Angirasa, Sandilya, Kratu, Kanva, Kutsa, Bhrigu, Vishvamitra, Maitreya, Markandeya, Asuri, Vamadeva, Kapi, Durvasa, Baka, Vyaghrapada, Mandavya, and so on. We went there, too—me, Tumburu, Visvavasu, and others—with our vinas. We wanted to serve, too. Vishvaksena, the gatekeeper, was brandishing his cane, trying to make room as people thronged around. God was watching the dancing women.
“‘Like lightning flashing from a chain of clouds, the goddess Lakshmi entered, surrounded by her retinue of maids, straight from the garden outside the palace. As soon as she appeared, a contingent of guards armed with canes began to beat the gathering crowd, which scattered in confusion. Do I have to tell you what was the fate of people like me? Even Brahma ran off in fear when the guards approached, lashing out all around them. After clearing the space, they called out, “Aho! Tumburu!” with a loud voice and briskly took him in. The people outside began to wonder, “Why did they call him, in particular? There must be some special business relating to music. But why him? Don’t other experts exist?” I myself was wondering why they called him, of all people. Then I came to know from what people were saying that God himself was listening to his singing, together with his wife. I was burning with rage. They drive all of us away, and they invite this one person to sing to God and his wife? And they happily listen to him?
“‘I waited in a corner to see what would happen. When Tumburu came out, his body glistening, with a medal and a shawl embroidered with flowers so bright they flooded space with gold, gods and sages gathered around:
“‘ “So he sent you off. What did he give you?”
“‘ “God and the goddess listened to his music. What else would he need?”
“‘ “The incomparable gifts he received show how pleased God must have been.”
“‘ “Were you there alone, singing to them? Was anybody else around?”
“‘The flashing medal and the shawl and the gleaming body set my heart on fire. I was furious that when they called Tumburu, he went straight in without consulting me. All right, he went in; but why didn’t he get them to invite me in, too? So he played the maestro, fine: but why did he blithely accept all those presents? Okay, he took them, but did he have to parade them before us instead of slipping away quietly, like a thief bitten by a scorpion? There’s no one who can judge fairly anymore. That’s how people are. They find their way in through the back door and then make a grand exit from the front. “I’ll get you, Tumburu. Watch out!” I said to myself, gnashing my teeth. “Is he any better than me? I will show them what he is. Until then, let him do what he wants. I won’t let him get away with it. I’ll pick a quarrel with him and humiliate him and make sure that word of my supreme skill in music reaches as far as God’s ears.” Still, I decided to contain this jealousy in my mind without showing it; meanwhile, I would continue to visit his house as a friend, in order to detect any defects in his musical learning. I thought this was the wise course—how else could I defeat him?
“‘So one day I went to his house. He had just tuned his vina and left it on the porch when he went inside. “Is Tumburu home?” I called.
“‘ “He left his vina here and went in,” said the people there.
“‘I was curious, so I picked up the vina and plucked it. A perfect purity of sound, such as I had never heard before, overwhelmed me.6 I put it back, embarrassed, and quickly walked away.
“‘ “He’s really a master. Until today, I never thought this Tumburu could outdo me, the most famous musician in the universe.”
” ‘I was really disturbed. If you’re tall enough to kick the head of a palm tree, there’s always someone taller who can kick your head. The two of us used to perform together in the presence of Brahma and others, but he never exhibited this remarkable skill—until Vishnu himself asked him to sing for him. That’s how it is with experts—they give of their skill only to the extent that the listener can receive it. There’s only as much of a lotus as there is water in the lake. Singing for people who can’t understand is a waste, like blowing a conch in front of a deaf person.
“‘Ever since then, I’ve been going from place to place in search of truly gifted musicians. I sought them out and studied with them. Still, I couldn’t find anyone equal to Tumburu. Finally, after a long time, I concluded that I could achieve my goal only with the help of omniscient God. I prayed to him, at length. And he came—
his body lumino
us yet darker
than the Dark Mountain,7 wide eyes
whiter than lotus petals, his earrings
brighter than the rising sun. Lakshmi,
on his chest, was playing with the shadow
of the jewel he wore. He was dressed as a king
with conch and discus, and all the gods
were in attendance as he appeared,
riding his eagle.
“‘ “What do you want?” he asked. I bowed and praised him as best I could and said, “I want to defeat Tumburu in a music match.” He looked at me with kindness. “In the third eon from now, I am going to be born as the son of someone called Vasudeva, in order to protect the good, punish the wicked, and save the earth. At that time I will fulfill your wish in a city known as Dvaraka. Come see me then.”
“‘He disappeared, and I waited—a very long time. Finally, I did receive musical training from Krishna.8 I had to go to all this trouble to get my music, but you and Kalabhashini learnt it all without a drop of sweat, just by Vishnu’s kindness.’
“‘It’s a small reward for serving you. People say one becomes great by reaching a great person. Haven’t you heard? Anyway, you’ve made such a big event out of one invitation to Tumburu to sing before Vishnu. I wonder how one could have the good fortune to live in God’s presence and serve him continuously.’
“‘That’s a wonderful thought, rarely contemplated before. In fact, people are so caught up in judging good and bad, do’s and don’ts, merits and demerits, that they hardly ever think of their own future life. After making a name for themselves as wise by tireless pursuit of Vedas and Shastras, various practices, and debates, they choose to serve a king. Driven by their karma, they’re like the crazy man who says, “Thank God I’m cured—just wind that rock around my head.” Listen, young man. Among the elements, living beings are best. Among living beings, intelligent creatures are best. Among intelligent creatures, human beings are best. Among human beings, Brahmins are superior. The best Brahmins are scholars. Those who know the meaning of what they do are the finest of the scholars. Among these, those who act are best. Among those who act, the best are those who know truth. There’s no one higher than they. That’s what Manu said in his book of law.9
“‘You yourself have gone almost to the end of this road that I’ve just laid out. As soon as you came to know about the power that comes from being in God’s presence, you asked for the highest step. So let me tell you what I’ve heard from the elders about how to stay close to God always. It’s wrong not to teach a person who deserves to know—just as wrong as it is to teach someone who doesn’t deserve it.
Doing good deeds with no interest in results,
just for the sake of God,
avoiding what is forbidden,
standing firm in Vishnu,
living in the company of God’s people,
staying off the path of the wrong people,
making pilgrimage to famous places where Vishnu is present,
celibacy, discipline, nonpossession—
anyone who wants a place in Vaikuntha
has to keep to all these.
“‘Even if you find yourself doing only a few of them, they won’t be wasted. You’ll still come to God. Just do your best. Use the incomparable gift of music that God gave you. Sing to him in the temples at Puri and Srirangam. That will bring you all that is good.’
“As Narada was speaking, he lost himself in Krishna. He was spilling over, jumping for joy, bowing down in praise; his hairs stood on end, his eyes were half closed, and he sang and danced with a sense of wonder. Immersed in this flood of feeling, imagining God’s many ways, Narada went off, feeling his way.
“Manikandhara found all of this rather astonishing. ‘What a great man he is!’ he thought, watching Narada until he disappeared from view. Finally, he turned his eyes away. And with Narada gone, he followed his instructions until thoughts of God gradually took over his heart. Then he left on pilgrimage.”
[ Manikandhara’s Pilgrimage ]
“First he went to the Yamuna, the river of rushing black waves and brilliant white lotuses, of myriads of buzzing bees and honking geese that drown out evil, of certain promise. As Brahmins sitting on the riverbank sang the Secret Teachings,10 the river seemed to follow the rise and fall of their chants, the high tones and low tones, with its waves rising and falling like eyebrows shifting in harmony with the singer’s voice. The river, daughter of the Sun, looked like Vishnu himself: the foam on both banks was white as the snake-bed he lies on, and the thick pollen wafted from the flowers could have been the yellow clothes he wears.
“Manikandhara performed all the rituals of pilgrimage and sang at the height of his skill about the qualities of God. From there he went to Mathura, Haridvara, Salagrama Mountain, Badarikasrama, the Naimisha Forest, Kuruksetra, Prayaga, Kasi, Ayodhya, the confluence of the Ganges and the sea; everywhere he bathed, gave gifts to Brahmins, and carried out the rituals. Afterward he reached the Blue Mountain11 on the shore of the sea.
“‘Vishnu’s world is right here, where sages find their goal. This is the highest place. This is my protection. Here all beauty is born.’ He bathed in the Rohini spring, in the Indradyumna Lake, and sang to Jagannatha, Lord of the World. After serving Jagannatha, the Perfect Being,12 he moved on to Srikurmam,13 a feast for his eyes; then to Simhacalam,14 another high point of his life; from there to Ahobalam,15 where he pressed his forehead to the feet of the god. He went on to crown himself with Venkatesvara’s feet, dark with bees drawn to the lotus-like fragrance.16
“He was at peace. He rushed to the Svami-Pushkarini Tank, which reached out to embrace him with its welcoming waves. The tank is always full of the god, and so was Manikandhara, so they perfected one another. Nearby, he paid his respects to the Boar,17 beloved of the goddess Sri, his mind gently blending into the nuanced sensations of excitement, surrender, wonder, joy.
“Now he could enter the temple of Venkatesa, whose domes and pavilions shone with a splendor that made fire burn brighter; whose dancing girls waving yak-tail fans imparted strength to the wind; where dust from the feet of pilgrims, coming and going, gave added depth to the earth, while space itself was enhanced by the rich sounds of many musical instruments, and water was enriched with the offerings of aloe and incense. First he worshipped the outer deities; then, his body thrilling with emotion, he went deeper in, toward the god.
“He saw him—golden anklets on his feet, golden cloth around his waist, a golden sword in his belt of gems; a ruby in his navel; the long garland of victory hanging from his neck; the goddess Sri on his breast. One hand was lifted in a gesture of protection, another rested on his waist;18 two others held the conch and wheel. Strings of pearls fell from his gleaming neck, and a gentle smile played on his cheeks. His earrings were shaped like crocodiles; his eyes were wide as the open lotus; his perfect nose and well-shaped eyebrows, the brilliant white mark on his forehead, his crown of jewels—all these made for an arresting presence. Manikandhara contemplated each part, every limb, taking him in slowly until he had seen him entirely. His wonder intensified minute by minute. For a long time he didn’t know what he was doing. Then he found his voice.
“‘My eyes are fixed on his feet. How can I lift them to his golden dress? Now they’re fastened on the dress. How can I move them to his waist? Or from his waist to the mark on his breast? And once entangled in the mark, how can I shift them to his hands? Hands, neck, lips, earrings, cheeks, nose, eyes, eyebrows, hair—wherever my sight comes to rest, it won’t let go.’ He completely forgot the world outside. For a long time he simply stared. Then he bowed many times. Then he sang, his voice and the notes of the vina becoming one in a wave of such surpassing sweetness that people who listened were transfixed. For three days and three nights he sang. Then he came down from the hill.
“He walked until he reached Kancipuram—one of the seven great cities that bring liberation. Siva there is the Lord of the One Mango,19 with the river Ganges on his head.
Kamakshi20 brought her discipline to fruition here. Brahmins live on the bank of its river, which is the goddess of speech in fluid form. Brahma sacrificed there and became visibly present, so the site is rich in fortune. Manikandhara was overjoyed to see the Lord of the One Mango and Kamakshi. He also worshiped the other deities of Kanci, including, above all, the Lord of Elephant Hill.21
“The white clarity of God’s conch matched the clarity of his heart. God’s inner fire equaled the fiery wheel he carries. The compassionate goddess on his chest embodied the love inside him. The kaustubha jewel around God’s neck reflected the limpid awareness in his mind. This Varadaraja, giver of gifts, was very much present to Manikandhara, who sang for him, his hair standing on end.
“Manikandhara left Kancipuram and walked south through the great villages of the Chola country, where bees wander in the winds blowing pollen off areca, mango, banana, and many other flowering trees. Sugarcane, paddy fields, areca-nut groves, thick flower gardens, lotus ponds, river canals, row upon row of coconut trees, mango groves—all this made him feel happy. Then he saw the Kaveri River flowing under a vast sky, its waves towering in joy and pride at having outdone in splendor and fame the river of the gods that flows in heaven. He filled himself with the spacious expanse of this incomparable river. No one, he thought, could bring himself to praise another river after seeing this one. ‘The two streams flow together as if embracing the island of Srirangam. Its water washes away stain from all who come to worship. No such limpid purity exists in any other water. It is auspicious. It is good. It makes you free.’
“He could hear people saying, ‘This river22 wants to worship the goddess of Srirangam with her watery jewels. For this she needs a thousand eyes and a thousand arms—for this she bears a thousand lotus blossoms on her thousand waves. The lotus is no lotus, and waves are not mere waves.
The Sound of the Kiss Page 5
