CS PURAM-2

MY LIFE – CS PURAM-2 HISTORY Two hundred years ago, Tippu Sultan ruled Palakad District of Keralam. He built the fort in the town, now a tourist attraction. The Hanuman temple there, attracts thousands of devotees evey day. It is believed to be there, even when Tippu captured the town. He did not demolish it. Our village was on the opposite bank of the river, which was conneted to the Palakad town by an old road, via Pazhayannur. Fearing harassment by the Muslim soldiers of Tippu, the village was shifted to the present location. As there was no road on this side of the river, the Brahmins there felt secure; the pooja at the Shiva temple, which is very, very old, was resumed, after the Brahmins, who had fled elsewhere, returned to the new CS puram village. Until the land reforms act of 1975 totally ruined them, the villagers were prosperous land lords. Each house had a big wooden chamber, to store paddy received as rent of the land, leased to the tenants. It is said that one Sankaracharya of Kanchi Kamakodi, with all his paraphernalia, stayed there for almost a month, and all expenses were met by the villagers, who had their own carpenter, blacksmith, barber, washermen, farm labour etc. etc. Every year, Sastapreethi is celebrated with all pomp and show. The festival lasts for three days, with elephants parade, drum beating, fire works etc. We do not cook food for these days. All eat at the Shiva temple, where special arrangements are made for acommodating guest Brahmins coming from neighbouring agrahara villages, for which no invitation is required. We will wait till the guests are served. All our villagers working outside, make it a point to attend this function, for which compulsory donations are extracted from all of us residents. Visiters also donate liberally. For us living in metropolitan cities, it may be a real, enjoyable surprise, to be a guest there. There are very many such Brahmin villages at Palakad. The rath or chariot is similar to the one we see at Puri. There is a warium family for the temple. When we first settled there, the old warriar was stll alive. He was always grumbling and cursing all. The film song “oh! blind gods, mere clay creatures! “he wold sing aloud. His son, a young man who had no issues and was an asthmatic patient, wold curse him in low voice, and the whole atmosphere at the Shiva temple, where I would be the lone devotee in the evenings, giving company and comfort to Murugan, the poojary, in darkness, often visited by snakes, as the whole temple is infested with rats, was gloomy. I would repeat the mantra “ohm namah! Shivayah!,”thound and eight times, morning and evening, after darshan of Shiva, Ganesha and Devi, all in the same building, and return with Murugan. We became fast friends. He had seen the world, was at Jamshedpur earlier, was only an employee there and woud ask repeatedly: are you comfortable among these aiyers here?, myself being a namboodiri. One day, I placed a bundle of notes, Rs. 5000, at the entrance to the sanctum of Shiva temple, as is normally done by the devotees, who want to give Him the money. Murugan could have taken it; he didn’t. Instead, it was handed over to the manager, who asked me whether I had any particular object in mind. I mentioned the difficulty in approaching the Shiva temple, a few hundred yards away from the last house of the village, partially submerged in slush in the rain, dark at night. Could something be done? He nodded yes.