It was pouring cats and dogs. The Rain-God was on a destruction spree and all fields bearing crop ripe for harvest were submerged. If the crop continued to be under water for a couple of days more, the grain would sprout, dashing the growers' hopes of a bountiful harvest and condemning farmers to another year of abject poverty. The flowing rainwaters had not spared dwellings too, and they were under a foot of water. Cattle, chicken, and other helpless creatures stood drenched, finding no dry place to take shelter in. Children cried in hunger and were hushed by the miserable parents, who could find no dry twig or leaves for lighting a fire and making food. The strong, icy wind pierced the skin like needles and made everyone shiver.
The talk in the temple centered on a single topic-what would happen to the vast lake on the outskirts of the village, if the torrential rain continued? People who had been adventurous enough to have a peek at the lake confirmed that it was almost full in the morning. It was a huge lake, capable of accommodating a vast quantity of water and catering to the irrigational needs of fields for a hundred miles around. It had strong bunds built high to contain and consolidate inflows, and had never dried up, however rainless be the season.
It was this lake that was causing not a little concern among the locals. What would happen if the unthinkable occurred? What if the lake were to breach, unable to contain the copious inflows brought in by the continuing torrents? The thought of all that vast expanse of water cascading down from the breached bunds was terrifying. It would wipe out the village and hundreds like it within seconds, leaving none to recount the disaster. Such a thing had never happened before, leaving those living near it secure in the belief of its invincibility.
However, nothing can
stand in the face of nature's fury and the lake was no exception. Its bunds
were of mud and stone only, and the immense pressure of water against them
could just blow them away, opening the floodgates to misery.
A senior citizen,
belonging to more religious times and who had seen the temple at the height of
its prosperity and buzzing with spiritual activity, lamented the villagers'
neglect of the temple and disinterest in its upkeep. He chided them for having
angered the Lord through their irreverent and ungrateful attitudes. The mills
of God grind slow, but they do grind sure and the old man was certain that
nemesis had caught up with the unrepentant population.
The British were still
ruling the country and the District Collector, a pious man by name Colonel
Place, was in charge of the area. When the matter was represented to him in all
its magnitude, he immediately realized the explosiveness of the situation and
ordered his minions to arrange for strengthening the lake bunds and for
monitoring the condition round-the-clock. The wheels of Government swung into
action and an army of workers busied themselves in carrying out the Collector's
orders.
The rain, however,
continued to come down in torrents without any let-up and the water level in
the lake kept rising menacingly. Though night had advanced, sleep eluded the
British man, who paced restlessly in his quarters, worried at the lack of
let-up in the downpour. He decided to inspect the bund-work personally and left
with his retinue to the lake, paying scant attention to those who tried to
dissuade him on the grounds of impending danger. As one used to
leading from the front, he left for the lake and arrived amidst a steady downpour.
He climbed to the top of the bund and the sight that greeted his eyes took away
his breath, the enormity of the situation striking him with full force.
The water level had
risen alarmingly, till it now lapped at his feet, at his position on the top perimeter
of the bund. Another hour or so of the rain and the lake would breach, with
cataclysmic consequences. And since rain was still coming down in sheets
accompanied by a gale, there seemed little hope of averting the inevitable. It
was as if these miserable, uneducated and uncultured masses were destined to a
watery grave. Then a chilling thought struck him-in deciding to visit the scene
of action, he had painted himself into a corner and had no way now of returning
to safety. It looked as if he too would be sharing the watery graves of the
people he had thought about disparagingly a moment before.
Was it the will of the
Lord Jesus that he should die in a heathen land,forsaking his beautiful wife
and affectionate children in distant England? The moment these thoughts
occurred to him, he banished them with guilt-he was the District Collector,
responsible for the lives and safety of thousands, be they heathens or
unlettered. They looked up to him with child-like faith, hoping against hope
that the tall, fair-skinned "Durai"
would somehow work a miracle and save them all from certain death.
But what could he do in
the face of Nature's unrelenting fury? The swirling waters of the lake were
looking more menacing by the minute, and the wind had snatched away the
umbrella held over his head by a lackey, apparently angered at the Collector's
efforts at protecting his head while thousands of the proletariat were drenched
to the skin stretched tightly over their skeletal bodies.
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| Madurantakam erri |
Colonel Place was
desperate and could think of no way to prevent the waters rushing out on their
terrible mission of destruction. The old man in the temple, who had spoken of
the neglected Lord and the awaiting nemesis, was also one of the Collector's
retinue. In the pushing and pummeling wind, he had reached the Collector's side
and, picking up courage, told the Official that only Lord Ramacould
save them now, as the situation seemed beyond human intervention. He explained
to the skeptical Englishman the immense power of the Lord and His matchless
beauty. In the drenching downpour, despite the wind snatching away many of his
words, and in his broken English, he gave the foreigner an account of the
exploits of SriRama and of His bridging the vast ocean with the aid of mere
monkeys. The old man spoke with emotion of the Lord's infinite mercy and His
abiding concern for the innocent.
It all seemed pretty unreal to the
Collector-he was standing in pouring rain on the bund of a gigantic lake on the
verge of breaching, hours, perhaps only minutes away from certain death,
listening to an old native blabbering about a heathen god. He shook his head in
disbelief at his own predicament and tried in vain to shore up his sagging
faith in life.
The old man, with little
else to do, continued his enthralling narrative of the Lord's prowess with the
bow and of how His emissary was able to just fly over the vast ocean, again
speaking with tears of the infinite mercy that characterized this "KaruNA Kakuttsttha", the scion of a royal family who spent fourteen
hard years in the jungle, just to obey an unjust command supposedly from His
father and conveyed to Him by a step-mother who was intent on making her own
son the heir to the throne.
When we are drowning, we tend to clutch at
straws in desperation, especially when nothing else is available to hold on to.
Colonel Place was in a similar situation. Though his strict Christian
upbringing and military training prompted only skepticism and disbelief at the
old man's tales, still an image began to form in his mind of a tall, handsome
Prince, with a long bow held aloft in His powerful hands, the personification
of mercy and righteous conduct, the symbol of sacrifice, His lotus-like eyes
brimming with mercy for all mortals, and accompanied by an equally impressive
figure, obviously a younger brother and ever ready to rush to the rescue of
those in distress, at a mere call for succour, be it from whichever quarter.
And once the image of the bewitching Lord entered his mind, Place found it
difficult to shake it off and experienced an extremely pleasurable sensation,
even amidst the desperate situation he found himself trapped in.
Still clutching at
straws, his mind reluctantly veered round to the possibility of appealing to
this mythological hero for aid, which seemed the only thing left, especially
since all other efforts had failed. And once his mind accepted what was
hitherto unthinkable for him, he felt unreasonably buoyed up and prayed in his
heart of hearts to Sri Ramato somehow, somehow, lead him and thousands of his subjects
out of this apparently inescapable end.
"Oh Ram!"
prayed the Englishman," Please do this, if not for my sake, then for the
sake of the thousands who believe in You with all their spiritual might and
conviction. I was listening to the tales of Your impossible feats with only
half an ear. However, if it was possible for You to conquer that vast body of
waters (lying between You and Lanka) with the mere threat of retribution, it
should be no difficult task for You to control the menacing waters of this MadhurAntakam lake and to keep them confined to the inner bunds. I
know full well that these are the words of an infidel who lacks absolute faith
in You: but Your reputation as the epitome of mercy prompts me to beseech You.
Do this for me and for
the sake of the hundreds of men, women and children who are in peril, and I
shall build a temple for Your Consort, whom You appear to love dearly. Lord,
please do help me!"
The moment this secret
prayer was concluded, the Englishman saw, in a brilliant flash of lightning,
the figures of two extraordinarily handsome young men, both with bows held
aloft, appearing on the tank bund in the pouring rain. Their luminescent eyes
seemed to radiate compassion and benevolence. Their beauty was beyond
description and their regal bearing exposed their flawless lineage. They were
perfectly proportioned specimens of virility, with a majestic gait and
magnificent deportment. The elder of the divine duo looked at the spell-bound
Colonel Place with twinkling eyes that seemed to hold out an assurance of
assistance, amused at the Englishman's effort at bribery through the offer of a
temple construction for Sri Mythily.
The awe-struck foreigner, overwhelmed by
the unbelievable apparition, just fainted and fell on the soddy tank bund with
a thud, slipping into unconsciousness, obviously incapable of absorbing the
full delight of the divine spectacle.
When he emerged from his trance, Colonel
Place found himself in his comfortable bed in his own quarters, with his
minions peering anxiously at his supine form. Reminded of the impossible
situation in which he had fainted, the Collector sat up with a jerk and
demanded from his subordinates the latest position on the flooding threat, and
felt immense relief wash over him when told that the rains had stopped with
miraculous suddenness during the night and the lake waters too, poised on the
brink, had receded to fairly safe levels. Through a planned opening of the
sluices, the water level was brought back to near normal and the threat had
blown-over.
Colonel Place's skin tingled when he
remembered the Divine Youth he had witnessed
in that flash of lightning, who had appeared as if in answer to his
unuttered prayers, and
effortlessly saved not only himself but innumerable
others too from a certain and
watery grave. The vivid image of the Lord and His infinite mercy in answering
the insincere prayers of an unbelieving foreigner continued to occupy the
Englishman's thoughts forever, and he used to recount the tale with fervour to
sceptical audiences even after his return to England.
However, Colonel Place's
newfound faith did not desert him the moment his job was done, and he lived up
to his part of the bargain by constructing the ThAyAr Sannidhi at MadhurAntakam. A plaque on the Sannidhi walls still stands testimony to the aforesaid legend,
which has bestowed the Lord with yet another tirunAmam,
lovingly coined by His grateful votaries-"Eri kAttha Raman".
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| Periya Nambhigal doing Pancha Samaskaram at Madhuranthakam |
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| Place where Sri Ramanujar was given pancha samaskaram Madhuranthakan |
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