THE MAKING OF AN UNSUNG MAHATMA.

The wind wafted cool amongst the trees found in the temple grove attached to the Kaliamman Temple where the boy was playing along with his peers from the small colony nearby. Though the grove was hardly two kilometers away from the Madurai Railway station, it was not too crowded and the roads outside were pretty desolate for it was approximately circa 1922 and the population explosion had not yet reached its crescendo.

The beginning of the twentieth century was also the beginning of transformation for modern India. The industrial revolution had its effects in India too and the railways had been laid across the length and breadth of the country by the British who were ably supported by Anglo Indian gentlemen who ran the railways with clockwork precision. Travel from the north to the south and vice versa which had been hitherto resorted to manually and by horse drawn or bullock drawn carriages had been transformed and there was greater interaction amongst the various regions of India. The society of those times was still orthodox and caste lines were clearly drawn even in temples and other places of worship.

The boy was tired of playing the same games and came over to the Mandap in the middle of the grove to rest his feet awhile. The Mandap was built in the same style as the temple architecture and had steps leading up to it on all four sides the Mandap seemed more like a stage with a roof supported by columns on all four sides. As the boy sat on the top most step leading to the Mandap, he saw a saffron clad frail old man who seemed to be attempting to light a beedi rather clumsily. The rays of the evening sun threw its light and shade in a rather eerie manner and as the boy looked on, he soon realised that the old man was unable to light his beedi since both his hands seemed to be badly eaten up by leprosy.

Realizing that the old man was unable to hold the match stick in his hand since he had no fingers remaining, the boy walked up to the old man and offered to do so for him, “let me light it up for you”. The old man looked up at the boy rather gratefully. His face inspite of the unkempt beard comprising of stray and straggly hair looked rather serene and calm. The boy quickly lit the matchstick as the man puffed on the beedi to make it glow all around. “Thank you my son!” he replied. Once his beedi was lit the old man seemed content to focus on his smoke while the boy sat nearby in comfortable silence.

Meanwhile the boy’s friends had come searching for him and on finding him sitting near a person afflicted with leprosy had shrieked in disgust and ran away in haste. The boy looked at their vanishing backs and said, “Forgive them for being so unkind for they must be scared by your appearance”. The old man did not seem to be in the least bit bothered by their behavior. He calmly finished his smoke. “Well what I am afflicted with my son is something that every one finds repulsive”. The boy looked straight into the eyes of the old man and said, “Well I don’t, find you repulsive”, and the old man appeared to be surprised by the boy’s statement and looked at him deeply. “What is your name, my son?” he finally enquired. “My name is Thangam and I’m fourteen years old”, the boy replied promptly.

“You are indeed a precious human, my dear son”, remarked the old man on hearing Thangam’s name. For Thangam in Tamil meant gold and the boy had been named Thangavel by his parents in honour of Lord Karthikeya who is worshiped as Lord Muruga, the God of the Tamils. While as per records he was called Thangavel in real life his pet name was Thangam.

Thangam had come to Madurai along with his parents as a young child from another town called Trichy due to a family dispute. They had left Trichy and had moved to Dindugal in search of livelihood, whereupon they were told of the varied opportunities that a town like Madurai offered. They had then moved to Madurai and his father had found employment as a butler to a British gentleman and his family. Thangam’s mother too worked as a maid in the same household and every thing went on smoothly until the age of twelve when Thangam’s father passed away after a brief illness.

Thangam had been forced to discontinue his schooling at the local municipal preparatory school and seek employment, as he had to now support his family. Thangam worked odd jobs in mechanic shops repairing cycles and other new fangled gadgets. Early in the morning Thangam would proceed to the town central market were he would carry sacks of vegetables that had just arrived in bullock carts from nearby villages. This would fetch Thangam an additional income. I must add that there was no concept of child labour in those days and by the time he had reached fourteen years of age when he met the old man Thangam’s body had become hardened by all his physical labour.

Thangam felt very comfortable sitting next to the old man. The next day morning after he had done with carrying vegetable sacks in the market, Thangam had stopped at the Mandap to see if the old man was all right but he could not find him there. That evening after finishing work at the mechanic shop he had proceeded on his way home when he suddenly remembered the old man and proceeded to the Temple grove to check if he was still around. This time the old man was very much present at the Mandap and welcomed him with a smile. Thangam told him that he had searched for him in the morning and the old man told him that he had gone to the Meenakshi Amman Temple to offer his prayers to the deity.

That night the old man and young boy sat and talked for a long time. Thangam felt very happy just being with the old man. The old man during the course of his conversation told him that he was a wandering mendicant. He was a learned man who could speak many languages. He told Thangam that he had once been married and had successfully fulfilled all his worldly duties. After the death of his wife he had decided to renounce everything and had turned into a wandering mendicant. He would spend the summers in the Himalayas and once winter commenced would move to South India to visit all the major temples there. He also elaborated on the similarity of the South Indian Temples and their construction to the Human body.

The old man and Thangam soon became rather close to each other. Thangam would at times bring food from home for the old mendicant and the old man would happily eat the food brought by Thangam. The old man would tell Thangam interesting anecdotes and also share his experiences in the Himalayas with him. By the end of January the old mendicant appeared restless and one fine day Thangam found him missing. Thangam frequented the Mandap every evening after work but found the old mendicant had left.

It was winter that year that the old man returned to the Mandap. Thangam had been lonely on a Sunday evening and having nothing better to do he had sauntered into the grove. He did not expect to see the old mendicant but to his surprise found the old mendicant sitting in the Mandap attempting to light a beedi, just as he had seen him the first time. Thangam was overjoyed and the old man too appeared happy to meet Thangam again.

Their relationship continued from where it had been left, in January and they were happy to be in each other’s company as only Guru and Sishya could. The winter sped by and the old mendicant left in January the subsequent year just as he had done the previous time. The third winter he appeared just as he always did by the end of October. He appeared frail weak and rather unhealthy.

Thangam had turned sixteen that summer and was a full grown male sporting a moustache. The old man was indeed very weak and Thangam spent all his spare time tending to him. The old man became better by the end of December and in January the next year told Thangam that he had a secret he wished to share with him, Thangam was puzzled as to what could be the secret but waited patiently for the old man to disclose the same.

It was Pongal the harvest festival of the Tamils and Thangam had got the old mendicant a new saffron kurta and dhoti for him to wear. The old man was initially reluctant to accept Thangam’s gift but then thought the better of it and accepted it gratefully. That afternoon as they were sitting in their usual haunt, the Mandap; the old man told him that he was the practitioner of an ancient art. He told Thangam that he had always worshipped God as his teacher or God as his own Guru. He told him that God himself had manifested in human form to teach him an ancient art and that, the art involved a detailed study of one’s breathing.

He demonstrated to Thangam the posture and method of practicing this art. He elaborated that by sitting with the right leg placed above the left leg tucked under the groin was akin to Padmasana but less complicated and conducive to sitting for long stretches in prayer. Moreover the sitting posture with both legs tucked into the groin ensured that the anus and the urinary canal were locked. He explained that the human body had nine doors and to go within oneself one had to first lock all the nine doors securely. The anus and the penis could be closed by sitting in this position and then closing the eyes one could embark on the inward journey. While these doors were shut the openings of the ears and nose could be closed and locked only by the mind and concentrating on our internal breathing and its flow which would automatically shut out the senses of hearing and smell. When the nine doors are shut and the mind is brought under control by holding the tip of the thumbs on the second digit of the index finger and placing both forearms on the folded knees, one could travel on hidden pathways within the body to visit the power centers and tap the power available to perform unimaginable feats.

That evening the old mendicant initiated Thangam into this practice that he called “Appiyasa” meaning “Appuvasa” or the gathering and residing of 'Appu' or 'Prana' within the human home of the soul. The initiation was an awakening of the Kundalini and Thangam found himself fascinated by the new world that was opened to him. The mendicant then gave Thangam a secret mantra to be used in his prayers and asked him to chant the mantra continuously. He prostrated himself at the feet of his Guru and returned home with great joy and bliss.

A few days later and found that the old mendicant as was his wont had suddenly vanished from the grove and the Mandap.

Thangam commenced the practice that he had learnt from the old mendicant. He would start the day at 3 am. Pray for an hour and would then proceed to the central market where he would work unloading sacks of vegetables and carrying them to the store houses from where the vegetables would be distributed to the retailers. Thangam would return home at 7 am take a bath and then pray again for half an hour, after which he would have a quick breakfast and proceed to the cycle mechanic shop were he worked repairing cycles. In the late evenings he would return to the Mandap in the grove and spend a couple of hours in prayer before returning home to have supper and sleep for awhile before commencing his routine again at 3 am the next day.

As time went by, Thangam’s progress in Yogic practice was evident to him. He soon mastered the breathing technique thought by the mendicant and as he became better he could soon see things within his body. A normal man could only see things outside his body but Thangam with his eye turned inward could see within. He soon realised that the human body was in the form of “Om”. The power centers themselves were sounds within the “Om” and he soon learnt to identify the sounds associated with each of the power centres.

When Thangam completed eighteen years of age, the British gentleman to whom his father had served as a butler, called for him and offered him a job as a labourer in a textile mill in the city. Thangam willingly took up the offer as it was a permanent job with good compensation and benefits. Thangam continued to pray frequently and his new job provided him with more time at his disposal which he spent in prayer.

It was the time when the independence struggle was at its peak. One day on a holiday, Thangam was relaxing on the pavement outside the tea shop when he felt like revising the lessons he was learning within his body. He took a piece of charcoal and started drawing the body in the shape of an “Om” and then charting out the various power centres, their sounds and their presiding Deities. It was as much an exercise as a school boy would be given; to draw a flower and name the parts therein or to draw a map of India and point out the various regions and cities therein.

Meanwhile the road on which Thangam was sitting was getting jammed due to a procession of pro- independence supporters and a huge limousine had been forced to a stand still. Within the limousine or ‘pleasure cars’ as they were called in those days, while, the grass root folk referring to them as ‘pleasure’, sat a great man popularly known as Guruji and a scholar of the Vedas as no one before. This gentleman happened to look out of the window of his car and found Thangam drawing the ‘Om’ and naming its constituent power centers. He was astonished that such a young man could posses such knowledge and therefore stepped out of his car, much to the astonishment of his chauffeur.

The Guruji walked up to Thangam looked at his diagram and asked him how he knew about these power centers within the ‘Om’. Thangam unhesitatingly recited the paths to these power centers and the way to reach them as only a man who has done it within himself could. The Guruji offered Thangam some money, which Thangam politely refused to accept.

The Guruji then asked Thangam if he would be willing to come with him and accept him as his Guru and thereby enjoy great wealth fame. Thangam refused this too saying that he already had a Guru and he did not need any other. The Guruji was greatly humbled for here was a young man who was barely twenty years old who knew more than he could ever know.

It was exactly a year later in the spring of the subsequent year that Thangam was blessed with the opportunity of meeting his Guru once again. As was his won’t, Thangam used to spend his holidays praying in the calm of the Mandap inside the temple grove and it was on one such occasion that Thangam opened his eyes from prayer to meet his Guru standing near him. He could not believe his eyes as his Guru was standing near him.

He could not believe his eyes and blinked as his Guru embraced him warmly. Thangam looked in astonishment at his Guru’s hands. For there were no trace of leprosy and all his fingers were intact. His Guru noticed his surreptitious glances and smiled. “I really do not have leprosy my son,” he said. “It was only a disguise to keep people away from me and enable me smooth passage in crowded places including temples as people move away from a leper,” he continued. “Only you of all people came near me and you are indeed blessed for that my son,” he concluded.

Thangam was overjoyed and spent the evening and that night sitting with his Guru and discussing all that he had learn’t within his body. The next morning the Guru departed. He told Thangam, ”I won’t be coming back my son but I shall be with you all the while. Get married and fulfill your worldly duties while you continue your practice. You have great work to do my Son”

Thangam did do great work after the departure of his Guru. He performed many miracles and cured many illnesses. He stood by and trained two generations in the science, philosophy and practice of Yoga. However, Thangam abhorred the limelight and kept himself in the background as he achieved all that any Man could ever want.