Walking Back………..
There comes a moment in every journey when we have to turn back.
The road that took us away from home slowly brings us back.
The temples become memories.
The darshan becomes something we carry in our hearts.
The voices of the priests become distant echoes.
The prasādam lovingly offered by someone we had never met is already gone.
And yet, something remains.
Something that cannot be packed into a suitcase.
Something that cannot be photographed.
Something that quietly follows us home.
That is how I felt when my Āchārya Yāthirai began to come to an end.
I was walking back to my ordinary life.
But I did not feel quite the same person who had started the journey.
I had gone looking for them
I had travelled to places where our Āchāryas had lived, worshipped, taught and served.
I had stood before the sannidhis of great personalities whose names I had heard all my life.
I had entered Thirumaligais.
I had sat before priests and elders.
Sometimes I had gone with a specific question.
Sometimes I had gone simply because my heart wanted to see the place.
And many times, I received much more than I expected.
A priest would open a door.
Someone would offer prasādam.
An elderly person would narrate a pastime.
A young Archakar would patiently answer my questions.
A garland would somehow come into my hands.
A few words would remain in my mind for days.
Looking back, I wonder whether these were really coincidences.
Or whether the Āchāryas were simply being kind to a very ordinary seeker.
The road behind me
As I travelled back, my mind began walking through the Yāthirai again.
I remembered Srirangam.
I remembered the many Thirumaligais.
I remembered Periya Nambi.
Parasara Bhattar.
Nampiḷḷai.
Piḷḷai Āthan.
Piḷḷai Lokācārya.
Koorathāḻvān.
Swamy Rāmānuja.
And so many others whose lives I had been trying to understand.
Each story seemed to have left something behind.
One showed me humility.
Another showed me service.
Another showed me Bhāgavatha prema.
Another showed me the danger of ego.
Another showed me what it means to put Perumāḷ before one’s own life.
I had begun the Yāthirai thinking that I was collecting stories.
Slowly, I realised that the stories were collecting me.
They were entering somewhere deep inside.
What had I really gained?
I asked myself this question while returning.
Had I become a great scholar?
No.
Had I suddenly understood our granthas?
No.
Had all my weaknesses disappeared?
Certainly not.
If anything, I had become more conscious of them.
And strangely, that itself felt like a blessing.
Earlier, I might have looked at an Āchārya and simply admired him.
Now I was beginning to ask:
What is there in his life that I am supposed to learn?
That was a completely different question.
The Yāthirai had slowly changed the question inside me.
I had started by asking:
“What can I see?”
Now I was asking:
“What can I become?”
From the Āchāryas to the Āḻvārs
And then, somewhere along the return journey, another thought began to grow.
I had spent so much time travelling to the places of the Āchāryas.
But where did the treasure they protected come from?
What was the source of the Divya Prabandham they treasured?
Whose words had inspired them?
Whose pasurams had they preserved, taught and carried from generation to generation?
The answer was waiting for me.
The Āḻvārs.
Perhaps the road was now asking me to turn back even further.
Back to the source.
Back to those extraordinary souls whose hearts melted in their love for Perumāḷ.
A place I could not forget
One of the places that began to occupy my thoughts was Āḻvār Tirunagari.
We had travelled there as part of our Āchārya Yāthirai.
The place itself had a different atmosphere.
The quiet Tamiraparani flowed nearby.
We took a dip in the river, remembering the great devotees associated with its banks.
But our real destination was Śrī Rāmānuja Chaturvedi Maṅgalam.
I wanted to have darshan of the Bhaviṣyad Āchārya associated with Swamy Rāmānuja.
The priest narrated the beautiful traditional account connected with Madhurakavi Āḻvār and Swamy Nammāḻvār, and how this sacred place came to be associated with Rāmānuja even before his appearance.
I stood there listening.
My children were also eager to hear the story.
And I suddenly felt that something very special was happening.
I had come looking for Rāmānuja.
But Rāmānuja was taking me back to Nammāḻvār.
That thought stayed with me.
A chain of love
The more I listened, the more beautiful the connection seemed.
Nammāḻvār.
Madhurakavi Āḻvār.
Rāmānuja.
The Āchāryas who came after him.
And now, generations later, a simple seeker like me standing in that same sacred atmosphere.
I began to see something that I had perhaps never understood before.
The sampradāya was not simply a succession of names.
It was a living chain of love and service.
One generation received.
One generation preserved.
One generation passed it on.
And another generation received it again.
I was standing at the far end of that long chain, wondering whether I had done anything worthy of what had been handed down to me.
The question that followed me home
I remembered the words that had touched me so often during this Yāthirai.
What have I done for the Lord?
That question now seemed to take on another meaning.
I had received so much.
The Divya Prabandham.
The teachings of the Āchāryas.
The stories of the Bhāgavathas.
The opportunity to visit Divya Desams.
The opportunity to sit before learned devotees.
The opportunity to hear the words of our elders.
What had I given back?
Perhaps very little.
And yet, perhaps the Lord does not ask us to become great.
Perhaps He asks us simply to preserve what we have received and pass a little of it forward.
Walking back to earth
The journey was ending.
The car was moving towards home.
The temples were disappearing behind me.
The familiar roads were returning.
My ordinary life was waiting.
But something had changed.
I had gone looking for the footprints of the Āchāryas.
I returned carrying their stories.
I had gone looking at their places.
I returned looking at myself.
And now the road was quietly pointing somewhere else.
Towards the Āḻvārs. Towards Nammāḻvār.
Towards those divine pasurams that had inspired the very Āchāryas whose lives had just humbled me.
Perhaps this was not the end of the Yāthirai after all.
Perhaps I had merely reached another bend in the road.
The road turns
There is something deeply moving about this to me.
I had started this journey with Swamy Rāmānuja.
His name had awakened something in me.
His temples drew me towards him.
His life made me search.
His devotees taught me.
His Āchāryas showed me mirrors.
And now, after walking through that world, I was being led back to the person whom Rāmānuja himself revered so deeply.
Swamy Nammāḻvār.
Perhaps the road had come full circle.
Or perhaps it was only beginning to reveal where it wanted to take me.
I do not know.
I am only walking.
Looking at the signposts left behind by our Āchāryas.
Trying to understand them.
Trying to follow them.
And hoping that somewhere along the way, I may become a little less of myself and a little more worthy of the path they showed us.
A small prayer
Oh Lord Sreenivasaa
Thank You for the Yāthirai.
Thank You for every temple.
Every priest.
Every devotee.
Every Āchārya.
Every story.
Every unexpected kindness.
Please don’t let them remain only beautiful memories.
Let them slowly become part of my life.
I went looking for the places where the Āchāryas walked.
You made me look at the way I walk.
I went looking for their stories.
You made me ask what I am doing with the story of my own life.
And now, as I turn towards the Āḻvārs, please give me the humility to listen.
Let me not approach their pasurams merely as poetry.
Let me try to understand the love that poured through them.
The road has brought me back to earth.
But perhaps…
the journey within has only just begun.
To be continued
Śrīmate Rāmānujāya Namaḥ
Adiyen Rāmānujadāsan
Pictures : Courtesy Google Images
Previous posts of the above series is appended in the below links
