By Vithal C Nadkarni
Our maliseems to go into a tizzy when your columnist unwraps a bronze idol of Shesha shielding a Shiva-Linga into the living room. He insists on sprinkling it with water and sets a small dish of milk before it. Then he requests me to daub the icon with turmeric and vermilion on its hood. Unerringly, he refers to it as Anant Nag and makes parallels with Anant, the name of our house, after my grandfather.
Perhaps we should address the bronze cobra as Vruddha Nag, or the Elder One? The grizzled gardener, however, will have none of that. He also winces visibly when the table talk turns to snake lore; about how acompanion cobra invariably follows the entry or exit of his or her mate in our folk tales. “Do you think they cannot hear or see?” he asks in a hushed voice. “They are all around us!” And so they are indeed; for, our garden does seem to harbour several serpents, some of which have apparently lived here for years on end in peace.
Now, is that because the house is under the protective seal of Grandfather Anant? “Such things are best left unsaid,” the malimutters. By happenstance, that night, a companion to our bronze serpent does materialise — but He comes in the form of a virtual invocation as befitting the 21st century.
Your columnist is scanning a text called Yoga Makaranda when he is brought up short by an invocation in it to Adi Shesha: all aspirants are enjoined to chant it before their practice! Bharmandalaya Anantaya/Nagarajaya Namahis that mantra, which the great yogi TKrishnamacharya says will give success to sincere practitioners. So, they are all around.
Our maliseems to go into a tizzy when your columnist unwraps a bronze idol of Shesha shielding a Shiva-Linga into the living room. He insists on sprinkling it with water and sets a small dish of milk before it. Then he requests me to daub the icon with turmeric and vermilion on its hood. Unerringly, he refers to it as Anant Nag and makes parallels with Anant, the name of our house, after my grandfather.
Perhaps we should address the bronze cobra as Vruddha Nag, or the Elder One? The grizzled gardener, however, will have none of that. He also winces visibly when the table talk turns to snake lore; about how acompanion cobra invariably follows the entry or exit of his or her mate in our folk tales. “Do you think they cannot hear or see?” he asks in a hushed voice. “They are all around us!” And so they are indeed; for, our garden does seem to harbour several serpents, some of which have apparently lived here for years on end in peace.
Now, is that because the house is under the protective seal of Grandfather Anant? “Such things are best left unsaid,” the malimutters. By happenstance, that night, a companion to our bronze serpent does materialise — but He comes in the form of a virtual invocation as befitting the 21st century.
Your columnist is scanning a text called Yoga Makaranda when he is brought up short by an invocation in it to Adi Shesha: all aspirants are enjoined to chant it before their practice! Bharmandalaya Anantaya/Nagarajaya Namahis that mantra, which the great yogi TKrishnamacharya says will give success to sincere practitioners. So, they are all around.
