My rendezvous with Sri Muthappan

 "എന്ടെ പറശ്ശിനികടവ് മുത്തപ്പാ കാതി രക്ഷികന്നെ"

Disclaimer: A small part of the post is deliberately written in Malayalam to keep up its originality. The translations for the same are just about adequate to give you an understanding of the entire picture.

For those of you, who are not acquainted with Muthappan, let me give you a short intro. Muthappan, a hunter and an incarnation of Lord Shiva, is the most popular local deity in the Northern Malabar region of Kerala (more predominantly in the Kannur district).

Unlike Sri Krishna, who used to devour pots filled with butter for a living, or Ganesha, who used to stuff his belly with modaks, Muthappan’s favourite food was boiled gram with coconut pieces and roasted dry fish, accompanied by kallu or toddy to wash it down. Muthappan worshipping is a typical example of the Non-Sattvic or Non-Brahmanical form of worship (due to the inclusion of fish and alcohol inside the temple premises).

He, among others, remains to be the coolest God I’ve ever come across.

Without digressing too much, I move on to the topic. The Muthappan I’m speaking about is a living person, dressed up like the God himself with the traditional costume and all the other paraphernalia, in order to perform a ceremony called Velattom (വെള്ളാട്ടം).  He is said to get possessed by the real Muthappan once the ritual begins, and this supposedly gives him incredible powers to predict people’s futures and give them some wise counselling and advice.

I’ve had a previous encounter with Muthappan way back in December 2006 while I was spending time with my cousins in Kannur. But, the meeting was too brief for me to comprehend anything from it. So when I got an opportunity to attend this sanctified ceremony while I was in Kerala this November (2009), I never had to think twice or coax myself.

To be honest, I hadn’t anticipated this meeting with Muthappan at all. I happened to go to my aunt’s house on a casual visit one evening when she told me about the event which was happening at the nearby temple or Kaavu (കാവ്). On further interrogation, I found out that the ceremony was being conducted by another relative of mine (by now you must’ve figured out that the place is filled with my relatives). My maternal uncle, who stays with us in Bangalore and was accompanying me that day, was also very keen on seeing the ritual. The only problem was that, I was wearing a pair of khaki shorts (you know the ones with a few hundred pockets) that evening and I very well knew that it was the most inapposite thing to do, especially while going to a temple. But like I said, I hadn’t anticipated it, and I didn’t have time to get back home and change my clothes.

So there I was, moments later, in the temple; rubbing shoulders with the other devotees in the waiting line, to get the exact prognostication of my life from the Venerable Muthappan. My uncle was standing before me in the queue and when his turn came, he whispered his problems into Muthappan’s ears. I couldn’t hear what Muthappan told him, but by the look of my uncle’s face I could tell that he was satisfied and was willing to take all remedial measures or pariharam to overcome his problems.  

                                                                                                                          
 Muthappan giving advice

 What follows this is the conversation between yours truly and ours truly

Muthappan (Holding my hands): Hmm… Parayu (tell me)

I (immediately putting on a woebegone expression): Paddipu kazhani… Jolli onum vijaaricha polle kittinilla. Videshatti povaan shramikugayaanu. (Actually I’ve finished my studies but I’m finding it difficult to go abroad)

Mu: Hmmm…

I: Videshatti Jolli kittumo? (Will I get the job abroad?)

Mu: Ippol thenney povanna? (Do you want to go now itself?)

I: Aan! ippol thenney povaan avasaram kittiyaal nalladaayirunnu.(Yes! It would be great if I can go now itself)

Mu: Koracchu samayam sanyasi aayi jeevikugga. Ambalavaasi aayi kshetrangal ellam onum karangugga. Muthappan ayhachi theram. Vishamikalle! ( Don’t worry, just live the life of an ascetic for a while, visit a few temples, and I’ll send you soon).

I: Sheri Muthappa (OK)

So there I was, swaggering around in elation, after my chat with Muthappan. The pariharam was to lead an ascetic life for a short while and visit as many temples as possible, until I found my job abroad. This was acceptable by me and I was thanking my stars for getting to listen to some positive answer from Muthappan (I was told later that not everyone got to listen to what he/she wanted to hear or found favourable. Sometimes, the opposite proved to be true). I was also happy because he didn't mention anything about the attire I was in.

There there there... Just when I thought it was over, Muthappan called me again to give me some kallu in a small kindi (water dispenser). After drinking the toddy, I returned the kindi to him so that he could fill it and pass it on to others but, this was not what he had in mind. He held my hands again to tell me some more things. The conversation is as follows: 

Mu: Vishamikalla, Muthappan vegam thenney ayyachi theram (Don’t worry, Muthappan will send you soon).

I: Sheri (OK)

Mu: Muthappan ayyachi thannal endu therrum Muthappani? (What will you give me if I send you there?)

I: hmmm……. Ariyilla. Endhi venam? ( Don’t know. Do you have anything in mind?)

Muthappan: Adatha pravisham verumbol, Muthappani kallu vattichi eduthu, arrack aaki konditheranam, ketto? Ipo thenne venda. Ni videshattilokke poyyitti vaa. Oru randu randarra varshangalki shesham thanna madhi, ketto? Engana ethikande ni orthu vishamikkanda. Muthappan vayyi kaanichi therum, ketto? (Ok I’ll tell you what. Distill some toddy, convert it to arrack*, bottle it and give it to me. I don’t need it right now. Go abroad, come back in two to two and a half years and then give it to me. Don’t break your head thinking about how you’re going to give it to me. I’ll show you the way to get to me once you're back.

I: Sheri Muthappa (OK)

Mu: Pinne, adhatha pravisham verumbol, vasthrangal onu maathi verugaa. Kaavi mundu uduthiti venam Muthappande mumbil veraan. (Wait a minute… The next time you visit me, you shouldn’t be wearing such clothing. Wear a saffron dhothi and present yourself well)

I: Sheri Muthappa. (OK)


Mu: *guffaws*

Phew! That was embarrassing. But all the same, it gave the others (who came with their problems) around me a reason to smile. So much for Muthappan’s sense of humour and his uniqueness. He surely has his way of getting things done. Doesn't he? :)

                                           

*Any distilled spirit (whisky, brandy, rum, etc.)  can be given  instead of arrack. Have you ever heard of hard liquor being offered to a temple before?

 നന്ദി! നമസ്കാരം !

PS: I've always wanted to go to Sabarimala; explore the beauty and faith attached to the place in my quest to find solace. Muthappan's advice of leading an ascetic life for a while gives me reason enough to go now. Expect a post on it very soon. Swamy Sharanam! 

In pursuit of my hidden six-pack abs

"Where art thou, my hidden pride? Where art thou?"

If I remember correctly, my initiative of developing a six-pack abs started eons ago. It involved me looking into the mirror while getting topless (now now, ladies, control your urges please!) and cursing myself, for having allowed the stubborn flab to juxtapose itself next to my inherent stomach muscles, while taking control of it. This was (or rather, still is) a major flaw in my otherwise Greek God like physique (You think I'm joking???).

Now, when I use words like hidden and inherent in my post, it obviously means that I was in possession of   the six-pack earlier... but when you read--- my initiative of developing a six-pack abs started eons ago--- you may be left wondering as to which period of my life I actually had the packs. Well this was the time when yours truly was in school and pre-degree (especially while I was practicing yoga under my father's guidance). If any of you have gone through my earlier posts, the more brilliant and mentally proactive ones among you would have probably realised that I hail from a family that specialises in yoga. Practicing this discipline from a tender age of five meant that my stomach muscles were automatically put to work, without even me noticing the transformation or voluntarily being a part of the process.

So, when did this repulsive and nefarious thing called flab start taking over the muscle you may ask? It happened during the summer of 2005, when I had just finished my final exams and was looking forward to jaunt across the country for the next two months. Believe me, when I left Bangalore, I was an emaciated bloke (the kind who could count the number of bones in his body) who was just hovering around sixty kilos, but when it was time for me to get back to college, I turned a healthy 69 (I love this number for the exact reason that you're grinning so wryly for). Nine kilos in two months was the biggest physical transformation in my entire life until date (for someone who had been skinny throughout his life). My friends in college were taken aback the very moment I entered my classroom. I was overjoyed. Peace! End of story.

Wait a minute... If you thought the post would end on such an abrupt note and make you, the reader, infer that it is one of those happy endings stories, YOU ARE MISTAKEN. The story just begins here my friend.

While the metamorphosis continued to amaze me and others equally, yet again there was a small department in my body that I completely forgot about (you must have guessed it by now). For some reason, good (remember the yoga days?) or bad (now), I've always neglected this part of the body in the process of building the rest. I even clearly remember the day when I first hit the gym (somewhere in November 2005), I was all up for bulking up my newly found physique. Now that the genes I inherited from my dad was finally showing itself (my dad was a nationally acclaimed amateur bodybuilding champion), I wanted to be like him so badly, like there is no tomorrow.

Thus, I started working out earnestly. It included doing a lot of ground exercises, warm-ups, lifting heavy weights for each body part, etc. but at the same time, spending only 5-10 minutes towards my 6-pack development. In fact, I used to enjoy all the attention that my body attracted. Flaunting those 16.5 inch arms, removing my t-shirt in the gym after the workout, hitting out various poses, flexing my muscles etc. gave me a high (my God! What a showoff). Showing off was only a small part of it. The major cause was to show all those guys who didn't believe in me, or who kept calling me skinny or a bag of bones, that I had done it and become the way I am. You may call it retribution... My way.

It was only when people started pointing towards the rather conspicuous and preposterous belly of mine (oops! The small department had grown to a big one by now) that I started giving it some more attention. By the time yours truly gave this department it's well deserved space, it was too late. When I say too late it means that the exercises that I was doing after my regular workouts weren't enough to help reduce it. If you think that was bad enough, then listen to this... My MBA exams were approaching and I had to quit the gym for a short while (at least that's what I thought), but this short while turned out to be a long six months and at the end of it  I was already looking six months pregnant (have you ever heard of a word called 'exaggeration'?). My lifestyle had changed completely. Eating, sleeping, and watching movies were the only mentionable daily activities in this phase. So, like Issac Newton said in one of his laws that "Every action has an equal and opposite reaction,"  in my case, the opposite reaction was MORE than equal to the action. A lot of comments started flowing. Here, I quote a few

• "Monae look at your stomach protruding out. I never had such a thing when I was of your age"
• "Arjun, what is this? You no longer look like the Greek God because of this"
• "Your body is damn good but I feel your tummy needs a little tuck as it seems to be getting more attention now"
• "Boy you need to literally slog your ass off to reduce that thing"
• "At least I don't have a pot belly"
• "You need to do 200 crunches followed by 200 leg raises followed by 100 hyper-extensions, followed by a zillion this, followed by a zillion that, etc etc. everyday"

In a way I must thank my critics, for their critique got the energy juices flowing in me. I started going for my daily morning jog, which was followed by an oil massage by my brother (who happens to be doing his graduation in Ayurveda). I even started running on the beach every morning, followed by a hardcore abdominal workout for the two weeks I spent in Kerala. The results were instantaneous. I was beginning to feel proud of my body once again (so what if it is only a 4-pack as of now???).

So it sort of has an happy ending after all. Doesn't it? :)

Moral(s):

• You can't get a body like the jockey-underwear-ad-guy without slogging your ass (read abdominal muscles) off. 
• No pain, no gain.
• Rome (read 'a great six-pack') was not built in a day.
• Consistency is the key. You can't afford to be like the Indian cricket team with your body. 
• Smugness screws up everything.