Everyone has a story to tell……
Thus, the young sanyasin left his village, nestled deep in the dakshinam, the southern part of the country which had for millennia been known as the Jambudwipam. He had said goodbye to his mortal mother, his village Kaladi and the holy river Periyar, and had started his travels towards the heart of the jambudwipam, in the direction of the ancient kingdom of Mahishmati. Towards the east of Mahishmati, he knew,... Continue Reading →
The young Shankara, just a little over eight years old now, but not yet nine, stood in front of his former dwelling; the humble quarters he used to call home. He was dressed in the saffron robes of a renunciant, his head shaved, his forehead marked with the horizontal ‘tilaka’ of Shiva. A small dot of vermilion marked the... Continue Reading →
It had been several years since Shivaguru’s death, and Aryamba was finding it difficult to make ends meet. She could not go out for work in the village, it was forbidden, and Shankara was only eight years old. Besides, all he had time for was his scriptures, and contemplation. He performed his daily religious activities well, which is all that Aryamba expected from... Continue Reading →
The young child with skin like molten copper stood still, holding a bunch of straws in his hands, his forehead marked with sandalwood paste. An unstitched loincloth was the only covering upon his body. For a child as young as he was, he stood strangely still and composed, considering the occasion. His face was tranquil,... Continue Reading →
The tall ascetic stood erect, a trident in his right hand, his matted locks reaching his waist. His hair was wet with the waters of the divine stream that trickled from his head, and washed his feet before making its way earthwards. The ferocious serpent that he wore like an ornament in his neck, hissed... Continue Reading →
