The Hindu : For the devout, Pushkaram have already begun

Online edition of India's National Newspaper
Wednesday, Jul 30, 2003

Southern States

Southern States - Andhra Pradesh

For the devout, Pushkaram have already begun

By K.V.S. Madhav

Devotees engaged in rituals associated with Pushkarams on the banks of Godavari at Rajahmundry on Tuesday. — Photo: Satish H.

Rajahmundry July 29. Thousands throng to the feet of Mother Godavari, yearning for her warmth, but the maternal river figurine threatens to descend on them all by herself. Such is her fury that several bathing ghats are flooded and some even washed away by the river. What irony is this?

The water level stood at 54 feet at the Old Bridge early on Tuesday morning, and the Godavari rushed by with a rattle and hum. Huge trees were being hauled away. Yet, there was no stopping the devout. No deterrence to their strength of belief. The river was a mighty force to reckon with, but not forceful enough to stop them from coming to her. Barely 4 a.m., and there were hundreds taking a holy dip at the Kotilingala Revu, the age-old bathing ghat of the historic town and the cultural capital of the Telugus, Rajahmundry, and embracing the maternal Godavari. What affinity is this?

"She has calmed down. She knows there are thousands of her children waiting to see her get back to her maternal and languorous self,'' Nrusimha Sarma, into his third Godavari Pushkarams, said at the flood-lit main Pushkaram ghat that was shining like a pearl, the lights casting a golden hue on the muddy waters.

"Nothing can stop people from coming to the lap of the river. Such is the devotion and spiritual power she evokes. She is all about irresistible mystique. The river which took over the entire bathing ghat yesterday has come down by five feet already and is decreasing by the hour,'' he said showing the waterlogged staircase leading to the river. "Yesterday none of these steps was visible. They were under a sheet of swirling water,'' the sexagenarian purohit pointed out.

"Cold and aloof one moment, gentle and caring the next, strange are her ways,'' the man shrugged. But, the devout could only see and feel the river's warmth as the young and the old, entire families and extended families, all descended on the river harbouring great faith in one of the country's most sacred rivers.

This was a quintessential Telugu festival and celebration of a river that runs in the veins and hums in the minds of the Telugus. The mighty Godavari serenading through the Telugu hinterlands is not a mere entity, but the very lifeline and soul, more so for the denizens of Rajahmundry.

With the river spectacle in full swing and the ghats exploding with activity, it was grandfathers and grandmothers who were leading the way and out beating the younger lot in enthusiasm. On a pilgrimage to find, unlock and stimulate the deepest recesses within, they took a dip in the river, and an embrace with the elements, the purest and opalescent of them all, water. The river became the ultimate purifier.

What is to be an uplifting experience under the awesome canopy of the Kotilingala Revu is visibly, a muddy affair what with tonnes of slush being brought in by the river in spate. But none of this pollution interlude holds water for the devout. "Where is the pollution? I can't see anything," grey haired Ramaseshaiah of Visakhapatnam asked his U.S.-raised granddaughter. "Pollution, if any, is in our minds. The river is pure and pristine," he wryly said looking into the girl's eye. The young girl waded into the water without any ado, slipping out of her Nike shoes, the old man's logic sinking into her. Surely, the devotional eye sees no pollution, only faith.

Even if the eye is blind. A blind man with flowing white locks and beard helped by a few women, got into the water with great care. He stood there facing the sun transfixed, praying fervently. Moments of solitude spent in meditation. He waded out of the water and stood there silently gaping into the river, listening to its music. "I can see it by listening," he muttered and continued listening. He clambered up the staircase and turned back in the direction of the river. He stood there with folded hands listening to more music.

As the sun spilt its early gold on the river, there was more music in the form of mellifluous Vedic chants by pundits of the town pierced the air, the collective monotone flowing from the temples like a hypnotic wave. The banyan tree in the ghat added its own music, the leaves doing a symphony.

Yet another train trundled by on the nearby road-cum-rail bridge bringing in more people to the town. As the day progressed, there was the sight of hundreds stumbling and inching their way to the river in the sweltering sun. All roads invariably led to the Godavari and the river is the sole destination, the be-all-and-end-all of life in Rajahmundry for the next several days. As the flood in the Godavari abated, the flood of people rose rapidly.

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