The Sandalwood Tunnel

 

Amma was old, or for that matter very old.No one in the village was aware of her age. Even the most senior members of the village court called her by the name Amma because according to them they knew her from the time they themselves were in their youth and called her Amma back then too. She lived in a small hut in the outskirts of the village away from all the village happenings and noise. There was a time when she was very active in the village festivals. They said that she was amazing at the craft of decoration of idols and an expert in preparing garlands. Some said that she had an amazing voice too.

“I remember I was a teenage boy then, barely 16 or 17. That was the first time I heard her sing at the village temple Durga Pooja event and I was enthralled. I felt as if I was listening to some divine music from heaven. She sung so beautifully it felt that the Devi was singing herself. She must be around 70 but her voice seemed like she was still a young girl. It was on hearing her devotional songs that my Durga Bhakti (devotion) began, and since then I’ve never looked back”, says the local school principal Mr Ramdas with tearful eyes. There are many such accounts of Amma. Though there are descriptive tales of her singing and craft there are really no accounts of her family and how she moved into the village. No one actually knows her family roots, many say that she was always there and she was always there alone. Husband, children, parents or relatives, there was absolutely no clue. Most of the times she remained at her small hut but would join everyone during the evening temple Aartis and would also come to buy vegetables from the local market on alternate days. She was old but that bright smile on her place with which she greeted everyone was like a golden shimmer present on a young girls face. No friends as such, she was a bit of an introvert who met everyone with warmth.They said that she was always like that, Amma an old woman of the village who showed enthusiasm in the village festivals with exceptional artistic qualities guided by her pure soul and devotion for the almighty.

Problems started from a year ago though. It was the first time when she did not turn up for the the annual Ramleela plays. It was a greater shock when she did not come for the Durga Pooja. She now remained most of the time in her hut. There was a small farm behind her hut where she had planted vegetables in different quadrants and that was what she cooked and ate. Some people from the village and the Pujari ji went to her hut one day to ask if all was well. Surprisingly she didn’t even open the door. She said from inside that she was fine and asked them to not disturb her. Amma who was always kind in her speech seemed to be slightly irritated by the people who had erupted at her door. What happened to her? The village people were worried for a few days but slowly everyone got so busy in their own lives that they had almost completely forgot about Amma and now it was almost a year since anyone in the village had even seen Amma.

I had returned from hostel that year for my vacations. I stayed very less in my village. My schooling was done from the city where I stayed with my uncle. When my college started my frequency of visiting village decreased further and got restricted to my post exams vacations. It was then that mother reminded me of Amma. A faint memory of her came before my eyes, I had seen her smile at me in the temple once when I was really young, she had also played with my cheeks and tapped on my head, I was hardly 8 or 9 years then. Mother asked me to go visit her hut with some fruits. Why was she asking me to do so, I had never known her properly, I even didn’t know the regular people of the village properly and she was asking me to go to Amma’s hut who stayed in the village outskirts, whom I had barely met once and who wasn’t seen by any village citizen in almost a year. Since I was a final year medical student, mother even asked me to check for her vitals. To be honest I was really reluctant but what happened next changed my life completely.

I had many questions in my mind. Will she even allow me inside, mother had told that she had stopped the village pujari at the door itself. Why will she even speak to me for there are great chances that she might not even recognise me. Also why did I accept my mothers order to go to her place, I could have said no... My footsteps trembled a bit but then I took a deep breath and walked with firm steps. It was evening and glittering stars were visible in the sky. I had crossed the dense house cover area and was walking amidst trees and bushes now approaching Amma’s hut. As I approached her hut it was already dark and mist had surrounded the leaves of the trees around the huts, insects songs were giving comfort and a soothing effect to my ears. I was finally at her doorsteps. It was a small hut, but it was surrounded by beautiful hibiscus trees and I could also spot some colourful tiny flowers in the bushes around, the place was modest but it had a divine appeal.

“Amma. I’m Mritunjay from the village. I just thought to drop by and give you some fruits,my mother had asked me to...”, I said in haste and some level of anxiety. There was no reply. Why was I so nervous. “Amma?”, I gave a call once again and again there was no reply from within. Silence. Silence scares you sometimes but silence also opens doors of depths for you to think. I gathered courage and gently knocked the door twice. I don’t know what hit my mind that my next words were, “Amma won’t you let your son in?”, my eyes were moist. “Come in, the door is open”, came a soft voice from inside. The voice had come in the present but I felt it was echoing in my ears since a million years. I pushed the door and stepped inside. It was as if breeze currents were flowing inside the small hut magically as they touched my skin and hair, like a blanket made of motherly comfort though. I had finally made it inside her hut, I was happy and smiling.

Within the hut there were a line of Diya’s lit surrounding the circumference of the hut. One small window closed with a cover of straws. The hut didn’t have any luxuries but it had completeness of a universe in itself. A plain white sheet in one corner which must be for sleeping, on one end some wood, vessels and a pot filled with water, on the other end I could see a figure. Amma was sitting there wearing a plain pale saree, with her hands folded around her knees, her knees touching her breast, her cheeks resting leisurely on her knees, her eyes looking at me, her face wrinkled yet in the Diya’s light I could see starlight emanating from those wrinkles, smiling at me. I quickly remembered that smile from years ago when I had seen her, I wish she gave a tap on my head too. There she was. Amma. Amma or Atman(soul) I could not differentiate. “Amma I had brought you these fruits”, I said lifting the bag I was carrying. She smiled in the same position. “First have a seat. Will you have some water?”. “Yes Amma “, I replied. She got up. I could see due to age her spine had bent to a considerable degree. The way she walked I felt that I had done wrong by asking her to give me water because she looked extremely weak. She poured some water into the glass from the pot in the corner and handled it to me. I could see that her hands were weak yet the grip on the glass was firm. As she had got up and walked near me I had also managed to see a wooden board just behind the place she was seated earlier, there was an unusual golden light around the borders of the board, it was of weak intensity and seemed to be coming from somewhere down, but what could be beneath the ground? What could be beneath something which was seen? Beneath the external universe where we are lost in worldly battles, immersed in our egos forgetting who we really are.

Amma sat down now covering the board again. “How is your mother?”, she asked In a benevolent tone.”She’s fine..”, I replied. “Amma how’s your health? You have not come outside since a year and people are worried about you. You not attending the Durga Pooja is something really unusual, people miss your v-voice.” I don’t know why I stuttered in the end. She was watching me with the same calmness. Then she broke silence. “ My health is good son. I was just busy with some work, rather immersed in some work.” Now that was a confusing statement from her, what work would such an old lady would have got that had kept her so busy that she wasn’t even moving out or to put it in her language the work she was immersed in. I asked absent mindedly “What work?”. She nodded with grace and got up. I kept watching her in bemusement. She then turned her back towards me and bend down over the wooden board behind her. She opened it, Answers to my questions, answers to the eternal questions of the universe which is in the quest to find itself.

As soon as she opened the board a soft, creamy earthy rich sandalwood smell filled the hut and from beneath radiated vibrant yellow light. “Come”, she said in her soothing voice, like a mother calls her child. I got up and walked behind her as if captivated by some song she wasn’t singing but was inside her soul. I was surprised that below the board there was a really big hole and a ladder attached to move down. Amma stepped on it and quickly got down and I took each step carefully completely unfamiliar with the place. It was on stepping down that I realised that it wasn’t just some hole. It was a tunnel and that too a long one. The walls around were of rock, I could hardly see the original blackish grey colour of them because they were covered with yellowish golden sandalwood paste, the scent of which was celestial making one immerse in it. On deeper observation one could make out that the paste wasn’t just put haphazardly on the rocks, it was painted in the pattern of leaves.“Amma..Did you do all this?”. “Me? Who am I? This is all a creation of Ma Durga, I’m her instrument” and Amma began walking inside the tunnel, I followed. The place was so well illuminated by Diya’s placed inside the rock crevices and the sandalwood paste reflecting the light with the shine of oil that it was impossible to tell that it was a tunnel. The place was magical. From certain rocks milk drops slid and exactly from in between the leaves and halting exactly at the tip of the leaves, from the other rocks crystal clear water with beads of some diamond like rock dust was sliding just exactly at the leaf margins. Where was this milk and magical water coming from? I did not want to answer the question, I simply wanted to believe what Amma had said,creation of Ma Durga. Amma was walking looking forward while I was enjoying the beauty of the tunnel. Here and there, there were also lilies and butterflies making the sight more mesmerising. Now I was understanding what work this old lady was ‘immersed’ in. A world were hatred prevails, lust takes over love, anger and ego dominate us, beyond that world deeper down in our own souls there is a universe that connects us to the divine, reminding us that we are so effortlessly connected to the goddess that all we must do is close the eyes to the external world and focus within, reminding us who we truly are, it was a universe where there were no enemies of mine, the vibe was such that I began praying for the betterment of the people with whom I was not in good terms with, a universe where I could clearly see myself and how close I was to the holy light. Amma stopped walking now. I could see her back. She saw up. The rock above had a brighter light compared to the other places of the tunnel. Then within the same rock I saw carvings of footprints arise. Amma spoke, “these are the Padchihn(footprints ) of Ma Durga from our village temple”. Genius. I was awestruck. We were standing just below the village temple. I was still facing Amma’s back. She begun singing. I had never heard something like that ever before. Her tone and emotions while singing where that of calling Ma Durga, calling her near, calling her with pure heart forgetting all other emotions and worries, calling her with all the life she had within, all her breaths. What happened next was more astonishing. A stream of vibrating light particles arose from the padchihn taking the shape of complete legs and the whole human body next and then entering Amma. Her back still facing me. My eyes were moist. “Maa...”, I called with my voice shivering. Amma turned towards me. Her hair was no more greyish , it was black, her face vibrant as if arising from fire, young with rage but motherly ,her dress made of glowing red cloth, between her forehead a third eye which was closed, her skin no more wrinkled, her spine erect and her nature just so similar to Amma herself. I could not stop myself from bending down and laying my forehead on her feet. Tears rolling down my cheeks then falling on her feet. Somewhere in the tunnel on the rocks with sandalwood paste somehow the soul of my tear reached and slid smoothly. Ma touched my head, something which I longed for. Suddenly I could hear some liquid dropping on a surface. I looked up to find that all the sandalwood of the tunnel was slowly sliding above the rocks above Ma, accumulating there and slowly falling onto MA’s head. Sandalwood, milk, water, oil all blending and arriving on Ma’s head, as if someone was doing Ma’s Abhishek(auspicious spiritual bath), I could not be more lucky because some drops were reaching me too. I closed my eyes and again kept my forehead on her feet, focusing all my energy onto the Shakti (strength) of Ma Durga, the sat chit Anand (existence consciousness and bliss), which made me detach from all the attachments and connected me to my real nature. I was now able to see clearly what Ma could see even with closed eyes, I could see Ma’s light and how she saw the universe. She didn’t saw the components of the world as different, she saw them as same, because she saw her light within everyone, and it was the light of courage, truth, righteousness, purity of thought and character. When I realised what she saw, Ma opened her third eye.

I think I got unconscious then. The next thing I remember, I was inside my house lying on the bed with my mother sitting near my head. Slowly opening my eyes I asked what had happened. She didn’t reply. I asked her about Amma and that she had sent me to her with fruits. She gave an answer which made me perplexed. “Amma? Amma died a year back son. Poor Amma, I had never met such a pious lady, always immersed in Bhakti bhaav, a talented singer and artist with a pure soul. Why are you asking about her son? And what’s wrong with you, you returned very late last night and in your sleep you were quite uneasy. You started shouting “Maa” and thus I came running to you , hope you are fine.” I left for hostel a few days later. During the initial days I would get emotional all of a sudden thinking of Amma, gradually I learnt to guide those emotions and what I had experienced into my studies and my Pooja of Ma Durga, pristine force of Ma and devotional energy reaching onto her feet. The next time I visited my village I went outside Amma’s hut one day. It looked beautiful, I could see a flock of sparrows constantly encircling it in playful moods. I smiled. The same day there was Durga Pooja in our village temple.This time there was something different inside the temple. When I put my feet inside the temple there was this particular fragrance I sensed of which I was completely aware of, I quickly recognised it, it was the same smell of sandalwood which had mesmerised me in the tunnel beneath Amma’s hut.