Something beautiful is happening if we but hark. The holy month of Agrahayana or Margashirsha begins on November 22 this year and ends on December 21. The North Indian panchang says it began on November 6 and ends on December 4, so by that reckoning, we are already in it. It is the ninth month of the Hindu lunar calendar and the Indian national calendar. The name of the month comes from the position of the moon near the Mrigashirsha nakshatra on full moon day. Its season is pre-winter, when the harvest is done; the delightful time we call Hemant. Since pre-winter begins earlier in the temperate zone of the North than in the tropical zone of the South, the dates slide, too. That is how it was once explained to me.
Sri Krishna tells Arjuna in the Bhagavad Gita, Canto 10, Verse 35: bṛihat-sāma tathā sāmnāṁ gāyatrī chhandasām aham/māsānāṁ mārga-śhīrṣho ’ham ṛitūnāṁ kusumākaraḥ, meaning, ‘Among the hymns in the Samaveda know me to be the Brihatsama; amongst poetic meters I am the Gayatri. Of the twelve months of the calendar, I am Margashirsha, and of seasons I am Spring, which brings forth flowers.’
On a mundane level, tummy upsets are common in India when seasons change, so one of the rules made ‘holy’ so that the public will follow it for its own good, is: “Do not eat stale food in the month of Margashirsha. Always eat fresh food.” This is actually a good rule for the whole year, though obviously, we are now able to keep food edible for days in the fridge, even frozen for months at a time. A hardcore South Indian friend was amused when she visited an NRI friend in London, and the friend said, “What about dinner? Shall I take out a brick of rasam?” I, too, belong to the fresh food brigade, which sometimes causes problems with leftovers. Back in the day, if I came home late from work, I found myself preferring to toast some fresh bread rather than warm up those little katoris of leftover dal and sabzi. But each to their own in this matter, as in so many others.
Another old practice during Margashirsha is to fast on Thursdays and pray to Goddess Lakshmi for health, wealth, and happiness. These rites are gently urged on the public to help them enter the spiritual side of things, first by addressing their need for material security. Because, once the mind is soothed of its earthly worries, having put in a request to Mahalakshmi, it can dwell pleasurably on the holy events contained in Margashirsha.
This month, called Margazhi in Tamil, is special to both Vaishnavas and Shaivas. Andal’s Thiruppavai is recited across Tamil Nadu, especially in the holy city of Srirangam, the Vaishnava Central of the South. Andal ‘vanished’ at this temple in the ninth century. Sri Ramanuja, the founder of Srivaishnavism in the tenth century, was greatly inspired by Andal’s devotion. He fulfilled her promise to feed the public a hundred pots of a particular sweet pudding if Krishna would accept her. So, he is fondly seen as her spiritual brother. Sri Ramanuja’s influence spread North and became an all-India movement, carried to the far corners of the land by various holy men. If we think about it, one of the greatest egalitarian socio-religious movements to transform India was a lamp lit by a girl-child from long ago.
It was this month, when the star Arudra was in the ascendant, that Lord Nataraja performed his divine dance for the sages Vyagrapada and Patanjali at Chidambaram. There are so many uplifting, moving stories about Lord Shiva’s lilas or games with his devotees at Chidambaram that we’d need a large hanky or a box of tissues handy to hear them out. The Tamils lovingly called him Koothan, meaning ‘Dancer’, and sculptors meditated deeply before fashioning his images.
The poet Muthu Tandavar (1525–1600 CE) ‘vanished’ into the sanctum at Chidambaram on the very day of the Arudra nakshatra. Tandavar was cruelly kicked out by his parents as a little boy from his home in Sirkali town in the Kaveri delta, because he had an incurable skin infection. He joined the line of beggars at the local Shiva temple because where else could he go? But Parvati healed him and advised him to compose a new song for Shiva every day at Chidambaram.
When Tandavar, greatly daring, nervously finished his first song, a big commotion broke out because five gold coins of great antiquity suddenly appeared at the Lord’s feet. Just as Parvati had healed Tandavar’s body, Koothan Shiva healed his broken heart with this gesture, telling him he was not rejected, but belonged. This is but one of many stories that illumine our land. Tandavar’s poignant songs are still sung by everyday people and by great concert musicians.
Gita Jayanti, celebrated every year, falls in Margashirsha, for the Bhagavad Gita was imparted by Krishna to Arjuna on the first day of the Battle of Kurukshetra in this month. Canto Ten is where the Lord spells out his presence in our midst, including “Of the months I am Margashirsha”. Canto Eleven, where the Lord transfigures himself to appease Arjuna's audacious longing, has some of the most beautiful poetry in the known history of the word. Canto Sixteen, which describes the difference between ‘divine' and ‘demoniac' natures, has long held cult status and is attributed with great magical powers.
In so many ways, Margashirsha is the gift that keeps giving.
Renuka Narayanan | FAITHLINE | Senior journalist
(Views are personal)
(shebaba09@gmail.com)
