The Secret of Chidambaram

Chidambaram.  To any South Indian Hindu, the temple conjures the sounds of ancient hymns and prayers, the scent of garlands and incense, and of course the image of the grand Chidambaram Nataraja Temple.

The primary deity in the Chidambaram temple is Shiva in his form as Nataraja, which can be roughly translated as the "Lord of the Dance".  The Nataraja has become associated with the classical dance style of Bharathanatyam and has joined the likes of the Taj Mahal and the Lion of Sarnath as a symbol for the nation and the various cultures and religions of India.

However, even though the image is recognizable to individuals all across the Indian subcontinent, it holds a special place for the locals.  So sacred and mysterious is the site, that the myth of the "Chidambaram Ragasiyam", or the "Secret of Chidambaram" has become inextricably associated with the temple and the deity.       
                                                                                      

So what is the Chidambaram Ragasiyam?  What is the secret that moved the ancient poets to compose hymns about the glory of the temple?  What is the secret that has brought hundreds and thousands of people to this temple since its creation in the 5th century?  What is this secret that has inspired a half-dozen movies and television shows that drag Indian families away from their cricket matches and curries?  

Are you ready?  Here you go:  For centuries pilgrims have noted a mysterious shimmer of a mirage of golden leaves...or the sound of anklets jingling...or even the presence of mysterious figures within this huge nearly 3 million square foot temple.  What are these indications of?  People believe that the deity himself resides within the walls of the temple, and that rarely a blessed devotee is given a glimpse of the divine...they see God.

Anticlimactic, right?  Of course, our world is full of miraculous appearances of the divine. Whether it be in George Bush's dreams or in a burrito, people see God everywhere.  Actually, to be honest, people see whatever they wish to see...everywhere.  Rock formations along the south of India are seen as the ancient bridge to Lanka built during the Hindu epic of the Ramayana.   People see Mount Sodom, a large salt formation, as Lot's wife converted during the times of the Old Testament.  I don't say these things to criticize or to mock.  But to be honest, it seems in the modern day, all you need is a the encouragement from a Disney-Pocahontas-in-a-busty-22-year-old-body...and we'd all be seeing Grandmother Willow...even in Palm trees.

But, I decided to try out my luck at experiencing the divine.  For all I knew, it would be a great way to wrap up a trip to India.  A long plane trip, a reiteration of my appreciation for air conditioning, a couple of close calls with suspicious fruit vendors, and enlightenment.  Quite well-rounded if you ask me.

So during my last trip to India, I visited the Chidambaram temple.  It is a magnificent temple, and it does overwhelm you with wonder and awe at how such an incredible structure was created by man with such little technology.  My breath was taken away by the power of the faith that encourages people to create such beauty.  However, I did not come close at all to seeing the Lord of Dance, or even catching the glimpse of anything mysterious.  To be honest, the whole temple trip went by normally.  A little too normal for my liking.

What do I mean by too Normal? I was there people-watching, in hopes of capturing a radiant being.  But instead, I saw hundreds of the same person.  Women wearing the same saris, all bowing their heads together, their mouths moving in unison.  The prayers and words may have been different, but the goals and aspirations behind the prayers were so identical.   They even all walked and moved like robots. 

And in the wave of identical printed saris, starched pants, jasmine flowers, oiled shiny black hair, and the marks of wiped runny noses on school uniforms, I found myself blending into a Indian version of Edward Scissorhands's suburbia.

And this lack of uniqueness was what I was thinking about last weekend when I decided to go to a Goth Club.  The whole evening was to be preceded by a trip to the mall to buy me some "Goth clothing".  My friend envisioned me in tight "woman's jeans", and something in "pleather" (Oh yes...I do follow the cow thing....that's going to be saved for another blog entry), some pale makeup, metal jewelry...and eye-liner.

I'm sure you can imagine my horror.

As the shopping trip progressed, I slowly found myself chickening out.  What would people think of me?  How could I walk through the preppiest part of town full of college students, dressed in jeans meant for "Shakira-imitating" hips and not a "pee-while-standing" crotch?

And finally I ended up settling for a pair of American Eagle jeans, a baseball hat, a polo, and sunglasses...to protect me from the wrath of the Floridian sun that shines "oh-so-brightly"...at 11 PM.

We all like to indulge in the mysterious and the different a little bit, but only to an extent.  We only like to experience something new, as long as the old and familiar were a hands-stretch away.

All the boys in "M. Night Shyamalan's 'The Village" would stand on the tree-stump and face the terrors of the forest, as long as they could leap off and find themselves safely in home turf.  The pioneers lived on the frontier, at the edge of their known world, teetering, but still did not venture alone beyond the outskirts of their towns.  The American citizen can stay in India as long as there is a "sitting toilet" always nearby. We only indulge in the unknown and the foreign as far as our need for comfort, normalcy, and a banal existence allow us.

I'm reminded of the Animorphs series when I say this.  And for anyone who has not read the series, you must.  And yes, the next paragraph or so will be a spoiler for one of the books.  But I'm going to assume that if you haven't read them already, you're not going to run to Barnes and Nobles and buy the whole collection tonight.  Stick to your Babysitters Club.

Anyway, there is a book in the Animorphs collection that takes place on an alien world with an "Avatar"-esque species known as the Hork-Bajir.  However, an unusually intelligent member of the species discovers that instead of being created by divine forces, his race was merely a biologically engineered species created for the well-being of another species.  Talk about leaving your comfort zone.  That is a complete inversion of your understanding of your world.  There is really no safety zone to jump from that point.  That is the true bottomless pit.  The moment where you feel the ground disappear from under you, where you see your soul cave in.

Of course, me dressing up in Goth clothes would not have been the end of civilization as I knew it, but it did make me uncomfortable.  I still went to the Goth club dressed in my gear.  Upon entry, I was surprised at what I found.  I saw a huge range of people wearing everything from dark makeup and "Ball-and-chain" jewelry, to computer-savvy t-shirts, to mini-skirts with tube tops.  The whole range was there.  Everyone was there in what they felt comfortable in.  I could have totally come here wearing skinny female jeans and eye-liner and been comfortable.

I even saw a group of college-going  jocks who were wearing probably everything I wore, several sizes larger.  I saw them laughing and having  a good time, and I smiled to myself.  My smile quickly disappeared as I saw the cause of their laughter.  They were laughing at a poor young man, fully bearded, a scruffy look, wearing a loose t-shirt, sneakers...and a skirt.  My heart broke.

When we visualize our greatest political and religious figures, we see them as standing out from the crowd they were with.  Jesus was a blond haired, blue-eyed man living among his Semitic companions,  Buddha's head was crowned with snails that rested on his head while he was deep in meditation, Krishna was a deep dark blue color, the color of the monsoon clouds... against his typical tanned-skinned companions.

Even our imagery of modern heroes is the same. Martin Luther King Jr. and Mahatma Gandhi's sereneness against the crowds of anger.  Princess Diana's charitable and kind expressions amongst a class of stoic nobles.  We do not ignore the uniqueness of our heroes...but instead we embrace, emphasize, exaggerate, and praise their differences.  Our heroes didn't get to their position by maintaining the status quo in terms of fashion, personality, or presence.

I wish I could have been that boy.  The boy who had the courage to wear a skirt, and to wear it proudly among the crowds.  Instead, I am no different than the crowds in Chidambaram.  Anonymity is my security, my safety, my home...and the place where I stand even as I write this.

But that's why I'm not a Mahatma Gandhi and why I'm not a Martin Luther King Jr.  Not only did these men stand out in their own respect, but they saw the beauty and significance in each person around them.   In each physical being their eyes rested upon, they saw their significance, their natural beauty, and their power.  Each person they looked at was a Krishna, a Buddha, a Christ, a Mother Teresa.

I was captivated by the beauty of the temple at Chidambaram.  But how is it that I managed to ignore the intricate emotional and social character that comprises every human being in the world.  The most fascinating temple that has ever been created has been our own bodies and personalities.  Each one is temporary, like a sand castle, but created by each of us with care and self-concern.  And to each person, our sandcastle, however fragile it may be, is our world.  It may be our delicate-skirt-wearing-male world.  It may be the world of a random-house-wife-visiting-a temple-in-Chidambaram world. It may be the world of God.  But it is important, significant, and unique to each of us.

And maybe that is the Chidambaram Ragasiyaam.  Maybe if I am willing to express myself once in awhile the way I want to, regardless of how other people may think.  Maybe if I forget my comfort zone, and decide to explore the world around me, maybe I will see the beauty in being unique.  Maybe I will see Ramayana-age rock bridges to Sri Lanka where I saw natural rock formations before.  Maybe I will see God's judgment in a salt mountain in the Middle East.  And maybe then I will be radiant like a Christ among the faithful, a Buddha among the pious, a Krishna among the devotees.  And maybe then finally, I will see the divine...shimmering radiantly in Chidambaram.

And then maybe the secret of Chidambaram...will no long be a secret to me.