By B. Venkatraman
My recent visit to Kanyakumari with my family allowed us to relish the soothing embrace of the waves, creating memories etched in the sands of time. That night, as we settled into our coastal home, an unforgettable and peculiar dream gripped my sleep, weaving a mysterious tale that intertwined with events in a distant village.
In a quaint coastal village, a tiny boy named shri, merely three years of age, stood with his aging father on the sandy shores, gazing out at the vast expanse of the ocean, its waves dancing in the sunlight. As children around him frolicked and played, shri remained serene, his eyes fixed on the eternal rhythm of the sea. his father, a man of quiet strength despite his advanced years, brought shri to this beach every day.
Years flowed by, and shri's father spent his days laboring at the bustling shipping terminal, the hub of activity in the village. It was amidst this busy life that a phone call came, a call that held both urgency and concern. On the other end of the line was a lady doctor, inquiring about shri's well-being, seeking an update on his condition. Shri's father, his voice carrying the weight of time and worry, shared, "There have been no changes in Shri's demeanor. He has now reached the age of six, and not a single word has escaped his lips. There is an unwavering stillness about him, a silence that persists." The doctor paused, pondering the significance of shri's father's heartfelt words.
It was a fine morning, just like any other, as shri and his father stood by the beach, time flowed in its gentle rhythm until, in a sudden moment, shri's serene countenance was shattered. His eyes, once filled with quiet contemplation, now welled up with tears, and a cry escaped his lips. His father, alert and watchful, sensed the change immediately. Here, at last, was a reaction, a shift in the tranquil pattern they had known for years.
In that moment of emotion, shri's father didn't hesitate. He knew the importance of this change. Swiftly, he reached for the phone and dialed the number of the lady doctor who had been inquiring about shri's condition. He informed the doctor, "shri has reacted! he's crying” the doctor, understanding the significance of this development, instructed them to bring shri to the laboratory without delay, with determination, shri's father scooped up his son, cradling him gently in his arms, and hurriedly made his way to the laboratory.
Within the walls of the laboratory, the doctor set to work, a technical helmet equipped with advanced sensors placed upon shri's head, mapping the intricacies of his brain's activity. The whirring of machines, the soft hum of technology, and the focused intensity of the doctor's expression all converged as they sought to uncover the reason behind shri's sudden outburst.
As the reports came to fruition, the doctor, her eyes reflecting a mix of astonishment and insight, shared her findings with shri's father. She explained that shri had entered a sensitive stage, a phase where his inner emotions were beginning to stir and react, perhaps striving to communicate something profound. But it appeared that Shri's conscious mind, the part that perceives the world around him, wasn't fully ready or willing to accept these inner stirrings, leading to moments of intense emotion, like the tearful episode by the sea.
The doctor's tone became both grave and enigmatic as she spoke further, revealing that shri's situation was unprecedented. She said, "Shri has embarked on a mission beyond the ordinary human experience. He is beginning to contemplate something that transcends the boundaries of our understanding. Be vigilant, for the day of revelation is approaching." Her words hung in the air, weighted with significance, casting a sense of gravity over shri's father, was intertwined with something far greater than they could have ever imagined.
The sun dipped below the horizon, back in the comforting confines of their home from the laboratory, a whirlwind of emotions and questions swirling within them. Shri was gently placed in his bed, the day's events gradually settling into the realm of dreams as sleep embraced him. His father, a figure of both strength and tenderness, watched over his son, ensuring that shri rested peacefully.
In the quiet of the night, after ensuring Shri was comfortably asleep, his old father retreated to his room. There, hidden on the wall, concealed behind a cleverly crafted door, lay a secret. Shri's father picked up the mysterious phone, his eyes reflecting a mix of determination and anticipation. He dialed the number known only to him.
Amidst the hallowed halls of the world's most valuable museum, a researcher by the name of Asha was engrossed in her quest. She was in pursuit of something of immense significance in the museum. It was at this crucial moment that her phone rang, a call that would bring her closer to the mysteries she sought to uncover.
On the other end of the line was none other than shri's father, His voice held a blend of anticipation and urgency as he inquired, "Asha, what's the latest development there? Have you managed to find the manuscript?" Asha, a research student who had pledged her support to this intricate endeavor, shared her status with a mixture of determination and hope, "I've scoured every area diligently, and today, I'm focusing all my efforts on this. I promise to call you back once I've made progress."
Asha ventured deeper into the heart of the museum, descending into the underground manuscript block. The air was thick with the weight of ages, the very essence of history lingering in the shadows. As she delved into her exploration, she encountered a door, its surface adorned with cryptic codes, an intricate puzzle guarding the secrets she sought.
Undeterred by the challenge, Asha embarked on the task of deciphering the code, brought her closer to unlocking the door's secrets. Finally, with a sense of triumph, the door yielded to her determination, revealing a treasure that transcended time itself—an old, ancient manuscript, a relic from ages past, shimmering with the wisdom of civilizations long gone.
Without hesitation, Asha contacted Shri's father, her voice carrying a newfound excitement and a hint of adventure. "Prepare yourself for the journey ahead," she declared, "I have found what we've been searching for. I am on my way, and together, we shall unravel the secrets held within this ancient manuscript."
Asha arrived at shri's house the ancient manuscript clutched in her hands like a key to a hidden realm. She handed it over to shri's father, as Asha moved through the house, her attention was drawn to shri, and a flicker of recognition crossed her face, followed by a wave of doubt. She couldn't help but express her suspicions, turning to shri's father with a direct yet respectful question, "My father is your dear friend, and that's why I accepted your invitation for help. However, my father has told me that you've never married, and you have no children. But now, here in this house, there's a young boy. I need a proper explanation. What is happening here?" shri's father, sensing the weight of Asha’s uncertainty, took a deep breath, understanding that it was time to reveal the truth, to shed light on the intricacies of the journey that had led them to this moment. He began to explain.
As shri's father continued his explanation, "Myself and your dad, along with two other friends," he began, "we are underwater archaeologists, driven by the relentless pursuit of uncovering the new, the hidden wonders that lie beneath the waves. We gained government approval and embarked on an expedition to the depths of the sea near Kanyakumari, aiming to identify underwater cities and perhaps even a lost continent."
Asha's curiosity heightened as she listened to this incredible tale, and the magnitude of their undertaking became clearer. Shri's father continued, "Deep within the ocean depths, we stumbled upon an astonishing find—a human body, a figure from ages past, resting 12 feet beneath the sea's surface. The immense pressure of the deep sea made it impossible to continue, and we reluctantly left the site. However, I managed to collect blood and hair samples from the mysterious remains."
Intrigued by the significance of the discovery, Shri's father recounted how they immediately turned to their human genetic doctor, a specialist who could unravel the secrets hidden within those samples. They conducted extensive research, driven by a curiosity that extended beyond what was recorded in official government statements. A remarkable revelation emerged from their scientific endeavors—an astonishing feat that bridged the realms of science and the mystical.
Shri's father's voice carried a mixture of pride and amazement as he shared the pinnacle of their journey. "Yes, Asha, we succeeded in the most audacious of endeavors. We managed to recreate a human using the DNA from those ancient samples. The boy you see before you, shri, is the living result of our groundbreaking achievement." Asha, understandably shocked by this revelation, could hardly believe what she was hearing. She exclaimed, "Wait, are you saying that you created a human being using DNA from centuries-old samples? This is beyond comprehension!".
Asha, her curiosity piqued, and her heart filled with a sense of purpose, inquired about Shri's current state, recognizing the complexity of his situation. Shri's father, "Since his birth, shri has not spoken, eaten, or responded in any conventional manner. He's now six years old, and we've been waiting, hoping for a breakthrough, an understanding of who he truly is, and to unravel the mystery that surrounds him. That's why I reached out to you for help, and I'm grateful for your involvement and for the gift of the manuscript."
As they spoke, a sudden shift in the atmosphere occurred as Shri, who had been silent and still for so long, suddenly awakened. He moved with purpose from his bedroom to the hall, standing by the window that offered a view of the vast sea. It was a moment of both wonder and surprise, Asha, shared her findings regarding the ancient manuscript, she explained, "While analyzing the manuscript, I've encountered a unique challenge—the language it's written in is incredibly old, making it difficult to identify and comprehend its narration."
During this conversation, Shri's father took the manuscript in hand, studying its ancient pages. Meanwhile, Shri moved from the window to the room where the manuscript lay, his eyes locking onto the age-old relic. With a determined resolve, Shri reached for the manuscript, and he began to read the manuscript.
In manuscript:
"We are the members of the council chamber of the king of Maha Bhuta.
Your golden language, the Tamil language, was spread throughout the world.
Our responsibility has come to an end, and we have returned here to join at your feet.
and to see the hidden Kumari Kandam.
Oh Lord Shiva of the world, the King of all gods,
let the wonderful hidden entrance rise before our eyes, rise."
Shri's father and Asha stood in awe, their astonishment palpable, as Shri, the boy who had never spoken or responded, was now reading the ancient language from the manuscript. The mere act of Shri deciphering those time-weathered words seemed to send ripples through the very fabric of existence. It was as if the echo of his voice resonated beyond the room, reaching far-flung places, and summoning an unusual reaction. Across distant lands, in sacred realms like the Himalayas and remote forests, priests and sages who held the threads of ancient knowledge suddenly stirred from their contemplation. The words uttered by shri seemed to transcend the barriers of space, drawing their attention. These guardians of hidden wisdom, attuned to the intricacies of the universe, As the priests and sages, scattered across the far reaches of the land.
As the last words of the ancient invocation left his lips, shri's consciousness began to fade, and he slipped into unconsciousness, Quickly, shri's father and Asha sprang into action. They moved shri gently to his bed and made Phone calls with the individuals who shared their mission.
Kanyakumari beach was a spectacle of spiritual fervor, as thousands of priests had gathered, forming a vast assembly near the shore. Opposite the priests, an array of havan rituals were arranged, with sacred fires ablaze, and incense smoke rising to the heavens. The atmosphere reverberated with the enchanting sound of mantras chanted in unison, a symphony of devotion and reverence for the sea.
In every nook and cranny of Kanyakumari, priests moved with purpose, weaving through the roads, and gathering in front of buildings, all headed in the same direction toward the sea. It was as if the entire town was drawn to this pivotal moment, guided by an ancient calling that transcended individual beliefs, a calling that echoed through the hearts of those who understood the mysteries at play.
Amid this spiritual convergence, a new day dawned, shri, awakening from his slumber, exhibited an unusual sign—his eyes now a striking white, a phenomenon that hadn't been witnessed before. The shifting clouds above mirrored this change, a visual cue that shri's father, with his deep understanding of their mission, recognized. The time had come for action, and the events were unfolding in a manner they had prepared for.
Suddenly, a group of cars approached the entrance of Shri's house, driven by a sense of urgency. Shri's father and Asha acted swiftly, gathering Shri, and escorting him into one of the waiting cars. The vehicle sped through the roads of Kanyakumari, the scenery a blur as they raced toward their destination. The urgency was palpable, a culmination of the events that had been set in motion, and the intertwining threads of fate and purpose were leading them to the heart of the assembly at the beach.
Simultaneously the rituals at Kanyakumari beach continued without interruption. The priests persisted, unwavering in their devotion, as they continued to worship the sea.
As the team continued their drive, a sudden change in climate attempted to thwart their progress. Nature itself seemed to conspire against them, with fallen trees obstructing the roads, creating a formidable barrier in their path. Shri, ever attuned to the forces around him, sensed the obstacles and realized that something extraordinary was required to overcome this challenge. He opened his eyes, and with a simple motion of his hands, a breathtaking sight unfolded.
The cars seemed to defy gravity, lifting off the ground, flying over the obstacles that had blocked their way. Shri's father, Asha, and the entire team were left in awe, witnessing this inexplicable feat. Shri, in that moment, appeared to harness powers beyond comprehension, reshaping the world around him, turning the impossible into reality. They finally reached the sacred shores of Kanyakumari.
Stepping out of the car, Shri's presence was immediately felt by the gathered priests. It was as if a wave of recognition rippled through their assembly. All thousand priests, immersed in their rituals and devotions, suddenly realized that Shri had arrived. An atmosphere of reverence and anticipation settled over the assembly.
Meanwhile, high upon a mountain, an astonishing phenomenon transpired. Rocks shattered and gave birth to a massive, bird-shaped monolith, a creature carved from stone and brought to life by some ancient force. This monumental avian creature, with its awe-inspiring wingspan, emerging from the mountain's heights. Within its mighty beak, a box was held—a container of mystery.
As the events unfolded on the sacred grounds of Kanyakumari, a remarkable phenomenon transpired at the temple dedicated to Goddess Bagavathi Amman. A brilliant flash illuminated the statue, and an ethereal aura, distinctly human-like, manifested around the statue. A divine weapon, the sacred Vel, a symbol of the goddess' power, materialized, emanating a palpable sense of spiritual energy.
As Shri approached the beachside, a divine connection seemed to transcend the boundaries of reality. The assembled priests, recognizing the extraordinary nature of this moment, began to offer their prayers to him. The air was filled with a sense of reverence and awe, as if the presence of Shri resonated with the spiritual essence of the gathering.
Simultaneously, the bird that had emerged from the mountain's heights reached Kanyakumari. It descended with a sense of purpose, coming to a hovering position just above the Shri. With a movement that held the weight of ancient rituals, the bird opened the box it carried within its beak. A cascade of gold ornaments and divine attire descended, and as they touched shri, a remarkable transformation occurred. The golden ornaments and the sacred attire melded with Shri seamlessly, as if destiny itself had chosen him to bear this divine appearance.
As the Shri reached the end of the sea, a profound moment of unity and spiritual power began to unfold. The people, moved by a shared purpose, commenced chanting mantras in unison. The reverberations of their devotion seemed to blend with the spiritual energy emanating from the statue of Bagavathi Amman, creating a harmonious connection between the human realm and the divine.
Behind the Shri, a luminous aura emerged from the Amman statue, a celestial presence that embodied the essence of the goddess. Shri turned, acknowledging this divine manifestation, and offered a prayer, a gesture of reverence that symbolized his connection with the spiritual realm. In an awe-inspiring moment, the aura bestowed upon him a divine sword, the revered Vel.
As quickly as it appeared, the aura from the statue vanished, leaving shri holding the divine sword. He recognized the significance of this sacred weapon, the Vel that had been entrusted to him. With a heart full of purpose, Shri offered his prayers once more, seeking the blessings of the divine. He cast the divine sword into the sea.
The moment the Vel touched the waters, a cataclysmic display of power ensued. Thunderous echoes resounded across the sea, and the very waves seemed to part, creating a colossal pathway, leading into the depths of the ocean. The priests, shri's father, Asha, and all those are in a state of awe and wonder.
As Shri gazed at the sea and the miraculous pathway that stretched before him, a wave of emotion overcame him. Tears flowed down his cheeks, but he gathered his strength, resolute in his purpose. He stepped forward, placing his right leg into the sea, and something extraordinary began to transpire. His form began to change, a remarkable transformation that revealed a new identity.
Before the onlookers, Shri's leg transformed, becoming that of a woman, adorned with golden anklets and rings that glistened in the divine light. As he continued to step into the sea, the transformation continued. His entire form shifted, unveiling the image of a resplendent, black-skinned woman, draped in a vibrant red blouse less saree that exuded an aura of regal divinity. Her face bore a commanding, bold, and divine demeanor, radiating strength and purpose.
She stood tall in the sea, turning her gaze towards the gathered people, offering a prayer. Her striking appearance was further enhanced by the golden nose ring and earrings that adorned her, a testament to her divinity.
Amidst this transformation, a magnificent sight unfolded—a horse-shaped form made of water emerged from the depths behind the divine woman. She smiled, her countenance one of both grace and authority, acknowledging the priests.
The horse-shaped water being drew near to the woman, and with an effortless grace, she mounted the ethereal steed. The horse moved forward, riding into the sea with a sense of purpose, and as it advanced, the miraculous pathway that had opened began to close behind them, the waves returning to their natural state, as if sealing the passage that had bridged the realms.
As she rode forth on the majestic water horse, a sudden turn caught the gaze of Shri's father, a message, or perhaps a revelation of the purpose behind this magnificent spectacle. Her expression held a smile, a smile that resonated with the essence of wisdom, compassion, and an understanding of the mysteries that had brought them all to this pivotal moment.
Suddenly, I awoke abruptly, the vision of the divine woman lingering in my thoughts. The impression was profound, urging me to embark on a journey beyond the ordinary. The tale that would unfold wouldn't be a typical narrative; it was destined to become a cosmic odyssey, a fusion of the mundane and the divine. Her strength, divinity, and the message she carried would infuse the story with a power that transcended the ordinary bounds of storytelling. It's an ambitious undertaking, but the anticipation of this extraordinary narrative fills me with inspiration, as her face continues to haunt my thoughts, compelling me to give life to her story
By B. Venkatraman