Lessons were being learnt even as I lay cursing, pillow held firmly over my head, trying to blot out the vadhiyar's loud voice chanting - "MAARGAZHI THINGAL MADHINIRAINDHA NANNALLLAAAMM...". I knew he would come the next day as well...and the next....and the next. For the whole month of marghazhi the vadhiyar would come, in his moped, at the crack of dawn, to wake sleeping children up with his loud bell and staccato voice. The smell of ven pongal would permeate the house. Amma, bathed and dressed for the recital, would prod me awake with the long stick that was used to pull clothes down from the line, in order to get me to participate. This scene was repeated thousands of times over the twenty five margazhi months I spent in my parent's house. My distaste for pongal began, I am sure, from being fed the damn thing for breakfast for a whole month every year.
When I moved to America I lost the concept of the tamizh months and the festivals that came with them. Sometimes my parents or in-laws would send out a reminder email and we would make a half-hearted attempt to follow protocol. And then, the year that I was pregnant, my mother convinced me that my unborn son's spiritual life hinged on how much I exposed him, abhimanyu-style, to the secrets of vaishnavism when he was still in the womb. It worked. That whole month I tried to recite, if not all thirty, at least the song of the day. I found, to my surprise, that I knew most of them by heart.
This past month - thanks to nanowrimo - I've done a lot of reading about the temples in Mylapore, since that is the backdrop of my story. Again, I found that I knew about a lot of the rituals and that I, in fact, have fond memories of some of them. The mesmeric drumbeat to which Kabaleeshwarar is carried on the bull (adigara nandi), the pradoshams, Sreenivasa perumal taken on utsavam through the steets etc., When did I pick these things up? Since temple talk was constantly in the background when we were growing up I suppose I must have unwittingly soaked it up.
How much of what I was exposed to as a child did I want to subject S to? I can't conjure up a moped-driving vadhiyar but I suppose I could play some thiruppavai tapes in December. Would he get it? Is having a cultural context important? Is it possible to incubate a whole cultural experience in isolation?
I struggle with these questions.
I've decided, however, that this year I will take S to the early morning thiruppavai recitals at the local temple as often as possible. Don't tell my mother!
