The queen of the jungle she was,
Followed her own rules, her own laws.
Knew not where she came from,
'Beastly' she was hailed by some.
Her roots were perhaps from a hunting tribe,
Alone she did learn to survive.
Animals and birds fled as she approached,
When upon their territory she encroached.
With a crouch and a lunge,
Into their midst she plunged.
She tore at the flesh with her hands bare,
When in her grip one she ensnared.
Untamed, primitive, wild and free,
This huntress her name was Shabari...
One fine day while she was roaming,
She found herself peeping through a small clearing.
Before her eyes was the most magnificent scene,
A monk in saffron robes...peaceful, serene.
Radiating light which formed a halo,
His followers suffused by his aura, his glow.
The waters of the 'Pampa' glistened nearby,
In the far distance, the shadowy mountains high.
Abundance of trees evergreen,
The tiger and deer in harmony were seen.
Shabari's eyes on the monk were transfixed,
A feeling of reverence and awe mixed.
It was Matanga, a pious sage,
This was an 'ashram', his hermitage.
Shabari by a strange feeling was overcome,
Drawn she was to the sage who shone.
In the ashram she decided to stay,
To her home she had unknowingly strayed.
Secretly she began to toil and work,
From performing many duties she did not shirk.
Flowers she plucked, leaves she swept,
Stones she cleared, the ashram spick and span she kept.
Every action to the monk, to the Guru she dedicated,
To serve at his feet she yearned, she thirsted.
The Guru summoned her before him with great compassion,
Moved he was by her sincere devotion.
Gently he urged her to come forth,
"My shishya, my student you are henceforth!
Be not afraid my child,
Freely in the ashram you can reside." he said.
Tears overflowed as Shabari did weep,
Her heart filled with gratitude deep...
The flames of the 'yagna', the sacrificial fire rose high,
Chants reverberated to the very skies.
Transported she was to a heavenly world,
When stories of compassion and divine blessings she heard.
The principles of 'dharma', 'karma' were outlined,
When led through the labrynth of the guru's mind.
The words like sweet nectar did her heart fill,
She listened, she stored, she savoured at will.
Till the day descended, the day of doom,
The ashram was plunged into a pall of gloom.
The guru decided to shed his mortal remains,
To leave the world, to 'samadhi' attain.
" To each of you I will give what you desire!
Tell me devotees what you require!" he said.
" We'd like riches! Knowledge! Status!" they murmured,
"Tathasthu! So be it!" the guru averred as blessings on them he conferred.
Shabari stood in a corner, tears streaming down her face,
Her body shaking, her mind in a daze.
"Shabari, my child, why do you speak not?
What desire, what wish have you got?"
"My body feels empty, my mind bereft!
Nothing in this life for me is left!
I wish to be with you forever,
Else I cannot part with this grief ever!"
" Ah my child, trapped in the depths of sorrow you seem,
I bestow this 'mantra' to make life meaningful beyond your dreams!
'Rama, Rama, Rama!' you repeat,
To the steady rhythm of your heart beat.
Every morn, noon, evening or night,
At any time, at any place in sight.
Lord Shiva Himself this enunciated,
When Goddess Parvati He initiated.
The sweetness of honey is contained in this,
Lord Rama Himself cannot but appear and make you revel in a sea of bliss!"
Shabari bowed her head in surrender,
Holding within the image of her guru and his words tender.
Years rolled by, seasons new,
Flowers wilted and bloomed anew.
The wrinkles deepened, the skin withered,
Every day without fail the berries Shabari gathered.
Each berry she tasted and tested with care,
Only the sweetest of berries with Lord Rama she would share.
For Shabari, her routine did not alter,
For Lord Rama she waited, she did not falter.
"Rama, Rama, Rama,"... for thirteen years she chanted,
Her belief that He would come was unshaken, she remained undaunted...
Till one day she woke up to the cuckoo at dawn,
The sun clad in golden rays shone!
Lord Rama and Lakshmana made their way
To Shabari's hut made of thatched hay.
Shabari stood rooted, too stunned to speak,
Tears at the corner of her eyes hovered, threatened to leak.
With a gesture, she invited them in,
Unable she was to say anything.
Suddenly,,the crinkled eyes gained a light of their own,
Renewed with life became her old, tired bones.
Like a child, helter skelter she ran excited,
To offer them the ripe berries she was delighted.
The half-eaten berries did Lakshman astonish,
Lord Rama on the other hand ate each one with relish!
With every bite he could taste more and more,
The deep devotion, the 'bhakti', overflowing from the core.
Shabari watched with satisfaction filled,
Her wish to have the 'darshan' , the vision of the lord fulfilled...
The guru's words echoed in her mind,
"Rama. Rama, Rama, you repeat and Him you will find.
Each chant of 'Rama' within it holds,
A divine power worth a thousand fold!"
Shabari sat down in a yogic pose,
In a state of stillness fron head to toes.
Like the alchemy of gold melted,
Her soul transformed, transmuted.
The blessings of the Lord, the guru combined and surged,
The soul spiralled to a cosmic merge!
To attain 'moksham', salvation and become free,
The soul was poised by divine decree.
A light, a flame rose from her being,
A stream of molten fire, a liquid beam,
Entered and blazed through the heavenly gate,
To be united with her guru in ecstatic bliss...the highest state.
Footnotes
---------------
Moksham - Salvation
Pampa - Name of a lake near 'Hampi' in Karnataka ( a state in the south of India)
Pampa - Name of a lake near 'Hampi' in Karnataka ( a state in the south of India)
Yagna - sacrificial fire
Dharma - duties
Karma - action and the consequences of the action
samadhi - height of divine consciousness
Tathasthu - So be it
Bhakti - devotion
Darshan - vision
