The Cunigal Connection

The Cunigal Connection

A true story by Prakash Subbarao (Prakash@3xus.com)

We must not promise what we ought not, lest we be called on to perform what we cannot. – Abraham Lincoln-

This is, once again, a true story. The story starts sometime early in the 20th century. The exact date is not known but it is estimated to be around 1905 - 1910.

Life was squalid in those days. Hygiene was poor. Antibiotics had not yet been discovered. That would happen, much later, in 1928. Consequently infant mortality was high.

If disease didn’t get you, snakes did. There were umpteen instances of snakes crawling into homes and biting sleeping infants.

The houses were tiled in those days with what we call “Mangalore” tiles. Scorpions routinely fell out of these tiles and heaven help anyone below from the wrath of these wretched venomous arachnids! Whilst the sting of most scorpions is only irritating to people, there are about 25 species of scorpions that are capable of killing people. It is possible that a good number of these species reside in India.

Plague was rampant. The history books tell us that in Bangalore in the late 1890’s the reward for killing rats was increased from six annas to 12 annas a dozen. There was even a plague camp in Bangalore.

It was in this scenario that C. Mahadevaiah and his wife lived relatively peacefully in a place called Kunigal, about fiftly miles (eighty kilometeres) from Bangalore. Kunigal used to be spelt with a ‘C’ in those days and so the ‘C’ in Mahadevaiah’s name stood for the name of the town he belonged to.

Mahadevaiah impregnated his wife with clockwork-like precision. That was the norm in those days. Mother and daughter being pregnant simultaneously was not unheard of in those days. After all marriages took place very early. A girl could be the mother of four kids by the time she was twenty!

Families tended to be huge. Look at any old family photo and you will see what I mean. Families of sometimes 50 or more people lived together in large population blocks that we today call ‘HUF’ – Hindu Undivided Families – without understanding the concept.

Every year Mahadevaiah’s wife faithfully made the pilgrimage to her mother’s home for the delivery. She came back with a little bundle of joy only to leave a short time again for yet another similar journey.

The mortality rate was very high, as mentioned earlier. Many a bundle of joy turned to a bundle of sorrow having died of any one of a vast number of causes.

Hard as he tried, the poor C. Mahadevaiah begot only daughters. Whether there was a flaw in his technique or a flaw in his genes one cannot now say but the statistical odds seemed to be stacked against him; he fathered daughter after daughter.

Near Cunigal, at the Toranamavu in Vasthare Hobli, is the Kalabhyraveshwara temple. It is on a hill and could then be reached through steps hewn into the earth and rock. It was a steep climb and one reached the top breathing laboriously. The climb was a test of your will power; the extent of your determination to see the lord.

And so there it was that husband and wife repaired to, one fateful day, in their quest for a son. “Give us a son, Good Lord, and we will come back and perform a penance. We will break one coconut in your honour on each of the hundreds of steps leading up to the temple” was their pious promise. And then they hurried home to do what they had to do, satisfied that the lord was their ally.

Mrs. Mahadevaiah became pregnant an umpteenth time. The couple eagerly awaited the gender of the child.

It was a boy.

The couple rejoiced and named him Shivarama Rao in honour of the Lord Kalabhyreshwara.

They soon resumed the labours of love with renewed passion and a second son was born! They happiness knew no bounds.

Both sons survived.

Shivarama Rao grew up to be a handsome, strapping lad of height 5 ft 10 ins.. The local Englishmen of the Raj took a liking to him and enlisted him in the Police force. He eventually became a sub-Inspector of Police in Kolar.

Being an extremely eligible bachelor, he received umpteen requests from hopeful fathers wishing to marry him to their daughters.

History does not record how it actually happened but the good looking, ambitious, Subbalakshmi was destined to be his wife.

Cunigal Mahadevaiah Shivarama Rao had a meritorious track record; he had been involved in the daring tracking down and subsequent capture of several dacoits who were terrorizing the region. Though he inspired terror in the hearts of criminals, the moment he returned home to his wife he was instantly transformed into a hen pecked husband. It was Subbalakshmi who wore the service revolver around her waist at home and pronounced the final word on any issue.

Subbalakshmi was enthralled by the British way of life and used to go around telling whoever was willing to listen that she had been born and brought up the “British” way. She soon set about anglicising her husband and her past.

“From now on our family God will be Subramanya” she firmly opined. It was after all the family God of her father. By logic she should have taken on her husband’s God as the family deity but she rebelled. The sub inspector was unhappy but what could he do about it? “But what about the promise that my parents made to Lord Kalabyreshwara?” asked Shivarama Rao meekly. “They did not fulfil it. We must do so!” He was silenced by a “Pooh! Forget all that rubbish! I don’t believe in this”. The docile man silently conceded the point and that was, as they say, that.

The couple had several children. Four of them – two daughters and two sons – survived. Apparently their parents never told them about Cunigal Mahadevaiah’s promise to the Lord. Or if they did, the new generation did not want to be bothered by some promise made by their parents.

Shivarama Rao died in his sleep aged around eighty five. His wife lingered on till nearly a hundred years of age and then she too went to her maker. It was the year 1979.

Fast forward to the year 1980…………

A lady lies dying in Basavanagudi, in Bangalore. On her death bed she asks to speak to one Lalithamma who lives in Jayanagar. It is her last wish; her dying wish.

Lalithamma hurries to her bedside wondering what this is all about. The old lady doesn’t have much time left.

“Lalithamma” she says in a quavering voice “come sit here. There is something that I must ask of you. I am dying and in a few hours will be gone. I want to go knowing that something sacred to my heart will be fulfilled even after I have left this earth”.

“What is it?” Lalithamma asks her.

“You are married to Subbu, Shivarama Rao’s son. Subbu is a modern sort. He will scoff at what I have to say. I too am a part of Cunigal Mahadevaiah’s clan and the last one of the old school left. I want to die knowing that his promise to the lord by Mahadevaiah will be fulfilled by one of his descendants. Will you fulfil the pledge to break one coconut on each step leading to the Kalabyreshwara temple at Kunigal?”

“But why Lord Kalabyreshwara?” Lalithamma asks confused. I was told that our family God was Subramanya.”

“That’s what that stupid Subbalakshmi did” the old lady exclaims. “She went and changed our family God altogether! Our family God is Kalabhyreshwara. It always has been, always will be”. She then tells Lalithamma in detail about the events that led to the promise being made by Cunigal Mahadevaiah and his wife.

Tears well in Lalithamma’s eyes. “Yes, I will fulfil your dying wish” she promises the old lady. “Please die in peace. I will do it a soon as I can”.

The lady dies the next day.

Circa 1986……………

Six years have passed since the old lady's death. Lalithamma has still not fulfilled the promise. It weighs on her mind every day. She frequently wakes up with a guilty feeling. “The old woman is unhappy in heaven that I have not kept my promise to her” she thinks to herself.

Lalithamma’s daughter and son-in-law are arriving soon on their annual holiday from Saudi Arabia. “I will ask them to take me to the temple so that I can keep my promise” she decides. Her son doesn't live in Bangalore or she could have asked him.

When they arrive, she tells them about the old lady’s dying wish. “Yes, mother, we will take you there” says her son-in-law. Their two small sons, aged five and ten years respectively jump up and down with joy. They are eager to visit this temple and break the coconuts on the steps. It’s something they have never done before. It seems very mystical to them.

The visit to the temple………..

It was a lovely cloudless day. They had hired a tempo and started early in the morning. They had decided to have breakfast on the way.

Lalithamma had telephoned someone who had recently been to the temple to enquire about the number of steps that led to the sanctum sanctorum. “A hundred and twenty” the person had replied. That many coconuts had been procured. The Saudi-bred children were excited about breaking coconuts on the steps. They had done nothing like this before! They looked forward to it.

The party reached Kunigal at around nine in the morning. They were at the foothill by ten, after having partaken breakfast at Kunigal. It was a great day! There wasn’t a cloud in the electric blue sky. The stone steps winding their way upwards through dense foliage was a beautiful view.

The children, rather than throwing the coconut forcefully on the ground, were playing with them, tossing them into the air and so on. They were restrained from doing this by the elders and taught, instead, how to correctly break the coconuts. They were soon were at work, smashing coconut after coconut amidst squals of joy.

The climb was steep. They were panting at the fiftieth step and exhausted at the hundredth. And, even to their untrained eyes, it appeared as though the steps went on and end. Clearly an estimate of a hundred and twenty steps had been wrong. “How many steps to the top?” they asked a passing local. “A total of 220 steps from the bottom” was the reply. “Why do you ask?” he enquired, seeing the looks of dismay all around.

They quickly told him the story of the ancient promise. They explained that they had brought only a hundred and twenty coconuts with them and were running out of coconuts. “We will have to go back, procure the coconuts and start all over again”, they said.

“Wait here!” he said. “There is no need for you all to go down. I am going down in any case. I will send someone up with the balance coconuts”.

This is Godsend, they told themselves and sat down in the shade of a nearby tree. It had grown quite warm.

Half an hour later they saw around fifty people coming up the hill. Each was carrying several coconuts. “Here are the balance coconuts, madam” the headman of the group told Lalithamma. “We heard the story about the promise to break coconuts here, by your ancestors, and we would like to donate these nuts to you as our contribution and in revered memory of Mahadevaiah and his wife. Please accept them!”

Lalithamma nodded gratefully and the weary climb to the top resumed. The children were once again happy to be breaking coconuts on the stone steps.

Suddenly storm clouds started gathering in the sky and in minutes there was a huge downpour. Though soaked to the skin, the small band of people continued undeterred. The end was near.

Ten minutes later they were standing at the top. The rain suddenly came to an end and a breathtakingly beautiful rainbow emerged in the sky. Everyone gaped at it in admiration. It looked like Mahadevaiah and his wife were smiling in heaven.

The head priest of the temple was standing at the top, near the temple, to welcome them. “But it’s late!” Lalithamma said, amazed. “Isn’t the temple closed?”

“No, Lalithamma. When I heard the story about your fulfilling the promise from the villagers, I hurried to the temple to open it. I have also asked my wife to quickly cook a meal for all of you. It is a simple meal but I am sure that all of you are tired and hungry after the climb so you will enjoy it. I will help you do a special prayer and then we will go have lunch”. Saying that he led them inside the temple and started chanting the mantras.

An hour later, after a very satisfying meal, Lalithamma and her family left. They promised the priest that they would return. He smiled and nodded wisely. “It will take a special reason to bring them back” he thought to himself. And he was right.

The years passed. The millennium changed. In the year 2005 something happened that made Lalithamma return to the temple with her only son.

But that, my friends, is another story altogether. Look out for it.

Bye for now!