Quintessence of Godliness

It is not often that I get the chance to interact with a dance artist in my clinic. Yesterday was an exceptional day. Mrs. K came to visit me in the clinic. My consultation room is a big one and there are easily 10-12 steps between the door and the table where I am seated. I sit facing the door and so I can see patients as they step in and walk to my table. Even as I saw Mrs. K walking towards me, I knew she must be a dancer. There was grace in her steps and a natural rhythm in her walk. She was wearing an orange synthetic saree with bright yellow floral patterns. Thin built Mrs. K was impeccably groomed with a bright streak of kohl eyeliner. Her 60+ years of age showed in the bold creases across her forehead and around the corner of her eyes and mouth. She sat down in the chair assigned for patients. 

“Good morning! What brings you to the clinic today?” I asked. 

“Good morning doctor. I am having low back pain. It is very severe. In the mornings, I am unable to get up and move for almost 30 mins immediately after waking up.” 

“Will you please show me where the pain is?”

Mrs. K stood up and turned. Her movements were slow and graceful. She pointed out to the middle of her low back with her right hand. Then she turned her neck to see me and there was an expression of pain on her face. She then shook her hands in a gesture that indicated that the pain was severe and intolerable. Then she turned to face me and sat down gracefully. The slow and measured movements, the facial expression and the way she held her body posture to communicate various things was remarkable. I think artists like dancers and theatre artists use a lot of body language cues to express themselves even outside the stage. Mrs. K was no exception. The way she communicated the spot where it hurt, and how severe it hurt was without any words and completely through gestures and body language. It was a dance performance of a different kind. I wished I knew how to communicate through gestures as well as she did. I was reminded of a scene from one of my favourite Tamil cinemas from the 1980s, “Salangai Oli”. The lead actor Kamal Hasan visits a great guru to learn Kathak dance. He doesn’t know Hindi. He calls out to one of the students of this guru and tells her through dance gestures that he is a poor student interested in learning kathak, but he cannot afford to pay the guru a fee, and he would do service to the guru and compensate. The student understands his gestures and communicates this to the guru and he gets accepted as a student. The scene is a beautiful depiction of how language and words are only one form of communication, and probably quite a weak form. Facial expressions, gestures and hand movements can communicate far more effectively. Mrs. K and I had a common language for communication, and we both had the physical ability like speech and hearing to successfully communicate through words. But somehow it felt natural and nice to communicate through actions and gestures. 

Though not as effectively as her, I showed a hand gesture and facial expression that I understood her problem. I examined her back by doing some simple clinical tests. It did not seem like anything serious. There was muscle spasm in the back, probably due to strain in the mid and low back. 

“It is strain in your back. I will give you some pain killers. You take some rest for a week. Next week if you come back, I will teach you some back stretching exercises and back strengthening exercises. You can continue doing them and you should be fine.”  I started writing her a prescription.

Mrs. K folded her hands together in a Namaste greeting. As she sat there, I initiated small conversation. “Are you a dancer? Your movements and gestures are so graceful and artistic.” 

“Yes, doctor, you are right. I have been dancing for more than 45 years now.” 

“That is wonderful. Where did you learn dancing?”

“To be honest with you, I did not attend even one day of dance class. I have never trained formally in dancing.” Saying this Mrs. K laughed. 

“That is interesting, tell me more about it” I was interested to understand Mrs. K. There were no other patients waiting. Summer has started in full steam (excuse the pun!) and so the clinics are quite lean during the afternoons. I had time and I was curious about Mrs. K. 

“When I was just 8-9 years old, I fell from a tamarind tree when I was playing. I hurt my head and became unconscious. My mother came running from the house, carried me and put me in the prayer room. Our family Goddess is Samayapuram Mariyamman. She put me in front of her picture and challenged the Goddess to save me. She then locked the door and went out of the house. She sat outside the house praying and crying for my safety.” 

I have heard of this kind of prayer before. In fact, I remember my mother telling me that when I was a child 3 years of age, I had developed severe diarrhea and dehydration. After treatment and discharge from a hospital, my mother had placed me in the sanctum of the Goddess Mundaga Kanni Amman in Mylapore and prayed to her that “this is your son now, please protect him and give him a long life” and walked away. Of course, she came back in a couple of hours to get me! People believe that if we surrender completely to the Goddess and give away the baby, then she will protect the child as her maternal instincts will kick in. 

“After 2 days of continuous prayer and crying, I woke up and banged the door. My mother was so elated. She vowed to the Goddess that she will dedicate me to her service. From then I go to the nearby Mariyamman temple and worship and pray every day.”

“That is such a divine story. Tell me about your dancing” I asked. 

“After that incident, I automatically started dancing in the temple. I have not even seen a proper dance performance before. I have not learned dance. But I started dancing on my own. Everyone in my village believes that it is the gift of Samaypuram Mariamman. She has gifted me the ability to dance when she revived me from death. From then I have been dancing.” 

I was fascinated by the story. But then this was not the end. She told me some more unbelievable things. 

“Shall I tell you something? You won’t even believe me. I had 2 dogs, 2 cats, 14 hens and 6 goats in my home a few years ago. I had given each of them names of Gods because I believe they are all the incarnation of God. Every day they all danced along with me in my home. I taught them how to dance” 

I did not believe this. It sounded too far-fetched to be true, something right out of a Chinnappa Devar films production. In the 1960s and 1970s Devar produced Tamil films in which animals played important roles. Trained dogs, cows, elephants, monkeys would dance and act in the films. Mrs. K’s story sounded like that. But I did not want to sound rude and so did not express my disbelief. Mrs. K understood that she had said something that I did not believe, and she became quiet. 

“Even now Samaypuram Mariyamma is with me. She is sitting right next to me and telling me to bless you.” Mrs. K said this and closed her eyes. I have seen many people from rural areas who have a strong belief that they are blessed by the Gods and the Gods descend to the earth in their bodies and bless people through them. During temple festivals they get into a trance and dance and speak out like the Oracle of the Gods. During such trance states they sometimes say prophecies for people. It is a matter of deep faith. I did not understand it, neither did I want to challenge it and hurt those who have this deep faith. If it doesn’t harm people or themselves, what is the harm in such a faith? 

 

Mrs. K closed her eyes for a few seconds and then opened them suddenly. The look in her eyes were very different now. It was as though she had become a different person. In a deep voice and a slow pace she asked me, “How many children do you have?” I smiled gently and replied, “I don’t have children” Mrs. K closed her eyes again for a few seconds. She then opened them with the same glazed look and said, “No you are wrong, no you are wrong. You have many, you have so many that you cannot count. Your family is too big. Every patient whom you help is your family. Every young person you treat is your son, your daughter. Your family is too big” and she closed her eyes once again. After this she opened her eyes. There were tears flowing down her cheeks. She wiped them and smiled at me. Then she gracefully got up and walked away. 

 

I don’t know if Mrs. K is indeed an oracle of Samayapuram Mariyamman. I don’t know if she can make animals dance. I also don’t know if there is a scientific and logical explanation for all the things that happened in the clinic. But the clinical encounter was a unique one and it made me feel good and warm at the end of it. I have been asked this “how many children do you have” question several times by older patients in my clinics before. When I reply, I usually get responses of sympathy, pity, disbelief, advise on going to temples etc. Mrs. K was a woman who belonged to that same generation of people who would typically respond this way. But she did not. Instead, she reacted with kindness. She accepted me the way I was, without judgment, without wanting to remedy my situation. I don’t know if Samayapuram Mariyamman is residing in her in the literal sense. But metaphorically, isn’t this kindness and empathy the quintessence of Godliness? I felt touched by the presence of God. I am happy that I got the chance to meet Mrs. K. I am looking forward to her repeat visit next week.