The Image at Kuṟṟālam

On his way south Agastya came to Kuṟṟālam, a rich town where Viṣṇu, the god whose body is dark as a rain-cloud, has his dwelling. As he came he was praising the glory of Śiva, who, when the poison rose up out of the ocean in fury to devour every living thing, took it upon himself out of love and swallowed it, and so kept Brahmā and the other gods alive, and kept their wives from widowhood, with their golden marriage-threads safe.

In that town there was a temple of Viṣṇu, the Imperishable. All who live here below call it a holy courtyard without equal on the earth, and the gods above say so too. Brahmins beyond number thronged it. They had looked into the true scriptures, and in their delusion they had taken up a creed of their own. If they saw the devotees of Śiva they would flare up in anger, revile them as old enemies, and refuse to look them in the face. They had taken an evil road. They bore only the name of men who study the Veda, and they did not keep even to their own way. Agastya, the lord of the Tamil people, knew this.

Knowing their ways, the short sage walked through the streets of the old town of Kuṟṟālam and came before the temple of Viṣṇu, and the Vaiṣṇavas who crowded that temple looked at him long. Like men who tremble at the sight of their enemies, they breathed hot and spoke in anger. You wear the rudrākṣa beads and the ash, which are not to be borne, they said, and by them all the gods in the world know you for a servant of the one who begs for alms. You may not go in here. You carry a staff in your hand, and you look a small man. Do not stand here. Keep away from our Lord's great town, and go. The beads and the ash are the marks of Śiva's devotees, and the one who begs for alms is Śiva himself.

He did not grow angry. He laughed and said, You stand outside the way of the Veda. I did not know that you lived here in such numbers, and no one told me. I came thinking this was a good road. Had I known what you are, I would never have thought of entering this old town. Do not be angry. I will go back.

The sage was on his way to the Potiyil hills, and when he said this they could not bear it. Even your coming into this town is a sin, they said. Go away from here. What you say is true, he answered. This is the very rule of the books of the ancients. By that rule, he meant, it was a sin for one who keeps the Veda to come among men who stand outside it. And he left those men, who came in the line of Dakṣa, the lord of creatures who had once reviled Śiva at a sacrifice, and turned to go back.

Then he thought of the great curses laid long ago by holy Nandi, who guards Mount Kailāsa, the mountain the good praise; by four-faced Brahmā, who dwells in the red lotus full of honey; by Durvāsa; by Bhṛgu, who knows every book of the Veda without a flaw; by Gautama, by the sage Kaṇva, by Dadhīci and others like them. Could all those great curses prove false? So he thought, and he did not go.

The short sage, who had been about to go, set his mind on this: I will tear out by the root the deluded pride of these men who scorn the one who stands as the life within every life. And by his own power of illusion he, whose compassion is like the ocean, took on the form of a Bhāgavata, a devotee of Viṣṇu, as gold takes on another look when the vapour of mercury touches it.

He loved the Lord who ruled him, and now he looked like a servant of Viṣṇu, in a body put on by his mighty art of illusion, and he came back to that place. The Vaiṣṇavas saw him coming from a long way off. They went out to meet him, praised him at length, and fell at his feet, and he stood and answered them as a devotee of Viṣṇu would, saying, For Nārāyaṇa.

The brahmins rose from bowing at his feet in due order, and he looked at them and said, People told us that your love for Hari has no end, and we came here meaning to see it. There is no one on earth to equal you. By the grace of seeing you we too have gained a great understanding that is hard to come by. And he went on: We have been at the holy hill of the Lord of great beauty, who gives release, and now we are on our way to Attigiri, to stay there. They say there is a temple in this place where our Lord dwells, and we long to worship there. When he said this, they pointed with a finger and showed him. That is the dwelling of Tirumāl, they said. Tirumāl is Viṣṇu's name in Tamil.

He joined his hands in worship and went quickly to the shrine where Viṣṇu dwells. He walked round it with the crowd, bowed at the feet of the Lord Kṛṣṇa, who is Viṣṇu himself, and praised him, and then turned to the old devotees who sang there. My heart longs to worship him, he said. Bring the water for his bath and the rest of what is needed, and quickly.

Good, said some of them, and they went and brought everything in the proper way: pure holy water for the bath, soft fragrant flowers, fragrant red sandal paste, cloth to adorn him, and all the rest, and set it before the great sage. He looked at them and said, Watch, all of you, and see today how he is to be worshipped by the rule.

Then the sage whose form is small held within his heart our Lord Śiva, whose red matted hair bears the crescent moon and the river. He brought his hand down on the holy head of the image of Nārāyaṇa and pressed it, saying, Shrink, shrink. And as a doll made of white lac melts out of its shape when fire touches it, he softened the image and made it into the form of a Śiva-liṅga.

There he installed the boundless Supreme, whom lotus-born Brahmā and Nārāyaṇa can never know on any day. He recited the mantras, took back his own old form, purified the flowers, the water for the bath and the rest, and at once began to worship. When those brahmins saw it, they spoke in fury. This man, very small of body, who loves the god that burned the three cities to ash, came here before. We scorned him, and he did not stay but went away. Now he has come back ready, in the shape of a Bhāgavata, and he has destroyed this faith. Alas! He is a trickster. Seize him, quickly! And they closed round the short sage.

He looked at the men closing in to seize him, and his eyes blazed. As the ocean let loose the poison that was in it, the sage let loose the fire of his anger. It surrounded those who had surrounded him, scorched them with its sparks, and drove them away. They fled, lost their town, and were scattered over all the earth.

When they had gone, Agastya said, From this day this is Śiva's place. He worshipped the First One and bowed and took his leave, and set his face to the south. He came to the Potiyil hills, where the waterfalls come down sweeping gold and gems along with them, and there he lived in true austerity, and his heart opened in joy as he thought on the Supreme.