Gayathri Mantra
Rattan Mohan Sharma
While the Upanayanam is traditionally performed at younger ages, modern practice has moved it to later and later in life, often being performed just shortly before marriage. In addition to this, there is a belief in my family that if you perform the Upanayanam too early, it will be a long time before the boy becomes married. For this reason, my family waited on performing the ceremony for me. But finally, they couldn’t wait any more. My grandparents were very eager to host my thread marriage, and so on a February trip to India with my friend Nate and my family, I underwent the ritual.
The Upanayanam has a hallowed place in my culture. It marks the teaching of the Gayathri mantra from father to son. Its name, literally meaning “taking near,” reflects the act of taking the man near the Vedas and near spiritual and absolute truth. Completing this ritual confers upon a man the right to perform a puja himself. Before this, one cannot be the principal performer of a puja. As the marriage ceremony is basically a puja, the Upanayanam is required in order to go undergo marriage as well.
My Upanayanam occurred on a pleasant February day, with my friend Nate in attendance. He had accompanied me to India to explore the food, and got to witness my transition to manhood as a bonus. I performed the ceremony in my mother’s native village of Elurupadu. It was well attended, with several hundred people there. A member of the state legislature was there as well, through my uncle’s connections, complete with his machine gun-wielding bodyguard. Not sure exactly why my uncle asked him to come, or why he accepted the invitation, but in any case he did cause a minor stir and cement my uncle’s status in the community. Hmmm, I seem to have answered my own question…
On the morning of the ceremony, I was taken upstairs by the elder men of my family, who helped me wrap the pancha (or ‘dhoti’) around me. This is basically a silk sheet of high-quality fabric, wrapped around the waist and through the legs. Another silk sheet is worn as a shawl over the bare chest and shoulders. Dressed appropriately, I went downstairs to take my place on the clay platform my grandparents had arranged, placed in front of their home. A giant canopy had been erected to protect us and our guests from the sun. My parents sat on the platform as well, accompanied by our family priest. Here, the ceremony began, with my parents and then myself making offerings to a small sandalwood paste representation of Ganesh as the priest chanted in Sanskrit.
I won’t pretend to remember all the details of what transpired. What often happens is that you take instruction on the puja as you go. The priest chants while you fold your hands in prayer and, when it comes time to do something, he breaks his chant and gives you instructions. Offerings were made to a fire in the center of the platform, consisting of ghee, colored powders, and various other things. At one point, my mother finished her portion of the ceremony and left. It was then that my father moved to sit across from me, handing me things to pass into the fire. The three of us, me, my father and the priest, then huddled together, a white shroud held over us to cover us. It was then that my father chanted instructions to me in Sanskrit, teaching me the words to the Gayathri mantra:
Om Bur Bhuva Suvaha
Tat Savitur Varenyam
Bhargo Devasya Dhimahi
Dhiyo Yona Prachodayaat
Translations abound, no two seem exactly alike, but the gist is that you are invoking the earth and the heavens that the light and wisdom of the god Savitur may enlighten our minds. It is to be repeated three times daily, to focus the mind and attempt to attain understanding and connection to Supreme Truth. It is considered the most powerful and essential of mantras. The shroud that enveloped us was to prevent those who are unworthy or unready from hearing the teachings my father was imparting to me. After this instruction, the shroud is removed, my father and I walk around the fire, and a loops of thread composed of three strands is placed over my left shoulder and across my chest. This is the thread that I am to wear in any future pujas, and it is to be worn at all times over the next three days, when I am to observe piety and austerity.
After this portion of the ceremony, I must show humility and quell my ego by begging. Walking with the aid of a stick and holding my shawl out between my two hands, I must beg each guest who is older than me, uttering the phrase “Bhavati bikshan dehi.” It is essentially asking an exalted person of high status to please spare something for someone who is unworthy of it. The person I beg from then places some money into my outstretched shawl, and I move on to the next elder. It is hard to convey the exact power of the phrase, and I don’t think I quite understood it myself until I got to my great-aunt. As I bent down to touch her feet, uttering the phrase “bhavati bikshan dehi” she grabbed my shoulders and pulled me up. She looked at me, tears in her eyes, and said “Please…don’t say that. You don’t need to say that.” She placed an offering into my shawl, and I continued. I must have begged from over a hundred people. In the old days, this used to be done by going door to door in the neighborhood and asking for grains of rice, cementing your role in the community as all those who had undergone Upanayanam before you had a responsibility to give you alms. I am sort of sad I didn’t do that, but knew that in this day and age, that might be looked at as strange.
And then the ceremony was over. Our hundreds of guests were fed, and I gave the money I had collected to my mother, to be earmarked for charity. The next three days were spent living in an austere way. I performed the Gayathri mantra three times a day, wore my thread at all times, ate a special diet that eliminated meat, garlic and onions, and slept on a thin straw math with no pillow or blanket. The one benefit of doing this in later life, was I found myself able to appreciate the beauty of this. The virtue of humility and the realization that you are a part of a tradition from father to son was not lost on me.
I remember my Upanayanam fondly. While my family may say “See, we were right, he is still not married,” I see that I am lucky to have experienced the ritual on its own, independent of a marriage. In the interest of full disclosure, however, I must say, I had a great deal of trouble memorizing the words to the mantra. They are in Sanskrit, and thus do not hold individual meanings to me, nor was there a song I could set it to to remember it. Each person who recited it for me recited it differently, with different pronunciations. Thank God the new Battlestar Galactica series uses it in their theme song. It may be blasphemous, but I am able to recall all the words to the mantra with no problem! =)
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