The year was 1290 . A crowd had gathered around a clearing, where broken down pillars marked the presence of an ancient temple, now long gone. A young boy, just 14 years old, leaned against one of those pillars, deep in thought. Then, he began speaking, and the crowd fell silent, listening to his every word. He spoke without any notes, translating the Bhagavat Gita, from Sanskrit, which only the pundits knew, to the language everyone in the village knew and spoke – a variety of Prakrit which developed into the Marathi language. Even as he spoke, one of the men in the audience realized how momentous this event was, and how important this composition would be. He began writing down the words the young boy spoke, and this composition was named by its author and composer, the Bhavartha Deepika – the enlightening meaning (of the Bhagavat Gita). Now, the ancient, holy text, was no longer restricted to the pundits, but accessible to all, understood easily by them, composed as it was, in their...
The monsoon at Mahabaleshwar is a sight to see. The pouring rain, the dense fog, lush green valleys and mountains everywhere your eyes can see.... and vendors selling hot tea and corn at every turning.
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Ah! Garma Garm Bhuttas in the rain :) A treat, that is :)
ReplyDeleteI would love bhuttas in this cold too, Arti!!! but its a pity cant seem to see them anywhere in mumbai these days!
Deletethis is my India!!
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely, Krishna!!
DeleteJust Perfect.. there is nothing like having a hot bhutta ceremoniasly pasted with lemon & mint on a rainy day..!
ReplyDeleteoh, absolutely, Devil Incarnate! and the thought of it makes me salivate even now!
DeletePoor people
ReplyDeleteTrue, Bhavesh... we do feel sorry for people like him who brave the weather to make our lives easier... and there is no doubt that it is people like him who make our memories that much more memorable!
DeleteTough life!
ReplyDeletewww.rajniranjandas.blogspot.in