
Shankara's thoughts and their overlap with Kashmir Shaivism
I am writing this column from Srinagar. It is peaceful and very much the paradise it always was. My wife and I are the guests of an old friend, Jyoti Wazir, whose father-in-law was the Kashmiri Pandit chief justice of the state. She has a lovely cottage, and a beautiful garden full of hydrangeas, roses, pansies, magnolia and fruiting trees. But the best thing for me is that right above her home, on the hillside opposite, is the Adi Shankaracharya temple in clear view. Local legend has it that when Shankara arrived in Srinagar, his entourage camped just outside the city. (Wikimedia Commons)
Fact and legend both indicate that Shankara (788-820 CE) visited Kashmir. The city was at that time renowned for its Buddhist and Hindu scholarship. Ever since Ashoka conquered the Valley in third century BCE, Buddhism had flourished here. There is historical evidence that the fourth Buddhist Council was convened here in second century CE. Along with Buddhism, Kashmir was also the locus of a specific kind of Shaivite philosophy, whose founder was Vasugupta (800–850 CE). He was the author of Sivasutras, a collection of seventy-seven aphorisms also known as Trika Yoga, which essayed a specifically Kashmir Advaita tradition. This philosophy echoed Shankara's monism, with the difference that Shiva was seen as the cosmic symbol of Brahman. Kashmir Shaivism also introduced the concept of Shakti as an integral part of Shiva worship. Shankara must have been aware of this powerful Kashmiri tradition, and would have travelled to meet at first hand its chief votary, Vasugupta.
Local legend has it that when Shankara arrived in Srinagar, his entourage camped just outside the city. The teacher and his disciples were hungry and weary after their long travel, but had failed to light a fire to cook some food. A young Kashmiri girl then came to their help. Taking two pieces of wood, she rubbed them while chanting a mantra, and the spark that emerged from the friction lighted the fire. The wood, the girl explained, is Brahman. The fire that sprang forth from it is Shakti, the power inherent in Brahman.
The Shankaracharya temple is located on the Gopadri hill (part of the Zabarwan Mountain overlooking Srinagar) a thousand feet above the Valley. It is also known as the Jyeteshwara temple, and was earlier called Pas Bahar by the Buddhists. Kalhana, the great historian of Kashmir says that it was first built by King Gopaditya (426–365 BCE), and later repaired by King Lalitaditya (697–734 CE). The interesting thing is that Sikander, the sixth Sultan of the Shah Miri dynasty in Kashmir (1389–1413 CE), who was called Butshikan for his propensity to destroy idols, did not destroy this temple. In fact, two Muslim rulers in later times—Zain-ul-Abideen in the fifteenth century, and Sheikh Mohinuddin, who was the Governor of this region when Kashmir was under Sikh rule—renovated the temple. All of this provides evidence of the great sanctity of the temple.
The temple is a rock structure. It has a large Shivalinga surrounded by smaller idols of Parvati, Kartikeya and Ganesha. A tall trishul, with a drum balanced on the top of it, stands behind the linga. Set into an alcove on the outside wall of the temple is a portrait in marble of Shankaracharya, his forehead smeared with sandal paste, his eyes looking far into the distant horizon. The Shankaracharya of Dwaraka installed this statue in 1961.
Next to the temple, at a lower level, is the cave where Shankara is said to have stayed in and meditated. A notice board outside identifies it as 'Jagad Guru Shankarcharya Tapasya Sthal'. The entrance to the cave is through a narrow and low entrance. Inside is a large portrait of Shankara, seated on a low peedha or stool, with two open books on a bookstand in front of him. The portrait is in the Thanjavur style, which shows the influence of the artistic traditions of South India. Next to the portrait is a large copper replica of a snake with its hood spread out in a protective posture. The three-pronged trishul also stands adjacent, like a sentinel on guard. The cave is cramped, but I sat, alone, on a rug spread alongside, to meditate for a while. It is believed that Shankara wrote the Saundarya Lahari, his passionate ode to Shakti, while he lived in this cave.
When I was in Srinagar researching my book Adi Shankaracharya: Hinduism's Greatest Thinker, I had stayed with N.N. Vohra, the then Governor of Jammu and Kashmir. He arranged for me to meet Maroof Shah, a reputed scholar of Kashmir Shaivism, and of Hindu philosophy. I spent an afternoon discussing with him the intricacies of Shankara's thoughts and their overlap with Kashmir Shaivism. Maroof, a diminutive man with a heavy Kashmiri accent, works, improbably enough, in the state veterinary department. Philosophy, however, is his passion.
As we ended our conversation, Maroof said ruefully, that very little work is being done now on Kashmir Shaivism within Kashmir. The interest in this aspect of Hindu philosophy is far greater abroad. Not even many Kashmiri Pandits are aware of the greatness of this tradition, or of its link with Shankaracharya. The significance of a devout Kashmiri Muslim, who happened to be keeping the Ramzan fast when we met, making this point, was not lost on me.
Although Pahalgam happened, I urge Indians to visit this beautiful valley in large numbers in solidarity with the Kashmiri's who went on a spontaneous strike to protest the dastardly killings.
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Hindustan Times
5 hours ago
- Hindustan Times
Shankara's thoughts and their overlap with Kashmir Shaivism
I am writing this column from Srinagar. It is peaceful and very much the paradise it always was. My wife and I are the guests of an old friend, Jyoti Wazir, whose father-in-law was the Kashmiri Pandit chief justice of the state. She has a lovely cottage, and a beautiful garden full of hydrangeas, roses, pansies, magnolia and fruiting trees. But the best thing for me is that right above her home, on the hillside opposite, is the Adi Shankaracharya temple in clear view. Local legend has it that when Shankara arrived in Srinagar, his entourage camped just outside the city. (Wikimedia Commons) Fact and legend both indicate that Shankara (788-820 CE) visited Kashmir. The city was at that time renowned for its Buddhist and Hindu scholarship. Ever since Ashoka conquered the Valley in third century BCE, Buddhism had flourished here. There is historical evidence that the fourth Buddhist Council was convened here in second century CE. Along with Buddhism, Kashmir was also the locus of a specific kind of Shaivite philosophy, whose founder was Vasugupta (800–850 CE). He was the author of Sivasutras, a collection of seventy-seven aphorisms also known as Trika Yoga, which essayed a specifically Kashmir Advaita tradition. This philosophy echoed Shankara's monism, with the difference that Shiva was seen as the cosmic symbol of Brahman. Kashmir Shaivism also introduced the concept of Shakti as an integral part of Shiva worship. Shankara must have been aware of this powerful Kashmiri tradition, and would have travelled to meet at first hand its chief votary, Vasugupta. Local legend has it that when Shankara arrived in Srinagar, his entourage camped just outside the city. The teacher and his disciples were hungry and weary after their long travel, but had failed to light a fire to cook some food. A young Kashmiri girl then came to their help. Taking two pieces of wood, she rubbed them while chanting a mantra, and the spark that emerged from the friction lighted the fire. The wood, the girl explained, is Brahman. The fire that sprang forth from it is Shakti, the power inherent in Brahman. The Shankaracharya temple is located on the Gopadri hill (part of the Zabarwan Mountain overlooking Srinagar) a thousand feet above the Valley. It is also known as the Jyeteshwara temple, and was earlier called Pas Bahar by the Buddhists. Kalhana, the great historian of Kashmir says that it was first built by King Gopaditya (426–365 BCE), and later repaired by King Lalitaditya (697–734 CE). The interesting thing is that Sikander, the sixth Sultan of the Shah Miri dynasty in Kashmir (1389–1413 CE), who was called Butshikan for his propensity to destroy idols, did not destroy this temple. In fact, two Muslim rulers in later times—Zain-ul-Abideen in the fifteenth century, and Sheikh Mohinuddin, who was the Governor of this region when Kashmir was under Sikh rule—renovated the temple. All of this provides evidence of the great sanctity of the temple. The temple is a rock structure. It has a large Shivalinga surrounded by smaller idols of Parvati, Kartikeya and Ganesha. A tall trishul, with a drum balanced on the top of it, stands behind the linga. Set into an alcove on the outside wall of the temple is a portrait in marble of Shankaracharya, his forehead smeared with sandal paste, his eyes looking far into the distant horizon. The Shankaracharya of Dwaraka installed this statue in 1961. Next to the temple, at a lower level, is the cave where Shankara is said to have stayed in and meditated. A notice board outside identifies it as 'Jagad Guru Shankarcharya Tapasya Sthal'. The entrance to the cave is through a narrow and low entrance. Inside is a large portrait of Shankara, seated on a low peedha or stool, with two open books on a bookstand in front of him. The portrait is in the Thanjavur style, which shows the influence of the artistic traditions of South India. Next to the portrait is a large copper replica of a snake with its hood spread out in a protective posture. The three-pronged trishul also stands adjacent, like a sentinel on guard. The cave is cramped, but I sat, alone, on a rug spread alongside, to meditate for a while. It is believed that Shankara wrote the Saundarya Lahari, his passionate ode to Shakti, while he lived in this cave. When I was in Srinagar researching my book Adi Shankaracharya: Hinduism's Greatest Thinker, I had stayed with N.N. Vohra, the then Governor of Jammu and Kashmir. He arranged for me to meet Maroof Shah, a reputed scholar of Kashmir Shaivism, and of Hindu philosophy. I spent an afternoon discussing with him the intricacies of Shankara's thoughts and their overlap with Kashmir Shaivism. Maroof, a diminutive man with a heavy Kashmiri accent, works, improbably enough, in the state veterinary department. Philosophy, however, is his passion. As we ended our conversation, Maroof said ruefully, that very little work is being done now on Kashmir Shaivism within Kashmir. The interest in this aspect of Hindu philosophy is far greater abroad. Not even many Kashmiri Pandits are aware of the greatness of this tradition, or of its link with Shankaracharya. The significance of a devout Kashmiri Muslim, who happened to be keeping the Ramzan fast when we met, making this point, was not lost on me. Although Pahalgam happened, I urge Indians to visit this beautiful valley in large numbers in solidarity with the Kashmiri's who went on a spontaneous strike to protest the dastardly killings.


Time of India
9 hours ago
- Time of India
Why São João is more than just a festival: It's about celebrating wells
In Goa , São João, the Feast Day of St John the Baptist , on June 24, celebrates water. By then, the monsoon has usually filled rivers, lakes and, most importantly, the wells on which many still depend. In summer, wells are cleaned so they fill easily when the rains come, ready for people to jump in on São João! The celebration is spreading. In pockets of Mumbai like Manori and Gorai, the festival is observed with lots of water splashed around and the floral crowns called koppels . Most Mumbaikars now use piped water, but old wells can be opened for the occasion. Even diasporic Goans in Australia, Canada and the UK celebrate São João, though often in a swimming pool. The connection with wells is important. St John baptised Jesus in a spring that fed the Jordan river, but wells are vital in that dry Eastern Mediterranean region. One of the oldest has been found in Cyprus, dated to around 8400 BCE, while one of the first stone-lined wells, from around 7000 BCE, was found near Haifa in Israel, in a site now drowned by the sea. Wells have always been seen as magical, connecting our surface world to the mysteries of underground aquifers. The still mysterious process of dowsing , where sites for wells are located using forked twigs, gives them an aura of magic even before they are dug. Wells often have guardian spirits, which links to the idea of wish-granting wells. Mumbai's Bhikha Behram Well, 300 years old this year, is sacred to the Parsi community . It is said to have been built after a Parsi trader was commanded to build it in a dream. Since the location was near the sea, his plan was ridiculed, but when it was finally dug, the water was not salty and has never run dry. Play Video Pause Skip Backward Skip Forward Unmute Current Time 0:00 / Duration 0:00 Loaded : 0% 0:00 Stream Type LIVE Seek to live, currently behind live LIVE Remaining Time - 0:00 1x Playback Rate Chapters Chapters Descriptions descriptions off , selected Captions captions settings , opens captions settings dialog captions off , selected Audio Track default , selected Picture-in-Picture Fullscreen This is a modal window. Beginning of dialog window. Escape will cancel and close the window. Text Color White Black Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Opacity Opaque Semi-Transparent Text Background Color Black White Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Opacity Opaque Semi-Transparent Transparent Caption Area Background Color Black White Red Green Blue Yellow Magenta Cyan Opacity Transparent Semi-Transparent Opaque Font Size 50% 75% 100% 125% 150% 175% 200% 300% 400% Text Edge Style None Raised Depressed Uniform Drop shadow Font Family Proportional Sans-Serif Monospace Sans-Serif Proportional Serif Monospace Serif Casual Script Small Caps Reset restore all settings to the default values Done Close Modal Dialog End of dialog window. Wells can be points of contention. Many caste-based battles in India have been fought over access to wells. 'Poisoning the well' isn't just a phrase for a type of argument but has been an actual tactic in wars. Yet, even when their water is tainted, wells have been of value, as is shown by Steven Johnson's book The Ghost Map . This tells the story of how London physician John Snow tracked a cholera epidemic in 1854 to one sewagetainted well. At that time illnesses were assumed to spread through 'miasma', bad air, but Snow proved that water was a vector as well, by tracing how victims across London had all drunk from that one well. Fears of well contamination have been growing in Goa. As poorly regulated building activity booms in rural areas across India, the threat of badly designed sewage systems poisoning aquifers is real. It makes people distrust wells and demand piped water, further pushing wells into disuse. Yet, in times of climate change, it is a folly to give up on wells. A recent private effort to test water in wells across the Goa valley showed that, despite intense building activity, the water quality was still quite good. They do need cleaning though and, ignoring the São João imperative, we hadn't done it for a few years. Early this summer, the well almost ran dry and we called in the cleaners. They emptied out the remaining water, except for a small pool at the bottom, and started removing years of silt. As the spouts for the springs were cleaned, we could see water trickling in again at once. With this year's early rains, the well was soon full again — and, amazingly, we could now see fish in it. Wells often have them, as a sign of the purity of the water, but we had never seen them before. The cleaners told us just a few fish were there who retreated to that last pool as it was cleaned. Now, with plentiful clean water, they were flourishing again, a sign of the enduring power of wells.


Hindustan Times
a day ago
- Hindustan Times
The scenic root: A look at the ancient and modern history of the garden
Heaven is a well-laid garden. Or at least, the Ancient Persians thought so. A 17th-century tile panel from Isfahan, Iran, representing the Persian chahar-bagh. (Grant Anderson) The word paradise is derived from the Persian paradaijah, literally, 'walled enclosure'. As far back as 6th century BCE, the paradaijah was organised as a chahar-bagh, a set of its four swathes of green, each meant to embody one of the vital elements of the universe: earth, fire, water and air. Long, long before this, c. 1000 BCE, royal gardens in China featured intricately designed landscapes that often sought to marry myth with idealised forms of nature. How did such ideas evolve over time, to yield the neighbourhood parks of today? An intriguing exhibition at the Victoria & Albert Museum in Dundee (the first V&A outside London) traces the history of these miniature worlds. Garden Futures: Designing with Nature is on view until January. Through exhibits that range from ancient and contemporary paintings to photographs, tools, plant specimens, and interactive multimedia installations, the show traces how the idea of the garden goes all the way back to, well, one idea of the start of it all. In the Abrahamic faiths of Christianity, Judaism and Islam, the Garden of Eden represents the beginning of life itself. Exhibits at the show explore how these spaces have always served as sanctuaries; attempts, in increasingly dense, urban built environments, to let a bit of nature back in. In this role, they have acquired social, political and environmental connotations. Even today, or perhaps more so today, they are a statement of access, luxury, power, wealth. So how have our gardens grown, around the world? * China, c. 1000 BCE A 16th-century painting of scholars in a Chinese garden. (Getty Images) Myth and nature merge in the earliest signs of royal gardens here, dating to 1000 BCE. By the 3rd century BCE, there are records of the Qin emperor Shi Huang building a park with a lake and an island at the centre, inspired by legends of an island of immortals. In the Han dynasty that succeeded the Qin, rare plants and animals were housed in royal parks, in a template that spread as noblemen began to design their grounds on similar lines. Through the centuries, scaled-down waterways, rockeries, dwellings, bridges and plants sought to represent the whole of creation, in miniature scale. Over time, the precursor to the zen garden took shape, built around gongshi or scholar's rocks (essentially, boulders shaped by nature in such intriguing ways that one could spend hours in their contemplation). At V&A Dundee, a watercolour titled A Painting of a Chinese Garden, Guangzhou (c. 1820-1840) bears testament to this past. * France, in the 1500s A view of a parterre at the Palace of Versailles. (Adobe Stock) By the 1500s (civilisation dawning considerably later in the West), the French were designing intricate parterre (literally, 'on the ground') flowerbeds meant to be viewed from a height — essentially, from the terrace or higher floors of a chateau. Surviving parterres such as those at the Palace of Versailles reflect Renaissance ideals of beauty, symmetry and order. Also, luxury, via precise ornamentation. Some of the designs were so intricate, they were referred to as broderie sur la terre or 'embroidery on the ground'. At the V&A exhibit, this style is showcased via a fine-art reproduction of a sketch by the renowned 17th-century landscape architect Claude Mollet. His best-known work is still painstakingly maintained, at the Palace of Versailles. * England, in the 1700s John Gendall's depiction of a hermitage at the British royal family's Frogmore Estate in Windsor. (Getty) By the 18th century, pioneers such as Lancelot 'Capability' Brown were looking to contemporary art for inspiration. Inspired by the Picturesque Movement (a mid-18th-century style that sought to 'represent the ideal'), gardens designed by Brown and others sought to mimic idealised natural landscapes using cedar, beech and linden trees and sweeping lawns. These parks were marked by a near-total absence of flowers. Some of these gardens featured 'hermitages', whimsical retreats meant for rest and contemplation. In some cases, eccentric lords of the manor even hired a 'hermit' to play out the life of a romantic recluse and complete the picture. Engraved prints by artists of the time such as John Gendall and JP Neale offer intricate views of such gardens, complete with hermitages (but not hermits) * USA, in the 20th century Artist J Howard Miller's poster for the Victory Gardens initiative. (V&A Dundee) In the early 1940s, Victory Gardens produced up to 40% of America's fruits and vegetables, according to data from the US National WWII Museum. A government campaign that urged residents to grow their own food amid critical shortages, trade disruptions and broken supply chains was so successful that 20 million such gardens grew up across America, the museum data states. A poster that reads Plant a Garden for Victory!, by the artist J Howard Miller, is part of the V&A Dundee exhibit, inviting the viewer to reconsider a proven model in our current times of need. * India: Then and now While India does not form part of the V&A exhibit, it is interesting to note that the entire arc represented in the four-room display at the museum is visible in a number of our cities today. In northern India, parks and monuments still bear the mark of the ornate Mughal-era designs that were influenced by the Persian chahar-bagh — think rectilinear walled sections, large pools, canals, fountains and flowers. Alongside, we have the colonial-era import of the botanical gardens, in which the British originally attempted to recreate English shrubbery, and then began to preserve and showcase specimens of local varieties too. . Artistic and cultural movements continue to influence the way gardens look. These spaces can also be agents of change, says exhibition co-curator James Wylie. One actionable way to redraw the norm would be 'to look into our immediate environments and ask: Are there ways to encourage pollinators, or different modes of wildlife? To reach beyond manicured lawns and hedges, to create a wild, rich environment that encourages diversity of life?' Wylie adds. 'Because the ideal garden, in our times, is one in which our influence is negligible.'