In Southern tradition, Lord Shiva often gets actively involved in the lives of his devotees, as we saw in the tale of ‘Thayumanavar’ (Faithline, When the manliest of gods became a mother, March 20, 2023).
This popular Shivlila or divine game that I would like to retell is also from the Thiruvilayadal or ‘Sacred Games’, a collection of 64 Tamil Shivlilas. It came about one Shravan in the ninth century in Madurai, at a place called Puttu Thopu on the south bank of the river Vaigai.
The tale goes that the Pandyan king, Varaguna Varman II, ordered every household in Madurai to help build a bund on the banks of the river Vaigai to protect the kingdom from seasonal floods. An old lady called Vanti Amma was told by her local overseer to help carry baskets of earth. But she was too weak for this task. nor had she anyone to call her own who could take her place.
However, if she did nothing at all, the guards were sure to send her to jail for dereliction of duty. Pandyan law was strict. So Vanti Amma gamely came up with a scheme, which she dedicated to Lord Shiva whom she loved with all her heart. She counted out a few coins from her scant hoard and went shopping, after which she carefully prepared some puttu, mixing coarsely ground rice, grated coconut, jeera, salt and water, which she steamed in bamboo cylinders. She planned to offer portions of this puttu to anyone who would help her. Shiva, who was idly watching the people of Madurai scurry around like ants, noticed her activities.
He understood her plan at once and liked the genuine effort that the old lady was making to both do her duty and save her dignity. “She deserves some help, see how she’s trying to cope alone,” he told Parvati and promptly thought of a new game to play. Meanwhile, Vanti Amma sat near the river bank with the fresh puttu enticingly laid out on a banana leaf. She waved a palm leaf fan over it to keep flies away and also fan herself.
“Puttu for any good person who will work in my place!” she called. But everybody who passed by was already on embankment duty and Vanti Amma grew nervous. Would nobody come forward? Would she have to go to jail after all? However, after some time, a boy of not more than sixteen, dressed in a faded dhoti, came by and greeted her.
“Why are you giving away free puttu, Granny?” he asked, squatting beside her. “Child, I don’t have the strength to do my share of work. So I’m hoping someone will take my place in exchange for some food,” said Vanti Amma. “Oh, is that all? I can do that for you,” laughed the boy, flexing his arm. “May Lord Somasundara bless you, child!” said Vanti, invoking Shiva’s name in Madurai. “Take as much puttu as you like.”
The boy delicately helped himself to a small handful of puttu. After eating it, he smacked his lips and grinned cheekily. “Excellent puttu, Granny,” he said and strolled off towards the guards to pick up a stout cane basket. “I’m standing in for that old lady, see? Better tick her name off your list,” he told them and set to work. The boy carried soil steadily to and fro from the earthworks. Coming and going, he sang and whistled, made funny remarks, helpfully caught the arm of anyone who stumbled and cheerfully laboured with the people of Madurai.
The atmosphere around him grew light and carefree despite the hard work going on. When the overseer gave his section a short break, the boy put the basket down under a tree, turned his back on the bustle and went to sleep.
Meanwhile, the king himself arrived to inspect the work. He was very annoyed to spot a teenager sleeping the morning away. He dismounted from his horse, strode up to the boy and delivered a smart blow of his whip on the boy’s back. “Aaah!” screamed the workers and so did the king. They had all felt the lash. What strange happening was this? now, Varaguna Varman knew something about the god he prayed to every day. Who else could it be, playing such tricks?
He fell to his knees beside the boy who turned over and smiled sleepily. “I’m sorry it hurt. But it couldn’t be helped, could it, when I’m in each one of you...even in old women with no strength to work?” he said and vanished. The king could not believe his luck. “I saw Him. He spoke to me!” he said joyfully. After making enquiries, he deeply regretted his sweeping diktat that had not spared the old and the weak. He excused Vanti Amma from bund duty and humbly requested her to pack the remaining puttu for him as prasadam.
When the workers realised what had happened, they fell to their knees, arms upraised. “We must have done something good in our past lives that He showed himself to us so affectionately,” they said, eyes overflowing.
The old lady thanked Shiva, heart and soul. She died soon after in great peace and happiness, for Shiva gave her mukti for just that handful of puttu. Krishna gave Sudama unimaginable wealth for two handfuls of poha. Shiva gave Vanti liberation itself for a handful of puttu. How the gods love to serve those who love them. Everywhere you look, you find us by a riverbank, a lake, a hill or shore, celebrating the lilas of the gods.
So you won’t be surprised that every Shravan, to this day, the people of Madurai make puttu to take on a picnic to Puttu Thopu in remembrance of Shiva’s lila there (‘Thopu’ means ‘grove’). The Meenakshi temple is apparently closed for two days during that time so that Parvati and Shiva can go in procession to the banks of the Vaigai to join the party.
Renuka Narayanan
(shebaba09@gmail.com)