We meet our hero, Ciruttontar, under another name—Parahcoti, of the great Mamattirar clan devoted to protecting all living beings. He is, thus, a warrior, and as such he serves his king in the famous battle for Vatapi. When the king discovers that this hero is a devotee of Siva, and has been exposed to danger in the royal service, he is mortified and seeks Parancoti’s forgiveness; but the latter humbly remarks that he has simply been performing his proper work (en urintai tolil}, and there is surely no harm in that. The king sends him home loaded down with honors and riches. Note that in this brief introduction, seemingly quite separate from the main narrative of horrific sacrifice, the hero’s native affinity with violence is directly stated.
Back in the village of Cehkattahkuti, Parancoti marries Venkat- tunankai and lives the proper, dharmic life of the householder. His major concern is with feeding the Saiva devotees: he eats only after he has found some of them to feed; and because of this constant, humble service, he becomes known as Cxruttontar, the “Little Devotee,” In the course of time, a son, Clrajan, is born to the couple, to the father’s immense joy.
Five years pass. The child is already in school, learning “clarity of speech that flowers into thought ” Ciruttontar’s special form of service has reached the feet of Siva on Kailasa, and the god, “in order to savor the love that has the essence of truth” {meyttanmaiy anpu nukarnf arulutarku, 25), comes down to earth in the form of an extreme Saiva ascetic, a Bhairava (vairavar). This is a crucial statement, the only time the text directly approaches the question “why” in relation to the story it narrates; the answer has nothing to do with a test or trial, but everything to do with the experiencing of real emotion. The god’s disguise is minutely, and somewhat playfully, described: the crescent moon in his hair becomes, as it were, a forehead mark (pottu) of gleaming white ash; a necklace of brilliant crystal hides the dark stain on his throat (left over from the time he swallowed the ocean’s black poison); the flayed skin of the elephant-demon, Gajasura, covers his body, red as coral, as darkness engulfs the red horizon at sunset. He is draped in garlands and necklaces, “as if the love of the devotees had taken bodily form.” His left hand holds the trident and Brahma’s skull, his right the tamarukam drum. And he is smiling—a compassionate smile, soothing as moonlight (even as the trident, enemy of evil, seems to emit burning sunlight). We must not lose sight of this smile, especially as the tale enters into its horrific phase; Siva has come to demand a sacrifice—the ultimate sacrifice—but he does so with a smile, and in disguise. He is dressed to imitate a Bhairava ascetic who, naturally, imitates the god himself, with all his iconic attributes; this is, then, a double mimesis, Siva posing as a living, human replica of himself. The demand he makes will thus be mediated, at least in part, by the assumed human voice that speaks for, or in place of, the god in all his fullness and distance. By the same token, the god’s presence in this story enacts a conscious, deliberate movement in the direction of human emotion and experience.
Siva arrives in Cenkattahkuti in the Tamil land. He is as if in the grip of a terrible hunger, an insatiable desire (tantata oru vetkaip pactiy utaiyar tamaip pola). He asks the way to the home of the Little Devotee. But Ciruttontar is not in, as the maidservant, Cantanattar, informs the visitor: the master of the house has gone looking for Saiva devotees to feed. Ciruttontar’s wife, Venkattammai, afraid that this newfound guest will disappear, begs him to come in and wait. The ascetic, however, refuses: he will not remain alone with women in a house. He is, he tells them, from the North (uttarapatiy ullom}, and he has come to see the Little Devotee; he will wait for him under the dtti tree in Siva’s shrine of Kanapaticcaram, in the village.
When Ciruttontar returns—in despair at having found no one to feed—his wife tells him the happy news. “I am saved!” cries the devotee, as he rushes to bow to the ascetic under the dtti tree. “Are you the great Little Devotee?” asks the Bhairava, toying with the oxymoron, and Ciruttontar admits that he has been given this name; he also speaks of his frustration: “In my desire (kdtaldle), I went searching through this village for someone to feed, but saw no one; now, through my tap as, I have discovered you. You must eat in your servant’s home.”
Ascetic: We have come to see you. We are from the North. But you cannot feed us, for all your love; it is an impossible deed. Ciruttontar: I have not spoken without thought. Tell me how to make your food. Nothing is impossible, nothing too difficult when the devotees of Siva are concerned.
Ascetic: You are filled with love. When three seasons have passed, the day comes to slay a beast (pacu} for our food; today is that day. You see you cannot feed us.
Ciruttontar: Excellent! I have three kinds of herds. You are devoted to the god who swallowed poison: just tell me what kind of beast you want, and I will quickly prepare it, before the proper moment passes.
Ascetic: The beast we eat is human. It must be five years old, without blemish. And there is one thing more I must tell you, like thrusting a lance into a painful wound.
Ciruttontar: Nothing is too difficult; please have mercy and speak.
Ascetic: It must be a good, only son of a good family. The father must cut him as the mother holds him, as their hearts rejoice. That is the curry we shall eat.
Ciruttontar remains undaunted: “Even this is not hard—if only our lord will agree to eat.” He spoke quickly, savoring the joy, in passion as he bowed at the feet tender as the honey-filled lotus and hurried home.
Is this the same passion (kdtal} that has driven him to search all day for at least a single guest? The one who has so mysteriously materialized is dearly too precious to be lost, and Ciruttontar takes upon himself, willingly and seemingly without reflection, the whole burden of his outlandish request. He cannot hear the ironic overtones of his visitor’s statements: the god is, after all, correct in stating that no one, not even this fanatical feeder, can truly appease his hunger. As so often in texts of the South Indian devotional traditions, divine speech is surprisingly literal and precise, although its human audience fails to comprehend the message on this level; Ciruttontar must assume that his guest is simply being coy, hesitant, or polite. He meets this ambiguous negotiation with a fundamental simplicity of surrender; the guest is a Saiva, and, as such, a living form of his god, who commands love, self-sacrifice, service. Desire, articulated in these terms, pervades the human situation and determines the Little Devotee’s response.
So he rushes home to inform his wife. He breaks the news gently, in a verse whose staggered syntax beautifully reflects the escalating strangeness and horror of this moment:
The great ascetic who came here
has agreed to eat with us, with a happy heart—
if it is a family’s only son,
a boy of five years, flawless in all his limbs, a child
to be held in joy by his mother, slain in joy by the father, and cooked for this meal.
The climax in the original occurs at the start of the fourth line— usually the point of greatest tension in a Tamil verse—with the head-rhyming pillai, “a child,” that is the proper focus of the request, which is properly phrased in the conditional. There is room here for a choice, as the “if” makes clear. As throughout this unnerving text, the patent horror is rendered starker by the explicit and recurrent insistence on joyfulness. In a way, this is the most extreme demand of all—not simply that the sacrifice be carried out, but that its executors act in joy. The mother now briefly balks, understandably refusing to understand: “We will make this meal, but how are we to find such a child?” Ciruttontar, of course, is ready with the answer:
He looked straight in her eyes. “Even if one were to offer a great treasure, to the heart’s content, who would give such a child?
No father and mother would stand there and slaughter their own son.
There is no time to be lost if 1 am to be saved: the boy that you brought forth is the one we must call.”
She agrees; her husband goes to bring the child home from school. He feels, we are told, “like someone who has attained a perfect gift.” (What is this gift, if not the opportunity to offer that which he loves best?) The boy comes running to his father, who carries him home on his shoulder; his mother receives him, fusses over him—wiping his face, combing his hair, straightening his clothes—before returning him to Ciruttontar. Afraid lest this child, soon to be turned into curry, will be polluted by his saliva, the father refrains from kissing him or even embracing him. The mother washes the necessary pots and utensils. In some secret place—so that the world will not know—the two parents, whose minds are one, prepare for the sacrifice. Venkattunahkai holds the boy’s feet and hands, Ciruttontar grips his head; now Ciralan, the child himself, noticing his parents’ joyfulness, laughs in happiness as well. This is the moment when the father cuts off his son’s head.
The father was thinking, radiant
with happiness, “My great,
incomparable son has given us
the essence of truth,”
and his wife thought, “My husband
has given me precious life.”
Her inner being opened fully
like a bud.
Together, they exulted
at heart, performing
that difficult deed,
So, even with the great inner softening and unfolding, it remains, on some level, a difficult deed (ariya vinai), followed now by the preparation of the meat curries and other dishes, which are elaborately described. A small detail is stressed: the parents believe that the child’s head is unsuitable for this meal, and put it aside (the maidservant, Cantanattar, takes it away). When all is ready, Cirut- tontar—“thrilling with joy and desire even greater than before”— goes to summon the ascetic from under the atti tree.
He apologizes for the delay: the guest must surely be hungry (patitf arula). He leads him home, offers him a seat, washes his feet, and sprinkles the water thus purified over himself and his wife. The house is filled with fragrant flowers and incense lamps, and the couple, treating their guest as a god, perform pujd before him. They receive his permission to serve the meal. But first he inquires: “Have you made curries from all the parts of the animal, as you were told?” Ciruttontar has to confess: “My wife felt the head would not be proper food, and put it aside ” “I will eat that, too,” says the ascetic, in the first of a new series of teasing, exasperating demands.
Ciruttontar and his wife are in a panic, their thoughts confused. Fortunately, the maidservant has made a curry from the head as well, just in case. Disaster has been averted. But again the guest looks at Ciruttontar and says, “I cannot eat alone. There must be some devotees standing somewhere near; bring them here.” Another moment of panic—another obstacle to the feast. Ciruttontar races outside to look, one last time, for another guest. There is, of course, no one. Wearily, he returns to face the Bhairava ascetic: “I see no one here or elsewhere; but I, myself, follow the way of those who cover themselves in sacred ash.”
“Then you shall eat with me,” commands the god. The food is served. Ciruttontar is ready even for this: his overriding concern is with bringing his guest to the point of eating. So he, the father, reaches out to partake of the grisly meal. At the last moment, the Bhairava stops him with yet another unexpected demand. “We eat once in six months. You never miss a meal. Why are you rushing to eat first? Call your flawless son to join us.
Is this not a terrible mockery of the sacrifice? The guest is tormenting his host, forcing him beyond the limits of sanity. What is left for the Little Devotee? He has offered up his son; he has held nothing back; he has given himself over completely to the required joy of single-hearted devotion. A moment before, he was preparing to join the cannibalistic feast. This latest demand finally destroys any residual logic adhering to the deed—even if we assume, as Ciruttontar is, perhaps, meant to do, that the ascetic could be unaware of the identity of the sacrificial victim. From the father’s point of view, it is finally too much. “He (my son) can no longer help us,” he answers in despair. But the guest is relentless: “We will eat here only if he comes. Go call him.” The Little Devotee thinks to himself: “What can I do to make this man eat?” The problem seems insuperable. Taking his wife, he goes outside. And, against all reason and judgment, he calls out: “Come, my son.” “Come, my brilliant gem, Ciralancalls the mother, a little more warmly; “this devotee of Siva calls you to eat with him, so that we all may be saved.”
Suddenly, out of nowhere:
By the graciousness of God,
as if running home from school,
he appeared— a son beautiful
beyond compare.
She took him in her arms,
caressed him with her hands,
gave him to her husband
in sharp, surpassing joy—
for, so she thought,
that devotee of the Lord
who once burned the demons’ Triple City
would eat at last.
With the boy in his arms, the father rushes into the house; he, too, has but one thought, that is, that the tormenting guest will finally begin to eat. As the text tell us, it is this hope, and not simply the return of the slaughtered child, that nourishes the reborn sensation of joy. But the man has gone, and the fresh curries have also disappeared. Ciruttontar is distraught, afraid, bewildered. As always, the moment of revelation is first one of loss and hiding; one discovers the god has been present only by a sudden absence. Ciruttontar goes back outside. Now Siva can show himself in his divine form, no longer masquerading as his own human imitator and image, He is there in the sky, with Parvatl and his son Skanda, on the bull Nandin. He looks with compassion (karunai) at Ciruttontar, his wife and son. But they, meanwhile, have melted, in their bones and hearts; they will never be separated from God again.
The story of Ciruttontar, the “Little Devotee”, is a Tamil account of how resolute adherence to unconditional love and unyielding devotion to Siva leads to an experience of permanent, intimate union with God.
Our central character, Parancoti of the Mamattirar clan, belongs to the varna, Ksatriyas, who lives according to his dharma, serving and protecting his king. This notion of Parancoti’s adherence to his dharma is reiterated in the narrative’s introduction. When the king finds out that Parancoti is a devotee of Siva, who has been exposed to battle, he asks for forgiveness, but Parancoti replies, “He had been simply doing his duty”. The king sends Parancoti home with wealth and honours. Adhering to his Ksatriyas dharma, living unattached to sensory objects such as wealth and prestige (Manusmrti 1.88-91), he humbly concerns himself with feeding the Saiva devotees, eating only after they have first been fed. This humble devotion to feeding Saiva devotees earns Parancoti the name Ciruttontar, the “Little Devotee”. Everything about Ciruttontar’s life models the ideal dharmic life-devotion to duty. He marries Venkattunankai, who bears him a beautiful son, Ciralan, who by five years old, is already attending school. Ciruttontar embodies a proper dharmic life of the householder.
This Tamil bhakti tale is about absolute love and fanatical devotion. Ciruttontar’s unconditional sacrifice of daily service to Saiva devotees does not go unnoticed by the god, Siva. Ciruttontar’s love is so devout that Siva recognizes it as having the “essence of truth”. To relish Ciruttontar’s excessive emotional “dish of love, Siva manifests himself in the human world as a Bhairava-an extreme Saiva ascetic who mimics Siva. The author, Cekkilar, presents his two main characters as polar opposites-Siva as a hungry god and Ciruttontar as the servant who is obsessed with feeding him. Siva arrives at the home of Ciruttontar suffering with an acute insatiable hunger. Ciruttontar, on this particular day, returns home in a state of emotional hopelessness at having found no devotees to feed. But, upon his return, he discovers there is an extremely hungry ascetic, whose appearance imitates Siva, waiting under the atti tree (considered the abode of Siva) at Siva’s shrine of Kanapaticcaram. Ciruttontar is lifted from a emotional state of utter despair to the extreme emotion of joyous salvation at having found a Saiva devotee to feed. Bowing before the ascetic, Ciruttontar learns that this ascetic cannot be fed! An impossible deed the ascetic claims, yet Ciruttontar is unmoved in his resolve to feed the devotee, claiming no task is impossible when it concerns the devotees of Siva. The ascetic reiterates that the task is impossible, but Ciruttontar is adamant in his task to feed Siva. So, the ascetic requests a human five year old child who is unblemished and from a good family. Furthermore, the son must be slaughtered by the mother and father with joyous hearts! Cekkilar positions everything in extreme opposites, for there is no middle ground for this hungry god. The ascetic represents the impossible task of feeding God and Ciruttontar symbolizes the obsessive love and devotion of a devotee to attempt the impossible. Furthermore, the meal requested contradicts the householder’s dharma. To slaughter a son who is necessary for the fulfillment of a householder’s dharma and is yet another radical and daunting task, even for one so devoted and passionate as Ciruttontar. Yet, Ciruttontar is undaunted and quickly explains his joyous task to his wife, Venkattunankai. They both agree that they alone are equipped to fulfill such a task. Cekkilar illustrates, as both Ciruttontar and his wife prepare the boy for slaughter, all, including Ciralan, as the sacrificial son, are ecstatically joyous, laughing in supreme happiness at the task before them. Dharma is taken to the farthest extreme-Ciruttontar’s total fixated devotion to Siva, Venkattunankai’s absolute fidelity to her husband, and Ciralan’s unconditional obedience to his father’s desires. Cekkilar expresses this notion absolute loyalty most succinctly in the thoughts of Ciruttontar; “My great, incomparable son has given us the essence of truth”. Venkattunankai too, expresses total obedience, “My husband has given me precious life.” (Shulman p. 27). The son slaughtered , the house prepared with flowers and incense, Ciruttontar, having purified himself and filled with a joy and desire now greater than ever, approaches and treats the ascetic as a god by performing puja before him. However, the ascetic asks he be given all the curries, including the boy’s head. Ciruttontar is dismayed for he thought the head inappropriate and had discarded it. But his frustration is quickly taken to elation because his maidservant has had the foresight to save the head and has made it into curry. Yet, the ascetic is still not ready to eat and requests that some guests join him in the feast. No one is near, thus Ciruttontar, who is fanatically focused on fulfilling his duty to feed the Saiva devotee, agrees to join the ascetic and prepares to eat the human prasada himself. Once again, the ascetic is still not satisfied and requests Ciruttontar’s flawless son join them for the meal. This last request threatens Ciruttontar’s single-hearted task of devotion to feed this devotee. He tells the ascetic his son cannot join them, but the ascetic is unmoved and insists Ciruttontar call his son. Both, Ciruttontar and Venkattunankai, who are now beyond reason and judgment, call out for slaughtered son to join them and out of nowhere, Ciralan appears feeding and nourishing Ciruttontar’s and Venkattunankai’s reborn emotion of absolute joy. The ascetic disappears and Ciruttontar, Venkattunankai and Ciralan realize the truth of this incident. All experience darsan at its fullest, basking in absolute communion with Siva, knowing they will never be separated from God again. Ciruttontar’s fidelity to Siva exemplifies the fanatical devotion of the Nayanars. With Ciruttontar’s puja offering of unconditional love and unyielding devotion to Siva, he receives the ultimate prasada-a permanent and intimate union with God.
Hudson’s article, “Violent and Fanatical Devotion Among the Nayanars: A Study in the Periya Puranam of Cekkilar”, expands the theme of absolute devotion to God. Stories, such as Ciruttontar, demonstrate the Nayanars expanded cultic context of bhakti that the Bhagavad Gita leaves underdeveloped. Ciruttontar’s tale exhibits a fanatical and violent display of bhakti-participation in the object of devotion and the corollary effects of absolute devotion to Siva for the householder. Hudson explains, from a human point of view, Ciruttontar’s acts are murderous and cannibalistic, but because God transcends the order of things, divine actions cannot be evaluated in human moral categories (Hudson p. 375). Furthermore, when God enters into human reality, a problem occurs for devotees since they are compelled to act in a manner that often violates societal moral norms. The Nayanars believed that Siva does this to initiate the ideal nature of the devotee’s love for Siva, and though often a fanatical and violent response ensues, Siva delights in devouring this emotional love of his devotees. Hudson examines these fanatical and violent acts of devotion in a context that is consistent with Tamil Hindu culture (Hudson p. 376). The Tamil word for love is anpu and can be used synonymously with bhakti, which in Tamil terms implies an intense incessant desire to perform acts of love for Siva, as demonstrated by Ciruttontar’s fanatical daily sacrifice of feeding Saiva devotees. Ciruttontar’s encounter with the extreme Saiva ascetic, a Bhairva, represents a cultic element of Agamic Saivism-a “slave of Siva” who wear the emblems of Siva-a crescent moon in his hair, a forehead mark of gleaming white ash, a necklace of brilliant crystal hides the dark stain on his through, the flayed skin of the elephant-demon, Gajasura, covers his body, draped in garlands and necklaces his left hand holds the trident and Brahma’s skull, his right the tamarukam drum (Shulman p 21). Nayanars treat these slaves of Siva as manifestations of Siva himself. This explains why Ciruttontar is prepare to go to any lengths in order to feed the Bhairva (Hudson p.375). This also explains why Ciruttontar, after slaughtering his son, purifies himself and prepares his home with garlands and incense and performs puja to the ascetic. It is important to note that Ciruttontar’s violent act of filicide is not done out of devotion to the ascetic, but from emotional attachment to Siva. Hudson explains that in the Bhagavad Gita, Krishna tells Arjuna to “attach your mind to Me” and Cekkilar in his tale of “the Little Devotee” shows us how.
Ciruttontar’s deed of filicide is explained by the notion of “love as participation in Siva”. “Excessive rather than restrained love is the ideal”. Ciruttontar’s extreme act of slaughtering his son to feed the Saiva ascetic demonstrates the superior traits of the devotee’s love (Hudson p. 381). Hudson explains, as the devotee’s anpu matures there is a transubstantiation of the devotees nature which dissolves his attachments to others in society. This leads to a single-minded commitment of one’s entire being to Siva, which, from an outward observation, appears to others as a psychotic infatuation (Hudson p. 382). Furthermore, Siva and Ciruttontar are linked (that is, Ciruttontar is attached to Siva and Siva is attached to Ciruttontar). Hudson suggests that anpu is the drug they both share in common and that the anpu is connected by flesh and blood. This notion is reiterated in the story’s conclusion-Ciruttontar, by giving his own flesh and blood, that is his son, Ciralan, in an act of love and devotion to feed Siva; Siva responds in anpu and Ciruttontar experiences darsan with Siva (Hudson p. 383).
Shulman’s book, “The Hungry God: Hindu Tales of Filicide and Devotion” focuses on the theme of hunger, feeding and eating. At first glance, the stories Ciruttontar and the Jewish patriarch, Abraham seem very much alike-both are asked by God to sacrifice their sons. However, Shulman shows, whereas the Jewish God is testing Abraham’s loyalty and worthiness of man, Siva has a different purpose. Shulman explores the motivations of both Ciruttontar and Siva and why they join forces in the obsessive matter of food and feeding.
Ciruttontar’s tale is a passionate story of love. Unlike Yoga ideology, which seeks to transcend the realm of senses and emotions, Tamil bhakti seeks to embody the passions to heighten the connection between god and human. Shulman asserts for love to be real, it cannot be tasted ethereally, it must be lived in a sensory and emotional experience. This is the nature of the Tamil universe-that the god and human connection must be a fanatical one. Siva hungers to savour Ciruttontar’s love, so much so that he leaves the outer divine sphere to the inner world of Ciruttontar’s household. Ciruttontar’s fanatical devotion to feed Saiva devotees coincides perfectly with Siva’s need as an all-devouring Absolute. Siva, who playfully refuses to eat, teases out Ciruttontar’s demonstration of anpu-to taste a feast of fanatical devotion (Shulman p.37). Siva desires to leave the outer ethereal realm and enter the inner human world of sensual and emotional intensity to feed his active hunger for human love (Shulman p. 40). Complimenting Shiva’s motivations is Ciruttontar’s need to feed him. “Love (anpu) is both a goal and a means”. Shulman explains that Ciruttontar’s love conquers god through the bhakti relationship where the devotee, by offering love, reaches a state of power and autonomy over the god he serves-“the giver of love enjoys a meaningful advantage over the recipient” (Shulman p. 41). Puja is a powerful means of accomplishing this goal. This notion gives us insight into why Ciruttontar’s frustration with feeding Siva is far more compelling than the slaughter of his own son. Ontic and psychological boundaries are crossed resulting in a sudden revelation through possession and god manifests and takes control of the human self. But the moment is short-lived and the deity vanishes leaving the human self hungry for the absent lover. Thus Ciruttontar’s passion to feed Siva is fueled by the god’s hunger and his craving for absorption within the elusive deity. Shulman describes this duality as eating and being eaten-taking the other into ourselves and ourselves being consumed (Shulman p. 42). By taking on the burden of god’s need and pain and offering what he loves most, his slaughtered son as puja, Ciruttontar experiences an explicit revelation when the ascetic and food disappears, and he and his family are transformed, consumed by Siva never to be parted. Conversely, Siva, too, has been satisfied, full on the taste of human love.
Sources:
Hudson, Dennis. 1989. Violent and fanatical devotion among the Nayanmars: a study in the Periya puranam of Cekkilar. In A. Hiltebeitel (ed.) Criminal gods and demon devotees: Essays on the guardians of popular Hinduism. Albany: SUNY Press. 374-404.
Shulman, David. 1993. The Hungry God. Hindu Tales of Filicide and Devotion. Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press. 18-47.