Bom-Bom Bhole Nath

Shravan Somwar. Monday morning. Rama placed an order for bel leaves, handed a tenner, as me stepped out for a stroll. By around 12 noon she will pray to her Bom-Bom Bhole Nath or Shiva and place the leaves on the Shivaling with utmost reverence. Shiva is sure to accept it as his wife Parvati is never so considerate. She is Kali, a tough feminist. Father in Calcutta rarely defaulted on a two hour Shiva puja. For me dear Lord Shiva living with a feminist is tough going but then Shiva the Destroyer has to abide by karmic laws. Fate. Shiva is me favourite as he loves a drink, smokes, roams burning ghats, is the original Loner or Beatle. Walking Yogi Nagar Road, met Niranjan dressing his stall under the rain tree with fresh vegetables. Spotted a bamboo basket of bel leaves, handed over Rs.10 for a handful. He refused the cash. 'Nahin,' Bom-Bom Bhole Nath ko chadana hai na,' he asked. Said a 'Han'. Replied: 'Tho paisa nahin chayiye.' He touched base after 15 days with Bhole Nath of Benares. He broke from a busy mango season and nothing better than Kasi Viswanath, Ganga mayya, dal roti made by sisters at a Benares home. As he could not turn a kavad or kanvar this shravan, he decided to sell free bel leaves for Shiva devotees like Rama. Yes, it is the Bom-Bom moth as men and sometimes women, fill metal or water pots with Ganges water, tie one each to the two ends of a bamboo pole or kawad and walk; some take breaks, some do not; me has seen them in Madhya Pradesh, moving around with friend Dinesh Kothari. Bare bodied with a dhoti tied over the knees, bare legs and head, Bom-Bom Bhole Nath in every breath. Neither a walk nor a run. Head down. Gentle Shiva, Hinduism in an innocent peace mode. Walk kms. to a Shiva temple, offer the water to the Lord. Did Lord Shiva earn kindness from fellow gods; some say, he got it from Ravana but that gentleman is more a gad than god. Chatting of Benares, an auto stopped near and stepped out Madhav hailing a smiling, 'Bom Bom Bhole Nath'. That's Hinduism, a laugh not a war. A bhakt in quiet bhakti. From a two month Kasi holiday, he is back in Mumbai, driving an auto. 'Thak gaya tha, gaali-galouch, auto walla chor hai,' sunke thak gaya tha, he said. Me knows Madhav over 12 years and will stop his auto anywhere to inquire, 'Kaise hain ji.' Bathed in Ganga Mayya (not Ganges for him), said Hai to Kasi Vishwanath and dal rotis, for two months. There is a Shiva temple in his area; a priest built a roof to protect the God and make some cash on the side. A storm blew away the roof. Lord Shiva is parked in the open. That's the style of Other India. A lady walked up, inquired: 'Auto, Malad Inox.' Bom-Bom Bhole Nath, drove away. At home read Speaking of Siva translated by A.K. Ramanujan.

Saintess Mahadeviakka say:

I love the Handsome One:
he has no death
decay nor form
no place or side
no end nor birthmarks.
I love him O mother. Listen.  

Siva peace-sense.