History – Madhvacharya and Kanakadasa – {Ep.246}

Today’s episode is from history about two Krishna devotees Madhvacharya and Kanakadasa and also prominently featuring the Udupi Sri Krishna temple

Welcome to “Stories From India”. This is a podcast that will take you on a journey through the rich mythology, folklore and history of the Indian subcontinent. I am Narada Muni, the celestial storyteller and the original “time lord”. With my ability to travel through space and time, I can bring you fascinating stories from the past, the present, and the future. From the epic tales of the Mahabharata and Ramayana to the folktales of the Panchatantra to stories of Akbar-Birbal and Tenali Raman, I have a story for every occasion.

The purpose of the stories is neither to pass judgment nor to indoctrinate. My goal is only to share these stories with people who may not have heard them before and to make them more entertaining for those who have.

Today’s Story

Quick note before we begin. You can now listen to this podcast on YouTube if you like! All 270+ episodes are on it! The handle is @sfipodcast. There’s also a link in the show notes and on the site sfipodcast.com, check it out. I’ll be creating some playlists by category as well. So watch out for that.

In this episode, we’re talking about the two huge fans of Vishnu, or at any rate, fans of Krishna.  Which amounts to the same thing, since Krishna was an avatar of Vishnu. Not to toot my own horn too much, but I am Vishnu’s no. 1 fan, and president for life of his fan club. So you can rest assured I know a Vishnu fan when I see one. Or rather when I see two of them. These fans are Madhvacharya and Kanakadasa. Kanakadasa was born almost two centuries after Madhvacharya had passed away. And yet, their devotion to Vishnu isn’t the only thing that is common to them. The other surprising connection is the Krishna temple in the city of Udupi, which is located in the state of Karnataka.

Let’s begin the 13th century in Udupi with Madhvacharya. But this was before he became famous and his likeness started appearing on posters and t-shirts and chai mugs and such.

His fame at the time was limited to his house, his neighbors, his school and such. And yet the boy Madhav was known to be unusual. You’ll get no better sense of it than if I were to read out to you bits from one of his school report cards.

His teacher had written: “Madhav has an intuitive grasp of the concepts of the Universe and can debate abstract concepts with his teachers and peers. However, we recommend that he allows the class to focus on Ka, Kha, Ghas, and A, Aaa, Eees, rather than on proving the existence of a divine entity during every single lesson. We also recommend he tones down his debates during recess; the other children are starting to form philosophical societies on the playground”

That probably told you quite a bit. But that wasn’t the half of it. Madhvacharya’s abilities weren’t just in the intellectual zone. He performed several physical miracles too. There was the time that Madhav had accompanied his father when they were visiting a nearby rich farmer. Being rich, and being a miser often went hand in hand in this case. And this farmer was no exception. 

He addressed the boy. “Alright laddie, we big boys have to talk shop. So why don’t be a good boy and go run along and play in the banana plantation. If you like you can help yourself to a banana”

Being a host, and a rich one at that he should have offered something better – chai, cookies, cashews and such. But he took the easy and cheap way out. The skinny little boy would probably eat two bananas at the most. Maybe four if it was a particularly long business discussion.

But it wasn’t two or four. It was four thousand. Yes, you heard that right. The slender little elementary school boy ate about 10 times his own body weight. Now if any of you are entomologists, you know bug doctors, you’ll probably shrug your shoulders and remark that that’s nothing. A polyphemus moth eats 86,000 times its own body weight. And that may be true. But what Madhavacharya has got over a Polyphemus moth is that he did it in a couple of hours, and he topped it off by drinking several pots of milk.

Ultimately, it was an effective way for the farmer to learn. All the savings over the years by not being hospitable to his guests, he had lost that day. Ultimately the loss was bearable. The learnings were important. He was more generous to guests after that. But he also vowed never ever to invite anyone from Madhavacharya’s family to his farm again. If they had business, he’d go visit them himself, or do it on neutral grounds, like a chai shop where they could split the bill.

That wasn’t the only time Madhavcharya pulled off a miracle like that. Years later, on a visit to Badrinath, which is a holy pilgrimage site in the state of Uttarakhand, Madhavacharya repeated his ability to gobble down enough food to feed an army. And then too, he did it in a single sitting.

One of his followers nudged the other and asked if their guru was secretly a python. A suspicion that he doubled down on when Madhavacharya managed to stay immobile and to eat nothing for the following 48 days.

Well, that wasn’t all either. Madhavacharya did other things like turning tamarind seeds into Gold coins, complete with an appropriate year and monarch’s likeness stamped on them.

On his trip to Badrinath, he had walked across a river. And by that I don’t mean on a bridge or that he waded in the water. I mean he was able to literally walk on water. And he didn’t even get his feet or clothes wet.

One evening when his students needed to read but there was no oil for the lamps, and the moon wasn’t out either, Madhavacharya stepped in to help. A modern day boy scout may have started a fire by rubbing sticks, but Madhavacharya had a much more nifty trick up his sleeve. Or rather in his shoes. Because somehow Madhavacharya was able to cast a light from his toenails. And not an incandescent light which might have gotten uncomfortable but the much more environmentally friendly LED variety.

Well Madhavacharya did a bunch of things after he got back to Udupi. And that indirectly included starting Udupi cuisine. That may shock you but no, just hear me out. Madhavacharya established the Krishna Matt in Udupi which still does a lot of things for Krishna devotees. Part of the food that was prepared to feed said devotees has evolved into modern day Udupi cuisine.

The man left quite a mark on not just Udupi but the rest of the country. We’ll leave it there with his part of the story and fast forward more than two centuries to the second Vishnu fan we’re talking about in today’s episode. We’re not going too far away, in fact we are in the same state of Karnataka. 

Kanakadasa was a warrior, a soldier. He was what in Indian army terms might be considered a “freestyle” and a “minded” person. The former meaning he was colorful, and the latter that he was quite clever and intellectual as well.

Being freestyle and minded was expected, because Kanakadasa’s real desire was to be a different kind of a soldier. He didn’t want to be a soldier of fortune or even just an ordinary soldier. He wanted to be a soldier … of love. He wished to be a musician. He was inspired by the now forgotten composer Chaikovsky for the way he thought outside the Bachs. And yet Kanakadasa had to participate in a regular physical battle when he might have preferred a rap battle.

But so far, all he had done was to march to someone else’s tune. Specifically those of his commanding officer.

When Kanakadas was ordered to scale a wall, he scaled a wall. When he was asked to fight, he fought. When he was asked to risk life and limb, he got injured and ended up in the medic tent.

And through it all, his dream persisted – that one day he would write some amazing songs that would go platinum! He might have several overpriced concerts, and maybe a movie of one of the concerts, just to rake in some extra cash. The idea had taken such a firm root in his mind, that it was hard to shake it off. You might consider him a bit of an anti-hero at this stage, but hey – don’t count your chickens just yet. You’ll soon find that he’d be singing a different tune soon enough.

And that happened when a beggar approached him. Kanakadasa’s first reaction was surprise. “This is an active war zone. How did they let you in here?”

The beggar seemed to be wearing tattered clothes, and yet there was something special about him. He replied to the soldier’s question. “You called me here, my child”

Kanakadasa’s inclination was to ring the bell and have the nurses escort this beggar out. But something kept gnawing at him. He had called the beggar?! Of course he hadn’t. He had been thinking about his songs all day. All he had said out loud was a hello to the nurse. And yes. He had said “Jai Shri Krishna” as he woke up this morning. That clinched it for him. The beggar had to be Krishna himself in disguise. And Kanakadasa was right of course, but he’d definitely gotten lucky. It’s not a leap I may have made had I been in Kanakadasa’s shoes.

But the truth was out and could not be denied.

Hari/Krishna/Vishnu/the beggar replied that yes, he was Hari/Krishna/Vishnu/the beggar. And he could see that Kanakadasa was a Trebled man. He wanted to offer a way out – so he offered Kanakadasa three wishes. 

This was a transformative moment for the wounded soldier. Don’t know if you’ve heard the Purandaradasa episode recently, but a very similar situation happened there. A diamond merchant who cared only about money gave it all up and devoted the rest of his life to Vishnu. With Kanakadasa it was a similar story.

His first wish was for all his injuries to be healed. Not spiritually transformative you might say, but physically, certainly.

The beggar granted it instantly, which also immediately proved to any unconvinced observers amongst you that the beggar was, in fact, Vishnu.

It didn’t matter to Kanakadasa. He wasn’t the least bit surprised when his wounds healed and he was back in perfect shape again.

He was ready with his next wish. He wanted Vishnu to appear before him whenever Kanakadasa called on him. Some of you might think that’s a bit selfish, no? Wouldn’t that be depriving the rest of the Universe from Vishnu’s attention, even if it was just during those fleeting moments that Kanakadasa chose to call on Vishnu? But unlike real life, and unlike the chocolate frogs’ cards in the Harry Potter universe, Vishnu can actually be everywhere all at once. So this was really not a concern at all. 

As for the third wish, Kanakadasa wanted once, right now perhaps, to view Vishnu in his original form. Not as a beggar. Or even as just Krishna or Rama or any of the other avatars. He wanted to know what Vishnu really looked like.

Kanakadasa wasn’t the first to receive this vision. Notably, Krishna revealed this to Arjun on the Mahabharata battlefield during the narration of the Bhagavad Gita. Let’s just say that Vishnu granted this wish and leave it at that. And I’m not simply glossing over it, I just don’t think I can do justice to Vishnu’s Vishvarupa, his all-encompassing true form in any format – written, verbal, visual. Let’s just say that it has to be seen to be understood. I have been lucky in this respect, as has Arjun and now Kanakadasa had just joined the club.

The spiritual transformation was complete even before the wishes were granted. Kanakadasa had not asked for personal glory or new songwriting abilities. He had only asked for things he could do to further spread Vishnu’s word across the country.

He began his mission. Getting out of the army was easy enough. None of his commanding officers looked at him when making the discharge decision. They only looked at his paperwork describing the extent of his unhealable injuries. And so, Kanakadasa was given his pension, a medal, some flowers, and was politely shown the exit door. 

Kanakadasa gave away the medal and flowers to some beggars right outside. Who couldn’t use a medal or flowers, other than to sell them in the second hand market in exchange for a meal. As for his pension, Kanakadasa spent it all on a Tambora – a wise choice given he needed something to make music with. He could sing but a musical instrument to accompany him would mean more people would be likely to pay attention to his singing.

He knew exactly where to begin. Udupi. He landed there with no checked baggage, or carry-on. Just his tambora which qualified as a personal item on the bullock carts that he hitched a ride on. He had chosen Udupi because this was it – this was the Krishna capital of the country. There was the Krishna Matt run by disciples of Madhvacharya, there was a temple with a very famous Krishna idol. If Kanakadasa wanted to spread new praises and new songs about Krishna, there was no better gathering of Krishna devotees.

When he walked into the Udupi Temple complex though, something happened that may throw some questionable light on his decision to spend all his money on the Tambora. Because he was denied entry. The security scholars who acted very busy and all-important didn’t even waste time explaining. They simply pointed to a sign that said “Management reserves the right to refuse darshan.” And it suddenly became clear to Kanakadasa why that was. He looked down at his own clothes. They were just dirty rags.

Maybe Kanakadasa should have invested at least a couple of rupees on his appearance. He could have gotten the oak version instead of the neem version, and used the rest of the money to get a nice new dhoti. It was too late now. He’d try again, in the evening hours, when hopefully in the poor light, the security priests would not be able to screen him out again.

Evening came and Kanakadasa tried again. But as it happened the security priests were not there. Unknown to him, they had stepped away for their chai break. And they had left the gate unlocked. Well, that was a sign of welcome, practically. So Kanakadasa walked in confidently and started towards the inner chamber where Krishna’s idol was. This was an important moment for Kanakadasa, he had heard of this temple and the Krishna idol and he really really wanted this darshan. Even though he had previously had the much more comprehensive Vishwarupa, when it came to visions of Vishnu, he always wanted more!

But he didn’t get to see the idol. The security priests came back. They saw him on the premises and immediately tackled him to the ground. And because they recognized him from earlier in the day, they suspected ill intentions on his part. They beat him up and threw him out.

Kanakadasa lay on the ground outside the temple. He wasn’t upset at the priests. His attention was all on the Krishna idol inside the temple complex. His body hurt from the thrashing but he walked to the western side of the temple. From here, all he could see was a wall. But on the other side of the wall was the idol. At least the back of the idol, because idols in temples faced east. He longed for a darshan of the Krishna idol. He hoped that the wall would just disappear even briefly so that he could take one look, just one look at Krishna. And because he was bursting with musical talent, he wrote a song on the spot describing his feelings. And performed it right then and there.

It was late in the evening, but his singing was melodious and soon a crowd had gathered. At the conclusion of the last verse, which was an appeal to the Krishna idol to reveal itself, that is exactly what happened. A part of the wall crumbled, and through the resulting hole, everyone could see that the Krishna idol inside was now facing west, starting right at Kanakadasa.

Obviously there were lots of dropped jaws, lots of gasps and shouts from the crowd. When the head priest arrived, he, at least, recognized divine intervention. It was going against the norm, but he would leave the idol facing west. And what’s more he had the hole in the wall enlarged.

The hole in the wall is still there today. Visitors to the temple to this day view the idol through the hole by tradition before they even enter the temple.

That’s it for this time

Some notes on the show

The window through while the Krishna idol can be seen is called the Kanakana Kindi, named after Kanakadasa, of course.

Also thankfully, in this day and age we don’t have aggressive screening of visitors to the temple. The management at the Krishna matt learned their lessons and retrained all security priests from then on.

Check out Purandaradasa’s story, episode 238. It’s linked on the site sfipodcast.com. It has a similar transformative theme as Kanakadasa’s story.

That’s all for now. 

Next Time

In the next episode, it’s Tenali Raman time again. We’ll see the court jester from Vijayanagara take on another challenge and come out on top as usual.

Feedback

Thank you all for the comments on Social Media and on Spotify’s Q&A! I can’t directly reply to the questions there, but I’ll address them here on this show.

Thank you Onkar Veer, Hank Rearden, Libby, Aniv, Mamta, Navya.

Jenn – glad you liked the stories.

Aniv – love that you and your mom loved the Angad episode. Let me know if you have any suggestions.

Kaira – yes I was a farmer briefly but just in that episode. And all of that may have been Maya anyway.

And nice catch – I will fix that, I had definitely meant that Brahma is the creator and Vishnu is the preserver.

Doing episodes twice a week is going to be a bit challenging – especially as I have a full time job traveling the universe, managing the Vishnu fan club, hobnobbing with Gods and Goddesses and so on.

I’ll also have to research a bit about Jamshedji Tata and I’ll try and add it to my backlog.

Libby – Akbar Birbal is queued up so it will come up soonish.

Deepinjoy – hope you liked today’s story though it didn’t directly feature Krishna. We are getting back to the Mahabharata soon, so you’ll get to hear more about Krishna

Navya, I’ll try and cover some of Krishna’s childhood stories that we haven’t already covered before.

Thank you as always Shalu! As it happens, the next story I have lined up, while not a Byomkesh Bakshi or Karamchand, does have Raman do some bit of detection. Let me know what you think after next week’s episode.

Shwetha – yes I’ve been meaning to do one on Vivekananda in general. I’ll give it a shot

Prasanna, I hope you had a great birthday! And I will work on an Andhra or Telangana folk tale as well.

Taal, I hope you liked today’s episode.

Darsh – yes indeed. If it was an ordinary person balancing ten heads would lead to a lot of logistical difficulties for most people. For Ravana though, he had received all kinds of superpowers that allowed him to lift mountains so one lesser known skill is his ability to balance his heads so that he wouldn’t constantly keep falling over. But now that you mention it I’m seriously tempted to go back in time before the Ramayana to the Lanka palace, and to give him a gentle nudge, purely by accident of course, to see if he tips over!

If you have any other comments or suggestions or if there are particular stories you’d like to hear, please do let me know by leaving a comment or a review on the site sfipodcast.com, or reply to the questions on Spotify Q&A. You can also find me on Instagram and Facebook. You can listen to the show on all podcast apps, and that now includes Youtube. If you want to send me an email it’s stories.from.india.podcast@gmail.com.

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A big thank you to each of you for your continued support and your feedback.

The music is from Purple Planet.

Thanks for listening and I’ll see you next time!