AN OFFERING TO THE LORD

Thinnan, was the son of a mighty chief of a hunting tribe. Born and brought up by skilled hunters Thinnan, from an early age, mastered the art of archery. A masterful hunter it was not long before he began leading his people on daring expeditions deep into the forest. 

One warm summer’s day,, while in pursuit of a wild boar, Thinnan raced ahead of his tribe, his feet pounding against the earth, his breath quick and determined. The thrill of the hunt surged through him, but in his single-minded chase, he lost his way. He had entered a corner of the jungle he had never seen before He halted, his chest heaving, his keen eyes scanning the dense wilderness. Turning one way, then another, he sought a path home only to stumble upon something entirely unexpected - a small, secluded shrine nestled within the forest’s embrace. It was simple, yet pristine, its sanctity untouched by time or neglect. Its sole treasure was a solitary Shivalinga. The air around it pulsed with an inexplicable energy, its presence both powerful and serene. Thinnan felt an unfathomable pull toward the shrine, as though an unseen force had guided his steps.

Curious Thinnan ventured closer to the shrine. Unbeknownst to him, the shrine was tended by a poor Brahmin who lived in a distant town several miles away. Too frail and impoverished to make the arduous journey daily, the priest visited only once a fortnight. On each visit he diligently cleaned the shrine, adorned the lingam with fresh bilva leaves and flowers and made a humble offering of milk, He would offer his obeisance to the Lord and chant prayers before returning home leaving the shrine once again to the solitude of the forest.

That fateful day there was no priest, no prayers - only the Shivalinga, standing in silent dignity. Thinnan stood before the Linga, his heart stirred with a strange, newfound reverence - he longed to make an offering to this divine presence. But he knew nothing of sacred rites or proper offerings.  He was a hunter, a man of the wild. The one thing he cherished most was his food—the meat he procured from his hunts. And so, in the purity of his untamed devotion, Thinnan chose to offer what he loved most—meat.

The next day, the Brahmin priest made his arduous fortnightly journey through the dense forest, his heart filled with devotion as he approached the secluded shrine. He was horrified to see raw meet placed at the base of the sacred lingam. He assumed that some wild animal had left the remains of a kill at the shrine. Patiently he cleaned the lingam with fresh water that he collected in his Kamandalu from the river that flowed a short distance away. He cleaned the Shivalinga, made his offerings, bowed to the Lord and said his prayers. Satisfied that he had done his duty well he returned home.  

Thinnan had become a devoted visitor to the secluded shrine, returning day after day with fresh offerings of meat. Seated before the sacred stone, he spoke freely, pouring out his heart, his joys and sorrows, his hopes and fears. In these moments, beneath the vast canopy of the ancient forest, he felt a peace unlike any he had ever known before.

One morning, as he walked through the wilderness, his eyes fell upon a tree adorned with delicate mauve-hued blossoms; their petals kissed by the golden light of dawn looked exquisite. A thought stirred within him, “These will be perfect to adorn my Lord”. 

Smiling to himself, he reached up and plucked handfuls of the fragrant flowers. But he had nothing to carry them in. Without hesitation, he wove the blossoms into his long, untamed hair, securing them carefully. With his usual offering of fresh meat in hand, he made his way to the shrine, his heart brimming with devotion. Once there, he knelt before the lingam, gently plucked each flower from his hair and placed it lovingly at the deity’s feet. The vibrant blooms, a gift of nature, and the raw meat, a gift of his labour, stood side by side—offerings from a heart that knew no ritual, only pure, unshaken love.

The next day as he made his way to pay homage to the Lord a gust of breeze blew some of the dusty earth at him.  Immediately his thought went to his beloved Lord and he thought, “This breeze may have covered my Lord in dust. I must bathe him and keep him clean.”

Remembering   that a river wound its way through the forest he hurried toward it. Kneeling by the water’s edge, he cupped his hand, scooping up the cool, clear liquid. He had barely taken a few steps before all the water had seeped out through his fingers vanishing into the thirsty earth. Not willing to give up he scanned the surroundings until his eyes landed on a broad, sturdy leaf. He gently, plucked the leaf. He dipped it into the river, watching as the water pooled within its natural folds. Holding it carefully, he set off toward the shrine, his pace steady, his heart filled with purpose.  However, the shrine was a distance away from the river and by the time he reached the shrine he found that most of the water had either dripped out or else evaporated in the searing heat! Though disappointed he carried on with his regular ritual of making his floral and meat offerings. Thereafter he had his lengthy conversation with the Lord.

The very next day as he passed the river he had what he felt was an exceptional idea – he would carry the water to bathe the Lord in his mouth and run all the way to the shrine and bathe the Lord and keep Him dust free. Without hesitation, he bent low at the river’s edge, cupped the cool liquid into his mouth, ever careful not to swallow a drop. His breath steady, his resolve firm, he took off in a swift, tireless sprint through the dense forest, his every step driven by devotion.

Henceforth he followed the practice of carrying meat in his hand, flowers in his hair and water in his mouth all to worship Lord Shiva.

From that day forward, this became his sacred ritual. He carried fresh meat in his hands, plucked flowers and tucked them into his wild hair, and held the pure river water in his mouth—all for his beloved Lord.

A fortnight later, when the old Brahmin returned to the shrine, a wave of shock and revulsion washed over him. His beloved Shivalinga, once pristine, now lay desecrated—scattered with pieces of raw meat, wilted flowers tangled with stray strands of hair, and worst of all, defiled by spittle. His heart clenched. This was no act of a wild beast—it was the doing of some misguided, impious soul. Tears welled in his eyes as he gazed upon the sacred space, now sullied in the most profane manner. Grief and indignation warred within him. How could anyone show such disrespect to the divine?

Yet, despite the sorrow that weighed upon him, his devotion remained unshaken. With a heavy heart, he set about his duty, cleansing the shrine with reverence, purifying the lingam as best as he could. Bowing before the deity, he prayed fervently, his voice trembling with emotion, pleading that such desecration would never happen again.

Thinnan continued visiting the shrine and performing his loving ritual for the Lord and every fortnight the Brahmin would come and perform the painful task of having to clean up the shrine after what he believed was its defilement.

Then one day overcome with sorrow at his inability to keep the Lord free from this filthy violation. He folded his palms and pleaded, “Lord, you are the purest and greatest of all the Gods surely you can prevent such indignities to your lingam?”

The compassionate Lord Shiva was deeply moved by the priest’s words and he spoke to the priest and said, “My beloved devotee what you consider as indignities and defilement of my lingam are in fact loving offerings made by another of my most sincere devotees. Whereas you see only what is offered I see the love and purity of the heart of the person making the offering. It matters little to me what he offers. All that matters is the intensity of love behind those offerings.”

Seeing the disbelief and lack of comprehension on the bewildered priest’s face the Lord continued, “I am bound by his devotion. It is his love that compels me to accept all that he offers.  It is almost time for him to arrive. Why don’t you wait and see what happens? Hide behind the bushes and watch him unobserved.”

The priest waited and just as the Lord had said along came the hunter Thinnan. He carried meat in his hands, flowers in his hair and his cheeks, filled with water, were blown out like a balloon. Thinnan spat the water from his mouth on the lingam and loving cleaned the stone. He picked out the flowers from his hair and carefully placed them around the lingam, finally he placed the meat before the Shivalinga. Thereafter he sat before the lingam and commenced on a heartfelt and lengthy conversation with the Lord. 

Suddenly, to the consternation of both the priest and the hunter, a miraculous yet harrowing sight unfolded. A deep crimson stream of blood started oozing from the left eye of the Lord staining the sacred stone. Thinnan rushed out into the thicket and plucked some herbs from the bushes surrounding the shrine and placed it over the Lord’s eye. But to his dismay this only made matters worse and the blood started flowing even more forcefully. Unable to bear the suffering of the Lord Thinnan without another thought pulled out one of the knives tied to his waist band and gouged out his left eye. The moment he placed it on the linga the blood stopped. Thinnan sighed with relief. He folded his hands in gratitude to the Lord. His relief was short-lived as moments later a fresh trickle of blood wept from the Lords right eye. Despite his distress at the Lord’s agony, this time Thinnan knew exactly what he should do. Yet he hesitated momentarily as he considered, “If I remove my right eye too how will I be able to see where to place my it?”

After a brief moment, clarity struck him and he had found a solution to this problem. Fixing his gaze on the exact spot of the Lord’s right eye, he stepped forward pressed his foot over the eye of the Shivalinga. With the same blade that now dripped blood he, with no hesitation, made a stab below his own right eye and wrenched it from its socket.  Neither the pain nor the complete darkness that now engulfed him concerned him. Stretching out his hand that held his eye he reached out for his foot that marked the exact position of the bleed and resolutely placed his severed eye beneath his foot.

Lord Shiva could not endure the depth of Thinnan’s devotion any longer. Moved beyond measure, He manifested before the bleeding, sightless hunter. In an instant, Thinnan’s vision was restored—his eyes, whole once more, beheld the radiant form of the Lord. Overcome with awe, he fell to the ground, prostrating himself in utter surrender.

From the shadows emerged the Brahmin priest, his heart pounding with disbelief. He had witnessed the impossible.  At that moment, understanding dawned upon him like the first light of dawn breaking through darkness. He had spent his entire life in meticulous worship, reciting scriptures and performing rituals with precision, believing his devotion to be complete. Yet here stood a simple hunter, unversed in sacred texts, untrained in the ways of formal worship, who had offered not just prayers, but his very flesh and blood. In a single act of boundless sacrifice, Thinnan had surpassed all possible devotion. His eyes were moist as he faced Thinnan, He too prostrated before the Lord. 

Lord Shiva blessed both of them and praised them for their devotion – each had given in their own way. 

Lord Shiva was so deeply moved by Thinnan’s unparalleled devotion that He proclaimed him a saint—a Nayanar, one of the holiest of His devotees. In honour of his supreme sacrifice, the Lord bestowed upon him a new name: Kannappa Nayanar, for he had offered his eyes ("kann" meaning "eye" in Tamil) at the feet of the Divine. Kannappa Nayanar as mentioned in the Peria Puranas was one of the 63 Tamil Saints.

Kannappa Nayanar’s legend is enshrined at the very place where his devotion reached its zenith—the revered Srikalahasteeswara Temple in Srikalahasti, a town in Andhra Pradesh in Tirupati district.  This sacred shrine is often referred to as "Dakshina Kailasam and is a place where the divine presence is said to resonate with unshakable power. It is also known as the "Kashi of the South," a beacon for pilgrims seeking spiritual transcendence. Unlike most temples that close during celestial events, Srikalahasti remains open to devotees even during solar and lunar eclipses, a testament to its boundless sanctity.

LIFE LESSON

1.     Thinnan’s story teaches us that there is no right or wrong way to offer devotion to the Lord.

2.     From the old Brahmin priest and Thinnan we learn that God is pleased with any offering big or small made with love.

3.     From Thinnan we learn that we do not need to chant prayers or shlokas to express love for God.

4.     From the Brahmin we learn that no matter how distasteful or upsetting a situation may be we must continue to do our duty.