In My Hands Today…

A Thousand Feasts: Small Moments of Joy… A Memoir of Sorts – Nigel Slater

Nigel Slater has kept notebooks of curiosities and wonderings, penned while at his kitchen table, soaked in a fisherman’s hut in Reykjavik, sitting calmly in a moss garden in Japan or sheltering from a blizzard in a Vienna konditorei. Nigel records the small things, events and happenings that gave pleasure before they disappeared. In A Thousand Feasts he details a soup for breakfast, packing a suitcase for a trip and watching a butterfly settle on a carpet, hiding in plain sight. He gives short stories of feasts such as a mango eaten in monsoon rain or a dish of restorative macaroni cheese.

This funny and sharply observed collection of the good bits of life, often things that pass many of us by, is utter joy from beginning to end. Nigel hones in on the scent of a bunch of home-grown sweet peas, the sound of water breathing at night in Japan, the occasional pfuff as a tiny avalanche of snow falls from leaves.

Sacred Stones, Spaces, and Stories: Divya Desams – Part 32

Thiruvanparisaram Temple, Thiruvanparisaram, Tamil Nadu
Thiruvanparisaram, located near Nagercoil in Tamil Nadu, is one of those Divya Desams where the mood of the temple is set not by scale or spectacle, but by a single, intimate detail. The presiding deity here is Thiruvazhmarban Perumal, and the goddess is Kamalavalli Thayar. The name Thiruvazhmarban itself carries the meaning. It refers to the Lord who holds the goddess on his chest. In many Vishnu temples, Lakshmi resides symbolically on the Lord’s chest, but here that presence feels more immediate, more visible, more central. The temple is built around that closeness. It is not just a theological idea. It is something you are meant to notice and sit with.

The legend of Thiruvanparisaram is connected to Lakshmi’s penance. According to tradition, the goddess once wished to remain inseparably close to Vishnu, not as a distant presence but as one who is always held and never set aside. She performed penance at this place, seeking that union. Vishnu appeared before her and granted the wish, holding her on his chest in a way that symbolised complete togetherness. The temple takes its identity from that moment. It is not about separation and reunion. It is about the desire to remain close and the grace that allows that closeness to continue.

Inside the sanctum, this idea becomes clear in the form of the deity. Thiruvazhmarban Perumal stands in a composed posture, but the presence of the goddess is not an afterthought. It is integral to how the Lord is understood. The image carries a sense of balance that is both steady and warm. Kamalavalli Thayar’s presence is not separate from the experience of the main shrine. It is part of it. That changes the tone of the temple. It shifts the focus from individual devotion to shared presence.

There is also a deeper layer to this idea of closeness. In many devotional traditions, the relationship between the devotee and the divine is described in terms of the distance that must be crossed. Here, the emphasis is different. The temple suggests that closeness itself is a form of grace. It is not always something to be achieved. Sometimes it is something to be recognised. That recognition gives the temple a quiet steadiness.

Historically, Thiruvanparisaram reflects the long religious continuity of the southern region of Tamil Nadu, with influences from both Tamil and Kerala traditions. The temple is believed to have been supported by local rulers and communities across centuries, and like many temples in this part of the country, it has evolved through periods of care and restoration. The structure does not aim for monumental scale. It remains grounded, shaped by the rhythm of the land and the communities around it.

Architecturally, the temple carries elements that reflect this regional blending. The layout follows the familiar structure of South Indian temples, but there are also features that echo Kerala-style construction, especially in the use of materials and the way the rooflines are shaped. The sanctum remains the focal point, drawing attention not through size but through the presence of the deity. The temple tank and surrounding spaces add to the sense of calm. Nothing feels excessive. Everything feels measured.

The daily rituals at Thiruvanparisaram follow the Vaishnavite tradition, with regular pujas performed throughout the day. The temple becomes more active during festivals such as Vaikunta Ekadasi and Brahmotsavam, but even then, the atmosphere remains steady. The focus does not shift away from the central idea of the temple. It continues to revolve around the presence of the Lord and the goddess together.

For pilgrims, the experience of Thiruvanparisaram is shaped by its setting. The temple lies away from larger urban centres, and that distance creates a different kind of arrival. The pace slows naturally, and the surroundings allow the mind to settle. Once inside, the sanctum quietly holds attention. There is no need to rush. The image of the Lord holding the goddess close begins to carry its own meaning.

Culturally, Thiruvanparisaram holds its place within the Divya Desam tradition through the hymns of the Alvars, who recognised the significance of the shrine. Over time, the temple has also become associated with themes of harmony, unity and balance in relationships. Devotees often come here not only with personal prayers but with a sense of seeking steadiness in their lives.

In modern times, the temple continues to function as a living place of worship, maintained through regular rituals and community involvement. It does not draw large crowds in the way some temples do, but it remains quietly present for those who seek it out. That presence feels consistent with the identity of the temple itself.

Thiruvanparisaram ultimately represents closeness as a form of strength. Thiruvazhmarban Perumal does not stand alone. He stands with the goddess held close, and that image becomes the centre of the temple’s meaning. In the larger Divya Desam journey, this shrine offers a gentle reminder. Not all forms of grace are about distance being crossed. Some are about the absence of distance altogether.

Thirukkurungudi Temple, Thirukkurungudi, Tamil Nadu
Thirukkurungudi, located at the foothills of the Western Ghats in southern Tamil Nadu, feels like a place where the land itself slows you down before you even enter the temple. The presiding deity here is Azhagiya Nambi, and the goddess is Kurungudivalli Thayar. The name Thirukkurungudi carries a simple meaning. Kurungu suggests something small or compact, and kudi refers to a dwelling. It is often understood as the sacred place where the Lord chose to reside in a smaller, more accessible form. That idea shapes the entire temple. This is not about distance or grandeur. It is about nearness, about a presence that becomes approachable without losing its depth.

The mythology of Thirukkurungudi reflects this idea of the divine stepping closer to the devotee. One of the most well-known stories connected with this temple is that of Nampaduvan, a devotee born outside the traditional structures of society, who nevertheless held unwavering devotion to the Lord. According to tradition, he would come every year on the night of Ekadasi to sing before the deity. One such night, he was stopped by a rakshasa who demanded that he become his meal. Nampaduvan requested time to complete his vow of singing before the Lord, promising to return afterwards. True to his word, he returned after fulfilling his devotion, ready to give himself up. Moved by this honesty, the rakshasa revealed that he was under a curse and was freed through the merit of Nampaduvan’s truthfulness. The story does not rely on spectacle. It rests on integrity. It suggests that devotion is measured not by status but by sincerity.

Another important layer of the temple’s identity is its connection to Ramanuja. Tradition holds that the Lord here, Azhagiya Nambi, played a direct role in guiding Ramanuja. In one story, the Lord himself is said to have taken the form of Ramanuja’s disciple to learn from him, reversing the usual roles of teacher and student. This detail matters because it reflects a deeper idea. The divine is not always above learning. It participates, listens and engages. That willingness to step into human roles gives the temple a distinct philosophical depth.

Inside the temple, Azhagiya Nambi appears in multiple forms, each carrying its own meaning. The main deity stands in a graceful posture, but there are also other forms within the temple complex, including Ninra Nambi (standing), Irunda Nambi (seated), Kidanda Nambi (reclining) and Thirupaarkadal Nambi, located near the river. Together, these forms create a sense of completeness. The Lord is not limited to a single posture or state. He is present in different ways, reflecting the different ways in which devotees approach him.

Historically, Thirukkurungudi has been an important centre of Vaishnavite worship, with roots that extend through the Pandya and later periods. The temple has been maintained and expanded over centuries, with contributions from various rulers and local communities. The structure reflects this continuity, with a large gopuram, spacious prakarams and intricately carved pillars. Yet despite its size, the temple does not feel overwhelming. The presence of the surrounding hills and the open landscape keeps it grounded.

Architecturally, the temple stands out for its detail and proportion. The gopuram rises prominently, marking the temple’s presence from a distance, while the inner spaces guide the movement inward in a steady rhythm. The carvings reflect both mythological themes and everyday life, creating a sense of connection between the sacred and the ordinary. The nearby river and the natural surroundings add to the temple’s atmosphere, reinforcing its sense of place.

The daily rituals at Thirukkurungudi follow the Vaishnavite tradition, with multiple pujas performed throughout the day. Festivals such as Brahmotsavam, Vaikunta Ekadasi and the Kaiśika Ekadasi festival, which is closely linked to the story of Nampaduvan, bring larger gatherings of devotees. During the Kaiśika Ekadasi, the story of Nampaduvan is retold, and the temple becomes a space where devotion is remembered through narrative as much as through ritual.

The pilgrimage experience at Thirukkurungudi is shaped by both the temple and its surroundings. The approach through the foothills, the sound of the river and the openness of the landscape all contribute to a sense of calm. Once inside, the presence of multiple forms of Nambi invites a slower pace. Devotees often move through the temple not just to see the main sanctum but to experience each form, allowing the meaning of the temple to unfold gradually.

Culturally, Thirukkurungudi holds a strong place within the Divya Desam tradition through the hymns of the Alvars, particularly Thirumangai Alvar, who sang extensively about this temple. Over time, it has also become associated with themes of equality, sincerity and the accessibility of the divine. The story of Nampaduvan continues to resonate, reminding devotees that devotion is not limited by social position.

In modern times, Thirukkurungudi remains an active temple, drawing pilgrims from across the region and beyond. Despite increased access and visibility, it retains its quiet character. The rituals continue, the stories are retold, and the temple remains part of a living tradition rather than a preserved past.

Thirukkurungudi ultimately represents nearness as a form of grace. Azhagiya Nambi does not remain distant or unreachable. He becomes small enough to be approached, close enough to be known. In the larger Divya Desam journey, this temple offers a simple but powerful insight. The divine does not lose anything by coming closer. It becomes easier to recognise.

In My Hands Today…

Once Upon A Time In The West…Country – Tony Hawks

You can take the man out of the city, but is the countryside ready for him?

Comedian and born and bred townie, Tony Hawks is not afraid of a challenge – or indeed a good bet. He’s hitchhiked round Ireland with a fridge and taken on the Moldovan football team at tennis, one by one. Now the time has come for his greatest gamble yet – turning his back on comfortable city life to move to the wilds of the West Country.

With his partner Fran in tow and their first child on the way, he embraces the rituals of village life with often absurd and hilarious results, introducing us to an ensemble of eclectic characters along the way. One minute he’s taking part in a calamitous tractor run, the next he’s chairing a village meeting, but of course he still finds time for one last solo adventure before fatherhood arrives – cycling coast to coast with a mini pig called Titch.

In the epic battle of man vs countryside, who will win out?

Poem: The Beauty of Ordinary Days

This poem comes from the idea that people are constantly taught to chase big moments: achievements, celebrations, milestones, and dramatic transformations. But real life is rarely built from extraordinary events alone. Most of our lives are made up of routines, pauses, conversations, errands, tired evenings, and quiet mornings. The poem tries to gently shift attention back to those overlooked spaces.

There is also something deeply comforting about ordinary days, especially after periods of struggle or uncertainty. When life feels chaotic, even simple routines can become grounding. A cup of tea, sunlight through a window, hearing someone move around the house: these tiny details begin to feel meaningful. The poem is really about learning to stop waiting for life to become spectacular before allowing ourselves to appreciate it.

The Beauty of Ordinary Days

Not every day arrives with fireworks.
Most days come quietly.
They slip in through half-open curtains.
through the smell of tea brewing in the kitchen,
through the familiar sound
of someone moving about the house
before the world fully wakes.

There is no grand announcement
for the ordinary days.
No orchestra.
No confetti falling from the sky.
Just laundry drying near the window,
messages replied to hours later,
a neighbour watering plants
with the same patience as yesterday.

And yet,
life happens there too.

In the waiting at the traffic light.
In cutting fruit for someone you love.
In the comfort of old clothes
that have softened with time.
In evening walks taken
without needing a destination.

We spend so much of our lives
looking toward milestones
that we almost miss the quiet miracle
of simply being alive on a Tuesday afternoon.

The truth is,
most of our existence
will never become headlines.
No one applauds us
for surviving difficult weeks,
for making dinner when we are tired,
for trying again after disappointment,
for carrying invisible grief
with grace.

But there is beauty in that too.

There is beauty
in the repetition of small rituals.
In sunlight resting briefly
on the living room floor.
In shared silence.
In unfinished books beside the bed.
In hearing laughter drift
from another room.

Ordinary days ask for nothing.
They do not demand perfection
or transformation.
They simply arrive,
softly placing small moments before us,
hoping we notice.

And maybe happiness
has never really been hidden
inside extraordinary things.

Maybe it has always lived here.
Inside warm meals.
Inside familiar roads.
Inside ordinary days
we once thought we would forget.

In My Hands Today…

On Democracies and Death Cults: Israel and the Future of Civilization – Douglas Murray

Douglas Murray, #1 international bestselling author and renowned cultural commentator, confronts arguably the most pressing question of our Why are Western supporters of Palestine unwittingly aligning with an evil empire?

The campus left frames the violent hostilities as white colonialists committing genocide. Yet only a third of Israelis are Ashkenazi Jews of European ancestry. Murray argues that the conflict is not a simple tale of oppressor versus oppressed, but a clash between a thriving multi-racial democracy and a death cult bent on its destruction.

Drawing from intensive on-the-ground reporting in Israel and Gaza, Murray presents a compelling case that places the latest violence in its proper historical context. He takes readers on a harrowing journey through the aftermath of the October 7 massacre, piecing together the exclusive accounts from victims, survivors, and even the terrorists responsible for the atrocities.

On Democracies and Death Cults illustrates how Israel’s commitment to fundamental Western values—capitalism, individual rights, democracy, and reason—has made it a beacon of progress in a region dominated by authoritarianism and extremism. Murray contrasts Israel’s principles with the ideology of Hamas, which openly proclaims its love of death over life. If left unchecked, Murray argues, this misplaced Western sympathy could embolden forces that seek to undermine democratic values and perpetuate a culture of violence.

Deeply reasoned, clear-eyed, and grounded in fact, On Democracy and Death Cults is a gripping and essential read for all who seek to understand the complexities of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and its implications for the future of democracy both here and abroad—and for the world itself.