Kaṇṇappa, the Hunter Who Gave His Eyes

Tiṇṇaṉ

In the hills near Kāḷahasti lived a clan of hunters, and their chief's son was named Tiṇṇaṉ. He grew up with a bow in his hand, strong and fearless, and knew the forest as well as his own body. He had never been to a temple, never learned a mantra, never been taught how to worship anything.

One day, chasing a wild boar up a hill, Tiṇṇaṉ came upon a Śiva Liṅga standing alone. The moment he saw it, something in him melted. He felt a love he had never felt for anything. He could not bear to think of this Lord sitting alone in the wild with no one to feed him or care for him.

A hunter's worship

So Tiṇṇaṉ worshipped the only way he knew. He ran down to the river and carried back water in his mouth to bathe the Liṅga. He brought flowers tucked in his hair. And he hunted, roasted the best meat, tasted each piece to make sure it was tender and sweet, and offered only the best pieces to Śiva.

He stayed on the hill night and day, guarding the Lord with his bow against wild animals. His family begged him to come home. He would not leave.

The priest

The Liṅga was also worshipped by a Brahmin priest, Śivagocariyār, who came each day to perform the proper rites. Every morning he found the shrine defiled — meat scattered, water spat on the Liṅga, flowers that had been worn in someone's hair. Horrified, he cleaned everything, performed his worship with care, and went home in distress. This went on day after day.

At last Śiva appeared to the priest in a dream. Do not be troubled, he said. The one who does this is dearer to me than you know. Hide tomorrow and watch — and you will see what his love is.

The bleeding eye

The next day the priest hid behind the shrine. Tiṇṇaṉ came, as always, with his offerings. But this time, as he approached, he saw blood flowing from the right eye of the Liṅga.

Tiṇṇaṉ was stricken. He ran for herbs from the forest and pressed them to the wound. Nothing helped. The blood kept flowing. Then he remembered an old hunters' saying: flesh heals flesh. Without a moment's hesitation he took an arrow, cut out his own right eye, and pressed it onto the eye of the Liṅga.

The bleeding stopped. Tiṇṇaṉ danced for joy.

The second eye

Then he saw that the left eye of the Liṅga had begun to bleed.

Tiṇṇaṉ did not hesitate. He knew that once he cut out his second eye he would be blind and would not be able to find the place. So he set his foot on the bleeding eye of the Liṅga to mark it, raised his arrow to his own left eye — and a hand came out of the Liṅga and caught his hand.

“Stop, Kaṇṇappa! Stop, Kaṇṇappa! Stop!” Śiva said it three times. Tiṇṇaṉ's right eye was restored. And Śiva gave him a new name: Kaṇṇappa — the one who gave his eye. He was taken to stand at Śiva's right side for ever.

The lesson

The priest, who had watched everything, understood. His rituals were correct in every detail; Kaṇṇappa's broke every rule. But it was Kaṇṇappa's love, holding nothing back, that Śiva had been waiting for.

Kaṇṇappa is counted among the sixty-three Nāyaṉmār, the great saints of Tamil Śaivism. The temple at Śrīkāḷahasti in Andhra Pradesh, where he worshipped, still honours him — and his worship is often recalled by devotees who feel they have nothing proper to offer.