Today being Shivratri, a lot of Hindus visit the temple to
offer milk, water, flowers, fruits and Lord Shiva’s favourite Bael leaves, Bhang and Dhatura. Somehow,
I do not enjoy visiting temples on special days since it gets too crowded
and noisy with devotees rushing to get their share of blessings first. Visiting
a temple on festivals is akin to visiting stores offering big discounts. People
enter in hordes, offer their prayers in a rush while jostling for space and
then leave content with Prasad in
their hands. Some even push and elbow
others to make their way first, yes, even the seemingly ‘educated’ and ‘cultured’
ones.
While I also visit the temple, I don’t always feel touched
by divinity on these ‘special’ days. I much rather enjoy visiting temples on the
“non-offer days” when there are few people in the temple. It has mostly been on
those occasions that I experienced much greater peace, energy and joy, when I
could pray as much or as little as I wanted to without having to save my toes
from being crushed or getting nudged in the ribs.
Sometimes, I also experience divinity outside the temple. Last
year, while purchasing flowers, bhang
and dhatura from a woman sitting outside
the temple, I saw a lady, dressed in a crisp white salwar kameez, probably in her early sixtees get off her Honda
City, rush to the makeshift flower shop. There was a sense of urgency about the
way she went about selecting what all she wanted.
“Kitne hue?” she
demanded.
“Tees Rupaye
(Rs.30)”, said the flower lady.
“TEES Rupaye!” The
woman complained about the exorbitant price and claimed that what the lady was
selling was probably not even worth ten. She dropped her basket of flowers and
leaves angrily and got up to leave.
“Kya hua Mataji?
Bhagwan ke liye le rahe ho, le jao”, the poor, most likely uneducated woman
said politely.
I don’t remember the prayers I said that day, but I shall
remember this instance for sure.
Today, I chose to go to a temple slightly towards the village,
accompanied by my two little boys, I hoped for less people at the temple. My
elder son spotted a balloon vendor outside and demanded one. I promised to buy him
a balloon once we came out of the temple.
Although it was
crowded with people mostly from the village it was well organized. I managed to
get my three minutes with the Lord and came out without getting nudged, poked
or stepped upon. Happily, I bought the balloon I had promised. Within a
few minutes, even before we got to our car, the balloon burst. The other small
children around him laughed. Before my son’s eyes could well up with tears I
took him to the balloon vendor again.
“Bhaiya, wo to phoot gaya. Dusra de do” I said. Immediately,
he handed me another one with a smile and refused to take money for it. Only after much insistence he took it.
Sometimes we are
touched by God inside a temple, but mostly, outside it.
