Touched by God on Shivratri

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.