249. A visit to "BoShanKo": Part 4: Kali and Meghanad

 (ही पोस्ट मराठीत इथं वाचता येईल.) 

Our stay in Kolkata was coming to an end. Whenever I am in Kolkata, a visit to Dakshineshwar Temple and Belur Math is a must for me. We had planned to visit both on the last day of our trip. However, due to time constraints, Belur Math had to be dropped from the itinerary.

I remember visiting Dakshineshwar sometime around 1985. Strangely, what I remember most from that visit is a priest sitting inside one of the Shiva temples and reading a newspaper. I don't remember the temple being particularly large, nor do I remember any queues or crowds. This time, however, as we entered the temple complex, I realised how spacious it actually was. Clearly, my memory of the earlier visit wasn't very reliable.

A part of the main temple as seen from outside

                                

We reached Dakshineshwar around 2.30 in the afternoon, only to discover that the temple would reopen only at 3 p.m. We had no idea that it remained closed for a while in the afternoon. So we walked down to the ghat and sat there for some time.

The Ganga was only moderately clean—as expected.

No matter how polluted the water is, the presence of the Ganga is always comforting. There was a gentle breeze. Across the river, Kolkata stretched along the opposite bank. A bridge in the distance. People taking a holy dip. Children and women searching for coins thrown into the river by devotees. Vendors selling small plastic bottles for those wanting to carry Ganga water home.

On the banks of Hooghly (Ganga) river

And through all this, without being bothered by people, the river flowed quietly.

Watching its broad and unhurried flow, I was reminded once again of how temporary our joys and sorrows really are. The ancient bond between our rivers and our people has survived the passage of time. Sitting on the banks of the Ganga, I could still feel it within me.

A lady overheard Pratiksha and me speaking in Marathi and started talking to us. Since she was speaking in Marathi too, I assumed she was another tourist from Maharashtra.

She wasn't.

She worked with the cooperative credit society of a paramilitary force. ("Bank" was the word she used. I had never heard of such a bank before. Later, when I searched online, I realised that it was not a public sector bank but an internal cooperative society for the personnel of that force.) Her husband too was a senior officer in the same force. They had been in Kolkata for the last seven years, and she visited Dakshineshwar regularly. She volunteered a lot of personal information without my asking. It seems that when people meet someone speaking their own language far away from home, they instinctively open up.

She stayed with us, explaining where to leave our footwear, where to deposit our bags, and how the queue system worked. She told us that there were three queues leading to the sanctum, and that the middle queue offered the best view of the deity. We joined that queue with her.

For the next two-and-a-half hours, we stood together and chatted.

From our conversation, I gathered that she belonged to a Kannada-Marathi Brahmin family. She was a strict vegetarian and couldn't quite understand the Bengali love for fish. "It's dirty everywhere," she said repeatedly. There was a note of complaint in much of what she said. 

Dakshineshwar Kali Temple

The temple was peaceful. As the afternoon wore on, the breeze from the Ganga became even more pleasant. People stood quietly in the queues. Since mobile phones had to be deposited outside, there were no reels, no phone calls, no selfies. The queue moved very slowly, but no one seemed impatient.

Dakshineshwar Kali Temple occupies a special place in the lives of Sri Ramakrishna Paramahamsa and Swami Vivekananda. It was founded by Rani Rashmoni, a wealthy zamindar from Janbazar. Since she belonged to a community that was considered socially inferior by the standards of nineteenth-century Bengal, there was considerable opposition to the temple. Many believed that upper-caste Brahmins would refuse to perform worship in a temple built by her. Ignoring these objections, Rani Rashmoni completed the temple in 1855. Sri Ramakrishna later became its chief priest, and the rest, as they say, is history.

The temple is a fine example of Bengal's traditional Navaratna style of temple architecture, with its nine spires rising above a high plinth. The main temple stands in front of a large courtyard. Along the ghat on the Hooghly are twelve identical Shiva temples built in a single row. These smaller temples follow the traditional Atchala style of Bengal architecture. Built with red bricks and white lime plaster, the complex has an unusual combination of simplicity and grandeur.

Pratiksha, who is an architect, had carried a small sketchbook and a pen in my sling bag. Standing in the queue, she took them out and began sketching the temple. Her sketch will give you a better idea of the temple's exterior than any description I can write.

Pratiksha's sketch of the main temple, drawn while standing in the queue

Two young foreigners were standing ahead of me in the queue. One was from the United States and the other from Greece. The American had been living at Sri Ramana Maharshi's Ashram in Tiruvannamalai for the last few years. Since I had visited the ashram a few years ago, we naturally exchanged memories. From there the conversation wandered to Puducherry, Kanyakumari, Varanasi, Allahabad, Rameswaram and several other places. I came away with the impression that the American knew more about India's pilgrimage centres than I did. This was the Greek visitor's first trip to India, and the American seemed to be playing the role of his guide. Both of them quietly absorbed the atmosphere of the temple.

After standing in the queue for nearly two and a half hours, we finally had our one-minute darshan of Kali and came out.

It is difficult to describe that moment in words.

I am not a particularly religious person. Yet I stood happily in that queue for nearly three hours. I realised that I do not visit temples merely to see an idol or even a deity. For me, darshan is something much larger. It is a moment of connecting with the cultural memory that has accumulated at such places over hundreds of years. The journey is really for that one brief moment of connection.

Perhaps that is why it remains beyond words. 

The second half of the day was reserved for a performance of Meghnad Badh Kavya. We left Dakshineshwar and headed towards Girish Manch. It was a journey from the world of religion to the world of theatre.

Girish Manch

Located in the historic neighbourhood of Baghbazar, Girish Manch is one of the important centres of Bengali theatre. The auditorium is named after Girish Chandra Ghosh, the celebrated playwright, actor and director who is regarded as one of the pioneers of modern Bengali theatre. I was pleased to learn that this Girish was none other than the disciple of Sri Ramakrishna Paramahamsa. Somehow, it made the journey from Dakshineshwar to Girish Manch feel even more meaningful. The auditorium hosts both commercial and experimental theatre.

Girish Chandra Ghosh was once an atheist and struggled with alcoholism. His life changed completely after he came into contact with Sri Ramakrishna. Sri Sri Ramakrishna Kathamrita, written by Mahendranath Gupta under the pen name 'M', beautifully captures the relationship between the two. Girish Chandra wrote and staged several memorable plays, including Buddhadev Charit, Bilwamangal and Tapasya. He was also very close to Swami Vivekananda.

Seen in this context, travelling from Dakshineshwar to Girish Manch did not feel like moving from a religious space to a secular one. It felt like continuing the same cultural journey.

Meghnad Badh Kavya and Gautam Halder

We had come to Girish Manch to watch a stage adaptation of Meghnad Badh Kavya, the epic poem written by Michael Madhusudan Dutt (1824–1873). Published in 1861, the poem is more than 150 years old. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that tickets priced at ₹1,000 had sold out almost immediately for a performance based on such a classic work. Fortunately our friends had booked our tickets in advance.In the auditorium two persons were arguing loudly. It turned out that the theatre had issued the same seat number to both of them. There was some animated discussion before other people intervened to find  alternative seat for one of them. Order was restored within a few minutes, and the performance began. This little experience reminded me of my own city. 

The performance was presented by Gautam Halder, one of Bengal's most respected theatre personalities. Born in 1963, he is an actor, director, singer and dancer. Over the last three decades, he has performed Meghnad Badh Kavya hundreds of times, both in India and abroad.

The production is almost a one-man performance. A few musicians and singers sat on the stage, providing music and chorus. But for nearly two-and-a-half hours, the stage belonged entirely to Gautam Halder.

The performance was in Bengali. I asked the lady sitting next to me to explain the story whenever possible. That was when I realised that even she found the language difficult. The poem is written in classical Bengali, which is quite different from the language spoken today. She confidently told me that the opening scene described the death of Meghnad. In reality, Meghnad's death came much later in the performance. The story was not easy to follow at first, but gradually it began to unfold.

Meghnad Badh Kavya is regarded as one of the milestones of Bengali literature. Though based on the Ramayana, it offers a completely different perspective. Madhusudan Dutt portrays Ravana as a noble, dignified and unfortunate king, while Meghnad (Indrajit) emerges as a heroic warrior who sacrifices his life for his country. At the same time, the poet also points out the moral limitations and mistakes of Rama and Lakshmana. Divided into nine cantos, the poem is remarkable for its powerful blend of heroism, tragedy and fury. It was also the first successful use of blank verse in Bengali literature, freeing Bengali poetry from the constraints of rhyme. The language of the poem is highly Sanskritised, grand and classical.

Gautam Halder's physical and vocal performance was extraordinary. Without changing costumes and using nothing more than a simple uttariya draped over his shoulders, he transformed himself from one character to another within seconds. One moment he was the fierce Ravana; the next, the grief-stricken Mandodari or the devoted Pramila.

Fear, anger, sorrow, joy, love, hatred, contempt and serenity—he expressed every emotion with equal conviction. Ravana, Mandodari, Sita, Lakshmana, Meghnad, Vibhishana and Rama all came alive through his performance. In one scene, his eyes and body conveyed the violence and intensity of war; in the next, a slight bend of his shoulders captured Ravana's defeat and helplessness.

I did not understand every word of Bengali. But the language of great acting needs no translation.

I thoroughly enjoyed the performance.

*********

It was time to leave BoShanKo.

The mud house in Bolpur. Tagore's Santiniketan. The history of Kolkata. The devotion at Dakshineshwar. Meghnad coming alive on stage.

Over these eight days, I saw many shades of Bengal. Like the Ganga, Bengal too has many invisible currents. I could understand some of them. Some I merely sensed.

I had come as a visitor. Sitting quietly in Bengal's courtyard and listening to its stories, I had, for a little while, become a part of it. 

197. Mediation

It is good to know that people are concerned about other people
However, an uninvited concern is irritating.
For last few days, suddenly from nowhere else, I started getting messages from an organization which cares for people's spiritual enlightenment. At least that is what they claim.

I ignored first few mails in the hope that if I did not respond, they would be discouraged enough.
But the messages kept on coming. About Rajyoga Mediation and all that.
It always had the boasting last liine: We are at 140 countries with more than 9000 Meditation centre's since 1937 

I wrote to them requesting "not to send such mails."
No effect.
Then after few days I wrote, "Kindly stop sending these mails to me. Note that you are invading my privacy."

This was a clear message to any person in right mind.
But no, not to this organization! They wrote back:


Om Shanti Divine Soul, 

Our aim is not to disturb your privacy of life, we just want to inform you about Godly meditation which is need for very human being to maintain balance of life. crores of family's are enjoying this, this meditation is like to recharge your soul. GOD BLESS YOU.

I wonder what makes these people think that I need a mediation. 

And what makes them to think that they are eligible to mediate between me and God!

 By the way, what is your guess? Which organization is this? :-)

182. Khan Market

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 32; the thirty-second edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is 'An Untold Story'

I have a very strange feeling about this city. I know, this statement applies to all the cities - urban life has become a very strange kind of living. That is the reason I generally don't say "this is a strange city" - but I can't help it saying about Delhi. I have lived in many cities and always lived as if I was born there and I was going to die there. But with Delhi, it is different. When I came here, I knew I had to leave this city some day. Is that truth makes me feel the strangeness of Delhi? I don't know.

A lot has been told and written about Delhi. From ages, people have been expressing their love or there awe about Delhi. However I feel that Delhi still offers an Untold Story, it has the capacity to open its secrets if one is interested.  I know, you won't believe me. Alright, take the example of Khan Market.

So far, I had visited Khan Market only once - with a colleague from Canada. During those hours I had realized that this place was not for me.When I received a message from Surekha Narain about a visit to Khan Market area, I was surprised. The weather in Delhi was not conducive for moving around leisurely even after a comparatively good rain in August. I had been to couple of places with Surekha and had found it to be good. I mean the group is never too large so we can spend time in discussions and information generation. Surekha always comes with lot of information to share and the atmosphere is friendly and informal. She provides good insights into the places we visit. So I was eager to visit Khan Market. 

I wanted to know more before confirming and so asked my colleagues, "What is there in and around Khan Market?" Most of them are born and brought up in Delhi - still they looked at me in a weird way, said "Market" and changed the topic. I went to Wikipedia. There I gathered few points like - this Market was established in 1951, it is named after legendary Khan Abdul Ghaffar Khan and it has 21st rank in the list of costly markets in the world!! Reading this, I was caught in two minds - to visit Khan Market or Not. However, I was sure, Surekha would present  Untold Story of the area to me. 

Hotel Ambassador, Khan Market, New Delhi 

Finally, I decide to go to Khan Market. When we met at 8.00 in the morning outside Khan Market Metro Station, I was happy to notice that the group was not too large. Being Saturday morning, the road was not crowded.At the first glance, a big white building opposite the road attracted my attention. This is supposed to be a rich people's area - so I thought it must be famous residential complex. But I was told that it was the back side of Ambassador Hotel. Later we could actually visit the hotel - will tell you about it after a couple of paragraphs!

Bagwali Masjid, Khan Market, New Delhi

Outside the Metro Station (Exit Gate 2) we turned towards left. After a peaceful walk for five minutes, we reached 'Bagawali Masjid'. The mosque is named so because during its prime time  it was surrounded  by garden. There were three four people (all men) praying. We were not sure whether women were allowed in that mosque -so we entered with precaution- ready to turn around any minute. All women in the group covered their head with scarf or dupatta. There were few people sitting in the mosque, but they did not object to our entry so we were relaxed and started enjoying the architecture of the place. From the main road, the mosque is not at all visible - though instead of garden, there is a nursery now. What changed the fortune of this place? It remains an Untold Story for me!

Next we visited Sujan Singh Park. This was the first apartment in Delhi built long back in 1945. Who is this Sujan Singh? He is father of building contractor Sobha Singh. Who is Sobha Singh? He is father of Khushwant Singh. (Please, don't ask who is Khushwant Singh!!). Sobha Singh was prominent builder of Lutyen's  Delhi. It is said that not long back half of the Delhi belonged to Sobha Singh.I was pained to note that the city of Delhi elected  him not once but four times as President of New Delhi Municipal Council. How can people forget and forgive that he was one of those who identified Bhagat Singh and Batukeshwar Datta for throwing bombs in Delhi Assembly in 1929. Why do we have a very weak sense of patriotism? Well, that too remains an Untold Story! 

Sujan Singh Park, Khan Market, New Delhi

The apartment is extremely beautiful. The serenity catches one's heart. For a moment, we all were speechless. In the midst of high rise building it was nice to have this not so high building. Each household has open balcony - which could be seen better in the earlier photograph of Hotel Ambassador. The security guards came to ask us the purpose of the visit. When we said that we just wanted to watch the building - two of them nodded but nevertheless followed us till the end. Many people must be coming to 'see' this building  The complex is 'U' shaped - residential buildings on the three sides with a beautiful garden in the midst, For a moment I thought we were in historical time - but the impression immediately vanished due to modern cars parked there. One of us loudly thought, "what could be the price of one flat in this apartment?" and I decided not to pay attention to such discussion. How many families must have stayed here and how many must have moved out of here! Their story is untold indeed!

Old Telephone in Hotel Ambassador, New Delhi 

We crossed the road. We were not sure whether we would be allowed to enter the Ambassador Hotel. Surprisingly the security guards welcomed us with 'Good Morning'. Maybe it is part of their duty or maybe the foreign nationals in our group made our entry easy. Surekha interacted with the hotel staff and suddenly we were invited inside the hotel. The staff took us to couple of rooms. One of the staff - a man - who has been working there for last 35 years talked about old type of fans, old type of lifts etc. We saw 'ancient looking' telephone in the lobby - which was not working. I felt like I was on the set of some 'old' movie. The hotel walls are white and again in the midst of the triangular shaped building there is  a large space. We were told that there was a restaurant in that place. The rooms were good but not worth of charges. I don't who comes and stays in these costly rooms and why. Maybe there are many more Untold Stories!!

Our next point was a Synagogue. Here we met the Rabbi and the Secretary Mr. Malekar. According to him there are about 5000 Jew population in India and about 50 people in Delhi who are the followers are of Judaism. However, many people from the various embassies come here to pray.It was nice to here a religious teacher saying: "I am Indian first and Jew later" or "Israel is in my heart, but India is in my blood." We Indians in that group felt good about it.

Mr. Malekar briefly explained fundamental teachings of Judaism, the prayer ceremony in the Synagogue. For example the cloth the Rabbi wears during the discourse and the Shofar has historical significance. Nobody is allowed to enter the wooden platform from where the Rabbi gives talk etc. However things are changing now. For example the status of women according to the religion is changing. The tradition says that Torah should not be read unless 10 men are there to listen. But now at least the Delhi Synagogue reads it if there are 10 persons - which includes women. Saturady is a Sabbath day and work is forbidden on that day. However here was Mr. Malkear, working on Saturday and sharing the knowledge with non-followers of Jew faith. What factors contributed to these changes - is another Untold Story!

Parasi Cemetery, Khan Market, New Delhi 

The area has many cemeteries - Jew, Christian and Parasi. We visited the Jew and the Parasi cemeteries Some of the tombs were smaller in size. The realization that those tombs are of young children made everyone little sad. The Parasi Cemetery looked better maintained - though the number of Parasi people in Delhi also is not very high.  Interestingly we found that Parasi people have a longer life - whether this is truth or not needs to be checked with other authentic data. We had a brief  discussion on how different religions dispose the dead. What kind of life these people had lived - we do not know. We also do not know what they saw and what they felt. Only their memory remains - if someone is there to remember them. Otherwise there are so many lives who carry with them the story of their life - Untold!

If you ask anyone in Delhi about Khan Market; ten out of ten people would say that it a place for shopping. Here we were, a group of people, spending two and half hours in the area - without visiting a shop, without visiting a restaurant and still feeling full.

To some extent, I understood the Untold Story of Khan Market area that morning. But many aspects of the story need to be explored. Let me see when I get the opportunity to visit the area again! Let me see what this strange city of Delhi reveals to me. 

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: BLOGGER NAME, Participation Count: XX

**

161. Queue

“Are you in this Queue?” he asked.

“Yes and No” I answered.

He frowned. At least I thought so.

Today I was in Nasik.  Even before we started our work, people asked me whether I wanted to visit Tryamabakeshwar temple. Someone called me from Mumbai and suggested me to do so.

I have visited this temple many times and it is one of my favorite places. So, in the evening at last, people were able to convince me and thus we were there.

There was lot of crowd. One of the trustees was visiting temple then and so there was much more discipline than what is usually observed. As always, local people tried to arrange for some kind of special treatment for me – that in most of these religious places means avoiding standing in the queue. I don’t like to break the queue when so many people are standing there. If I want to visit temple, I should follow the standard procedures. If I don’t have time, well, no God needs me.  We have a mutual understanding about not needing each other.  We respect each other and let live other in peace.

I told the people around me not to bother about breaking the queue. I added that one should approach God by leaving aside material achievements – because they do not matter in the relationship with God. As the security guards did not allow ‘special entry’ today, people around me had no option but to follow the queue.

For last two days I had overworked. Lot of travel, no food on time, many challenges in the work I was supposed to monitor and had to be very patient to make people understand the next steps that were essential. I was completely exhausted and needed time to relax and refresh. Looking at the length of the queue, I said, “Ok, it looks like God does not want me to visit him today. Let us go back.”

On my casual remarks, the team around me panicked. They immediately started searching for some higher authority of the temple, with whose permission they could get me through easily. I had no energy to discuss rationality with them. My views on God are bit weird and it needed special efforts from me to communicate those to others. I realized that if I don’t stand in the queue, these people will continue to feel uneasy and they will keep on trying some or the other way to take me inside by the shortest possible way.

The only option for me to stop them was to stand in the queue as if I was really willing to visit the temple. It was hypocritical of course, but at times I have to be so – not for my own wishes, but to satisfy others.

So, I was in the queue physically and was not there at all emotionally or spiritually. Hence this:  ‘Yes and No”.

And then I kept overhearing others. Two people behind me were discussing some Rural Development Scheme of Government and were sharing secretes about ‘how to get included in the beneficiary list’. A woman standing in front of me was reading an English book but her 10 year child was not allowing her to concentrate. A woman in her 30s was chanting Shiva stotra – she broke suddenly and shouted at her 8 year daughter for some kind of misbehavior. A group of youth was planning about what they should eat in the evening. An old lady was explaining her knee-ache to other lady.   A young man was looking dreamily at some tree in the temple courtyard. A girl in jeans and sleeveless T shirt was sentimentally watching her plate in which flowers and other material for worship was kept. A group of children tried to bypass the queue and got a big scolding from elders. One elderly gentleman started his sermon on how the next generation is getting worse. I was wondering why nobody is using mobile and clicking and realized that mobile phones and cameras were not allowed inside temple premises.

The queue kept on moving. As it was a zigzag queue on every turn I had different people on my left and on my right.  I kept on hearing different versions of life – mostly material.

Nobody in that queue was willing to give up material aspects of life even when they cherished to see the God, even when they were in the presence of God.  I was not different from them as like a sponge, I was taking everything that was around me.

Was I in the queue?

Not really.

“If you are not in the queue, you are not in the queue”, again he spoke.

I was surprised.  Then I smiled.

I said, “This remark is very absurd, specially coming from you.  It is more like Zen.”

“Well, if you are not in the queue, sometimes you are also in the queue,” he added thoughtfully. I cannot imagine him smiling, but I guess he was smiling.

“Decide for yourself,” he said and disappeared.

I am still tired.

I have yet to get some nourishing food – simple but nourishing.

Who was he? What did he say? Why did he say it to me? Did that conversation really happen or as always I was just dreaming with eyes open? Why it always happens to me? Is there any seed of truth in what he said or the fatigue is getting over me? Why can’t I stop thinking?

Lots of questions. There is sort of queue of questions.

Yes, somehow, I am always in one or the other queue.

(Nasik, Maharashtra)

158. Protest

Protest I must now, with all my powers;
The silent suffering stretched beyond limits

Has shattered me into pieces,

I wake up to the reality with tremendous confusion.

To this shameless situation, I must Protest.

All your customs and traditions, smiling an inch hypocritical;

Attack aggressively every minute.

I look at them affectionately,

But even for a moment, I refuse to be caged by a single one.

You misunderstand, misinterpret, mis-construct the truth;

Your authority I must Protest.

The mighty wings have a great potential to migrate

(Like I did in the past)

But surprisingly I prefer clinging on to this Earth

-        ----   Aimlessly, just by habit

To my inaction, inefficiency, desire binding me to the world,

I must Protest.

With all unguarded actions-reactions, meaningless at its core;

The world is created again and again, to which I do not belong.

The sharp sword of latent wisdom separates every moment from other.

I do not know why this alienation scares;

To this fear, I must Protest.

Of course, you are always there; with your tender and  loving heart;

However, you seem to be unaware that like a breeze and joyous rain

You are triggered by distant realities (I have nothing to do with them).

There needs to be a vacuum within me to attract you.

This ‘proactive’ness to seek you my dear; I Protest today.

Written sometime in October 2004 (Delhi)
(Delhi)

157. Footnote

What happens when you observe more space occupied by footnote than the main text?

And what when it happens page after page? When it looks like never ending? With lot of patience I counted footnotes on the first 100 pages of the book and I came across as many as 123 footnotes. Is it not an overwhelming number?

Footnote is not something new to me. I have come across it as a reader and have used it – but used sparingly – as is the norm.  I generally find them useful.

But during last few days, while reading The Life of Ramkrishna by Romain Rolland, I found too many footnotes.  A dramatist, novelist,  art historian who has prestigious Nobel Prize for Literature in his name, cannot be doubted about his writing skills.  I was baffled with the amount of footnotes he has used.  That I found some of the footnotes highly interesting did not make things easier for me.

There is another interesting phenomenon I have observed simultaneously. I have this book in my collection since January 1991, for the last twenty years.  Sri Ramakrishna Paramahamsa is one of my favorite teachers. My journey with him has been  interesting. I was attracted by his simplicity and clarity but at the same time he challenged my rational thinking - it was a difficult task for me to understand him. But he never demanded anything from me and thus won my head and heart both.  I keep on reading this book as and when I want.I read it partially or fully as per my desire. In my earlier readings, I never remember to have noted these many footnotes – maybe I just went ahead without paying attention to them. Why I stumbled across footnotes this time is another mystery – but I will save it for another time.

Footnote is supposed to provide additional information. Wikipedia says: Notes are most often used as an alternative to long explanatory notes that can be distracting to readers. Most literary style guidelines (including the Modern Language Association and the American Psychological Association) recommend limited use of foot and endnotes. However, publishers often encourage note references in lieu of parenthetical references. Aside from use as a bibliographic element, notes are used for additional information or explanatory notes that might be too digressive for the main text.

What do these excessive footnotes indicate?

• That the matter under discussions is complex?
• That the subject has too many interlinks – all of which cannot be explained?
• That the author has much more information on the topic and he is limited by the space?
• That the matter of this book depends on many external resources?
• The first edition of the book was published in January 1929. So, does this indicate that norms and practices change as per the time?

What does my observing those Footnotes and thinking about it indicates? That sometimes I observe obvious things very late? That I interpret the world around as per my wishes?

Maybe, there is one lesson for me.

I should be cautious about Footnotes taking precedence over the Main Text. 

Keeping those two at their respective places with the right perspective is the key towards making life more meaningful.

******
You might like to read Appeal of Despair

146. Appeal of Despair

Presently I am reading ‘Boundless Sky’.

It is a collection of representative writings of Gurudeva Rabindranath Tagore. The book is published by Visva Bharati and I have 1964 edition with me. The book contains eight stories, a novel, 14 essays, a drama and as many as 49 poems (why not 50? I don’t know). ‘Boundless Sky’ is title of one of the poems – which is adopted for the collection.

The book is in my collection for more than 20 years and I have read it at least five times during these years. The cost of the book is Rs. 14.50 – but I actually purchased it for one rupee from footpath. The book is obviously worn out and I need a fresh copy. But I don’t throw away this copy; simply because it reminds me of many old things – with which I have lost touch now.

As is my habit, the book has so many lines marked by me during the course of various readings. I also have the habit of writing comments – I do it only when I own the book and never with the books borrowed from library or friends. These underlines and comments show me what I had been thinking in the past – and it always makes me smile.

Today I was reading the essay ‘Religious Education’. Rabindranath elucidates many points in his typically simple and revolutionary way. His writing is logical and it also takes readers beyond the realm of logic. I was enjoying his arguments. The ending of the essay especially awakened me. I was as if taken into another world.

Rabindranath says:

Let me conclude my paper with the translation of a characteristic poem by a Baul poet by the name of Madan whose courage to decry the conventional paths of the pious as leading to spiritual futility is made evident in this song:

Thy path, o Lord, is hidden by mosque and temple:

I hear thine own call, but the guru stops the way.

What gives peace to my mind, sets the world ablaze –

The cult of the One dies in the conflict of the many.

The door to it is closed by many a lock, of Koran,

                                         Puran and the rosary.

Even the way of renunciation is full of tribulation:

Wherefore weeps Madan in despair.

It was like being struck by lightening. How did I not notice these beautiful lines earlier? Why did this despair not touch my heart earlier?

I also registered that not a single line in this essay was marked by me in the earlier readings.

Why did this despair not appeal to me for last 20 years? Was I not open to these feelings earlier? Was there a barrier within me?  My ideas regarding religion have never been conventional –so, in a way I am in ‘league’ with the poet. But why did I not belong to it earlier? Why did I fail to recognize these fascinating words?

And what exactly happened today? What caught my attention today? What made me to understand these words today? That is a mystery.

Same is the case with joy, happiness, oneness, expansion.

Maybe, the Truth always exists; it is only when we open ourselves to it, we experience it!

And when we experience, we cannot explain - neither despair nor joy. 

144. Devotion-less

I never have been a good devotee. Different people have tried to induce at least a grain of belief in me, and have miserably failed. But without any kind of belief in any kind of sect, religion or God, I have had a cheerful life so far.

However, I like to visit temples, especially when they are not crowded. I like to explore the temples. My creative mind can travel in the past and can see certain things – all assumed of course! I can paint the past and compare it to the present and sometimes there is a difference and some other times there is no difference at all. What amuses me more than the God is people’s perception about that particular God, the astounding stories associated with the spot and the thriving market around it. It is always wonderful to note how common people carry on materialism in one hand and spiritualism in the other. Only they know what happens in the process.

So, the other day when we are entering Karaikal a district town in Puducherry, my colleague tells me about the famous Shiva temple nearby. “Would you like to go there?” he asks enthusiastically. We have lot of work ahead that day and so have started from Puducherry as early as 6.00 in the morning. I do not want to throw cold water on his passion. So as I usually respond to such suggestions, I say, “Let us see how our work progresses. If time permits, we will go.” By experience I know that if I do not strongly say “NO” time always permits!

After different meetings, discussions, visit to four villages, interaction with villagers, discussion on issues and strategies to address that etc, it is 5.30 in the evening. “Madam, shall we go to the temple now?” a village volunteer asks me anxiously. One group of our team does not want to visit the temple so they start off straight towards Puducherry.

The day had been hectic enough and it would take another four hours to reach Puducherry. But I know my colleague wants  to take me to the temple. Additional half an hour is not an issue for me. So we go to Thirunallar.

Here I come across a temple which has both Shiva and Shani. I have seen very few Shani temples so far. In Pune there is a Shani temple and I remember to have visited Shani ShingaNaapur. In Delhi to my surprise I have seen many Shani temples. But almost all these temples are surrounded by beggars and ‘differently able’ crowds. For me, Shani temple is associated with sorrow, pain, shattered hopes, dreams and an urge for survival. My memory of Shanimahaatmya is depressing. For this reasons I have instinctively avoided Shani temples so far. On the other hand I have visited many Shiva temples which are generally cool, elegant, and calm. They have always filled my heart with peace.

The temple reveals history of conflict between Jainisim and Shaivism. There was a king and a saint and a miracle involved. The place was also association with King Nala (and Damayantee) who invoked Lord Shani for his mercy and was successful. The devotees say that this is the only place where Shani is in a ‘blessing’ mode and the devotees believe that it is because of Shiva’s existence, Shani is controlled.

If you have visited religious places and studied scriptures and mythology, you know that the Gods are always very human like in their thoughts, ideas, nature and behavior.  I think that is the only way human mind can connect itself with God – the known tries to relate with unknown in a typical way.

Well, I like the temple. The architecture is attractive. Before I understand what is happening, I am taken ahead of the queue, a Pooja is fully planned. Here when we break the queue and go ahead, nobody complains. Later I realize that “pay more and have quick darshan’ is the usual practice in most of the temples.  I do not like breaking the queue this way – how can someone be more important (and that too because of money or designation) in front of God? That only shows that people do not really believe in God. I never perform Pooja in the temple – but here I am helpless. Well, I could storm out of the temple without doing any of this – but it took me time to understand what was happening. And by the time I understand it, I have as if given my indirect consent by actually participating in it. I am feeling like an illiterate person lost in the library.

The Pooja  begins with  a little hurdle. The temple priest wants to know my zodiac sign (or whatever it is called) – I say, “I have none”. This makes everybody around speechless. All of them say something in Tamil – which fortunately I do not at all understand. But as I am their guest, they cannot get angry with me. Then the priest asks  -which month I was born. For a moment I am tempted to tell a lie – but well, I give the right information. Then my colleague asks me to donate some money – I have kept my purse in the car, so he hands me a note and I put it in the plate. Later I pay that amount to my colleague and he says that because it is for religious purpose, he has to take it from me. Otherwise, I won’t earn the merit of the Pooja. In short I am forced into paying the amount – but I know my young colleague is doing it with good intention.

Then there is some kind of Emerald. I neither understand its significance not any story related to it. It is locked and the priest comes with so many keys and opens lock after lock. A group of devotees is patiently waiting – underlining the importance of this ceremony.  Then suddenly few women start singing a devotional song praising Shiva. Though it is a Tamil Song, I know it by heart. I had forgotten it so far but it comes back to me without breaks. Long back I used to listen to this song. Like rest of the devotees I repeat the lines and I feel happy like a child that I can still remember and pronounce those difficult sounding Tamil words.

Well, finally everything gets over. The head priest hands over Prasada to me. In his broken English he assures me that :This place is next to Tirupati Balaajee. Well, I don’t understand how there could be such hierarchy in the community of Gods. Are not they all supposed to be powerful and accommodating enough? Just imagine one God – say for example Shiva here – not happy with me because I did not pray him. Sounds like a human being who is hurt if someone does not salute him/her. Gods are not affected by what I do or what I don’t do. Are they not supposed to be beyond all these mundane feelings?

The priest adds: Whatever you wished here, will come true.

Everybody around me smiles. I too smile. Why ask questions if they are happy with their belief?

“What did you wish for?” my colleague asks me on the way back.

“Oh, if I knew the power of the God in advance, I should have definitely asked for certain things,” I say lightly – that is my usual answer to all strong devotees. That generally satisfies them.

I wonder what I was thinking in the temple. I was certainly not praying, I was not asking for anything. I was just watching the devotion of the devotees – there might be honesty and truth in those devotees, there might be quality longing and urge in that devotion. I was as usual observing; I was as usual trying to understand; I was as usual amazed that so much is unknown to me; I was wondering how the place might have been hundreds of years ago; I was imagining how those people might have been; I was thinking what will happen to this place 500 years down the line; I was thinking how everything emerges- lives and gets destroyed; I was feeling happy with whatever I have knowing that nothing is going to last forever.

The best gift of that devotion-less moment is:  Re-establishing of that eternal truth: That my lack of devotion does not affect Lord Shiva and Lord Shani (and other Gods) and it does not affect me as well. We choose to co-exist without demanding, without commanding and we maintain the connection without any apparent give and take.

Well, why do I need devotion?
*

119. Being a Hindu

“Are you Hindu?” he asked me.

I was bending down to tie up shoe lace. Still I managed to look at him in an instant (without breaking my neck, that is.)

No, he was not mischievous. Nor was he teasing me. He looked very serious.

Actually, just a nod from me would have settled the matter.

But as it always happens with me, it triggered a chain of long hidden thoughts.

I was with a group of total strangers. We all had joined together one Sunday afternoon with a group named ‘Delhi Metro Walks’. The idea was to explore Old Delhi that evening and taste typical Delhi food. We were walking, eating, chatting for last few hours. We were a group of just 9, and more than half of them were obviously non Indians.

On the way, we came across a Jain temple. Some were not interested but I went in. It was not an ancient temple as such and I was disappointed with it.

While coming out, I was thinking about ‘Role of Temples’ and suddenly this question was thrown at me.

And this young man, non Hindu, non Indian asked me this particular question.

I am rather stubborn about certain things. One of that is ‘not allowing people to recognize my religion from any external signs’. For long, strangers have assumed me to be anything but Hindu. So, when this man asked me this question, I was really surprised.

“I was born and brought up in a Hindu family”, I answered honestly.

Now it was his (and others’) turn to be amazed.

“What do you mean? Have you changed your religion?” he asked.

“Oh, no, that is not the case,” I said, though my ideas about Religion are still evolving.

From casual conversation, the discussion was fast turning to be very personal.

“Being Hindu is very easy”, I was thinking aloud.

What is the essence of Hinduism?

For that matter, what is the essence of any religion?

Philosophy, Ritual and Social Rules are the three major aspects of religion.

Now the social code has been replaced by Law. So, no question of following religious rules.

Ritual I have hardly ever followed. That has not stopped me from being a Hindu.

And Philosophies – there are so many, I like many of those. I like Charvaka and Shankaracharya, Gautama the Buddha and Ramanujacharya, Kapila and Patanjali; Shrikrishna and Ramkrishna Paramhamsa, Tukaram and Kabir, Aurobindo and J Krishnmurty .. the list is unending. I can criticise any one of them and every one of them and still I can be a Hindu.

Hindu philosophy in a way is a big 'HoldAll' and I like it that way!

Some say: Rebirth, Law of Karma, Liberation are the basic tenets of Hinduism. I don’t think I believe in any of those seriously. Intellectually I can argue about it and write articles .. but they do not constitute my core values of life.

Still I am 'a' Hindu – because I am born and brought up in a Hindu family and I have not converted to any other religion.

You can do anything, you can do nothing, you can criticise, you can rebel....but still the Hinduness remains intact.

That is the beauty of ‘Being a Hindu’.