[ Radhika Nathan ]

Ramblings - VII


No doubt due to the corrosion of values caused by the
western influence, only after having met with all my
friends and relatives did I  realize that I ought to
pay a visit to goddess Meenakshi, when I visited
Madurai last.  There I was, enjoying my morning coffee
without a care in the world, when one of the countless
acquaintances, with the liberty of having seen me
since I was a kid, pointed out in the most accusatory
and incredulous tone that I hadn't yet gone to
the temple.

So, that auspicious day, though I didn't know
that at the time and would have postponed it
otherwise, with two toddlers in tow,  we set off to
the temple.  We crossed the grand threshold happily
enough, joining all the people milling about, chanting
and chatting - me pointing out the wonderful
sculptures, the kids getting a thump on their heads by
the cute little elephant, oh it was  all very merry.
The first sign of things to come was the wedding
parties around the holy pool, but I missed it
completely. I was still smiling happily as I turned
around, stood in a queue, another sign I missed, and
got the tickets, and only when we entered the sanctum
and encountered a mass of heads, did it dawn upon me
what it meant to visit Goddess Meenakshi on an
auspicious day.

Mind you, I am not new to crowds, but this was the
mother of all crowds. There was absolutely no space
and the sanctum was filled with people. One moment we
were standing there mouth agape and the next we were
going with the flow, so to speak, strange elbows
nudging us, strange voices booming all around us.
With enormous effort I broke away from the general
direction the crowd was moving and came to the special
queue for the ticket holders. My uncle murmured in a
low voice that if I was willing to grease some palms,
we could move ahead through the wicket gate. I, though
not promptly, disagreed and declined to this blatant,
though wise in retrospect, idea and joined the long
queue. This was a hot day and the fans mounted on the
walls were of little use. We fashioned some hand fans
out of the odds and ends we had and tried to keep the
kids busy as we waited.

We stood and stood as the queue inched at asnail's
pace, all the while watching the wicket gate being
opened with dexterity allowing herds of people into
the sanctum sanctorium. The noise, a meaningless
jumble of a thousand words, echoing on the dark stone
walls,  the draining heat and the dim light bulbs were
all getting to us now. The kids were beginning to get
uneasy, we were sweating at a rate of fast approaching
dehydration,  beginning to get hungry and thoroughly
disgruntled and our tolerance was fast evaporating.
The fates of those who hadn't bought the special
tickets were even worse. Farther away from the special
queue, this other crowd was getting bigger and more
unforgiving by the minute and they were being pushed
and pulled as they struggled to get a glimpse of Her.
By the time we crossed the gate and entered the inner
sanctum, I was beginning to seriously doubt the
purpose of my presence there. Where was the peace and
serenity that I was expecting?

The inner sanctum was another story. Some wise guy had
deemed that those with the special tickets deserved to
sit in the small chamber in front of the deity for a
few minutes. Now there was already enormous traffic,
those entering into the chamber, the priests and the
assorted staff regulating the flow. To top it, the
good people in the chamber hardly seemed satisfied
with the opportunity given to them and were sitting
rooted to their spots or worse, upon entreated to
leave, were standing right there, blocking the view of
the less unfortunate ticket less mass of people, who
could hardly stand let alone sit, passing by beyond
the chamber straining to see the deity. The priests
vying to get our attention, the incessant monotonous
chanting with no depth to it, the police woman
desperately cursing to get the attention of the
blockers, the faceless crowd with a thousand folded
hands moving like an automaton, crying for help.. I
felt suffocated, even guilty and a need to run away
from there arose from the middle of my being,
constricting my throat. With barely a glimpse at the
deity I rushed out at the first opportunity gasping
for breath and as soon as my family joined me, we all
trudged out without a word. I knew I couldn't really
blame anybody there but I felt like bursting into
tears.

As I walked around a huge pillar, disillusioned, a
strange despair filling my heart, a wave of fresh air
wrapped around me in a gentle caress. And I noticed
him, the bearer of the refreshing breeze. An old man,
doing his hereditary job, shirtless, his bones
sticking out of his bare chest was swaying his huge
fan of peacock feathers seemingly heavier than his
thin frame, with all his might, unmindful of the heat
and the sweat and the waves of uncaring devotees
walking past him, with a certain soul shaking single
minded devotion. With a muffled sob, I pressed some
money into his rough, ancient hands. Without a word,
he swept down the fan of feathers in a gentle motion
and for a few brief moments let it touch my head and
fill my parched heart, in a gesture of tranquility and
benediction.




[ Radhika Nathan ]

Last Updated: 2002 August 09
kishore at carnatic dot com




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