A completely chanceful stumble on this delightfully engaging
essay by George Orwell “The Moon Under Water “ made my keyboard keys clutter
after a very long interval on an entirely unrelated topic.
I would suggest to anyone who is reading this to read the said
Orwell’s essay first (no, not to pick on this) to understand the
trigger for this blog.
I love going to temples. I’m not one of the temple fanatics (if there is
such an expression) who are obsessive about visiting every single temple in
their vicinity. By a temple I mean everything from a grand,old,1000 year old
one to the “ Theru mukku Pillaiyar Kovils”, to the neem trees streaked with so much
sandalwood paste that you wouldn’t be wrong in mistaking them for sandalwood
trees. More the merrier they’d say!!
What irks me is when the same “more the merrier” idea is applied to the
number of deities in a temple. I steer clear of temples with so many obscurely
named deities whose names barely register in my mind. I stare in disbelief when
somebody comes up to me barely able to contain his/her excitement and rattles off the names of 10 different
deities and say that there is a new temple around the corner with all of them
and so one can get all the blessings at the same time.I think this trend started around the time when the idea of going to a
temple changed from feeling peaceful to literally counting your blessings.
Here is what most temples feel like. Some of them make me feel like I’m standing in
a bathroom because the management decided that the weary old stone floor has to
be replaced with shiny and gaudy bathroom tiles. Some others make me feel
like I’m entering a zoo or a museum with their caged waiting rooms and queues
enclosed within iron bars. Passing through the deities with their special powers
advertised makes me feel like I’m in a detergent aisle of a supermarket.
Finally a temple with 10 different gods with 100 levels of power makes me think
I’m watching a Bollywood multi starrer.
If
anyone knows of one temple that is old, with beautiful sculptures, with only
the main god and goddess, a kind and pleasant priest who remains so no matter
how much lands on his plate, which has a corner where I can sit ,close my eyes and
lose myself to the mystery of the universe without the fear of being jostled ,
feels cool and smells divine no matter how hot it is and how foul it smells outside
and makes me feel that not everything is wrong with the world after all, I
should be glad to hear of it, even if it is situated in some far flung, remote
corner of the country. The scene may differ, but the yearning is the same.
