To Pray or Not To Pray
Who I pray to or don't, is my right. My free will. But while writing this I realised it was steered by something more than just free will. It is food. So, thank you God at least for the food!
In the last 2 months, three events turned my focus towards mandir and Bhagwan. And I, not of the terribly questioning types, was found questioning myself a thing or two. Not the kinds like “Is their God?” but more mundane ones like “Am I missing something?” and “Do I feel good in any temple?”.
Glad to report, I found some answers.
It turns out I am neither a believer nor an atheist. I am an opportunist.
The first was the big inauguration of THE TEMPLE. The Ram-ness in the run up to the temple inauguration was nauseating and the saffron fervour to celebrate the temple alienating. It was like there was this whole breed of Ramians (fans of Ram) that had emerged from the woodworks.
Anyway, back to The Temple. The idea that everyone had suddenly found/would find the real Ram on Jan 22 was flabbergasting. What about all the Ram temples that existed Before Jan? Their existence suddenly seemed nought, moot, irrelevant (even) because Ram had only/would only just arrive on 22nd Jan, 2024.
It brought back memories of Y2K—when on 31st Dec 1999 I (and hopefully others too) believed that at the stroke of the midnight there will be flying taxis, people will turn into robots and the road will become one long moving walkway!
The orchestrated inauguration of a half completed temple attended by celebrities making their way to the temple in little golf carts was more spectacle than spiritual. Of course, I watched it live. On mute. It was a spectacle, remember.
I didn’t get the point of the exuberance and excitement. I still don’t. Was I missing the point? All I know is that I have the right to pray to the God I want or not.
For instance, I like Ganesh—he is an artists delight; dad drew him a lot. Plus, I have always been drawn to the Ganesh Arti from the film Vastaav and all the killing that happens in the background. I love the sound of it. It is one of the reasons I celebrate Diwali. I mean I like Diwali for other reasons too like Nariyal ladoos. The puja is a blink and miss but the Aarti plays in loop for at least an hour.
I like Durga. Because I grew up in Jamshedpur where Durga Puja was huge. It meant pandal hopping, bhog, new clothes, and innumerable songs of Kumar Sanu blaring across the Colony. Plus, Durga is kickass. I love the Mahalaya. I love Mahishasur Mardhini. On some days it is what I fall asleep to and on some days it is what I dance to. I once played Mahishasur in a play to glowing reviews!
So, Ram Navmi was never in my orbit. It is only after I started working in The Telegraph in Jamshedpur (i.e. at the age of 25) that I realised that while there were about (over) 100 Durga Puja pandals, there was just one place where Ram Navmi was celebrated.
Hanuman, yes. The Hanuman chalisa was kept under the pillow to ward off bad dreams. The boondi at the Hanuman temple in North Campus was yum. I knew the chalisa; how and when I learnt it exactly I do not recollect. It worked in college—to feel brave when we did planchettes on nights we got too excited or too bored. The angry hanuman almost ruined it for me.
So for me Ram was only Arun Govil who showed up every Sunday on the telly.
The second incident was Bose’s recent visit to Vaishnodevi. He said he feels good about being there. He feels a power. Something to that effect. I have such a place too.
The Bhuwaneshwari mandir in Telco Colony, on a hill top, a vantage point for the whole city, is open, airy and liberating. Plus, the Tirupati-like ladoos were great and the priest very kind. In the last couple of decades however, in a bid to expand or beautify or fortify (whatever you call it), it has become a bit claustrophobic, but I still visit it without fail whenever I go home.
I liked the Guruvayoor temple too that came up in the same temple complex. But the uptight priests and extremely strict rules and regulations meant it was just…routine. I sensed a bit of a Tamil-Mallu tension as I grew up; it could be totally my imagination. But I loved the little tuck shop just outside the temple selling the tapioca chips!
I really ever asked for anything only at the Bhuwaneshwari temple—like good health, good marks, a school crush. While discussing with Bose, I realised I didn’t even know what God I prayed to all these years at that temple. My mum was quite aghast when I asked her this last month. Like I said, not the questioning type…. I believed that temple kept dad alive and that was enough for me. Turns out Bhuwaneshwari Devi is the preserver of the universe!
And finally, just last week I was at a temple in Bangalore for a niece’s head shaving ceremony. The couple of hours we were there we got some Puliyogare and Kesari bhaat. This was a temple complex and there were at least three weddings in progress and a couple more queued up. Brides, grooms and their families were arriving at the temple. Guests in all their finery were seated in their respective areas. Every God was busy with a marriage each, at least. The guests would be fed in the temple premises—one had to just buy enough coupons. A couple—the lady on the saxophone and the man on the mridangam were there to usher in the couple to their respective gods. Imagine all the money saved!
I think it is the best use of a temple. Clearly I like temples—more of the South than the North—but I am not a great fan of religion, any religion. And I am definitely not a fan of anyone who wears their religion on their sleeves. I steer clear of people who think have ‘found God’. And it gets worse if someone tells me one religion is better than the other. I believe that religion is both volatile and violent and robs one of kindness. I also believe that religion gives a get out of jail free card to the dogmatics. And that’s not ok.
While I still ask this question—“am I missing the point?”—I am certain it is nobody’s right to tell me what to do. Least of all, pray.
This piece was stewing for quite some time. Thanks to Temple Run by this is finally out. A very different, brief version of this piece was attempted during one of our Ochre Sky Writing Circle workshops
. The prompt was ‘Face Off’.
My childhood experiences of temple runs were mostly us jostling through overcrowded and noisy spaces for hours to be granted a 2 second glimpse of the idol. I just didn't get it. One of the first grown up things I did in life was to say - no religion, no worship.
There is a wealth of sad irony in your line 'religion...robs one of kindness'. I'm so glad you wrote this. We need more pieces like this one. It helps to know there are perspectives other than the dominant narrative. :)
Thanks a lot for the shout-out! Really appreciate it.