The young devotee

The wizened old priest seated at the feet of the Devi peered over his spectacles bemusedly. The college student was struggling to carry her helmet, books and a heavy satchel in one hand while balancing the overladen Puja thali in the other. As he continued to chant his mantras with their elaborate hand gestures, the inevitable happened and the books, helmet and the bag fell with a loud thud, scattering on the steps of the temple and scaring away some pigeons feeding on grains nearby. Obviously rattled and sweating profusely in the hot April morning sunlight the girl left the items strewn across the steps and resolutely made her way towards the priest, the thali, still intact, held firmly in both hands. He had a mind to chastise her for messing up the steps but for some reason held his tongue, the girl had him intrigued for her face belied her befuddled actions, it reflected a quiet glow, a strength of character that he had not seen in many. As she neared, he could make out a faint smile on her face, she looked quietly joyful, if that was possible, ah, the joys of being an innocent youth, he thought.

He continued his prayers as she stood there gazing at the idol fondly. It took him a while to complete the morning rituals, but she seemed patient. Suppressing the curse on his lips for the rickety knees Devi Ma had given him, he reached out to her for the Thali, it was indeed heavy. It was a traditional bronze thali, something he had not seen in years, with a coconut, incense sticks, a few slightly crushed hibiscus flowers, some misshaped peda and some red glass bangles. The simplicity of the items made him smile, he looked at her sternly “Go and collect your books, someone may step on those” he spoke gruffly. Happily, she rushed back to the steps and gathered up everything dumping them on the side in an ugly heap. So much for being organized the priest thought, she might have left those on the steps, they looked better that way! Why he had expected her to demurely arrange things neatly, like any other well-brought up girl would do, he couldn’t say.

As she flitted back to him, she told him breathlessly that she hadn’t wanted to set the plate down as she had put the offerings for Ma on those, continuing in a sing song voice that she was going to write her exams and wanted to pray to Ma before it. Ah, he thought, one other selfish seeker again, he had no patience for people of this ilk, he felt his anger rising. If there really were a Ma she would’ve gone deaf by now, hearing to these greedy, petty requests. He would punish her by demanding a fee to do the Puja, why should she think that Ma’s blessings come for free! Making up the amount in his mind, he steeled his face and said, “Jhia, if you want the Puja to be done for good results it will cost you 500. Otherwise just take the Thali back and say your prayers”. “Please forgive me, Nona,” she said with tears in her eyes, her voice trembling, for the tone of his voice had been harsh, “I just want to give these for Ma, I made the Peda myself in the morning, Ma has called me for the first time and I didn’t want to come empty-handed to her.” “No, No,” he said angrily shaking his hand, seeing his customer slipping away, “I can’t offer anything to Ma, this is not the time, the morning Puja is over, she has had her Prasad”.

The way the girl’s face fell with dejection broke even his aged heart, he wasn’t a cruel man, he was just someone who was practical, trapped for far too long in the wrong profession, of his own accord, and way too bitter about it for there was none other to blame. He had lost his ‘Bhakti’ a long time ago, back when his 9-year-old son had drowned in the well behind this very temple, his wife had passed away of a broken heart, not long after. Since then this had been his trade for, he had known no other skills. As far back as he knew, he came from a long line of Pujaris, and had his son been alive, he’d have been expected to continue the tradition, imprisoned within this ancient pile of stones, while the world laughed, partied raced by, forgetting their pitiable souls, mocking their habits, yet using them to get their self-obsessed favours bestowed by that all-pervasive power.

“Please, Mousa, atleast give the bangles and flowers to Ma.” her beseeching tone brought him back to the present, “a few days back I had a dream that Ma wanted to see me. I have travelled nearly 15 Kms only to see her, I am sorry I am late as I had to make the peda fresh and missed the Aarti. If you just give her the flowers I will go, I need to travel back quickly as I have an exam starting at 12”.  He felt his heart softening and although he wanted to stay aloof, he heard himself saying, “Okay I’ll leave these near Ma, if she wants them, she will take it.” Her face brightened up instantaneously, and he got carried away by the positivity reflected in the smile and continued “Let me plead with her to help you with your exams”. “Thank you, Mousa” she said humbly, “I don’t need to pray to her for anything, I just wanted to see her. I do hope she will accept my Peda, I’m not sure if I added enough sugar to it”. Suppressing a smile, he started the Aarti, the priest of the nearby Ganesha temple looked up surprised at the sound of the bell, this was neither the time for Aartis nor was there a crowd of devotees, must be age catching up with the old man he thought to himself.

The girl watched the idol wide-eyed, the priest caught a glimpse of a tear rolling down her cheek as he went full throttle, unintentionally performing the full ceremony. For some reason, once he had placed the girl’s flowers on the idol of Ma, he could not take his eyes off them. They seemed to fit perfectly into the already crowded, over-sized garland she was decked in, they glowed brilliantly like red rubies.  Through the haze of the incense and the smoke of the lamp which he was moving intricately in front of Ma, while reciting the mantras in his broken voice, he thought he saw Ma smile contentedly. For a moment when a stray ray of sunlight made it across the smoky interior, he thought he could see her eyes twinkle with joy. The mantras he had started to mumble feebly now spilled out of his mouth in a baritone voice, powerful and captivating, making it across to the younger priest who was now watching, his mouth open in shock and admiration of the performance. He did not know even half the mantras the old priest was chanting! As the prayers reached a crescendo, the girl started to weep openly, rapturously unconsciously repeating ‘Hey Ma’, while the whole world seemed to have gone quiet to join in on the Aarti. The younger priest had now come to the temple and was kneeling in front of the idol as well. He had never looked at Ma so closely before, never realized she was so radiant so forgiving, he began weeping repentant of the wickedness of his mind, the fakeness of his faith.

It took a while for the girl and the younger priest to realise the Aarti had stopped. The old priest lay prostrated on the ground before the idol. He seemed to be sobbing quietly. They did not know how much time had passed, the girl kneeling down looking at the idol lovingly, had forgotten her hurry to get back, the younger priest red-eyed and red-faced in front of Ma felt a new spark, a new love for this centuries old temple, his faith renewed and his vigor restored, he was an entirely different soul from just a few minutes ago.

Eventually, the older priest rose slowly, he seemed to have lost years in the few minutes. He looked every bit as old as his age, and more. His face though seemed to glow, his eyes reflected kindness and deep compassion, his smile at them was so benevolent that both the younger priest and the girl threw themselves at his feet for his blessings. They both knew they had witnessed something indescribable, something powerful and rare, something that seemed to say, from then on, everything would be okay.

Blessing them both with severely trembling hands, he pointed to the sweets on the plate, the hibiscus flowers placed on the idol had fallen on them, “Looks like Ma liked your Pedas” he smiled affectionately. As the girl graciously accepted the tulsi water, he looked at her closely once again, yes, Ma had indeed come to see him, to bless him for his years of service. He felt light as a feather, he had forgotten what it was to be like without the constant pains plaguing one’s body. As he hobbled down the stairs, he turned back to look lovingly at Ma one last time, he knew there would be no Aarti from him again. Smiling through his tears he enjoyed the hot sunlight falling on his face and breathed in the air scented heavily with incense, he felt Ma’s warm protective love engulf him. He was elated, he was finally going home!