In the name of god

I was at the temple the other day to collect prasadam, as I wrote yesterday, for Pongal. Going to a temple is not something I do as a habit or even too willingly, for various reasons. Perhaps strongest of all is the feeling I have had for some years now that there is no real use talking to god – whoever, whatever and wherever that god may be – since I have not been too happy with the behaviour of the divine in my life over the past few years. So why chat, when you are not too pleased with the being that you are chatting to? Prolonged arguments and extended debates get me nowhere; I have too much to do and too little time to waste in doing it.

For most of my life, going to a temple has been more to please my mother, or to accompany her there. I was not really a willing participant, but wanted to make her happy – or prevent future arguments, I am not sure which – so I would tag along and follow instructions without too much grumbling. So whatever I do know about prayer, ritual or even what to do in a temple comes from memories that are admittedly dim, since I rarely was conscious of what I was doing, having blanked happily out while worrying about whether the car would be towed and acting only on cue.

So when I did get to the temple, I had only the faintest idea of how to go about things. I smiled hopefully at the chappie who was making receipts for money he collected for the puja thalis, and he seemed to realise that I was more or less clueless. He told me how to proceed and watched from the entrance to see that I followed directions. But I have never missed a cue in all the appearances I have had to make on stage, and I was not about to miss one in the house of worship. I trotted dutifully behind the crowd, tailing on particular woman who seemed to be there with a definite purpose, not lingering vaguely muttering prayers like most of the others.

It started with the frenetic beating of drums as the doors of the shrine opened and the folks gathered got the first glimpse of the lord for the day. It was a small idol, almost primitive in its bug-eyes and rough finish – very unlike the nicely polished and shaped limbs of the other statuettes. But it was the reigning deity of the temple complex and appeared to garner all the devotion of the moment. I handed over my thali to the priest and was summoned a few minutes later to collect the blessed offering, I dropped in my coin, waved my hands over the sacred flame and beat a hasty retreat, collecting my prasadam en route to the real world that waited outside.

I was asked by someone later if I didn’t feel good about having communed with the gods. I had to say I didn’t. I would rather have found salvation and my inner peace with none of the trappings. After all, don’t they say that there is god within each one of us all?