Today is Monday: Temple going day. Queue is long with hundreds of folks waiting to see God and praying: to escape from sins, for getting easy money, resolve doubts or feel strong. Priest is doing rituals, chanting fierce mantras in dense Sanskrit, adorning idol with flowers and sandal-paste, and burning powerful incense. Devotees are awed 'Siva Siva' they are chanting. Outside one shop is there selling things for God: Flowers and coconut to bribe the God inside the temple. It is asking one rupee for keeping chappals safe for pilgrims. Prasadam also it is selling. It is also selling tacky little idols of brass or copper, little brocade dresses for the goddess lined with jari and little steel cradles for baby God to sleep in. There are cushions for the cold metal idols to rest when tired, pretty little crowns and lots of other things. All for pious believers to dress up their Gods as if they are dolls. Is God like a doll, to be adored and played with and not awed or worshipped? O...
The message is supreme;
Born in the heart,
and lilting itself
from tongue to tongue,
throwing its scent
over wind and wave;
travelling on dots
or fingers
when blindness
or silence bar its way.
It hews itself into stone
or burns itself onto magnetic discs;
it is the message that lives
and I exist
solely to pass it on.