Memories of India - The Lessons

Tonight was our last night in India and we had a long wait at the airport. So we visited Birla Mandir, a major Hindu shrine that was built in 1976 by the Birla foundation as a replica of a similar shrine in New Dehli. The Birlas were industrialists who built temples in different parts of the country. The temple sits on a hillside high above the city and is impressive from any angle, built entirely from pure white marble from Rajasthan. Although we arrived after dark it was cool and a gentle rain began to fall as we took off our shoes and walked up the staircase. As you walk up the stairs there are small alters to Ganesh, Haruman and other gods and goddesses from Hindu mythology. Flowers adorn the alters and bowls of vermillion are available for those who want to display the sacred color on their forehead. The main temple, which is huge, is made of marble and scenes from the Hindu scriptures are engraved in the walls. The large courtyards are paved with marble and this cools the air, especially in the evenings. Although I was asked whether I had a camera (pictures are forbidden) I felt welcomed and we quietly wound our way through the complex with everyone else.

In the lower courtyard is an alter to a Hindu saint and engraved on the right hand wall is a saying from Sri Vivekananda I will never forget:

"He who sees Shiva in the weak, poor and destitute, his religion is true. If he only sees Shiva in the statue his religion is immature."

Many have come to India over the years to find God and although I cannot say I've had that experience I did see Shiva in the faces of children as they danced on the marble patio. I watched them twirl in the moonlight as the lights of the city reflected on the waters of Hussain Sagar lake, its Buddha overlooking monuments to the seven Nizam kings. I've seen God in the compassion and friendship of my Indian colleagues and the thoughtfulness of our Muslim driver who fetched some curry leaves for me as we ate dinner. I saw Shiva dancing with me Thursday night as we all moved to the sinuous rythyms of Hindi pop music, and in the helpfulness of the director as he prepared my recovery food the first day I was here. If God exists at all he lives in the compassion and love of mankind. Without those things there is no God, at least not one I care to know.

Remembering all of this I mindfully placed three coins in the bowl before the alter, one each for Luna, Monica and myself. And at the main alter to Lord Venkateswara (Vishnu) I did the same again, accepting a prasad from the holy men who tend this place. The Hindus believe that this is an offering from the Gods back to mankind, and as it enters your body you become infused with the divine. If there is any truth in this I hope it helps me become a more mindful person who makes a real difference in the world in whatever small way I can.

I bought some incense at the gift shop and we headed off to a final dinner at Angeethi, the samosas were as wonderful as we remembered them. There was Rogan Josh, Chicken Kebobs that melted in your mouth and copious amounts of Kingfisher. We talked for a few hours till it was time to go. Zaheed dropped us at the airport and I tipped him five hundred rupees, thanking him for his help and hoping to see him again soon. We hustled through check-in and security and here I sit in the lounge waiting for my flight which is an hour or so late. This is the part of travel that drives me mildly insane, but remembering the lessons of the last few weeks helps.

I want to go back to India... Very soon...