Maybe God was trying hard, real hard. To make me imbibe his divinity. I ain't an atheist, by the way. But I'm sort of done with ritualized prayer regimes. After a while, it becomes mundane. And then I do it, more out of fear (the what-if-I-don't-chant-stuff-tonight...'maybe I wont find a nice man or I'll miss out the next promotion.....' type of fear) than out of devotion for God. So I rather not do it. Instead, I'd call on him once in a while to have a little chit-chat and maybe coax him into giving me a little more strength to deal with a tough life, coz I, never never have had it my way.
It was a couple of years back during peak Indian summers that my family made a plan for a short trip to Rishikesh, a small town, by the banks of the holy river Ganga (Ganges). It was pristine when I had last seen it in 80s. I was a little girl then. I remember seeing some beautiful fishes in the crystal clear waters and walking over a huge roped bridge. Guess, this trip was to break that myth of beauty and trance. Soon as we got off from the taxi, it was chaos. I was aghast and disgusted to see the place eaten up like termites would do a beautiful piece of wooden jewelry-box. There were hoards of unkempt people, heaps of garbage, strewn roads with no bins, open drains, smelly public loos...everything that could more resemble the likes of a hell. Whoever was to blame for it, I don't care. Administration, unawareness, or just reckless human behavior in the name of God & religion. But isn't Cleanliness next to Godliness. I assume, next only? But now that I were there what could I do. I couldn't stay there for my sake. Except for my mum's insistence that we must spend a few minutes on the banks and let her offer prayers.
The sight greeting us wasn't quite pleasant. Women who probably never step out of their veiled faces bathing semi-clad, alongside men, in full view of the rest. Some washing dirty linen, well literally! Children who were, I guess peeing in the very holy river? I wanted to scream and run!! I was damn angry on myself for being there. I walked along the stony bank till I found a huge semi-immersed rock to sit for a while. I was tired, putting myself to such torture. I sat. Seemed God was still willing to welcome me there. Suddenly, a stream of dark clouds in the sky, and the view transformed to that of a scenery. It started drizzling patiently, as if to cool me down. But all hilly places are the same. I was still feeling aweful.
Wondering subconsciously of all that was likely a 'Ganga myth', I dangled my feet in the water...the chilling, careless, muddy water, rushing speedily as if to defy - Catch me if you can. Then clapping against the rocks. Perhaps on our foolishness to presume we did it in? The moment was unique. Not just in appearance, in its 'essence' too. Like someone above poured sheer bliss into my soul (that was full of disgust seconds ago). Like the one you get while dancing in rain amidst the lap of nature, and no one's watching. Pure joy. As if the cool sprinkles splashed to whisper into my ears..'don't be angry. I am still pure. I still heal. I still nurture. Enjoy being with me. Don't hate me for what your world does to me....love me what for I am'. Incredible is the word only close to describe my mood.
I was silently sorry to doubt a faith called Ganga.
It was dusk when temple bells made music to see me off on soulfully enchanting notes...
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