A tryst with God

Divine Intervention. That's what I needed.

Having reached a stage when I knew I needed nothing short of a miracle, I decided to visit the famous Jagannath temple at Puri.

Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't pray. It's just that I don't belong to the school of thought that believes faith is directly proportional to the number of visits you make to the temple.

Thus, I set off to meet the Almighty. On reaching the intimidating structure, I prepare to meet the all-equalising force that controls the universe, only to be confronted by big, bold

letters engraved at the entrance: `Only Hindus Allowed'.

OK, so I had fulfilled the first criterion.

I decide to start with the smaller temples. That's when I meet them.

Dressed in orange robes, with vermillion on their foreheads, the priests ask me if I need to be shown around (Read: paid to be given a guided tour).

Polite refusals don't go down very well. A firm `no' elicits nothing but further persistence.

At Temple 1: ``No, thank you, I don't need a tour,'' I say politely.

``Nahin chaiyen baba.''

``Bola, na nahin chahiyen.''

``Please leave me alone.'' (By this time, I've reached Temple 15 withTemple 2 to 14 passing me in a blur).

When I finally reach the main temple, albeit a bit breathless from running for my life, the only feeling is one of relief.

Inside, I realise that there are various vantage points from which one can offer prayers. I am among the privileged ones to be just two inches away from the idol (being bestowed with this honour after parting with a generous tip to the priest).

By some inane sense of logic that completely escapes me, I realise that the nearer you are to the idol, the better your chance at having your prayers answered.

Finally at the entrance of the room that houses Lord Jagannath, I heave a sigh of relief. Made it. Having slayed my share of priests and pesky beggars, it's now only the Lord and me.

``Ouch!' Hey Mister, watch where you're going," I yelp at a stranger who stamps my toes.

But before he knows the damage he has caused, I'm swept into the dark, imposing room by a tide of devotees.

Hordes of strangers. Thousands of them. Pushing, heaving, all eager to reach out to the idol, for that one touch. The room is a mass of confusion, a fusion of noises, prayers, beseeching, religious advice.I began to wonder if I'd reach the Lord before I died of asphyxiation or was killed in a stampede.

But I didn't have to think too hard.Before I knew it, I was swept in the direction of what I fervently hoped was Lord Jagannath.

Two minutes and three crushed toes later, I find myself in front of Him.

``Dear God,'' I begin.

``Hurry up, will you?'' cuts in a rude voice.

``Move over'' says another, as he usurps my moment of glory with the Lord.

``But...but...'' I sputter, realising that I had not even reached para two of my 15-page soliloquy.

Knowing I cannot not let this opportunity pass, I do away with my reverence and try regaining my vanquished position only to be tossed aside by other covetous suitors.

Defeated by the adversaries of silent rumination with the Lord, I return home, miserable.

Sitting on my bed that night, I realise this was as close as I was ever going to get to the Lord.

Knowing this was as good a time as any, I begin...

``Dear God...''