Confessions of a Single, Female Backpacker - V

Well, my plan to wake up for the 4 a.m. darshan of Ma Dakshina Kali didn't materialise. As it is with such places, I slept like an infant and at 5:30 a.m. forced myself to awake so I could be in time for the 6 a.m. darshan. Trudging sleepily down the guest house lobby, I ran into a family headed to the temple and ganged up with them. Being long time Bengali devotees of the temple they told me awe- inspiring stories of how the 2000 strong crowd I saw the day before was actually because of the heatwave. It would have been easily twice that being the weekend. Why, just last December they remember standing in line behind 25000 in the shivering winter morning. Was I grateful to have missed that one !


We purchased white gallons to fill with water from the Ganga and made our way to the ghats.

It was a moment of moments. Beginning last January I had been summoned by some mysterious force to every significant Ganga Ghat .Hrishikesh, Varanasi and now as it makes it's way to the ocean, at Dakshineshwar. That familiar sight of pre-morning rituals on the ghat, families bathing and praying, filling white gallons of the holy water to take home ... I hope to decode the design behind this someday. As I took the 3 customary dips in the freezing January winter at Varanasi, it was half-belief and half- curiosity at exploring this ancient ritual.  Then in the even more freezing November waters at Hrishikesh it was perhaps 3 quarters belief and a quarter of doubt at this coincidence. Now as I took my 3 dips, the magic of Bengal worked it's way, coursing through my nerves, deleting all that is contrary to belief. Belief in the Source. There could be more that has happened, time will tell. 


I made my way to each Siva Temple, representative of all the jyotirlings and poured the water I had collected on each and every one of them. Along with many others chanting, singing devotees, an experience like no other. Outside on the sprawling courtyard a group of devotees had gotten hold of drums and broke into an impromptu song and dance performance that was mesmerising to watch. Their intonations of ancient mantras through song was a first. And like the evening before I let go of all my inhibitions and joined this group of men and women, adults, dancing and prancing like children. I broke out of the group to stand behind line for a darshan of Kali.


If the persona of Ramakrishna Paramahamsa , his message of love, peace and harmony does not clear your misconceptions of the reality behind Kali's fear inducing exterior - nothing else will. As the cosmic principle of Time, Death and Destruction Kali offers the seeds of regeneration and rebirth. Like a mother, Time is the womb of the Source through which all things are born, Kali being Time is the mother who offers new life. And mothers, are always of love. Through her seer Ramakrishna and his protegee Vivekananda, Dakshina Kali unleashed a new age of awakening. Ramakrishna  was followed by a dozen Bengali New Age Gurus who spread the message of Self and God Realisation throughout the world irrespective of religion, race and creed. From Tagore, Ram Mohun Roy to Paramahamsa Yogananda and Anandamayee Ma.


This is the gift of Dakshina Kali, Ramakrishna and Bengal to the citizens of the world.


A new beginning into the light. 

Confessions of a Single, Female Backpacker - IV

From the first moment that my stay in Kolkata was finalised I knew that a visit to Dakshineshwar was more imperative than anything else. Ramkrishna Paramahamsa, a seer for our age, as powerful a Tantric as he was simple and unassuming, Swami Vivekananda's master - his was the energy pulling me to the temple he had so lovingly and passionately tended to. To meditate in the force field created by his austere presence was a treat I wasn't willing to miss, come what may. Situated on the banks of the Hooghly, a tributory of the Ganga, the temple houses the famous deity worshipped by Paramahamsa, Ma Dakshina Kaali. So known because the Ganga flows towards the Dakshin (South). The main Kali temple is flanked by a Radhe-Krishna temple with 12 Jyotirlings - small Siva temples right adjacent to the banks of the river. You can read in detail about the background and architecture of this utopian shrine here.

The sweltering heatwave held me back for two whole weeks until I snapped and filled my backpack with a sari and overnight essentials.As with all such sojourns I make, it took a full 5 minutes to plan, decide and pack. My landlady was horrified that I was intending to leave in the evening and spend the night. I wanted to attend the morning 4:30 darshan at Dakshineshwar replete with a dip in my Ganga. I was sternly instructed to call as soon as I arrived and got myself a room. Rather than take a bus or a local train I decided to take the metro and then proceed by bus. Okay, fine, not so much bus as much HEAVING, MECHANICAL MONSTER. Add to that you have passengers hanging on to the fixtures for dear life, inhaling what everyone else is exhaling while the sun has turned the heaving monster into a fiery furnace. All in all, as genuinely exerting  a pilgrimage as Vaishnodevi.

You realise how little has changed in the past couple of centuries when you walk the cobbled, dusty path that leads to the massive temple complex. Stalls upon stalls of kitschy knick knacks, hot loochis, puja items .... as with any other temple exterior it's a riot of action. I found myself a guest house aptly titled .. what else, The Holy Nest. No kidding ! I left my backpack and headed for the evening gathering. Ramakrishna's own private chambers and meditation room have been kept intact and every evening a group of devotees render the most beautiful bengali songs that will stir your heart and soul. I couldn't move a muscle until they stopped singing and one by one we entered the room and knelt beside the bed of the sage. His presence, tangible and uplifting is an inseparable component of  the air of the entire complex, every nook and corner. Once inside the massive complex, be forewarned. This is Bengal, present day home of devotion and devotees. Crowds of anywhere around 3000 waiting in a line for a darshan of the Goddess is routine. I thanked my good sense that I had chosen to stay overnight, surely the pre - dawn darshan would see lesser numbers. Right next to the main Dakshina Kali temple was a small canopy structure, host to the evening's sankirtan. Another ethereal experience, these seem to come by the dozen if you so choose.

I am yet to see such passionate displays of communion in Mumbai. Don't get me wrong. Our chowkis cum kitty parties, loud speakers blaring at Ganeshotsav with the carnival like finale and the like can't hold a candle to what I  see consistently as I travel across Bengal. I was huddled in a corner, supported by a stone pillar, sobbing with joy, as were many others. Unashamedly, feeling the mirth of divine communion with complete strangers. How many times have you seen that as you stand in those atrociously long queues outside Siddhivinayak and Mahalakshmi. It's almost as if we in Mumbai have specific 5 point agendas when we visit our shrines, not to meet and greet the deities but to network with cosmic authority figures who can swing things in our favour. Of course I am generalizing here but as I see the average bengali around me overflow with love and ecstasy at every shrine I visit, the reality of devotion, devotees  and deities in Mumbai seems almost comically depressing. We have turned our deities into celebrities with more security than your average M.L.A., more crowded frenzy on weekends than the average blockbuster and more devotee turnout than voters at your average election. Where is that personal touch, that sentimental relationship with the seers and deities that is the hallmark in Kolkata. With these thoughts I went off to sleep early for my  4 a.m. dip in the Ganga ....

To be Continued.