A Memorable Day in India...

After my first three days in India, I already felt that a month had passed. I tried to journal as often as I could to hold on to the scents, the colors, the architecture, and everything else, but I couldn't imagine any way to properly convey the spiritual journey that the trip had already become. Writing is my way of capturing forever the experiences and people that make life worth living. Reading these entries later is an adventure and a rediscovery of the world, the past, my past, and myself.

Vrindavan. We began the day by making a stop at an ISKOM temple. It was made of white marble, and a group of devotees sitting near the back wearing orange kurtas were chanting "Hare Krishna" while playing instruments. It was a pleasant temple, and meshed well with the ideas and images of India I had before arriving. However, as I would soon discover, this temple paled in comparison to the experience that would ensue. From there, we went to a popular pilgrim site at the heart of the city. Vrindavan is said to be the childhood home of Lord Krishna, who often appears as a small mischievous boy. He is believed to be a blissful God, and the first to introduce the concept of love to Hinduism. On the bus ride to the Banke Bihari temple our guide, Cathy Asher, gave us a brief overview of the relevant details. She's a wealth of knowledge, and these fact-filled introductions to sites served both to inform and to get us really excited. And in this case, excitement was definitely what we were in for. Soon after exiting the bus, the monsoon rains began to pour. Because the temple was not near any main roads, we began our trek through the narrow streets and rushing water. It came from all angles, and at times we were almost knee-deep in the runoff as we hustled past the small storefronts of craft workers. We spotted tribes of monkeys sleeping on buildings, along with stray dogs, goats, and other animals swimming along in the streets. Smiling faces and chants of "raday raday" greeted us at every turn. Motorcycles whizzed by, and the smells of street food surrounded us. In short, it was chaotic and exhilarating.

After a long, rain-soaked journey, we finally hit the marble. Inside, the crowd of worshippers was thick. Sporadically, exuberant cheers would erupt from the crowd as the Brahmins transferred offerings of food, flowers, cloth and coins between Krishna and his devotees. The ceiling was open to the sky, and the scent of incense permeated the air. Toward the back was the cause of all the excitement-- the image of Krishna had been revealed. We worked our way through the crowd quickly and made it to the far corner where, behind a small door, a few people were baking prasad. Christy offered some flowers to be delivered to Krishna, and we were given a leaf-full of the sweet dough balls. We each ate one, then bullied our way through a dense and energetic crowd to approach the altar. With a little strategic body posturing, I was able to get Christy close enough to offer our prasad and flowers. The Brahmin gave us coins in return. Indeed, many of the offerings are redistributed to the worshippers as gifts from Krishna, and are given even to the poor and homeless in the community (those of the Shudra caste) who have nothing to offer but their devotion. We then headed back down to the main floor, where waves of devotees were kissing the wet marble at their feet, letting out loud expressions of faith, and encouraging us to join them in worship. Before heading out, I stopped to soak all this in one last time. Upon exiting, our foreheads were smeared with a yellow powdery substance (known as tilak), signifying that we had been freed from the dualities of human existence. As I said earlier, the emotion and intense spirituality of this experience can't really be put into words, as the above account seems dull compared to my memories. It's worth noting, here, that all of this happened before lunch.

Reflecting at and on Man Singh's red sandstone
temple in Krishna's birthplace - Vrindavan, India

The day was young. We continued to travel back until we made it to Rama Man Singh's Red Sandstone temple in the center of the city (which is where the picture in this article was taken). We stepped in to get out of what was now only a drizzle, and viewed a really impressive structure that Man Singh had commissioned while serving under Akbar to increase dynastic visibility. (Without going into too much detail, Akbar is one of the most famous rulers of the Mughal empire - a liberal, music-loving guy who created the notion of "shuli-kur," or universal religious tolerance. In other words, my kind of guy!)

Akbar's Tomb and Agra. We then headed to Akbar's tomb. This large complex is rather plain, to reflect Akbar's piety and likeness to the common man (though he was believed to be semi-divine.) The intricate carvings on the building face were just incredible. The tomb itself had three walls, one for each wife: one Hindu, one Muslim, one Christian. After Akbar's tomb, we continued toward Agra. We decided it was too late to head to the Taj, plus we were feeling a little overwhelmed with emotion still, so we went to Agra Fort instead. Situated alongside a river, this large complex was made of red sandstone and trimmed with white marble. It was massive, and much of it is actually still used as a military complex. There were a number of mesjids, including the one that Shah Jahan (Akbar's grandson, whose name translates to King of the world) had built. Shah Jahan had added considerably to the site throughout his life, which turned out to be a good thing, since his son Aurangzeb, when assuming the throne, imprisoned his father there for the last 6 years of his life. We viewed the Taj from across a highway, likely from the same balconies that Shah Jahan is said to have sat at and cried as he viewed the superior structure of his own creation that he could see but not attend. Lucky us - we were headed there bright and early the next day!

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