Looking up at the dark clouds in the sky, Diya asked her mother, “Do you think it is going to rain?” Her mother replied, “It might,” looking worried. There was still so much left to be done before they moved to the new city, to begin afresh. She did not know if it was the right thing to do, it might or might not be the wisest decision; who could tell, but time.
Diya’s grandmother was furiously against the idea. “Go if you must, Diti, but Diya should be here with me till you settle down; and I am not giving you a choice,“ she said. “Mother, you cannot always tell me what to do,“ argued an exasperated Diti, “You have never trusted me enough to believe that I could live alone and raise a child on my own. I can, and I will,” she said before storming out.
“I may not have been the best mother to her,” rued Diya’s grandmother. “After all she was only 10 when her father abandoned us. She chose to adopt Diya when she was only 25 and has been fiercely protective of her. I may have been wrong to doubt her potential. After all she is my daughter, and she is as brave as I was at her age, if not more.” The dark clouds that loomed over her heart cleared as this realization dawned.
Outside it had started raining heavily. She looked out of the window and saw Diti chasing Diya playfully in the rain. As their laughter filled the garden, Diti’s mother smiled to herself. Confident her little daughter could take care of herself and her daughter, no matter where they lived.
After months of planning, we finally decided to take our mothers on a holiday. My roommate and I chose a place close to Delhi so that it would not be too hectic for our mothers. It was a short four-day trip at the end of which we got back to the daily grind.
Day 1: We took an early morning train and reached Haridwar around 12.30 pm. The main ghat at Haridwar was 1.5 miles from the railway station. Our hotel was mid-way. We had booked via Booking.com and our stay at the hotel was a good one. We checked in and freshened up. Then we had lunch and decided to rest before going out in the evening to see the Ganga aarti. Around 6 in the evening, we walked down towards the ghat. Haridwar is a small town with narrow alleys and shops on either side. Since it was an extended weekend, the place was teeming. We braved the crowds and reached the ghat. The ghat, Har ki Pauri, is a major attraction in Haridwar. By the time we reached it was full of people. Almost a hundred thousand were already there before us to witness the aarti.
As the sun set in horizon, the temple priests began to chant mantras and waved the tall oil lamps over the river.
The fire reflected on the moving water and created a spectacular scene. One does not have to be a devout person to be present there. The sheer joy of witnessing something as beautiful as this.
At the end of the ritual, we returned to the hotel. Being tired after the early morning journey, we retired early. The next day we planned to visit Rishikesh (Laxman jhula and Ram jhula).
Day 2: Note to self- never travel during extended weekends and peak holiday season. So the next day started a little late. Around 11 am, we booked a cab and started our journey. The distance between Haridwar and Rishikesh is around 12 miles (20km). The journey took around two hours, mainly because there was a lot of traffic and also we stopped at several places for sightseeing (mainly temples). At Rishikesh, accompanied by a guide, we crossed the Laxman jhula, an iron suspension bridge, hanging over the Ganga. Rishikesh is a popular destination for rafting and we saw several signboards on the way willing to take you on such an experience. According to legends, Laxman, brother of Ram, crossed over the river at this point using jute ropes. This place also boasts of a temple dedicated to Laxman, the only one of its kind in the whole of India.
Once we crossed over, we took a shared cab to Ram jhula, a short distance away. This bridge is similar to Laxman jhula only bigger, 1.2 miles (2km) upstream.
Even though both the bridges were crowded with tourists, cows, dogs and bikes crossing, the beauty and serenity of the surrounding hills took away all the stress and strain of our hectic work schedules. Next we had lunch at a nearby restaurant and returned to Haridwar by evening. We spent the rest of the evening strolling along the streets and browsing through the shops on either side.
Day 3: Today we planned to visit the Mansa Devi temple. Having learnt our lesson the previous day, we started early even though the temple was close to our hotel. The temple is located on the top of a hill. The temple is dedicated to Manasa Devi, a form of Shakti. To reach the temple, devotees either have to trek or can take the rope way service. From the rope way, one can get a bird’s eye view of the entire town and the river.
Soon we reached the temple and found several long queues and utter mayhem. All to offer prayers and receive blessings. We, too, got in the line amidst intense jostling. Everyone scrambled and pushed and nudged, trying to get a glimpse of the idol. After half an hour of fight, we emerged victorious. We managed to get a glimpse of the deity and did not lose our belongings. A second rope way ride brought us down to the town. Then we walked back to our hotel where we quickly changed and went to a small ghat behind the hotel to bathe in the Ganga. The water was cold and refreshing. A welcome respite from the summer heat. Day 3 also being our last day in Haridwar, we dedicated the evening to shopping. Buying little knickknacks to gift people back home.
Day 4: Early in the morning, we bid goodbye to the little town we came to like despite the crowd and heat. Hoping to be back again soon, we braced ourselves to plunge into the work that awaited us.
Aamar bichar tumi karo tabo aapon kore (You judge me as your own)
Diner karmo aaninu tomar bicharghar-e (I bring to you my doings throughout the day)
Jodi puja kori miccha debota-r, shir-e dhori jodi mithya aachar (If I pray to false deities, or if I uphold false traditions)
Jodi paapmon-e kori abichar, kaharo pore, (If I falsely judge someone)
Amar bichar tumi karo, aapon kore (You be judge me as your own)
Lobhe jodi kaar-e diye thaki dukho, bhoye hoye thaki dharmo-bimukh (If greed makes me give pain to others, if fear makes me forget my religion)
Porer piraye peye thaki shukho, khanek tore (If I find pleasure in others pain, even if momentarily)
Tumi je jiban diyecho aamae, kalonko jodi diye thaki taye (This life that you have given me, if I have ever tainted it)
Aponi binash kori aponaye, mohe-r bhore (I be the cause of my destruction, blinded by
Amar bichar tumi karo, aapon kore (You judge me, as your own)
This song means a lot to me. As the days go by, I find Tagore’s words increasingly relevant to me, my life, and the world around me.
This song in particular holds deeper meaning for me. The line, bhoye hoye thaki dharmo-bimukh (if fear makes me forget my religion), makes me ask what religion is? It makes me think, is it only Hinduism, Islam, Christianity, Buddhism, Zoroastrianism, or is it something beyond that? Is it something that is bound by scriptures or dialogues? Or is it something to be felt? Something that makes me compassionate to the pain and suffering of others. Something that makes me speak the truth and stand for the truth. Something that has not been painted by saints and prophets and controlled by priests. Truth, compassion and humanity should be my religion. Why would a religion force itself on others? Why can people not choose to follow what their heart says? Why do we have to fear repercussions of speaking the truth?
Diwali, the festival of lights, is that time of the year that always gave me mixed feelings. Since my birth, I spent the initial years of my life in a small town in the suburbs with my grandparents. After that I moved to the big city with my parents. As I grew older, responsibilities increased and the frequency of visiting my ancestral home reduced. But Durga pujo was that time of the year when, come what may, I would always be with my grandparents. Durga pujo to Diwali had always been the best time of the year. Diwali always marked the end of festivities, getting back to my regular life, resuming studies and preparing for examinations. I never was a big fan of studying. I remember how excited we would be to buy crackers and how eagerly we would set them out in the sun. There was always a competition as to who had more crackers. The entire family and friends would gather on the terrace as the sun went down, and we would begin our festival of lights. Fairy lights brightening up the entire house, even if only for a day, always had a great impact on my mood.
The intense desire to light up the crackers waned as the years passed. These days I am more content watching people burst crackers from afar. I prefer lighting oil lamps, diyas, around the house.
My first Diwali away from home, I spent with friends who are more than family in an unknown city. We lit diyas and then went up on the terrace. It was beautiful and mesmerizing. The sky was full of stars with fireworks lighting it up every now and then. With my loved one by my side, it was the best Diwali ever.