The gates were about to open when we heard a man chanting different names of Lord Shiva, singing it as a song. The crowd joined him as everyone chanted “Mahadev” in chorus.
Har Har Mahadev
Devon ke Dev, Mahadev
Neelkantha, Mahadev
Bhole Shankar, Mahadev
Adi Anant, Mahadev
Digambaraya, Mahadev
Mahayogi, Mahadev
Maheshwara, Mahadev
Har Har Mahadev
“How many names are there of Lord Shiva?” I asked softly.
Pratyusha whispered, “Hundred and eight.”
“Wow, I wasn’t aware of that.”
“Rachit, that’s why I am the elder sister!” replied Pratyusha, squinting and looking at me.
I held my thumb on my nose and tried to blow my hand like a trumpet as the line started to move. “Finally, the line is moving,” I said, observing Captain Chaos assigning his responsibilities to another person.
“Best of luck, make sure you don’t let anyone outsider through,” he remarked, saluting the next Captain as he moved near the entrance.
I observed a camera hanging from the top of the banner, right below the gate, which read, “Shri Grishneshwar Temple – Main Entrance,” as I murmured what was written next, “The 12th Jyothirling.”
“Huh, that’s ironic!” I exclaimed as I read a notice hanging at the gate, written in three languages.
“What’s ironic?” asked Pratyusha as we climbed the steps near the entrance.
“The red notice board says, don’t give any cash or gift to the security guard or any staff member.”
“They should probably highlight one should avoid people selling VIP passes,” suggested Pratyusha.
I nodded in agreement as we moved past the steel gates and crossed the metal detector. On the left, a beautiful sculpture was carved on the reddish-orangish stone wall. We crossed the barrier and saw people exiting the temple on our right.
In the open veranda on the right side of the temple was a large silver-colored Trishul, surrounded by plants. I could see people praying to the Trishul with folded hands. Sunlight from the clear-lit sky made the Trishul shine with all its glory. A few people were also taking photographs of themselves and their loved ones.
“Fast, keep moving fast,” announced the guard dressed in blue attire as he gestured for us to go left in a well-shaded area with ample fans. The area had two zones divided by a green mesh with a flat-screen TV hanging around without displaying anything. Each zone had a pathway of eight columns where people had to walk in a zig-zag manner to reach the main temple area.
Kids ahead of us were running around, jumping the steel partition, and having much more fun than most adults standing in the queue. The line was moving briskly compared to the unnerving chaos outside the temple.
The grumpy uncle arguing with Pratyusha towered behind us, adorning a bluish khadi jacket and his wife dressed in a yellow saree. We reached the leftmost aisle of zone one in no time. A couple of kids were roaming the aisle, walking over the metal chairs attached to the railings. Each of them was holding a plate in their hand, which had ash paste and a handheld copper stamp.
The kids would dip the stamp in the paste, hold it in their right hand, and apply it on the forehead of people willing to apply the tilak. The symbol formed on the forehead was that of three parallel lines with a red kumkum dot at the top.
Outside the leftmost railing, we saw a group of poor people seated on the ground asking for alms.
“All men have to remove their shirts before entering the sanctum,” announced the security guard roaming outside the rightmost aisle near the temple. Immediately, many men started removing their shirts/t-shirts.
“See, I told you, men have to remove their shirts,” Pratyusha said as we moved briskly.
“Yes, but I ain’t removing my T-shirt now; I will do that seconds before I enter the temple,” I stated confidently.
“Mr. Just in time!”
“What!! I don’t want people to faint after seeing my six-pack abs,” I stated with an expressionless face.
“Hahaha!” laughed Pratyusha as her laughter was camouflaged in the hustle and bustle of the crowd.
The fans were roaring at full speed; kids were playing hide and seek, and the security guard was shouting at the top of his voice, coupled with the constant churning of footsteps.
“Whirrr, whirr, whirr!!”
“Flip-flop, flip-flop!”
“Clang, clang, clang.”
“Found you!!”
“Move ahead, move ahead, fast, fast.”
“All the gents, remember to remove your shirts before you enter the sanctum,” reiterated the security guard every few minutes.
It took another twenty minutes before we reached the exit of zone two. Until then, Pratyush had already made friends with Mrs Grumpy and figured out that Mr. Bangalore worked in IT infrastructure.
The temple was clearly visible as Pratyusha was busy explaining the architecture details to the people around her. “It’s Hemadpanti architectural style, a mix of north and south.”
“The shikara is five-tiered,” she added, looking at the top of the temple with her right hand and providing shade from the sunlight.
“It’s made from which stone?” inquired Mr. Bangalore as he admired the artistic carvings of elephants and deities on the temple’s pillars.
“Red and black stones,” Pratyusha quickly answered as she was joined by the security guard who provided more stories about devotees.
In another few minutes, we reached the sanctum, and the temple echoed with chants of Lord Shiva.
“Har har Mahadev!!”
“Har har Mahadev!!”
“Har har Mahadev!!”
The shiv ling was covered in flowers of various colors, and devotees bowed and touched the lingam.
We could hear soft chants of “Om Namah Shivaya” as some devotees stood on the side to chant the name a hundred and eight times.
I bowed my head with folded hands and moved towards the sanctum exit. Pratyusha stood in the corner outside the sanctum and joined the crowd in chanting mantras. After a few minutes, we walked towards the temple exit and reached outside, where a new set of folks had formed the Wall of People.
***
Woweeee!!! Finally!!!!