Sporadic sounds of bells ring in the distance. My feet are covered with sands that have travelled across deserts and I wonder what stories each grain could tell me, if it were a possibility. I take my steps slow and deliberately; wanting to take in every carving of the wood that are centuries old. The gentle aromas of sandalwood, clove and saffron get blown around the temple air. Delicate intricacies and fragrances invokes a sense of permanence and strength.
Dominance over the tests of time and strength against the travelling sands that constantly wash over it. Gentle notes each grain carries in, orange, myrrh, old wood…; I breathe it all in. I filter the sounds of voices around me; wanting to hear the depths of the whispering winds that blow across the temple occasionally forcing me to protect my eyes from the travelling sands.
A serene aura hangs within the temple. I am finally here… a step in and suddenly, she appears before my eyes. Durga Maa. In all her powerful domineering image carved in sand and stone. Standing atop, riding what seems to be half lion and half tiger, multi-limbed, ready to battle the world. However intimidating her “Abhay Mudra” bold pose was, I knew she and I, if not at the same levels, fight the same battles.
I stand before her. In awe. the goddess who eliminates suffering, invoked strength, power and a sense of fear. For hidden in all her ornamental possessions she carries, is the root cause of creation, sustenance and annihilation. Her name, Durga, embodies the very fabric of life; Du: poverty, sufferings, famine and evil. The ‘r’ refers to diseases and the ‘ga’ is the destroyer of sins, injustice, irreligion, cruelty and laziness. The rise of Durga restored the balance between good and evil.
I look up to her, observing the intricate carvings, a strong emotional drive to find myself in her serene gaze back at me. I ring the bell, the sounds of my prayer echoes through the temple. And just as I bow down with respect, a new gush of wind blows in carrying with it a gentle trail of travelling sands. This time, I let the sands travel as softly as they come, they go. Perhaps, taking my wishes and thoughts with it. They travel taking a piece of the temple with it. A few sands land on my shoulder. I don’t brush it off.
I walk away, knowing I have taken a piece of the travelling Durga with me.
I celebrate Strength.
