88 The Saint
The temple and its worship form the centre around which the lives of the community that has gathered here now revolves. There is worship at one or other of the shrines here for eight hours or more every day, morning and evening. In the temple, which is a large, open building with many adjoining rooms and courtyards, people gather and discuss the day’s events, or sit quietly while the priest says puja, and at times assemble into groups to sing praises to God.
What originally brought these people together and still serves to bind them together is their devotion to a saint whose presence in their midst has since a long time formed the focal point of their lives. This particular saint had reached a peak of spiritual development, and for that reason had an openness to people of all degrees and conditions, and because of that one finds a cross section, a true microcosm of Indian society, in the community that seeks to keep alive his memory. I once suggested to one of his devotees that he had been, as it were, standing on a mountain top, and from there had such a panoramic view that he was able to help all those who were struggling along the various paths that lead to the summit. “It is more than that,” came the reply, “he was like the sun in the sky, by which everybody can see his way forward.”
It is a curious paradox, is it not? that to the one who needs nothing, all things should be given; around the one who has overcome all egocentricity, so many people should freely gather; to the one who has broken free of the bonds of time, that his memory should be kept so keenly alive, and passed onto the children who never knew him while he was living and moving in this world.
In the life of the community here it seems to me that everything is truly orientated towards the spiritual, and that all that is done is seen to be within the realm of the sacred. This is particularly noticeable in the lives of the children, most of whom were born and grew up here and therefore only know of a God-centred world. This was brought home to me very strongly one evening just after I had arrived here, when I had a conversation with a young girl of about ten, which culminated in her pointing towards the sign and large photo of the saint which dominates the main shrine, and saying, “For me, this is Siva (God).”
It was a wonderful moment, for I saw that for this little girl the saint truly mediated Siva for her, and was the very focus of her life. And indeed for all the children the temple and its rituals and songs are at the centre of all their activities, whether it’s a clapping song pradakshinah with their mothers and around the 7-tiered lamp, or listening to the songs about the Puranic heroes, or crashing the bells during pūjā, they are always involved; and with the older children looking out for the younger ones there is none of the frustration that is so common when life is lived out in a more fragmentary way.
The children have valuable roles to play in the life of the temple, and there are times when they are called upon to add their voices to the continual thanksgiving that is offered in this place, or to help light the lamps, ring the bells, and so on. When all else is finished and the doors to the shrines are being closed in the evening, still the children are gathered around a statue of the saint singing and dancing away before taking sweet prasad of God and retiring for the night. And it seems to me that here there is a true and living faith in which all the activities of the day serve to remind people that there is something more to life, something ineffable and mysterious, that in this place is known by the name of Siva.
Last night there was a storm and the rains fell,
so first thing today I went to the river.
I walked across the sand until I came
upon the marshes. The sun was just rising:
above the horizon, flame coloured clouds,
while below, on the clear placid waters,
reflected glory.