An excitement nips the air, an expectation loaded excitement every Mahashivratri day, every year. The presence of the Lord fills the senses. This is helped by the chill that's hanging around, making us forget the sultry, sweaty summers that are just around the corner. The night has promises, promises of a puja with flowers and incense and earthen lamps lighting up the dark amavasya night sky, ghuta and other bhang laced foods made for the Lord, and shared with the devotees as the Lord's prasad.
It is the past memory of the shift in the realm that bhang brings about that is exciting. That nudge into another dimension, where you're there and not there at the same time. That is what one wants to experience once again this night.
This was the 25th invitation from Mama's house. The only one I had accepted. Mum isn't with her mortal siblings, I have to represent her. The little raw riceflour flattened sweet, sweetened with gur, the strong cinnamon flavour rushing into the mouth after biting into it, had bhang in it.
'There's bhang in it,' Mahi said, 'you shouldn't have it.'
'Why shouldn't I,' I said belligerently. She said because it has bhang in it.
I rolled my eyes in my mind, though completely straight faced in front of Mahi,
'It's OK, I'd like to have it,' I told her.
The Lord Shiva is actually my buddy. He comes to me whenever I need him to. For example in a very turbulent flight. I like to be in love with him. His complex mix of serenity, virility, sensitivity, nonchalance and the enormous love for his spouse, is exhilarating. He is the perfect partner. The Ardh Nareshwar.
Sometimes, I like to visit temples. Light an earthen lamp, some fragrant incense, shower the deities with flowers, pour water over the Shiv linga. The positive vibes are detoxicating. The rituals put in a sense of discipline, silencing the mind temporarily.
It was in one such visit that I saw Tommy. A tiny mongrel pup, walking on the footpath outside the temple and when I squealed, trotting and sitting on the mat of a lady beggar nearby. It was obvious that was his spot. The lady picked him, cuddled him and as I squat to pet him, and feed him a bundi laddu, I asked about the mother of the pup.
There was a line of beggars. One of them had rescued the pup when he was struggling in a ditch nearby. The beggars were his home, it was obvious. Home is where the heart is.
One of the beggars told the pup to tell me take him home so that he could be fed meat and fish every day. Another one told me that the pup wouldn't eat veg food. I asked what they did. Begged from nearby meat shops apparently. The pup shared space in the small mat that was the home of the beggars.
The beggars wanted me to give the pup a home so that he would be taken care of. They didn't ask anything for themselves. A moment of an emotional paradigm shift. I was comparing with our flat owners who got furious at the security guards if a dog took shelter inside the campus when it rained.
It is the past memory of the shift in the realm that bhang brings about that is exciting. That nudge into another dimension, where you're there and not there at the same time. That is what one wants to experience once again this night.
This was the 25th invitation from Mama's house. The only one I had accepted. Mum isn't with her mortal siblings, I have to represent her. The little raw riceflour flattened sweet, sweetened with gur, the strong cinnamon flavour rushing into the mouth after biting into it, had bhang in it.
'There's bhang in it,' Mahi said, 'you shouldn't have it.'
'Why shouldn't I,' I said belligerently. She said because it has bhang in it.
I rolled my eyes in my mind, though completely straight faced in front of Mahi,
'It's OK, I'd like to have it,' I told her.
The Lord Shiva is actually my buddy. He comes to me whenever I need him to. For example in a very turbulent flight. I like to be in love with him. His complex mix of serenity, virility, sensitivity, nonchalance and the enormous love for his spouse, is exhilarating. He is the perfect partner. The Ardh Nareshwar.
Sometimes, I like to visit temples. Light an earthen lamp, some fragrant incense, shower the deities with flowers, pour water over the Shiv linga. The positive vibes are detoxicating. The rituals put in a sense of discipline, silencing the mind temporarily.
It was in one such visit that I saw Tommy. A tiny mongrel pup, walking on the footpath outside the temple and when I squealed, trotting and sitting on the mat of a lady beggar nearby. It was obvious that was his spot. The lady picked him, cuddled him and as I squat to pet him, and feed him a bundi laddu, I asked about the mother of the pup.
There was a line of beggars. One of them had rescued the pup when he was struggling in a ditch nearby. The beggars were his home, it was obvious. Home is where the heart is.
One of the beggars told the pup to tell me take him home so that he could be fed meat and fish every day. Another one told me that the pup wouldn't eat veg food. I asked what they did. Begged from nearby meat shops apparently. The pup shared space in the small mat that was the home of the beggars.
The beggars wanted me to give the pup a home so that he would be taken care of. They didn't ask anything for themselves. A moment of an emotional paradigm shift. I was comparing with our flat owners who got furious at the security guards if a dog took shelter inside the campus when it rained.
