This is even more so when I visit the temples. During childhood, my parents taught me to hold my tiny palms together in the direction of the presiding deity, close my eyes and pray for the wellbeing of everyone around, that of the family members in particular. I religiously (pun intended) obeyed my parents and continued that charade for a long time. But, after I became a grownup and went through all those crises of faith, the sincerity with which I held my hands together started to waver.
I still visited temples, eagerly glanced at all the architectural marvels there, looked at the idol of presiding deity with interest, but somewhere, somehow that sincerity of the childhood was lost. I started doubting the presence of ‘someone’ at the other end to listen to all my blabbering. The act of praying / begging for things like good education, wisdom, job, health, family welfare, etc., started to feel like a foolish thing to do.
As I am growing older, the sincerity of my prayers is becoming as good as the sincerity of the Indian monsoons – never there when needed, in abundance when no one asked for. I pray with utmost sincerity to be in time for the office, for India to win sporting events, for my wife to like the dish I prepared, and for all such ‘very important’ aspects of life. But when it comes to praying for an ailing relative or other such crucial moments in life, I don’t find any strength in or need for my prayers. I decide that praying to a god will be of no use now, since it is all out of our hands. Well, that’s the sound of Irony dying by laughter!
But all that changed during my recent visit to a temple. As usual, I folded my hands, let out my usual prayer and looked at the idols of the presiding deities – Radha and Krishna. I have always been an admirer of their love story and even imagined finding such love in my life. Well, ignoring that naivety, the beauty of the idols touched a deep chord within me this time. I have stood in front of these idols many times previously too, but there was something charming in Radha’s face this time. As I stood wondering what it could be, I got the answer out of the blue – it’s the glow of Love.
Myriad works of literature and art, million stories told in the form of books, poetry, movies have all taught us to worship Love. Love is considered more important than even one’s life. We have been taught to worship the beloved. When the beloved is gone, one is expected to pine and whine. The Beloved is put on a pedestal. Saints pulled their hairs, scratched their faces, tore their clothes and shed copious tears when they couldn’t see their beloved god. Modern Romeos do all that and more when their Juliets go away – for a while or forever. Shah Jahan built a marble marvel for his absent beloved. Kalidasa composed an equally marvelous ‘Meghaduta’ to record the yearnings of a Yaksha for his far away beloved. People kill for love (!), people die in the name of love. All due to the belief that the Beloved is the ultimatum. The loved one is considered sacred, pure, beautiful in all her – or, his, for that matter - forms and behaviors. The beloved could do nothing wrong. The beloved is all there is, the beloved is one’s purpose, lending meaning to one’s life, one’s very existence. Attaining the beloved is all that matters!
But, hold on a minute! What does the lover do? Is s/he not important? Like Sabari in Ramayana, like those Gopis in Bhagavatha, is the lover there only to love and add charm to the Beloved? This was exactly the question I felt while I watched that glowing face of Radha Rani!!! There she stood, beauty personified, in great poise, defying all that I had ever thought about love. What good is the beloved if there is no lover?! What good are the flowers for, if there are no bees to pamper them? Who would have known Noor Jahan if there was no Shah Jahan to love and build for her a majestic mausoleum? What would have been the need for Meghaduta, if the Yaksha’s love for his wife didn’t flow through Kalidasa? Who would have slayed Ravan, if Sita’s love didn’t pull Rama to Lanka? Would La Gioconda have become the eternal ‘Mona Lisa’ if not for da Vinci’s love for his art and the subject? And, where would Krishna be, if not for Radha’s love, that hung like a halo above his head and brought Him closer to the masses?!
To those nuts who might take offence over my words on Krishna, just imagine – He performed many miracles, slayed many demons, married many women, gave us the Gita and was the ultimate Godhead on earth. He was a dutiful son, loving brother, sincere father, loyal husband and a just king. But, despite all that, He is still remembered and worshipped, first and foremost, as the beloved of Radha – ‘Radhe Krishna’. If not for Radha’s love, wouldn’t He have been another god in front of whom people folded hands and offered flowers, but never felt a closeness in their hearts?! Radha’s love brought him closer not just to her, but to the masses. Her love made him sing with his flute, pine for their rendezvous and dance the glorious Ras. She made us, ordinary humans, realize the power of love - power that bounded a god to her bosom!
The beloved is always considered more important than the lover. But it is the lover that lends meaning and beauty to the beloved. If there is no lover, if there is no love, then there can be no beloved, no matter how great, no matter how glorious.
Paeans are sung for the Moon, poems written and paintings try to capture its coolness, always seen as akin to the Beloved. But it is the Sun that lends the Moon all her charm. Without his love, his light, all Moon’s fame will be naught. After all She is just that - a reflection of that dazzling light from the Sun. Just the way the beauty of the Beloved is in the presence of a Lover!
A.
