Harihar Tripathy
On my daily commute, there stands a quaint little temple right by the main road. It is a peaceful sanctuary that invariably draws me towards it. Behind the main shrine, there is a small kitchen for offerings, a stone courtyard, and a lush garden filled with vibrant flowers. Tall, leafy trees like Mango and Karanja spread their wide canopy, offering a cool, refreshing shade that seems to shield the place from the world’s chaos.
Because the temple is so conveniently located, I make it a point to stop there almost every day. While the serene environment is soul-soothing, what captivates me the most is the exquisite idol of Mother Banadurga. Her face radiates a divine grace that fills my heart with instant peace. Every day, I bow down in deep reverence and strike up a silent, heartfelt conversation with Her. In my heart, I always feel that the Mother is listening, and Her lips always seem to carry a gentle, reassuring smile.
However, today was different.
As I stood before Her, I noticed a strange gloom on Her face. The familiar, benevolent smile was missing. Troubled, I whispered, “Mother, what happened? Why do You look so sad today?”
In the silence of my soul, I felt a response: “Go behind the temple and see for yourself.”
Intrigued and worried, I walked towards the backyard. Though it was only eleven in the morning, the sanctity of the place had already been shattered. A group of men had gathered on the courtyard. It was a scene of blatant sacrilege. Alcohol was being poured into ‘use-and-throw’ plastic glasses, and heaps of snacks were messy spread over old newspapers. A loud, boisterous conversation was underway, filled with mindless laughter and crude remarks. The peaceful temple backyard had been turned into an open-air bar.
I stood there, frozen in shock. I looked back at the Mother’s idol. It felt as if She was saying, “Look at this. People build these temples on the roadsides, claiming they want our protection. They call us ‘Divine’ so we can save them from their perils. But do they even realize where the real danger lies? Is it from the outside world, or is it the rot within their own souls?”
A sense of profound sadness washed over me. I bowed my head one last time, not in a ritual, but in an apology for the collective disrespect of humanity. As I started my motorcycle and drove away, the loud, drunken shouts from the backyard followed me—a haunting reminder that while we seek God in stones, we often forget to preserve the sanctity of our own actions. The ‘revelry’ had begun, but the divinity was weeping.
