Puri, Orrisa - India
Ever have one of those days where you swear you've some how in the span of 24 hours lived thru 72, worn about a dozen different faces...
One of the advantages (or disadvantage depending on who you ask) of traveling solo is the inability to break down. To just throw yourself on the ground, squeeze those fists as tight as a 6 month old holding on to a pacifier, flapping your limbs in a frantic swimming motion screaming at the top of your lungs.
When you're by yourself you can't afford the luxury of becoming spastic, there's noone there to pick up the slack, to sit you down and place you in the corner with a masala chai while they take over the situation.
I'll spare you the gory details, but my almost break down moment was caused by a 2 hour computer mishalf, followed by a 3 hour trip to the reservation office at the train station to try and book some tickets. It also consisted of me being the only idiot in the place that actually followed the rules by using the enquiry line for enquires about trains and the reservations line for booking the reservation i had just enquired about.
After a few deep breadths, letting the old air out, allowing the new air in, i pushed tantrum-tears and all out and moved on. I decided I was going to go to Konark 37 km away and see the Sun Temple. I'd leave the Jaggarnath temple, one of the 5 most Holiest Hindu Pilgramege sites till morning since the reservations took up more time than planned.
In my little rikshaw ride to the bus stand, i looked around and took in the fresh ocean air. The muscles in my jaw and neck began to relax. I was in Orissa. People moved a little slower, there was less traffic, less polution, less magaj-mari (literal translation - mind beating). Even the touts and rickshaw drivers were easier to deal with here.
So i arrived at the bus stand, bought my ticket for 14 ruppees and settled into a seat with my snack of namkin and mango juice. By the 3pm the bus was packed and ready to go... about 1 km en route, the bus stopped. And could not be started up again. Hmmm okay the last bus back from Konark leaves at 6:30 and at this rate by the time i get there, i'll have an hour to see the temple before having to return.
I think I scared the poor man sitting next to me as I sort of belched out a laugh, smiled and shook my head. Time to get off the bus. It took a bit of energy to explain to the driver that 1 hour was not enough time to see the city of Konark, the sun temple and the beach. I got back my 14 rupees, crossed the street and hopped on a rikshaw - "Jaggarnath Mandir".
As I sat once again in a little rikshaw being peddled around Puri, I realized to myself that instead of hitting the internet cafe and the railroad station, had I gone first to the holy Shiva temple of Jaggarnath maybe the Gods would have been a little nicer to me and spared me from the day that never ends. Oh well, better late than never
One of the great things about being Indian in India is of course that i can get into all the temples. One might question my hindu-ness, but a Hindu I am nonetheless. The Lonely Planet is filled with descriptions of many temples in India from the outside - Non Hindus not allowed and Jaggarnath was one of them. So as i entered the temple complex i had no idea what i'd be seeing on the inside. First thing I noticed was the number of devotees/priests running around. The book mentions something like over 6000 are involved in the running of the mandir. Next I noticed the little stalls everywhere selling divos (little clay plates with pieces of cotton dipped in ghee ready to be lit for prayer), garlands of flowers, and other devotional items. It was quite the business. I've never been one to mix money with mandir so I opted to head straight into the main temple.
I've always felt a bit out of place in places of worship... not because i don't believe in a higher power but because the idea of organized prayer never really felt right to me. I kind of like to do things my way on my own time, without the eyes of priests or anyone else watching me, telling me where to stand, how to bow, when to clap or whatever.
Anyway, back to the temple... i sort of lingered in the back as i took in the structure, the paintings, the beauty of the place. Inside the walls and ceilings were depicted in bright indian colors with the images of the Gods and their numerous stories. The Orrisi image of Shiva (all black face with round white eyes not too different from the ones you and i know as googly eyes) with a red third eye could be seen behind the closed off area. I watched men and women of all ages come in and raise their hands to the sky, then get into a prostrate position, there lips moving in prayer their eyes closed. One by one they touched the lingam statue (the linga is often used as an iconic symbol of shiva and his consort parvati), pressed their head to it and hugged it with all their being.
Content with the images in my head, i went ahead and did things my way, donated to the hundi, received blessings from the priest and moved on. The temple had a small museum which was not as impressive as i had hoped. The interesting part was when i exited the small room. A priest pointed out that there was a small temple next door (throughout the complex there were small temples). Not knowing exactly what to do with this information, i followed him in. He asked me to stand to the side and gave me a small clay pot filled with water. In front of me was a small figure of the shiva idol including a linga. A family who had been in the museum as well entered behind me and he offered a clay pot to the woman. I stood behind her, as he asked her to repeat after him some of the holy names used to refer to Shiva, then asked her her name, husband's name, number of children, etc. He then proceeded to tell her to wish for whatever she wanted on their behalf, and as she poured the water over the lingam to say out loud how much she was willing to donate.. most donate 300 he says but 100, 200, 500 however much she wanted depending on how bad she wanted her wish to come true. Well with this she said 11. The guy said no 100 is the minimum. The woman and her husband still said 11 and poured the water. They offered him the 11 and he took it begrudgingly. He then looked at me. I said thanks but no thanks and passed the clay pot back to him.
Somehow I didn't think dropping a 500 note was going to convince Lord Shiva to answer my prayers, anymore then if i was to forward the last chain email i received to 10 other people.
As the sun began to set, I headed out of the temple towards the beach. The Bay of Bengal was beckoning with the sounds of the conch shell and the flashing of festive lights. The beach was sprawling with people picnicing, buying Puri souvenirs, riding camels, and cooling off their toes.
Not much else to write about other than the food is still spectacular, we had the most amazing thali this afternoon for lunch. For those of you out there who think Indian food is nothing but chicken tikka masala please go out and find yourself a browngirl or brownboy or venture out on your own to the nearest South Indian restaurant you can find. Try some masala dosas, fried idly, utthapam, vada, rasam soup, and... anything on the menu. Its definitely not tikka masala but its just as good
