It was cacophony in the car. It always is! Sometimes I really wonder why we bothered getting car seats for the kids in India. Most often it's quite an ordeal making them sit in their seats belted and is a long boring ritual every time that ends in my impatiently declaring they can go free. I end up being the drama queen for nothing!
We were heading to Thirupparankundram. Akin to many Maduraites I too have fond memories of running around the huge temple, getting lost in the crowd on Tuesday evenings, feeding the temple elephant for a blessing touch in return!
The children were enjoying themselves. I sorely miss the childhood bliss of not letting situations or places determine my behaviour. A long corridor, a steep wide flight of stairs and there we were at six feet distance from the idol of Lord Muruga. We intently watched the sacred spear being bathed in rose water, honey, tender coconut water and milk. For some reason, the milk from the abhishekam tastes divine, I know not why! The priest dabbed a generous amount of sandalwood paste on the spear and restored it beside the rightful owner while I hushed my son who grinned and declared to his sister that the spear was having a bath! Peels of laughter followed while my daughter was preparing to respond with an equally amusing observation.
Down the stairs again and I hurried to pay a special visit to Juradevar. Vested interest or whatever, we needed his blessings with the frequent travel and insane weather changes.
I was taken aback by a sudden gush of air. It was a welcome change from the crowd near the sanctum especially with all the climbing up and down. When I recovered, I saw a short old man wielding a highly disproportionate large fan made of peacock feathers. He swayed it from side to side with utmost sincerity occasionally challenging his equilibrium, every time someone went past him. I could see he was very content with the monetary token of thanks that my son had just offered him. With the brother ahead, the sister rightfully marched and demanded her chance. She quickly went up to him.
Neat stripes of viboodhi on his forehead and a warm smile on his face constantly, the man bent down to thank her while I stood beside. As I turned to walk ahead, my father told me that the gentleman had been fanning devotees from when I was three. I almost froze. I turned to look at him again and we walked back to him.
My father explained to him that he had been seeing him the last three decades. The man was touched. He was only so glad he was being spoken to. He quickly called all of us and offered the viboodhi from his recent temple visits. I still kept observing him. A contented look, divinity, immense faith in the Lord and no complaints about having to tirelessly fan the hundreds of people passing by, with zilch expectation - truly rare!
Minutes later, we then learnt that he doesn't miss any kumbabishekam in the state. He deems it his duty to be present in any temple where the kumbabishekam happens. I don't know if he has a family or if all his belongings would fit into a backpack. It didn't bother me more than his simplicity did. He seemed like someone out of the race. In his own manner, out of the league, I'd like to say. He seemed unfazed by the world around him. He was the king of his fan and he served the Lord by serving the Lord's devotees. I could well put him on a pedestal amidst shopkeepers outside selling overpriced flowers and offerings and devotees haggling with them. Unfortunately, there is a price tag with faith and devotion. It comes with ifs and thens and with mental mutual deals. Not that there's anything wrong with that! It's just the way some of us pray! Can we pray unconditionally? That's the question that popped when I heard about him.
As he blessed my kids, I felt blessed. I was so glad that my children have the opportunity to experience the niceties that were an integral part of my childhood. Sometimes, you see God in strangers and in their deeds. The gentleman was a reminder that he was in a place where I’d probably need a lifetime to strive to be in. Contented, spiritual, selfless with unconditional faith in God. I felt a tinge of shame that I had to realize that after a man older than my father, struggling to lift a fan almost twice his size, fanned me, my kids and a million others who wouldn't even miss him.
It was certainly not just a gush of air.
