Random Expressions

Saturday 3^rd February

I left Agra late in the noon. My boss called up asking an important budgeting file, and my plans for leaving early were halted. Even as I struggled to get the figures correct on the excel file, visions of burgeoning traffic at Faridabad loomed eerily in my mind. The stomach added its own grumbling chorus since I had skipped breakfast in order to get the house ready for my parents welcome here on my return trip.

I wriggled out of Agra by three p.m, and reached Delhi by eight in the night, stopping mid-way once at Mathura’s McDonalds (on the highway) for a quick bite.

At home, we finalized the itinery for the Mathura and Agra trip for Tuesday and Wednesday, cropping off a lot of things we wished to add. My sister (from Pune) was very keen about the Mathura part of the trip.

The Great Indian Wedding

Sunday 4^th February

At last it sunk in that the holidays had begun, and I swept aside all work related thoughts. Two cool Forsters with an old friend helped in washing away any remnants of office, targets or deadlines!

Evening was earmarked for the sagan ceremony of my cousin. I love being an observer at all family weddings and this one was no different. I listened amusedly to all the family politics, bitching and gossiping, intermingled with envious comparisons of sarees, jewelery and even (gasp) sons-and-daughters in-law.

The function was very sober and quite unlike what I had expected. Held at an old and prestigious club of North Delhi, it was a quiet and contained affair with awesome food.

En return route, I was audience to my mom and sisters conversation as they meticulously dissected the ceremony.

Monday 5^th February

I wasn’t fully rested, but we had to attend the chooda ceremony early morning. Mercifully, it was held at a hotel quite nearby our place (by Delhi standards) so we got some extra time.

The bright sunshine warmed the rooftop while we saw the bride’s mamaji (maternal uncle) gift the auspicious flaring red chooda . All along in the background, the incessant babble of myriad relatives continued their relentless chorus. The fried snacks settled heavily and by the time lunch was over I was sleepy and full.

On reaching home I hit the bed and dropped into a deep slumber.

The wedding was at another hotel this time a little farther off. It looked like a propitious day since we crossed various baraats, and at the venue itself there were three marriages taking place. Consequently, parking was at a premium. While squeezing my car into the available sliver of a space, my car plunged into an invisible drain. The thud reverberated in my heart. With some helping hands I pulled the abused Santro out, but its squeaky complaints didn’t stop. The front bumper had displaced itself and kissed the tyre noisily. There goes the smooth drive tomorrow, I thought sadly.

The newly built hotel’s ballroom was huge and spacious. But the crown belonged to the wide variety of snacks. Greedily I tucked in the delectable chilly paneer and marvelous masala mushrooms and soft spring rolls and delicious paneer tikkas.

The downside of attending family weddings is that everyone suddenly converts into a knowledgeable match-maker. Relatives that you would have met only at the last such function some aeons back hover around you buzzing with their unwanted pearls of advices and suggestions. The frozen smile hurt my jaws.

The DJ pumped up the music and some enterprising souls attacked the dance floor, goaded by the blender’s proud spirits churning within them.

While returning the car grumbled hoarsely like a cement mixer threatening to spew out its solid waste. I was nervous about the impending trip early morning.

Tuesday 6^th February

Vrindavan

Despite best efforts, we couldn’t leave before seven - late, but wholly unavoidable since we had returned well past midnight last night. The local car-wash man gave a stern tug to the bumper, and the car stopped its whining. I was mighty relieved.

In an hour, I was back on the same familiar highway. We stopped at Kosi Kalan for a light breakfast, and arrived at Vrindavan around ten. Before we could enter the city we were stopped for a shady toll tax which I suspect has nothing to do with any legitimate authorities. A bunch of guides pounced on us. Since we were new we required a guide, and selected a young boy in class tenth who did this job part-time, which again I suspect was not wholly true. It was a working day and he had no business being on the road.

Vrindavan is associated with Lord Krishna, whose many child hood pranks and leelas are centered on this place. Vrinda means Tulsi (basil). Later we learnt the original Vrindavan is now lost, and this city was founded much later.

Rangnath Temple

Negotiating a labyrinth of narrow lanes, we reached the mammoth Rangnath Temple.

The temple was built by a rich seth who begot a son at the age of sixty in an era when Viagra wasn’t invented. The construction was South Indian in design and the carvings on it fine and minute.The temple depicts Lord Ranganatha or Rangaji or Lord Vishnu in his sheshashayi pose, resting on the coils of the sacred Sesha Naga. The lynchpin is the huge gold Garuda stambh or Pillar for Garuda (the official vehicle for Lord Vishnu). The premises are open and vast.

Shri Vrindavan Behari Temple

Leaving the car parked at Rangnath Temple’s open compound, we walked through another maze of lanes to reach the Praacheen Vrindavan Bihari Temple. The walls had white marble tiles with black markings. On closer inspection we learnt they were names of devotees who had given donations there.

The deity’s idols were curtained. The priest began his narration on how it was the only place to see the entire family of Lord Krishna, including one of Dauji (Krishna’s elder brother Balaram) discovered from Yamuna riverbed. He explained how it was punya for a son to affix one marble slab in the name of the parents. The slabs started from Rs 1100 onwards. At the end of his narration, he pulled off the curtain to allow us to see the idols and asked for my name, gotra and place of stay and hopefully looked at us to loosen our wallets. We weren’t ready to do so, and as politely as we could, we tore away from that place.

A precocious monkey scooped off the prasaad from my sister’s hands when we stepped out.

Madhuvan

I was expecting a forest. It was just a tulsi garden with a small but quaint temple dedicated to Shri Krishna’s consort, Radhaji. The local myth is that till date in the night Shree Krishna visits the place and does the Raas Leela with Radhaji and the gopis . The tulsi plants transform into gopis in the night. However, any one who tries to view it is stricken dead. A few samadhis in the compound belonged to such voyeurs, our guide explained ominously.

Monkeys and beggars abundantly bustled around us.

Shree Bankey Bihari Temple

Shree Bankey Bihari Temple, built in mid-nineteenth century, is the biggest and most reknowned shrine; the high-point for one who travels here. The street leading to it is colorful, bright, and alive and resonates with activity; shops selling mithais, flowers, religious books, ornaments, deity clothes jostle with devotees rushing to view their favorite Lord.

The temple insides are large, and old-fashioned, made of painted brick-and-cement. The sprawling compound in front of the deity is cordoned off by brass railings to enable queue formation when there is a huge rush. That day, it was quieter and we were just in time before it closed for the afternoon.

The black stone idol is curtained off every few minutes.

We got a clear darshan, and admittedly the atmosphere vibrates piety and bhakti. I soaked the positive vibes and felt uplifted and stirred.

Outside, we eagerly devoured the famous kachauri-aloo and the refreshing kulhad-waali-lassi.

International Society for Krishna Consciousness (Iskcon) Temple

This was our last stop, and we freed the guide here. He had been a good information source, and it would have been awfully tough to find all the places without his guidance. He had interspersed his narrations with calls of Jai Shri Krishna or Bolo Jai Shri Bankey Bihariji Maharajki or simply Radhey Radhey . He had also urged us to laugh and clap our hands advising us that one who makes a pilgrimage should always be happy so that the happiness echoes in our lives and homes.

The Iskcon Temple is a modern construction in white marble, impeccably neat and undoubtedly peaceful. A small group chanted the Lord’s name to the beats of dholak and manjeera .

We relaxed here for a while, before moving on to our next leg of the journey.

To Be Continued.

Technorati : Agra, Lord Krishna, Mathura, Radha, Travel, Vrindavan

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This entry was posted on Saturday, February 10th, 2007 at 10:30 am and is filed under Travel. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.