by Jeeger Dodhia
PureTravel Writing Competition 2024
The sun was glistening as we sweltered by the banks of the River Gomti in Gujarat, India. The deep earthy incense sticks and periodic chants evoked our senses. The anticipation was growing and the air was filled with exhilaration as we began our march, flanked by worshippers.
Offering prayers at this divine pilgrimage, with my daughter, was a dream I had nurtured since her birth in 2018. Dwarkadhish Temple is of unparalleled importance to worshippers of Lord Krishna. Saddled tightly in my arms, Aaruhi, aged an innocent 5, was beginning to fall asleep as we were encircled by those steadfastly advancing to the temple.
The sheer volume of people meant the sun was struggling to touch the ground as worshippers of all shapes and sizes admirably powered along the narrow lanes, traversing the hills and valleys on this pious procession. Soon enough, she was fully asleep and felt heavier than ever. There was nowhere to rest or regain composure; the only respite was manoeuvring between arms or the brief opportunity to lean on the worshipper in front or behind.
Confronting us were a series of unevenly sized concrete stairs, riddled with broken slabs and chipped edges, which led to the summit. A misplaced step would be calamitous given the speed of the climb and momentum behind. I was glad she was asleep, as being awake amidst this surreal chaos would have filled her with trepidation.
Born and raised in the UK, she was not used to such densely populated areas, where there is a struggle for air to breath and land to stand on. The ascent was a melting pot for the senses, there was the intense fragrance of clarified butter, which was scorching from the diyas, intertwined with the ripe and luscious smell of fresh coconut water and rose petals as worshippers made offerings to the deities.
Periodically, the crowd would break into a rapture of chants and applause as they immersed themselves into prayer. As we approached the summit, it was fortuitously the time for the infamous flag on the Temple to be changed. Suddenly and without notice, the crowd exploded into the most emphatic and euphoric expression of love I have ever heard. They clapped energetically and sang melodiously yet vociferously.
There was not a dry set of eyes in sight as the worshippers, young and old had fully absorbed themselves into prayer and surrendership. There was something infectious about this as my eyes began to tear and the vibrations of love started beating through me. My heart was racing yet I felt a sense of serenity and contentment. My hands were shaking yet I felt calm and at peace. My voice was quavering yet felt assured and spirited. I had never felt like this.
As we entered the prayer chamber, my shirt was bathed in a mix of sweat and tears. A drop fell onto my daughter’s forehead and she hesitantly fluttered and readjusted herself. A priest guided us through our prayers in what, to this day, felt like a celestial moment. As he positioned his hands delicately over our heads, it felt like a permanent shield embellishing our lives.
Dwarkadhish Temple is truly a journey that words cannot capture; a journey which the senses must immerse themselves in. Aaruhi woke up as we descended to the foothills. Her memories are those captured through photographs and in this writing but the ecstasy we experienced together will surely have imprinted into her soul. When she embarks on this spiritual adventure with her child, I hope the memories of this day will reawaken in her and she too witnesses this divinity.
Photo by Pixels Of Life on Unsplash
