Photopost: Temple Rededication

On Sunday I wrote about the local Hindu temple's kumbhabhishekam, or rededication; later that morning we attended the conclusion of the four-day ceremony. I took loads of photos, and I have to tell you, I wasn't the only one, although most people were snapping away on cell phones.

The entrance to the temple grounds, coming from the parking lot next door. The grey object in the center is the head of Ganesh; he is the remover of obstacles and the lord of beginnings.

The entrance to the tent outside the temple, where there were pujas to purify and revivify the temple and its contents going on for days. Up until a certain point, the temple was completely closed.



This was a holy occasion, and thus, a shoeless affair.



I don't know what this pole's purpose is, but it's new. At the end of the ceremony, a priest came out and put things on its base, but by the time I got up to it, all I saw was a small bowl with a bit of water. People were dipping their fingers in it and dabbing their foreheads and throats.



There are seven of these golden spikes; they're new, too, and according to a priest we flagged down, they draw divine energy into the temple.



This lady is holding a kumbha (vessel), that's wrapped with thread. A group of people (who I believe paid for the privilege) were allowed to take the vessels, which were partially filled with holy water, and pour their contents on the main altar. This is known as abhishekam, or sprinkling, and it can also be done with milk, ghee, oil or milk curds. The garlands on the door behind her are made of fresh flowers.



The only place in St. Louis I've ever been able to lose my husband in a crowd.



And then the helicopter appeared, carrying one of the temple's priests. He was flown around the various parts of the temple so he could sprinkle holy water and rice on the building. Ordinarily, this is achieved with ladders and internal staircases, but the fire codes prevent this.







Then he did the same to the crowd in front of the temple; it was windy and gritty and joyous.

But wait, there’s more

Last night I wrote about Ugadi, or Telugu New Year. When we were talking with my amma (mother-in-law) to prepare that post, she filled us in on the full range of preparations and celebrations. I took copious notes.

Here’s a list of what else we could have done (and likely will be doing next year now that I have the lowdown):

- Decorate the mirror with jewelry and a flower on top

- Include betel nuts and leaves with the fruit

- Make sure the lamp faces out (see the picture above -- it amused my amma and produced this note)

- Prepare panchamirtham – literally, five-items elixir, which symbolizes the sweetness and bitterness of life -- a jam-like concoction of cardamom, raisins, honey, raisins, banana, tamarind, jaggery (unrefined, semi-moist molasses-tasting sugar) and rock candy, with neem flowers on top. I realize that’s more than five things, but that’s the list my mother-in-law gave me, and she’s the expert. It’s made the night before and placed on the shrine, then eaten when you drink the milk.

- Break a coconut as you’re praying (the second time) and pour its milk into a bowl with tulsi (basil) leaves

- Decorate front porch with rice flour mandala (this is done after the first prayer)

- Prepare sandalwood (a paste of sandalwood powder and water) and kunkum (I think of this as blessing powder; it’s a vermillion shade of red) and apply both to the forehead after the final prayer

- In the evening, prepare a meal of kesari, payasam, variety rice (tamarind, tomato, coconut, lemon, curd etc.), vada, appalams (you may know this as papadams), and vegetables

- Give the money from the shrine to children

- Visit the temple in the morning or evening

Clearly, I’m going to need to plan ahead – and hit the Indian grocery store. I'll also be consulting the cheat sheet I typed up.

Ugadi

Last Friday morning, as soon as we got up, Mowgli told me to close my eyes and led me into our closet. His eyes were closed, too, which made for stumbly progress. Once there, he lit a tiny oil lamp and we looked into a mirror that he’d placed on the shrine that resides there. Here’s what we saw:

Two apples, two bananas, two lemons, and a small bunch of grapes. American and Indian money, placed on a piece of new clothing. A packet of nine pulses (legumes) and grains called navadhaniyam (literally: nine grains), and a container with nine colors of crystals, called navaratnam (literally: nine gems). The aforementioned lamp, a stick of incense, a small statue of Ganesh (the Hindu god that governs auspicious beginnings and good luck).

We prayed, fed and walked the dogs (not part of the ritual, but a necessary part of our morning routine), showered, and then Mowgli boiled some milk with sugar and cardamom. He brought this up to the shrine, and lit three things: the lamp (which had since gone out), a stick of incense, and a nub of camphor in a tiny silver dish. He took the camphor in his right hand, supported with his left, and moved it in a clockwise circle three times, trailing its black smoke. Then we drank the milk, finished getting dressed and went to work.

This is how we celebrate Ugadi (“oo-GA-dee”), or Telugu New Year. It’s a recognition of the day Brahma created the universe, and marks the first day of the Telugu lunar calendar. There’s also Tamil New Year and Kerala New Year and many others; the dates shift from year to year because they're based on the Hindu calendar. We celebrate Telugu New Year because it originated in the region that Mowgli’s parents are from. Each region’s ritual is slightly different, but all are a puja with the purpose of welcoming the new year.

You may be wondering, as I did before I asked my mother-in-law, what happens to the fruit once the ceremony is over. Her answer: You eat it. You may also be wondering what I think of all this.

I consider myself a religious dilettante: I’ve never been able to get myself to commit to a particular house of worship, maybe because I’m curious about different faiths. I believe that it doesn’t matter how you pay attention to your spiritual life, or what shape, form or name of creator or god you pray to. For me, the most important thing is to pay attention to something bigger than myself.

Religious curiosity aside, I also participate in Hindu rituals to get closer to my husband. There are thousands of years of cultural, religious and spiritual depth behind the rituals he’s been performing for over 30 years, and they play a sizeable role in who he is. The most effective, and perhaps only, way for me to get some of that inside my skin is to go through the same motions he does. Even though they sometimes feel awkward, it’s like any other skill. It becomes more natural as you practice, and after a while, it’s second nature.

I don’t know any Hindu prayers yet, and in terms of a structured religious life, I’m in praying kindergarten. When I pray, regardless of whether I'm in a temple or a church or my car, I tend to have a single word in my head: Please. Even with that one word, I’m sometimes moved to tears. When I think about why that might be, I’m reminded of one of my favorite lines in Catholic rituals: Let us proclaim the mystery of faith.