300 Miles to Graceland

I did something a few days ago, that shocked and brought a lot of “delight” to some of my friends and gave them a talking point (for once) to drag me around. I didn't do anything significant. I just went on a pilgrimage.

I don't remember the last time I took such a trip. It must have been a million years ago. But I do remember that I had thrown a lot of tantrums, the last time around.

Apparently, the plans were laid out over a month ago 'cause they knew that it would need some convincing to have me shanghaied into this. Then knew that I wasn't gonna take “improper planet alignment” or “planets residing in wrong houses” or some serpent not “liking” me, for a good enough reason.
As expected the above excuses didn't work. So they retorted to the good ol', tried and tested formula of emotional melodrama to get my head nodding the right way.

On the D-day there was nothin' much to look forward except the mode of travel, my cousin's new car. So armed with CDs of Pink Floyd, Doors and Van Halen, we hit the road at 150kmph. Slowed down to 60kmph in B'lore and the back to 150kmph till we were at God's “abode”. It was fun “horsing” the new car around at different speeds. We reached by sunset and shacked up in a lodge. It wasn't until tomorrow morning that the pain would begin.

I had drafted a simple plan for an early exit. Wake up early, beat the people 'traffic', “align” the planets, move the planets to their “homes”, charm the “vicious” serpent and get the hell out of there and salvage some weekend time.

As per the plan, woke up early and got ready. I chose to wear a 'T' and a faded torn jeans, much against my dad's desire to wrap me in dhoti. I wasn't gonna fall for that. I was already lookin' like a chump. There was some damage control needed.
Entered the temple after a longish walk. Somehow when I sat in the “battlefield”, the people were gawking at me. I thought it must be either the number of people accompanying me to the 'seat' or the torn jeans. I preferred not to look at the more pious. And then came out the 'commander', took out his mike, tuned the amplifiers and started rocking...err..chanting verses. This guy was a smart fella. He started commanding us on how to setup the things in the “warkit”. He made us do most of the work ourselves, like showering flowers, water et al. My parents kept looking at my face to spot any grimaces on my face, so that they can reprimand me later. My poker face came to the rescue here.

When I was sitting there and doing whatever I was doing, a lot of questions popped up. What am I doing? What is all this? Why are the people in so much piety? Do they really mean it? What happens when they do all this? Do they come back if their prayers weren't answered? Do they still keep their faith? Do they actually feel better by doing all this?

I've read somewhere that God resides inside everyone of us. Infact, I've read as a kid that is God is everywhere. Then why do people travel miles to see a piece of well carved stone. I have never been able to understand the ways of the people in this aspect. Or maybe I'm too incapable of understanding this abstractness or maybe my reasoning tendency gets in the way of understanding it. I'll never know.

People have scaled mountains and crossed oceans in the pursuit of god. I have kept my pursuit, if at all I believe there is one inside me, rather simple. I believe there is a way to god in every li'l thing we do. Then why waste time in going in search of something we'll never find. I would say think good, do good and feel good, you might just find him along the way.

By the end of the Q & A in my head, the puja was also pretty much over. Apparently, it didn't take much time and it wasn't painful either. It all wrapped up fine. My parents were happy with my 'performance' and I also felt a job well done.

Went back to the hotel, packed our bags and hit the throttle home thinking or rather hoping that this would be the last one or at least one of the last one of the pilgrimages, I would ever have to take.