As Gautama Buddha said: We are travellers on a cosmic journey – stardust, swirling and dancing in the eddies and whirlpools of infinity.
The reverberating drum beats are symbolic of progress. The steady steps towards a goal. Of the female deity’s journey earthwards. And our aspired spiritual flight. A traverse to meet to Shakti…. The epitome of power and peace.
When the mind meets matter; there is a dance of dynamic energies.
Weariness of mundane thoughts and struggles cease; there is ecstatic eruption of joy.
Even if the lofty goals of bliss are unachievable for us - the more ordinary, there is reason to rejoice.
In the nation of naysayers, the festive season is a positive sentiment. That binds with the bond of celebration.
As a child I witnessed with fascinated eyes, the enactment of mythology. The victory of good over evil. It was more like a compelling story than a sermon of righteousness.
The great clapping and the burst of crackers. The demolition of the villain, who is consumed by licking flames.
The toys that we carried home. The wooden bows and arrows. And the clay temples. Those emblematic possessions which we guarded with honour.
And as adults the Puja pandals hold a warm welcome. The decorated Goddess. Fierce, compassionate, bejewelled, benevolent and blessed.
Cultural gaiety and piety mix with splendor. For a moment the struggle of daily lives is forgotten.
The fasting and the feasting. The mélange of the opposites.
Life is a fete. Love it and live it.
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