I almost did not make it to Mathura on the trip. Just earlier in the morning we had survived a near stampeded at the Banke Bihari temple at Vrindavan and I did not have capacity for any other adventure involving a temple. On the way to the Bihari temple, my friend A had a monkey snatch away her glasses. A pandit showed up ever so conveniently with a solution. The monkey perched on the ledge with her glasses dangling in its hand needed to be bribed with a mango drink and the glasses would be promptly returned. He had the packet of mango juice ready and for his consult, he expected to be paid. I am not a religious person and yet going to this temple had been my idea.
Once in that heaving sea of humanity crushing me from every direction my only thought was to keep my mother alive. I wrapped her with both arms to shield her from the crowd and get to the darshan. She unlike me is a religious person but never had any desire to brave stampede-like conditions in the name of religion - she likes keeping things quiet and understated. Yet we all survived this experience and came out feeling very differently about it. I was just relieved that we had made it unscathed. My mother saw it as God's will that this darshan happened. Everyone else was just confused about the experience.
What just happened there, who were all these people, what drove them to undertake such an arduous visit to the temple. As someone who has long struggled with sorting out if I am driven by guilt or love for my parents, I think I got my answer in those moments inside the temple almost unable to breathe because we were packed so tight. There was nothing I wanted more than to keep her safe no matter what the cost to me, no other thought crossed my mind other than seeing her out on the other side. I had my father hold on to me so we moved together as an integral unit. Whatever years we have left together seemed to start from that moment
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