An Anomalous Experience

Every day, on my way to College, where I teach, I come across a tall, intimidating silhouette standing amongst the lush vegetation by the side of the road. I couldn’t see the face as the figure stood facing away towards the green vastness. Every day while returning from college, I gazed out my bus to catch a glimpse of that towering figure, thinking about getting down to explore that mysterious image. Maybe, the time wasn’t right, or it was something more to it.

I gradually became overwhelmed with inquisitiveness about that place, that figure amidst the lush; its oddity attracted me.  Luckily, soon I got an opportunity to explore the mysteries within the forest or what probably may turn out, a beautiful day gladly wasted.

I took a bus to reach Ratanpur, a scarcely populated area by NH 19 a few kilometres away from Kisanpur, a densely populated marketplace. Every day for the past 6 months, I've crossed this location on my way to college, but that was the first time I had ever got down. After crossing some shabby tea shops, I could see that bewildering figure at a distance. I walked the way on muddy, grassy terrain, and as I approached the graven image, I could see a couple of small huts where by the side stands a monumental, menacing idol, of Kaali. I was awestruck.

A 35 feet tall scripture of stone, the Goddess in her darkest of shades, undraped, standing with ten hands and ten heads, big red eyes, dishevelled hair and a bloodied mouth. The view was quite spectacular and intimidating.

This is what I used to see every day, on my way, wondering about what it might be.

“So, this is it then”, I said to myself, admiring the towering representation.

I was happy and kind of content with myself that I was able to satisfy my curiosity and make an adventure out of it without just lazing around the house the whole day. So, after being there for some time and a moment of prayer, I intended to head back to the road when suddenly I heard a voice. An old lady from the nearby huts was calling me to tell me something. As I walked towards her trying to make sense of why she was calling me, I heard another voice asking me to remove my shoes, which I obliged and walked towards the lady in the hut. “Come inside, don’t leave without visiting maa”, she said.

“But I already visited maa outside”, I replied pointing towards the statue.

“No, the real maa….inside”, she said with almost ecstatic undertones.

A bit hesitated but curious, I entered the hut; it was dark, almost cramped, but immaculate. The walls were white washed, with paintings of Gods and Goddesses in red all over the room.

“Go inside”, the old woman said with the same grin, pointing me towards a darker room on the left, a couple of steps below the one I was standing. I, trying to make sense of the situation, gradually walked towards the room, and as I stepped down, what I saw there was ethereal.  

I finally understood what she was trying to show me, the “real maa”. There, I was in a dark windowless room, lightened by a couple of earthen lamps, and standing in front of me was an idol of Kaali. It was no ordinary idol one sees in a temple. The arms, the torso, all the way to the legs of the idol were chained tightly against the walls. I had never seen an idol of Kaali in such an appearance. Her bright protruding eyes, the pitch dark complexion and a slightly forward bending posture, as if trying to break off the bondage, made it so alive, so transcendental. The aura there in that room was different, unique, and unworldly.

I was standing there, awestruck. There was something different about that place, that image, was frighteningly too real. You know when sages and priests talk about how a particular God or Goddess of one particular temple is “alive” as if present in flesh and blood. I understood what it meant at that very moment.

I gradually, getting a hold of myself started looking at the surroundings. There I saw several human and animal-like figurines of clay covered in bright red vermilion arranged by the side of the idol. It was fairly obvious, that those figurines were used in Occult practices of Tantra Sadhana.

After showing my respects to the mighty presence in the room, still trying to cope with what I saw, I returned to light outside the hut.

“You have come on a wrong day.....”, that old lady said, still carrying that grin. “You should come on a Saturday. A lot of people come on Saturdays”, she said.

“Why she’s in chains?”, I asked, after gaining some of my sense back.

“She has a tendency to leave her chamber and walk around at night. If she isn’t chained, she'll leave,” the old woman replied, with that same godforsaken grin as if she’s talking about her teenage rebel brat of a daughter and not some warrior goddess who carries a Scimitar and a severed head.

“Come during puja”, the woman said again as I was preparing to leave. I turned back to acknowledge her, then all of a sudden, I realised something. I went back to the hut, into the room and prayed again, this time not with fear but with faith.

The first time I was overwhelmed. I had never experienced such a sight before. I was afraid, unsure, and discontent. I couldn’t have left the place like that; it would have only weakened my faith, and that was no place for weak.

I left the place with experience, some wisdom and a lot of courage. I understood that the perception of a God is different for different people. It can’t be tied down into a single hue. Gods don’t reside in big temples and within gigantic statues; they reside in dark small rooms, where faith, love and belief bind them with those who believe they are real.