<p>I need no alarm from mid-December to mid-January. No, I am not on vacation mode, but it is Dhanurmaasa, a month-long period when temples and the devout start their day very early as if in defiance to the biting cold. The temples around my house begin the day with bhajans and shlokas even before the larks are up.</p>.<p>At the fag end of the month is Vaikunta Ekadashi, and the poojas start an hour earlier than usual. I got ready as soon as I could, wanting to be the first in a long queue of devotees. I was first indeed, but from last. I had clearly underestimated the enthusiasm of others like me. The temple was up on a hill, and I stood at the bottom on the last step. The cold wind forced me to bite my teeth hard and hug myself, although I wore a jacket. </p><p>The doors of the temple opened for the darshan as people moved, chanting Govinda—Govinda, and singing bhajans. As I reached the main entrance, I noticed an elderly couple in tears of joy; they had seen the ‘Lord’ first. The lady wore the traditional nine-yard saree with stunning diamond earrings that immediately reminded me of M S Subbalakshmi. </p><p>While the gentleman was in silk panche and shalya with no sweater or shawl on, just like my grandfather, who left us when he was 99 years young and never wore a sweater till his last day. The eyes of the elderly couple were filled with contentment. They walked down the steps holding each other’s hand, singing Baja Govindam together. </p>.<p>A little girl’s excitement held my attention. She had the best seat in the world to see the lord—her father’s shoulders—as she shouted, “Appa, see, God knows I am very hungry. He has done some magic and grown fruits on the ceiling. Can I pluck them and eat?” The father replied calmly, “Hold on a little while! Just a few minutes more.” The mother and I smiled at each other. </p><p>I entered the temple and saw many taking selfies with the almighty—in devotion to self rather than bowing down. I am sure the photos went up on different social media platforms within seconds. The outer prakara of the temple was decked up with lights, and the prasada counter, with a mandatory ladoo, and, it appears, selfies too are a must—there was a selfie booth in the temple prakara milling with people. </p>.<p>I returned home to a warm cup of tea and the newspaper. A report about an app for safety at Kumbh Mela caught my attention. The report mentioned CCTVs in many corners, underwater drones to prevent devotees from drowning, and drones up in the sky. As I wondered whether the sarvantaryami (omnipresent) technology had become more attuned to the value of human life than we are, the loud cooker whistle jolted me back to reality.</p>
<p>I need no alarm from mid-December to mid-January. No, I am not on vacation mode, but it is Dhanurmaasa, a month-long period when temples and the devout start their day very early as if in defiance to the biting cold. The temples around my house begin the day with bhajans and shlokas even before the larks are up.</p>.<p>At the fag end of the month is Vaikunta Ekadashi, and the poojas start an hour earlier than usual. I got ready as soon as I could, wanting to be the first in a long queue of devotees. I was first indeed, but from last. I had clearly underestimated the enthusiasm of others like me. The temple was up on a hill, and I stood at the bottom on the last step. The cold wind forced me to bite my teeth hard and hug myself, although I wore a jacket. </p><p>The doors of the temple opened for the darshan as people moved, chanting Govinda—Govinda, and singing bhajans. As I reached the main entrance, I noticed an elderly couple in tears of joy; they had seen the ‘Lord’ first. The lady wore the traditional nine-yard saree with stunning diamond earrings that immediately reminded me of M S Subbalakshmi. </p><p>While the gentleman was in silk panche and shalya with no sweater or shawl on, just like my grandfather, who left us when he was 99 years young and never wore a sweater till his last day. The eyes of the elderly couple were filled with contentment. They walked down the steps holding each other’s hand, singing Baja Govindam together. </p>.<p>A little girl’s excitement held my attention. She had the best seat in the world to see the lord—her father’s shoulders—as she shouted, “Appa, see, God knows I am very hungry. He has done some magic and grown fruits on the ceiling. Can I pluck them and eat?” The father replied calmly, “Hold on a little while! Just a few minutes more.” The mother and I smiled at each other. </p><p>I entered the temple and saw many taking selfies with the almighty—in devotion to self rather than bowing down. I am sure the photos went up on different social media platforms within seconds. The outer prakara of the temple was decked up with lights, and the prasada counter, with a mandatory ladoo, and, it appears, selfies too are a must—there was a selfie booth in the temple prakara milling with people. </p>.<p>I returned home to a warm cup of tea and the newspaper. A report about an app for safety at Kumbh Mela caught my attention. The report mentioned CCTVs in many corners, underwater drones to prevent devotees from drowning, and drones up in the sky. As I wondered whether the sarvantaryami (omnipresent) technology had become more attuned to the value of human life than we are, the loud cooker whistle jolted me back to reality.</p>
