The salty breeze whipped through Tarkik’s hair as he stepped off the train in Puri. The 12-year-old’s nose twitched at the unfamiliar scents – a heady mix of incense, spices, and the sea. It was a world away from the crisp mountain air of his home in Devbhoomi.
“Whoa!” Tarkik exclaimed, his eyes widening at the sight before him. The streets pulsed with energy, a riot of colours and sound assaulting his senses. Vibrant banners fluttered in the wind, and the air thrummed with excited chatter and distant drumbeats.
“Nana, what’s all this commotion about?” Tarkik asked, tugging at his grandfather’s sleeve as they navigated through the bustling crowd.
Nana’s eyes twinkled with joy. “Ah, my boy, you’ve arrived at a most auspicious time. The Ratha Yatra of Bhagwan Jagannath is approaching!”
Tarkik’s brow furrowed. “Bhagwan Jagannath? I’ve never heard of him.” He felt a twinge of embarrassment at his lack of knowledge.
Nana smiled patiently. “Then you’re in for a wonderful discovery, Tarkik. Puri is home to the only temple in Bharat where the Bhagwan Himself embarks on a journey to meet His devotees.“
“But why is that so important?” Tarkik pressed, sensing there was more to this than he initially realised. His mind raced with questions.
Nana guided Tarkik to a nearby bench, its worn wood smooth from years of use. As they sat, the scent of freshly fried puri wafted from a nearby street vendor, making Tarkik’s stomach growl.
“Think about it this way,” Nana began, his voice taking on a storyteller’s cadence. “In most temples, devotees must travel to see their beloved deities. They make long, tiring pilgrimages, sometimes crossing great distances, to have darshan of their Bhagwan.”
Tarkik nodded, recalling stories of his relatives’ arduous journeys to Badrinath and Kedarnath near his town.
“But here in Puri,” Nana continued, leaning conspiratorially, “Bhagwan Jagannath does something extraordinary. Once a year, during the Ratha Yatra, He leaves the comfort of His temple and comes out to meet His devotees.”
Tarkik’s eyes widened. “So, it’s like… the Bhagwan is reaching out to us?”
“Exactly!” Nana beamed, ruffling Tarkik’s hair. “It’s as if the Bhagwan is saying, ‘My dear devotees, I know not all of you can come to Me, so I will come to you.’”
As Nana’s words sank in, Tarkik felt a strange warmth spreading through his chest. He’d never thought of gods as being so… approachable.
“But Nana,” Tarkik asked, his curiosity piqued, “why doesn’t this happen in other temples?”
Before Nana could answer, a group of pilgrims passed by, their voices raised in a melodious bhajan. The devotional song filled the air, its rhythm matching the beating of Tarkik’s heart.
Nana waited for the singers to pass before continuing. “That’s part of the unique tradition of Jagannath Puri. It’s believed that this practice has been going on for thousands of years.”
Tarkik’s mind reeled at the thought of such an ancient tradition. “Thousands of years? That’s incredible!”
Nana nodded, his eyes twinkling. “The Skanda Purana even mentions that the gods and celestial beings come down to Earth to witness this divine journey of Jagannath Rath Yatra.”
Tarkik closed his eyes, trying to imagine celestial beings walking among the crowds. When he opened them, the bustling street seemed different somehow, filled with hidden magic.
“You see, Tarkik,” Nana said softly, “this journey of the Bhagwan is not just a physical one. It represents the divine’s constant effort to reach out to the human soul. It reminds us that spiritual awakening is a two-way process – while we seek the divine, the divine also seeks us.”
Tarkik sat in thoughtful silence for a moment, absorbing his grandfather’s words. The idea that a deity would make such an effort to connect with devotees stirred something deep within him.
“I think I understand now, Nana,” Tarkik said slowly. “This journey of Bhagwan Jagannath… it’s really special, isn’t it?”
Nana nodded, his eyes shining with emotion. “Indeed it is, my boy. Indeed it is. And you’re about to witness it firsthand. Get ready for an experience that has transformed hearts for millennia.”
As they stood up, ready to explore more of Puri, Tarkik felt a surge of excitement. He may have come to Puri as a curious boy, but something told him he’d leave with more than just memories.
“Come on, Nana!” Tarkik grinned, tugging at his grandfather’s hand. “Let’s go see more!”
Nana laughed, allowing himself to be pulled along by his enthusiastic grandson. As they merged into the colourful, chaotic streets of Puri, Tarkik knew that an incredible adventure was beginning.
The next morning, Tarkik woke to the sound of temple bells ringing in the distance. The air was thick with anticipation, and he could barely contain his excitement as Nana led him towards the magnificent Jagannath Temple.
As they approached, Tarkik’s jaw dropped. The temple towered above them, its white spire reaching towards the sky. “It’s enormous!” he gasped, craning his neck to take it all in.
Nana chuckled at his grandson’s awe. “Wait until you see inside, my boy.”
