Why does Bhagwan Jagannath appear unusual?
As they entered the temple complex, the cool stone beneath Tarkik’s bare feet contrasted sharply with the warmth of the morning sun. The air was heavy with the scent of sandalwood and ghee from countless lamps.
Suddenly, Tarkik froze. His eyes had fallen on the deities, and he couldn’t hide his surprise. “But Nana,” he whispered, tugging at his grandfather’s dhoti, “they look so… unusual. Those big eyes, those unfinished arms…”
Nana nodded, understanding Tarkik’s confusion. “Appearances can be deceiving, my boy. Bhagwan Jagannath is none other than Bhagwan Krishna Himself.”
Tarkik’s brow furrowed. “But He doesn’t look anything like the Krishna in our home temple.”
A voice behind them chimed in, “That’s because different groups perceive Him differently.”
Tarkik turned to see an elderly man with a warm smile and twinkling eyes.
Nana greeted the man warmly. “Ah, Mohan Das! Perfect timing. Tarkik, this is my old friend, Mohan Das. He knows more stories about Bhagwan Jagannath than anyone in Puri.”
Mohan Das bowed slightly. “Pranam, young Tarkik. Your grandfather exaggerates, but I do love sharing the Bhagwan’s stories.”
Tarkik’s eyes lit up. “Really? Can you tell me more about why Bhagwan Jagannath looks so different?”
Mohan Das chuckled. “Of course! You see, some see Him as Krishna, as we do. Others, like some Buddhists, see Him as the smiling Buddha because of His wide smile. And those who believe in the formless divine, the Nirakar, see His unfinished form as a representation of that formless divinity.”
Tarkik’s mind whirled with this new information. “But why does He appear this way?” he asked, his curiosity growing with each answer.
Mohan Das’s eyes sparkled. “Ah, that’s a beautiful story, Tarkik. Would you like to hear it?”
Tarkik nodded eagerly, and even Nana leaned in, always happy to hear the tale again.
“Long ago,” Mohan Das began, his voice taking on a rhythmic cadence, “Bhagwan Krishna and His queens were in Dwarka. Krishna often remembered the intense, pure devotion of the residents of Vrindavan, and His queens were curious about this special connection.”
As Mohan Das spoke, Tarkik could almost see the scene unfolding before him – the opulent palace in Dwarka, Bhagwan Krishna sitting with His 16108 queens, their faces alight with joy.
” His queens were curious about this special connection. The queens asked Mother Rohini to describe this devotion to them,” Mohan Das continued. “But there was one condition – Krishna and Balarama shouldn’t hear it, as they would become overwhelmed with emotions. So, Subhadra stood guard at the door.”
Tarkik leaned in, completely engrossed in the story. The bustle of the temple faded into the background as he imagined the scene.
“Mother Rohini’s description of the Brijvasis’ devotion was so mesmerising that everyone listening became completely absorbed. Even Subhadra, who was guarding the door, became transfixed.”
Mohan Das’s voice dropped to a whisper, and Tarkik found himself holding his breath.
“Krishna and Balarama, curious about what was happening, entered the room. Upon hearing the description of their devotees’ love, they too became overwhelmed with ecstasy.”
Mohan Das’s eyes grew wide as he described the transformation. “Their eyes widened in amazement; their arms stretched out in joy at the thought of meeting their beloved devotees. They were so lost in this blissful state that their bodies transformed into the form we see today – large eyes full of love, arms ready to embrace, all other features seeming to melt away in the intensity of their emotion.”
As the story concluded, Tarkik turned to look at the deity with new eyes. What he initially saw as strange now seemed beautiful, a frozen moment of divine ecstasy.
“So that’s why Bhagwan Jagannath looks the way He does?” Tarkik asked, his voice filled with wonder.
Mohan Das nodded. “Yes, my boy. It is this form, frozen in divine ecstasy, that we worship as Bhagwan Jagannath.”
Tarkik stood in silence for a moment, absorbing everything he had learned. The temple suddenly felt alive with centuries of devotion and divine love.
As they left the temple, the sun had risen higher, its warmth matching the glow Tarkik felt inside. The streets were even busier now, filled with the sounds of vendors calling out their wares and devotees singing bhajans.
“Nana,” Tarkik said as they walked, dodging a group of enthusiastic pilgrims, “I have so many more questions!”
Nana laughed, patting Tarkik’s shoulder. “And we have plenty of time for answers, my boy. The Jagannath Ratha Yatra is still days away, and there’s so much more for you to learn and experience.”
As they returned to Nana’s house, weaving through the colourful crowds, Tarkik felt a newfound excitement. He couldn’t wait to discover more about Bhagwan Jagannath and the incredible festival that was about to unfold.
That evening, as they sat on the veranda enjoying the cool sea breeze, Tarkik’s mind buzzed with questions. The bustling streets had quieted, but the air still hummed with anticipation for the upcoming festival.
NEXT: Bhagwan Jagannath Rath Yatra is significant & symbolic.
