Why are Bhagwan Jagannath’s eyes red?
One sweltering afternoon, as Tarkik helped his grandparents prepare offerings for the temple, a question that had been nagging at him finally burst forth.
“Nana,” he asked, wiping sweat from his brow, “why are Bhagwan Jagannath’s eyes so red? I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Nana paused in his work, a smile playing on his lips. “Ah, you’ve noticed that, have you? Well, Tarkik, like many things in our Sanatan Dharma, those red eyes carry a deep meaning. It is a metaphor for love.”
Tarkik leaned in, eager to learn more. Even his grandmother, usually engrossed in her cooking, turned to listen.
“Think about what happens when we cry, especially tears of joy,” Nana continued. “What happens to our eyes?”
Tarkik thought for a moment. “They get red, don’t they?”
“Exactly!” Nana beamed. “Now, imagine the boundless love Bhagwan Jagannath feels for His devotees. He is in such a state of ecstasy due to the intense devotion of His bhaktas that He is transfixed, eternally shedding tears of joy for them.”
Tarkik’s eyes widened in understanding. “So His eyes are red because He’s crying… with happiness?”
“That’s right,” Nana nodded. “But it’s not just the corners of His eyes. His entire eyes have turned red, symbolising the overwhelming, all-encompassing nature of His love.”
As Tarkik pondered this, his grandmother chimed in, her voice soft with devotion. “It’s said that those red eyes are always watching over us, never blinking, always ready to shower us with love.”
Tarkik turned back to the flower garland he was making, seeing it in a new light. Each petal he threaded was a token of love for the Bhagwan who loved His devotees so deeply.
The next day, while exploring the town, Tarkik and Nana bumped into Mohan Das near the Landi Mata temple. The old storyteller’s face lit up at the sight of them.
“Ah, young Tarkik! How are you enjoying Puri?” Mohan Das asked, his eyes twinkling.
“It’s amazing!” Tarkik gushed. “There’s so much to see and learn. I’ve been hearing so many stories about Bhagwan Jagannath.”
Mohan Das chuckled. “Well, if you’re in the mood for another story, I have one that always moves me deeply. Would you like to hear it?”
Tarkik nodded enthusiastically, and even Nana looked intrigued.
“This is the story of Landi Mata,” Mohan Das began, gesturing to the small temple behind him. “She was an old woman who loved Bhagwan Jagannath as her own son.”
As Mohan Das spoke, the bustling street seemed to fade away. Tarkik could almost see the old woman, her face lined with age but eyes bright with devotion.
“Landi Mata noticed that the Bhagwan received many sweet offerings and became concerned about His health,” Mohan Das continued. “So, she prepared a paste of neem leaves, known for their medicinal properties, and offered it to the Bhagwan.”
Tarkik wrinkled his nose at the thought of bitter neem. “Did Bhagwan Jagannath accept it?” he asked, sceptical.
Mohan Das’s eyes twinkled. “Not only did He accept it, but now His meal would not be complete without Landi Mata’s neem paste. Even today, neem paste is offered to Bhagwan Jagannath as part of His daily rituals.”
Tarkik was stunned. “So, the Bhagwan values the love behind the offering more than the offering itself?”
“Precisely, my boy,” Nana interjected, placing a hand on Tarkik’s shoulder. “It’s not about the grandeur of the offering, but the purity of devotion behind it.”
As they walked away from the temple, Tarkik felt a warmth spreading through his chest. He understood that bhakti wasn’t about grand gestures or expensive offerings but about sincere love.
As they strolled through the bustling streets, weaving between pilgrims and street vendors, Tarkik’s curious eyes kept returning to the images of Bhagwan Jagannath adorning shop fronts and roadside shrines. A new question formed in his mind.”Nana,” Tarkik asked, tugging gently on his grandfather’s kurta, “I’ve noticed that Bhagwan Jagannath’s murtis are made of wood. Why is that? Most other deities I’ve seen are made of stone or metal.”
NEXT: Why are Bhagwan Jagannath, Balbhadra and Ma Subhadra’s idols made of wood?
