The Day of Bhagwan Jagannath Rath Yatra
The day of Ratha Yatra dawned bright and clear. Tarkik woke before sunrise, his heart pounding with excitement. The streets of Puri were already alive with activity, devotees hurrying towards the temple, their voices raised in joyous chants.
“Jai Jagannath! Jai Jagannath!” The air thrummed with devotion.
As Tarkik and his family made their way through the crowded streets, the scent of marigolds and incense filled the air. Street vendors called out, offering sweets and colourful trinkets to passersby.
“Nana,” Tarkik asked, his eyes wide as he took in the spectacle, “how long does the whole Yatra last?”
Nana smiled, guiding Tarkik through the surging crowd. “The journey lasts for nine days in total. But today, the first day, is the most spectacular.”
They found a spot near the temple where they could see the massive chariots. Tarkik gasped at the sight. “They’re enormous!”
“Indeed they are,” Nana chuckled. “Bhagwan Jagannath’s chariot is called Nandi Ghosh. It’s the largest of the three.”
As Nana began describing the chariot’s intricate details, Tarkik’s attention was drawn to the sea of devotees surrounding them. The diversity of the crowd amazed him.
To his left, a group of people were dancing with unbridled joy, their colourful clothes swirling as they moved in rhythm to the beating drums. Their faces radiated pure bliss.
Nearby, an elderly woman stood with her eyes closed, her lips moving in silent prayer. Tears of devotion streamed down her wrinkled cheeks.
A little further, a man prostrated himself on the ground, offering full obeisance to the approaching chariot. His body trembled with emotion.
Children perched on their parents’ shoulders watched with wide-eyed wonder, pointing excitedly at the towering chariots.
As Tarkik’s gaze swept over the diverse crowd, he remembered Bhagwan Krishna’s words from his dream: “My bhakts define me.” He saw it now, in every face, every gesture – the myriad ways in which devotees expressed their love for Bhagwan Jagannath.
Suddenly, a hush fell over the crowd. Tarkik stood on his tiptoes, craning his neck to see. Through a gap in the crowd, he caught his first glimpse of the deities being brought out of the temple.
His breath caught in his throat as he saw the large, red eyes of Bhagwan Jagannath. Those eyes, filled with infinite love and compassion, seemed to be looking directly at him, into his very soul.
“Jai Jagannath,” Tarkik whispered, almost unconsciously, as he folded his hands in reverence.
Suddenly, a hush fell over the crowd. Tarkik stood on his tiptoes, craning his neck to see. Through a gap in the crowd, he caught his first glimpse of the deities being brought out of the temple.
His breath caught in his throat as he saw the large, red eyes of Bhagwan Jagannath. Those eyes, filled with infinite love and compassion, seemed to be looking directly at him, into his very soul.
“Jai Jagannath,” Tarkik whispered, almost unconsciously, as he folded his hands in reverence.
As the deities were placed in their chariots, the crowd’s excitement reached a fever pitch. Tarkik watched in awe as thousands of hands grasped the thick ropes attached to the chariots.
“Nana, can we pull the chariot too?” Tarkik asked, his voice brimming with excitement.
Nana smiled warmly. “Of course, my boy. It’s considered a great honour.”
They made their way to the ropes of Nandi Ghosh chariot. As Tarkik’s small hands grasped the rough rope, he felt a surge of emotion. He was part of something ancient, something much bigger than himself.
With a mighty heave, the chariot began to move. The crowd erupted in cheers and chants. Tarkik pulled with all his might, his heart soaring with each inch the chariot moved.
As they progressed through the streets, Nana explained the significance of each stop and ritual. But Tarkik found he didn’t need words to understand anymore. He felt the meaning in his heart, in the collective joy of the devotees around him, in the very air of Puri.
At one point, the chariot came to a stop near a small house. Tarkik looked at Nana questioningly.
“Ah,” Nana said, his eyes twinkling, “this is the house of Salbeg.”
“Who’s Salbeg?” Tarkik asked, curious.
“Salbeg was a Muslim devotee,” Nana explained. “Despite being denied entry into the temple due to his faith, his devotion to Bhagwan Jagannath was pure and unwavering. It’s said that during one Ratha Yatra, the chariot stopped here, waiting for Salbeg to arrive and have darshan.”
Tarkik’s eyes widened. “Really? The chariot actually stopped?”
Nana nodded solemnly. “Yes, indeed. Bhagwan Jagannath’s love knows no boundaries of religion or caste. He responds to pure devotion, wherever it may come from.”
As the day wore on, Tarkik felt a profound change within himself. The doubts and confusion he had arrived with had melted away, replaced by a deep sense of connection – to Bhagwan Jagannath, to the devotees around him, to the very essence of bhakti.
As the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, the chariots finally reached their destination – the Gundicha Temple. Tarkik watched as the deities were carefully moved into their temporary home for the next seven days.
Exhausted but exhilarated, Tarkik turned to Nana. “I think I understand now, Nana. This isn’t just a festival or a tradition. It’s… it’s…”
“A living, breathing expression of divine love,” Nana finished for him, his eyes shining with pride and joy.
Tarkik nodded, too overwhelmed for words. He looked back at the chariot, at the sea of devotees, at the setting sun. In that moment, he felt a connection to something timeless, something that transcended the boundaries of the physical world.
As they walked home through the streets of Puri, Tarkik realised that his journey had just begun. He had come to Puri as a curious boy but would leave with a heart full of bhakti, forever changed by the divine chariot and the Lord of the Universe.
“Jai Jagannath,” Tarkik whispered to the star-filled sky, his heart echoing with the chant of thousands. And somewhere in the cosmic dance of the universe, he felt Bhagwan Jagannath smile back.
