Halo or no Halo

I feel a special bond with the mundu. There’s something elegant about the hand spun light cotton handlooms edged with golden thread. The simplistic image created when worn is in contrast to the richness of the golden zari border. And I simply love a paradox.

But my fondness for mundus probably stems from the annual visits to the Guruvayur Shri Krishna temple (Thrissur district, Kerala) that my husband and I make. This blog’s setting is one such viist.

For some reason, that particular year’s visit felt more sacred than usual. In the wee hours of the morning, I stood in queue and felt an unusual eagerness (I always maintain that I am more spiritual and philosophically inclined than religious) to get a glimpse of the sanctum.

The presiding deity, Mahavishnu, worshipped as Balakrishna, stands in all glory in the inner dimly lit sanctum. The rare stone Patala Anjana used to sculpt it just adds to its mystic aura. When you know that it is one of the few remnants of Dwarka’s Yadava clan, worship takes on a whole new meaning.

One is often expected to catch whatever slice of a glimpse of the deity while being prodded and
poked to keep the line moving. It was a rare day then, for I stood staring at the idol for what seemed like eternity. (Of course – after a few seconds, my mind wandered to anticipation of someone shoving me aside.)

Re-energized with a zing that only comes from purifying your mind (even if it was just a brief sojourn), I floated back to the hotel. My husband and I checked out and then took the taxi and drove (or flew?) to Coimbatore airport.

Inside the airport, amidst the chattering passengers, I felt a strange sense of calmness. It felt
exhilarating. I was on top of the world. I did a slow spin, and felt amazed that the bustling activity didn’t touch my serenity. I began to envision ….

Like a zap of lightning, something (or rather, someone) caught my eye. And I crashed down into the materialistic world. For there, in the corner, sitting with my sense of calmness was my favorite Bollywood actor. He seemed unmindful of all the commotion around him, and quietly sat, reading a newspaper.

In my mind, I was racing towards him, but something stopped me. I painted a mental image of myself at the moment – mundu, with flowers in my hair, vibhuti smeared on my forehead above my giant round bindi. Mmmm. … My worldly sense made me wonder if I was too ethnically dressed to meet him.

A tap on my shoulder reminded me that I was not alone. My husband had a gleam in his eye. Had he spotted the star as well? I knew we had the same tastes , but his enthusiasm surprised me. I began to wonder if I had overlooked the female costar.

But, no. My husband was still within the devout experience. He quickly pointed out to me that a revered Swami (one whose discourses we had benefitted from) was at the same airport. I followed his nod and spotted the saffron robe. If I had but seen him a moment earlier! I was already in a different frame of mind.

I grabbed my husband’s sleeve and pulled him to get a better visual of my discovery. Of course, the only response I got was ‘Oh!”

He quickly turned back and suggested we greet the swamiji. I pulled on his sleeve (a constant vice of mine) and insisted that I had to first meet the actor. The dubious look on my beloved’s face led me to meekly suggest that I would likely never get this chance again. This time I got an impatient,” Ok fine! Don’t be too long about it though.”

With the tenacity of a well, you know which four-legged animal -I took off to meet the man who had occupied much of my dreams as a teenager. Thoughts of Guruvayur and Shri Krishna exploded in my mind like those techno-flashbacks, and I felt the halo fading.

“Hello (Halo!?!)”, I said as the actor suddenly appeared, or rather, I appeared in his line of sight. At a loss for words, I quickly mumbled something about how much I love his work and watch all his movies (Sparks of ingenuity, I say! – I bet he would have never heard that one before!), quickly got an autograph (I can’t even find it now) and beat a hasty retreat.

Confused at the turn of events, I walked back to my husband, who now had a smirk on his face. “Happy?” he enquired, “Can we now go and meet the swamiji?”

So, we did greet him, and had a conversation about work being carried out to promote awareness of values among the youth. From the corner of my eye, I could see the actor walking towards us. My heart went aflutter and I wondered what I had said.

The actor, of course, had come to greet the swamiji, not me. My husband and I said our
goodbyes, and left, hearing our boarding announcement.

That day, I left with my halo half on, and half off. I am not sure of its present status.