a minute after midnight

MY MUTE GOD

It was guruwar today. The whole house was awake with an uproar that would put the sabji market to shame. Dadi was up before 4, getting all things ready and mummy was running faster than usual; as she had to do more work today than other days before leaving for office.

Waking up before the moon even left the sky was usually not my style but Thursdays were different; oops guruwar, because a Thursday in my house is a lot more than a day in the week. It's the day of the important gods. I sometimes wonder if all the 50 gods in our cramp Thakur ghara fought to win over the days or were they like,' yaar, you keep Thursday n I will make do with Tuesday'.

In all of the eighteen years of my existence, I have seen my dadi up at 4 on Thursdays, all bathed and pious with a long list of bhajans, an hour-long pooja with some 500 types of flowers. As the years pass by the bhajans get longer and the hours; more and more. When I would eventually drag my lazy ass out of bed at 7 I would see either my dadi, mom, or sometimes even my dad sitting in that little space of the prayer room chanting all hymns that I have heard so many times that I kind of remember them all.

But in recent years things have changed. The used-to-be leader of this guruwar committee now lies frail on the cot in our veranda listening to the bhajans and talking to his imaginary friends or his gods he says. I don't believe him you know, he is a little too old for childishly making ghost friends but maybe schizophrenia caters to the old.

Sometimes with the dozens of alatis that happen, I see the man that used to teach me how to walk is now tumbling and unable to get out of bed without help.

Today sucked. I got up a bit later than usual and got an extra earful. I was irritated as much as I could be and dada blocked me on my way, calling out to me,' did you offer Prasad to Prabhu yet? It's almost time ' and I got pissed. I yelled at him so loud," which Prabhu of yours are you worshiping now? Didn't they all give up on you? Can't you see how you are right now?"

The hymns of my grandma from the Thakur ghara paused a bit after my outburst and after a second they started again. I stood there for a second, a single tear rolled down my cheeks, I guess it was two. I don't know if he understood what I said though because he went right back to his illusions but I guess I saw his eyes deem a bit. I rushed to the bathroom to take a shower.  I think the water tasted a little salty.

My shower wasn't long as I was out and dressed in 15, hair still a little wet, dripping onto my shirt collars. I made my way to the Thakur ghar and in that tiny space my dadi shifted a little left and there was just enough space for me to sit still. I took out my little book of hymns and recited two of them and I did a little prayer at the end, "sarve vabantu sukhinaha, sarve shantu niramaya, sarve vadrani pashyantu ma kashchit dukhaban bhabe."

And as well I don't know if my mute god heard it. I always told dad to buy a better murti with the ears properly crafted so he could hear us better. And as always when I got out of the thakur ghar I  smiled a bit a dada.  I had burnt two agarbatis today, surely my mute god will pay attention today. The smell was so amazing after all. I hope he does listen though because I didn't know what I could do apart from hope.

Time rolled by and my growling stomach quickly pulled me into the kitchen. Another guruwar passed by and the house still smelled of hope.

Guruwar: Thursday

Aggarbati:incense stick

Thakur ghar: a room for prayer

Dada & dadi: grandpa & grandma

Prabhu: god

Bhajan: prayer

Alti: a lamp of blessings

Sarve vabantu sukhinaha srve santu niramaya; let all be happy , let all be safe

Sarve vadrani pashyantu ma kaschit dukhbhag bhabe: let all be enlightened, bless all to never face pain

Murti: idols

Pooja: prayer

sabji; vegetable

prasad: food offerings to god