Feeling blessed… India and the religion
Today it’s been a long day. After 6 meetings - the last one being the most important of the month with the CEO of a giant conglomerate - I am pretty tired and with my friend and colleague Silvia we decide to walk to a nearby street full of restaurants to grab a bite and to breath some fresh air. We walk along the crowded promenade (this section of Mumbai is really fantastic at night) until we are able to cross entering our street.
As we are walking we notice a small group of people, all Indians, from different social classes, standing bare-footed in front of what looks like a shrine hanging from a large tree. Inside a little statue of what looks like one the many Indian deities adorned by necklaces of flowers. Just behind it, on the left, the pics of three people all looking pretty old and worn out by time
Silvia and I stop and I take a picture. Unexpectedly some of the observant turn and invite us to join them and to take more pictures. I look at them agape trying to dismiss the invitation with a shy “no thanks”.
An old man, “curved” by a big hunchback but with a genuine smile, standing beside us gets closer and starts explaining to us what’s going on. Every Tuesday, the gentleman performing the ritual, a shaman, stops by the shrine, opens it, is joined by the observant passing by (usually whoever wants to join), and together they pray for everybody’s health, good future. “After the prayer – continues the old man - the Shaman gives his benediction to each bystander and answers to any question he or she might have”. Thinking I know already the answer I ask how much does the wizard want for his services and once again I am floored by the answer: “Nothing! He does not ask for anything!”
Silvia and I decide to join the group and witness what was going on so we took our shoes off leaving them with the others’ on the sidewalk behind us and we join the people, Silvia with the women on the left, I with the men on the right. Incense is burned, more flowers are placed around the little statue; then everyone starts chanting something we don’t understand. I guess they are reading a prayer written in the local dialect on a board hanging from the tree. I took pictures as some people keep smiling at us, asking us where we are from and what we are staying.
An Indian woman – dressed nicely and wearing a pair of jeans and T-shirt bought in Milan - confesses me that not even she understands a word of what it’s sung because it’s an ancient dialect, but it does not matter because that is her moment of conversation with God. I ask her which faith she professes and her answer leaves me once again speechless: “Does it matter? Whatever God and faith you worship and follow this is the moment when you invoke you God and talk to him. We don’t care if you are Christian, Muslim or Indu, this is your moment OUR moment with God”.
The celebration ends and the shaman starts to talk to each member of the crowd. We want to patiently wait for our turn (there are two lines and the ladies are supposed to be heard first), but everyone pushes us to the front. They insist. “We are not locals, we don’t have to stand in line!” I go first (Silvia plays it smart and sends me ahead as the guinea pig!). The shaman puts some ashes on my forehead and hair - that after having thrown holy water on my only 1K euros suit! - then asks me to join my hands and lower my head as a sign of respect. Pronounces a short prayer, gives me his benediction then asks my name to invoke the Spirit’s benediction over me. We chat for a minute, then he reminds me to pray ‘my Lord’, every day, but especially on Tuesdays. “God – he says – loves you and your family” (and yes HE does)” He then gives me some holy flowers to bring home and some type of jelly that I pretend to taste and then put in a little bag given to me by one of the men beside me.
As I move out of the group and Silvia takes my place, I’m approached by the old man with the hunchback. He smiles widely. He wants to talk to me. I bend over to listen to him and he repeats to me what he’s just told Silvia two minutes earlier. He feels blessed! Due to his physical conditions he has experienced a lot of pain in his life, but he’s been blessed receiving many other gifts from God. I look at him feeling like a piece of shit! A piece of shit dressed in a nice suit which probably has cost more than what he’s made in years and who feels totally naked. His smile is disarming in the same way it is the reaction of all the others.
Silvia and I feel the same, part of a world where for a few moments all the differences of classes, religions, races, political opinions and sexual orientations disappear. All the boundaries we created to stand out from the others, to make us feel special and unique have been forgotten. We are just “Men” sharing the same desire to worship in our own way ‘our God’. Without anyone telling us what’s right and what’s wrong.
We put on our shoes again and walk in a restaurant with empty stomachs but with hearts full of joy for having experienced even though for just a few tiny moments what life in India means.
