Going on a Yatra is Trek of Faith


Going on a Yatra is Trek of Faith

On his return from a pilgrimage to Amarnath, Swami Vivekananda hardly spoke to anyone. A disciple asked him what the matter was. "Oh that," said the otherwise fiery monk: "Since visiting Amarnath I feel as if Shiva is sitting on my head all 24 hours, not coming down for even a moment!" Many of us go on pilgrimages, but not all our experiences are similar. Individual narrations differ in content and feeling. Every individual has a different experience to relate. All perceptions and reactions stem, however, from a common desire to forge a close relationship with the Divine. And it is this personal experience that makes a pilgrimage so different from a holiday or business trip. The primary idea behind planning а pilgrimage is arguably motivated by the desire to take a break from the daily grind. This involves not merely switching the cellphone off or refraining from checking one's e-mail, but also seeking a change at a deeper level where one is able to introspect about the past, look detachedly at the prese and prepare for the inevitable transit at the end of the future. We look for spiritual inspiration, something different from the unending demands of domesticity or the compul- sions at the workplace. Some of us look upon a pilgrimage as an exercise in intellectual curiosity that enables us to explore the human psyche; to understand better what drives us to do what we do Whatever be the driving force, centuries pass by without any dimming of the attraction that draws multitudes to some shrines, irrespective of the faith with which they are associated. From Tirupati Balaji to the Golden Temple and from Ajmer Sharif to the holy cave of Amarnath, we find a sense of purpose when we take time off from home, office and fun to travel, just as the generation before us did, and those before them. There is the popular belief that darshan at many shrines is granted only when the 'resident deity calls you. This is hypothetical, but there are many instances that are inexplicable; people live within a kilometre of a place that draws others from overseas but somehow never get around to getting there, while on other occasions, programmes involving complex logistics get worked out at extremely short notice. It may be sheer chance, but is it not an interesting thought, when we do make it to a tirtha sthal, that some divine roll-cal summoned us there? When Pakistan's president Pervez Musharraf came to Agra, he planned to visit Ajmer-but he could not make it to the famous shrine. At a pilgrimage centre, the most conspicuous feature is the milling crowd. Whether it is Mecca or the holy Sangam, the logistics of managing the visitors becomes a forbid ding task. The pilgrims, however, exhibit a solidarit -a sense of collective pur pose, a commonality of be lief bolstered by the brother hood, as it were. Seers would say that the collective vibra tions of the vast numbers gathered serve to instil those present with a deeper faith and a sense of connectivity Some of the most memo rable and fulfilling spiritual experiences I've had happened at remote temples or little-known shrines in the hills of Himachal and J&K where I've walked through miles of forested hills to come to places where the spiritual aura is as yet unsullied by aggressive pandas, pesky hawkers and unreasonable guides. That's because these are relatively little-known places of refuge, and hence are free of the deleterious effects of mass visits.

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Courtesy:  Anshul Chaturvedi  and Speaking Tree,Times of India