Rituals in the Himalayas (Satis Shroff)
Tika, a Hindu symbol,
A blessing from the parents,
From the priest at the temple,
During a visit to a shrine,
After a puja,
A ritual ceremony.
Faith and belief in God,
Spirituality in the Himalayas
As old and strong,
As the Abode of Snows,
Undaunted by colonialism
And conquests with the sickel sword.
Om namo Shiva,
Rituals reveal the unity,
Between the self and the cosmos;
A light in your innermost self.
Through rituals you become one
With your soul.
You feel it within the molecules,
Atoms and positrons in you.
Be it big or small,
In this eternally moving world,
Nothing is without a meaning.
The ancient rituals
Have each a meaning,
In the endless metamorphosis
Of the individual,
To be in tact with the universe.
It is the daily rituals
That lead us to unity,
Growth of consciousness,
That engulfs all.
In rituals we bundle energy
For the changes in the cycle
Of Death and Creation.
It is the litany of mantras
Combined with ritual offerings,
That create a work of art: the yantra.
Dedicated to the Gods and Goddesses,
In the shrine, temple and pagoda.
Seasonal flowers plucked at dawn,
To beckon and appease the Gods,
Sandalwood tika paste,
Cereals and herbs,
Sweetmeat and fruits.
The beauty of the yantra
Creates harmony.
The chime of the temple bells
Evoke feelings of spirituality.
There is a mingling
Of cultural powers that be,
In peace and balance.
If you’re ill perform a ritual
At the right time,
To restore the balance,
Between illness and recovery,
Between right and wrong,
Between holy and unholy,
Between wealth and poverty,
Between rain and sun,
Flood and drought,
Life, death and rebirth.
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