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Newasa - Encountering an unique form of Vishnu, and Sant Jnaneshwar

The year was 1290 . A crowd had gathered around a clearing, where broken down pillars marked the presence of an ancient temple, now long gone. A young boy, just 14 years old, leaned against one of those pillars, deep in thought. Then, he began speaking, and the crowd fell silent, listening to his every word. He spoke without any notes, translating the Bhagavat Gita, from Sanskrit, which only the pundits knew, to the language everyone in the village knew and spoke – a variety of Prakrit which developed into the Marathi language. Even as he spoke, one of the men in the audience realized how momentous this event was, and how important this composition would be. He began writing down the words the young boy spoke, and this composition was named by its author and composer, the Bhavartha Deepika – the enlightening meaning (of the Bhagavat Gita). Now, the ancient, holy text, was no longer restricted to the pundits, but accessible to all, understood easily by them, composed as it was, in their...
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Do-Drul Chorten, Gangtok

It was evening, and the light was fading as we arrived at the Do-Drul Chorten (also sometimes spelled as Duddul Choedten) in Gangtok. Samhith was tired, and all he wanted was to get back to the resort, and to his games with his friends. Leaving him behind in the car, we walked up the short path to the Stupa, which was so recognizable from the photos we had seen.




A board at the entrance told us an interesting story… of the place being haunted by spirits. Apparently, the spirits caught hold of anyone who came here. Eventually, a Lama from Tibet came here, subdued the spirits and set up a monastery. His successor later built the Stupa to keep the spirits away even after the demise of the Lama.  It reminded me of the scores of temples built to ward away evil spirits!



As we walked around, I was astounded by the sight of these rows and rows of lamps lit inside an enclosure…



The lamps reminded me of temples, and I wanted to light one too. There was no board, no information, and no one I could ask, though the place was full of monks. They were busy with their evening meals, which were being served. We approached one of them, and he gestured to us to take a plate. We did, and shared it between ourselves. Then, reverting back to our question, started looking around for someone who could help us out. Language seemed to be a major barrier, but eventually, we found a visitor who was happy to help us.




She had come from Bhutan, on a pilgrimage, one she made every year. The lamps, she said, were lit in memory of ancestors, to show them the path in the world they were in. Could we light the lamps? Yes of course, but they had already been lit for the day. We would have to come again in the morning and arrange for one. That wasn’t possible, but the thought was a good one. As we walked back towards the car and Samhith, it wasn’t the evil spirits we thought of, but the souls which, somewhere were grateful for the light provided by the lamps! 


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Location: Gangtok, Sikkim, India

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