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...
Going to Shirdi h as almost become a routine trip for us, especially when my sister-in-law comes over. Thanks to her and her husband, I get to go there at least once a year. This year, as usual, it was a on-the-spur-of-the-moment-decision, and off we went, with a car hired at the last moment, just waiting long enough for Samhith to return home from school. We started at around 4:30PM, and without halting anywhere enroute, reached Shirdi at around 9:45PM. Every trip to Shirdi however has something unique and interesting to offer, and this time, it was the sight of people walking to Shirdi. For those of you to whom this is news, well, people do walk from Mumbai to Shirdi all the time, but especially for the Ram Navami Festival. They walk over a period of 6 to 7 days, halting at various places in the afternoons when it is too hot to walk, and at night when they need the much needed rest. They travel with an entourage, a tempo for their luggage, one for their food, and led by a Pal...