Visiting the Jagannath Temple in Puri, Odisha had been a long-cherished dream. The temple's history, grandeur, Rath Yatra procession, and other stories always fascinated me. Then, one day, my wish came true when a cousin decided to get married at a beautiful resort near Puri. As one of Hinduism's Char Dham pilgrimage sites, the temple attracts lakhs of devotees annually from around the world seeking blessings from Lord Jagannath, Lord Balabhadra, and Devi Subhadra. Like many, I had imagined the visit countless times before finally making the journey in February.
Since it was a wedding, most relatives wanted to visit the temple. On the day of the visit, I realized I was traveling with three generations of my family: my over-60-year-old parents, my 85-year-old grandfather (nana ji), and my two-year-old son. What I imagined would be a deeply spiritual experience quickly became a lesson for life.
A Choking Reality
We reached the temple around 10 AM. Despite February, the air felt warm and humid. The streets around the temple were alive with crowded markets, pilgrims, and tourists. I saw the temple spire rising dramatically above the city skyline. The moment we stepped out of the auto, we were surrounded by men claiming to be guides, temple helpers, and priests. I had visited several temples across the country, but this was different. Everyone offered various promises.
“Madam, VIP darshan hojaega. Koi waiting nahi, seedha mandir me entry,” one shouted in my left ear. My nana ji, nearly deaf, was shocked by his loud voice. “No waiting, I promise,” claimed another man. “Sir, special aarti with special prasad and direct entry.” We kept declining, but some refused to give up. Under normal circumstances, I would have ignored them, but I looked at my parents, my grandfather, and my sleepy toddler in my arms. The heat was too much! The thought of standing in a nearly 3-km queue for hours suddenly felt impossible.
One man, who looked convincing, read my face. He approached and promised to take us through a special route with no waiting and comfortable darshan. For a group of eight, his initial demand was ₹8,000, but we settled at ₹5,000, which he demanded in cash immediately. The guide led us past a never-ending queue. Seeing that crowd and walking past them, I mentally said, “Good decision.” Since phones and cameras are not allowed inside the temple, we carried only cash. The guide took the money and led us through one checkpoint after another before disappearing into a waiting area.
Reality Hits
Inside, another enormous queue awaited us. It was a massive swarm of devotees packed in winding lines. The guide who took thousands with a promise of VIP darshan was nowhere to be seen. He had vanished. Without my phone, I felt nervous and helpless. I desperately wanted to turn back, but it was too late. The human tide had taken over. With my toddler in my arms and my family behind me, I found myself sandwiched. Nobody was walking voluntarily anymore; I was being pushed forward. The temple entrance still seemed like a distant dream. For a few moments, panic took over as I worried about my child.
A Failure of Management
Officials appeared to be trying their best, but they were outnumbered. I couldn't help wondering how one of India's most important pilgrimage sites remains so unmanaged. Then came the stairs—so many of them. Carrying a toddler while navigating a packed crowd became physically draining.
Messengers of God Arrived
Then something unexpected happened. Among thousands of devotees, a security guard noticed my situation. He stepped forward, took my child from my arms, pulled me out, and made me stand where he was stationed. He asked another official to help me. He created a human shield around me and took me inside. It was still suffocating, yet I was thankful to these two god-sent helpers. In a place where people seemed eager to take money from pilgrims, they simply chose to help.
Devotees were shouting. I honestly don't remember exactly what happened; I just looked up, and things changed. Above me, I saw the magnificent architecture—the towering structure and carvings. Suddenly, I stopped noticing the crowd. For a brief moment, I felt alone with my thoughts. I recall catching sight of two of the three wooden deities first, then all three for just a few seconds. My father had lifted my toddler onto his shoulders. I don't remember how I came out of the temple, but I still remember the fresh breeze that welcomed me.
To this day, I can't really say what I felt. Did I get the soulful temple experience I had pictured? Not really. Did the crowds frustrate me? Hell, yes! Was I disappointed by the self-appointed disappearing guides and constant requests for money? Without question. Yet, those few brief seconds of darshan—the sight of Lord Jagannath—made it bearable. The feeling of looking upward and finding stillness in the middle of chaos is something I can't put into words.
Today, when I look back on the Puri journey, I remember both realities. I remember the crowd, the confusion, the scammers, my crying toddler, and my irritated grandfather. But I also remember the kindness of the security guards. I remember my parents and grandfather completing a pilgrimage. And I remember that brief glimpse of the deities that will stay with me forever.
About the Author
Priya Srivastava comes from the ‘City of Nawabs’, Lucknow. Her sole motto is to explore life through journeys to unexplored destinations and knitting travel stories. She believes in creating memories, eating like a local, talking to the natives, understanding their way of living, and capturing their smile in her camera. Be it quaint little Himalayan villages, grand forts in Rajasthan, serene beaches in Goa, or ancient temples in Varanasi, all destinations have an untold saga she tries to unfold. All her journeys, new or old, are etched on the canvas of her heart like a beautiful painting. Experimenting with new dishes and experiencing different cultures are some of the things she enjoys most. It's through traveling that she derives inspiration. An ardent reader, cinema lover, and nascent photographer, she wishes to listen to and discover the myriad colors and sounds of nature.
