Magic in the Dark

Yesterday, a thunderstorm struck the Sunday Feast. To escape the torrents of rain, everyone huddled under the main tent or streamed into the templeroom for powerful and beautiful bhajans. 

And then, the electricity cut out! The soft gray light from outside filtered in and lit the forms of Radhe Shyam. They were wearing green and dark blue – I seemed to be witnessing Radhe Shyam emerging from a forest, alive and mysterious.

Then my godsister Jackie invited me to help her put away the day outfit, which is quite a feat in Alachua on Sundays. In delight, I agreed and followed her into the pujari room. I settled into the service that I used to do once a week for nearly two years. I folded blue and green silk and placed jewelry in drawers. Sweet memories seeped under the door of my mind like scrolls of incense.

Later in the night, even the generator cut out – everything went pitch black. We couldn’t even see each other’s faces. So what else could we do? We dashed to the templeroom to dance! Lit by dim emergency lights, the group of us women danced in whirls to the rhythm of the kirtan. 

The kirtan came to a crescendo and the curtains for Radhe Shyam swung open. The altar was lit by candles, which captured the forms of the Deities in pools of bronze light.

And when I joined Jackie again in the pujari room, we continued our service by candlelight.

At the end of the night, I felt drenched in the scents of champaka and jasmine and silk. A garland encircled my wrist, a plate of mahaprasad was in my hand, and I was immersed in the images of Radhe Shyam.

Finally, the electricity came on again, and I laughed to think how typical this is of India but so shocking for America. 

When Jackie and I stepped off the temple verandah to go home, we paused to gaze up at the glimmering stars. Humility and peace washed over me. 

This is magic. This is home. 

The gray twilight, the lamps, emergency lights, candles, the starlight… they had all illuminated something last night, some magic in the dark.