On one of the days, we made a trip to Belur Math, that has the shrines of Ramakrishna Paramahamsa, his wife Maa Sarada and his disciple Swami Vivekandand. Belur Math is also known as ‘Ramakrishna Mission’. It is said that Ramakrishna was the only human (amongst Hindus) to have seen God. Apparently Goddess Kali would appear in his dreams and converse with him. However most of us know of him because of his disciple, Swami Vivekanand who had given the welcome speech at The World Parliament of Religions, Chicago on September 11, 1893. You can read more about the speech here: http://hinduism.about.com/od/vivekananda/a/vivekananda_speeches.htm

Well Belur Math is really beautiful and embodies everything that Ramakrishna Paramahansa followed. Located on the banks of the river Hooghly, the shrine is a pristine white structure with serenity and calm surrounding the sanctum sanctorum. Large banyan trees provide shelter to the weary devotees while the cool river breeze gently fans the heat away. However it was slightly humid due to the heat coupled with unexpected showers and the ground was hot to the bare feet.

On the opposite side of the river is the Dakshineshwar Temple that can be reached via a boat. The boat ride was an absolute joy and thrill for both SK & I as it was one of the check list on our ‘old world charm’ to-do list. It seemed like a scene straight out of a Satyajit Roy, Bimal Roy of Shakti Samanta film with the central portion of the boat covered by an arch shaped tarpaulin to keep the sun and rains away. However SK & I wanted to rough it out and we sat on the hull watching the banks disappear from sight as the boat made way to the temple. Never mind the fact that after a while the sun shone mercilessly on us with SK going red in the face and me getting royally tanned. Still we stayed put imagining the scores of Sharmila Tagore and Rajesh Kanna scenes filmed on such boats. We sailed under bridges that gave us some respite from the harsh rays of the sun, saw localites going about their chores for the day like bathing, washing clothes and even spreading their nets to catch fish. The water sadly was muddy brown and I wondered if anybody used it for drinking. My thoughts were soon confirmed when as we reached the temple banks, I saw some people filling water bottles with the waters of Hooghly (also known as Ganga). Anybody could have said that the water was impure and unfit for driniking. But superstitious a lot as we are, we choose to ignore these glaring facts in the name of religion.

The temple was a pretty red & white structure with lots of Shiv Mandirs ensconsed in its compound. The ground being terribly hot we just visited 2 temples and ran back to the stalls where we had to keep our footwear. Our Gods are kind and surely they won’t mind if we took some shotcuts this way .

We took a boat ride back to Belur Math and this time wisely sat near the arch so as to slip under it should it get hot. Thankfully it was cloudy and we got to enjoy our ride. Embarking on the banks, we visited the hordes of stalls selling conch shells (a must have in every Bengali household. It is mostly kept near the idols and is blown everyday as part of the religious ritual. Also during marriages, Bengali women blow the conch shell in a bid to keep away evil eye). The conch shells come in different shapes and sizes and blowing them takes quite an effort but the music from it is very melodious and can be heard from a distance. Apart from conch shells, there were stalls selling, items used for religious purposes like lamps, bells along with the symbols of matrimony for a bengali women like the white and red bangles also known as shankha-poila. Along with this the married women also wear a bangle made of iron which is called ‘lohu’. One is never supposed to remove it from her wrist as long as her husband is alive and the iron is supposed to touch the wrist at all times.

Also there were stalls selling eatables and other refreshments. We tasted the famed ‘jhal muri’ (which in Bombay is ‘bhel puri)…jhal means ’spicy’ and muri means ‘kurmura’ or ‘puffed rice’. As soon as we exited the gates, it began drizzling which soon turned into a torrential downpour forcing us to take refuge under the eatery stalls and any other place that had a tarpauling covering. Finally we managed to find Ant R’s driver (who has a knack of disappearing when most wanted) and sped away home before we got cuaght in the deluge.