Back in 2022, I posted four blogs, and since then, I haven’t written a single one. Now, almost three years later, I’m here writing again, so it must be about something important.
It was the 26th of February, 2025, and Mahashivaratri was being celebrated with fervor in Kashi. The entire city was immersed in the divine celebration of our beloved Lord. Why wouldn't we celebrate? On one hand, we see people worshiping the divine in forms they've never seen or witnessed, but here in Kashi, we live with our Swami every day. We wake up with him, laugh with him, cry with him, sleep after making him sleep, and even die with him. He is in all our yaps, rants, and curses. Why should we not celebrate him?
The celebrations were so grand that no street was untouched by the reverberations of Sri Rudram. The fragrance of Shweta Chandana and Rakta Chandana filled the air, stimulating the senses everywhere. The city was intoxicated—some by his mantra, some by his name, others by the chants of "Har Har Mahadeva," and a large number by the literal intoxication of his Prasad. If you know, you know...
I was also out of the campus, unaware that my university exams were scheduled for the very next day. But this wasn’t the "Delhi Me" who used to worry about exams; this was the one who had absorbed the Banarasi response, "Mahadev hai naa," into his veins. I was accompanied by my friend Naman, who by the end of the day, must have thought, "This guy is mad," several times. We began our Darshana at our beloved Raseshwara Mahadev within the campus, then proceeded to Dakshinamurthy Ashrama and onward to Assi Ghat.
In Kashmir Shaivism, there is a concept called Pratyabhijna—the realization that everything in existence is a form of the divine, a form of Shiva. This realization brings forth the understanding that it is indeed Shiva/Parabhairava expressing himself in the universe. And when you come to Kashi, words like self-realization, Mukti, Moksha, and Liberation are heard so frequently from everyone—whether a Sannyasin, a householder, or even someone intoxicated on weed. But sometimes, I wonder why. Perhaps it's because everywhere you look, you see him. You see our Swami, our Vishwanatha, you perceive him everywhere. The entire city identifies with Vishwanatha, and maybe that’s why it’s always "Kashi Vishwanatha" and never just "Vishwanatha." Perhaps this is the state of Pratyabhijna, where every direction you look, it’s nothing but him. It’s all him, it’s all Kashi.
Walking through the ghats, robed in a Dhoti and Anga Vastra (which I tied for the first time—big achievement!), we reached Hanuman Ghat. How could I visit Hanuman Ghat and not seek the darshan of our Chakralingeshwara Swami? The Swami was kind enough to bless us with the blissful chants of Sri Rudram being recited by South Indian Vedic Brahmins for the MahaRudra Homa at the Chakralingeshwara Temple. From there, we proceeded to the Hanuman Mandir and had darshan of Sri Rameshwara Mahaswami, Bade Hanuman Ji, Bharateshwar, Lakshmaneshwar, and Bhagwan Dattatreya.
Now, the main story unfolds. While circumambulating the Dattatreya Mandir, I noticed beautiful images depicting the Lalitopakhyana and Leelas of Devi. I had seen them several times—at least ten times—but that day, they seemed different. Or rather, Devi's will felt different. At that very moment, I was reminded of a schedule from the Sringeri Jagadguru Shankaracharya Sannidhanam, which mentioned a specific Devi temple at Hanuman Ghat. To be honest, it was a blow to my ego. Of all the ghats in Varanasi, Hanuman Ghat was the one I had visited the most, yet I was unaware of a temple dedicated to Devi there. It felt humiliating. But then my mind told me that this was the right time to shed this humiliation, find the temple, and seek the darshan of Jagadamba.
I asked everyone I could find in the vicinity of Hanuman Ghat, and I made Naman do the same. I’m not sure if he did so willingly or not. From a man dressed in saffron robes with a thick white beard to teenagers strolling through the lanes, knocking on doors and peeking through windows, we tried it all. And why not? It wasn’t just about getting darshan—it was about finding the beloved, our Mother, who had hidden herself from me for too long, but no longer.
We asked everyone we crossed paths with, from an old man clad in saffron robes to teenagers strolling, knocking on the doors of total strangers to peeking through the windows, walking down the same 50-meter lane several times, we did it all, but to no avail. Finally, someone directed us to a path leading to the ghat. In our last attempt, we approached an old Telugu Brahmin. I asked, "Baba, do you know where the Rajarajeshwari Mandir is?" He denied knowing. I convinced myself that Devi didn’t want to reveal herself just yet and asked Naman to move ahead. Though before coming there, I had Darshan of several temples, and would continue to have many more Darshans ahead, but the pain at that moment was inexplicable. It might seem like an exaggerated emotional response, but it is what it is. There was pain, despair, and disappointment, but not a loss of faith because her will has always been better than the best.
And then, just when I was about to give up, we heard a voice:
"Is anyone looking for the Rajarajeshwari Mandir?"
We turned around to see a man calling us toward his home. When we entered, he showed us a staircase leading down, which took us to a small room. Which could be the last place I would expect! But you know it's not Kashi if it doesn't astonish you.
There, in the sanctum sanctorum, sat none other than Bhagwati Sri Rajarajeshwari! The supremo supreme, Sri Lalita Mahatripurasundari, in her full Grandeur—the form in whom culminates all forms of our Divine Mother.
Before I could even see her, I was overcome with tears—nothing else. I cannot describe her form, but as the scriptures and hymns describe, her radiance is brighter than a million suns combined.
A million suns—why? Because she is the very embodiment of Parashakti, the boundless cosmic energy that births, sustains, and dissolves universes. Each sun represents a fragment of her power, warmth, compassion, and absolute splendor. And yet, she is more than all of them combined.
Her mere remembrance alone is brighter than the light of the sun. It is enough to illuminate the darkest corners of the mind, to dispel ignorance, and to fill the heart with an unspeakable bliss. Just remembering her name is enough to drown in the ocean of her grace.
Later, I spoke with Pujari Ji, who shared with me the grandeur of Sri Rajarajeshwari and told me that this temple had been the home of the goddess for nearly 350 years. The place had once been the Taposthali of Sri Chandrashekhara Bharti Mahaswamiji, the 34th Shankaracharya of Sringeri Peetham, in Kashi. The divinity of the place was a clear sign of that.
Now, coming to the title, I don’t know why I wrote it, but it’s from a Stuti of Bhagwati Shodashi Rajarajeshwari by Sri Sachchidananda Shivabhinava Narsimha Bharati Mahaswamigal, where he uses the line:
"Bhaktatranaparayanam Bhagwatim Sri Rajarajeshwarim."
As Rumi said,
"What you seek is seeking you."
And as life always proves,
"Love finds you in places you least expect."
Perhaps, from the very beginning, she planned it all—bringing us to Dattatreya Mandir, leading us to her story, making us search, and finally revealing herself at just the right moment. It was always her plan.
I’ll end with just one simple line:
"Sarva Rupamayi Devi, Sarva Devimayam Jagat."
May Sri Rajarajeshwari Parabhattarika forever guide us toward her!
DURGA DURGA ❤️
Comments
Post a Comment