PILGRIMAGE

"Jai Mataji, Jai Mataji" - his face was lined with sweat as he toiled up the steep slope towards the Temple of Savritri, his thin legs exposed, as his dhoti was looped up, a stout stick in his right hand, his loosely folded turban partly shading his face.  A group of women went by, "Jai Mataji", they said as they passed.  A group of old men sat in the shade of a scrub bush, the oldest wore a large white turban and incongruously, his spectacles were perched on top.   He read aloud, out of a book filled with decorative writing in Sanskrit, the other men listened in rapt attention, as he accentuated a point by raising a finger in their direction.  A group of children, in bright clothes, the sequins catching the light, as they darted past, shouted "Jai Mataji", with a smile.  A group of older women had stopped for a rest, easing themselves down onto the rocks, "Jai Mataji", they said with quiet resolution, as a family group passed, carrying their youngest children on their shoulders.  Those coming down vied for a place on the narrow path, with those going up, "Jai Mataji".

The way was rough and the slope got progressively steeper and narrower, as the well cut steps eventually gave way to roughly hewn rocks - high above was the Temple, precariously perched on an outcrop of rock overlooking the huge territory of Pushkar far below.   The Temple appeared and disappeared from view, the higher one climbed up the vertical ascent.

Shoes were discarded outside, a small entrance led to the shrine, with an image of the Goddess.  It was dark and her small face, with large penetrating eyes, looked out in an unblinking stare, as pilgrims prostrated themselves before her and others waited to take their place.  Outside, a slight breeze cooled hot faces, as they contemplated the steep terrain below.

'Jai Mataji' - Victory to the Mother Goddess........but the journey was the thing !