An autobiography of a temple in 1000 words
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My name is Temple Jiyajan located in the city of Varanasi close to the might Gangis river sacred to Hindus all over the world.
My construction started way back in approx. 1048 AD when a visiting Nepalese Hindu King wanted to built a new grand temple for him, his family and his entourage. I remember, when the first brick was laid, over 500,000 people came to the festival and the King of Nepal himself put my first brick in place.There was much fanfare which last 3 days as the initial works had started. The plan was to finish my construction within 1 year, a big feat for a temple that was destined to have a capacity for 10,000 attendees.However, fate had something else in store for me. After 2 months of construction the king of Nepal died and a civil war broke out between the warring factions of his sons,all of whom claimed the throne of Nepal
The civil war went on for another 3 years but until then, the little construction that was built was already in ruins. Thieves and smugglers got to know about the stalled site and stole valuable bricks, stones and marble, leaving only old bricks.
The Civial war resulted in the eldest price claiming the throne over his younger brothers. After this, as was customary, the new Nepalese King went out on a tour of other kingdoms to build new bonds, including meeting the Kind of Iran, Maldvies and later in Delhi Sultanate.
He finally arrived in Varansai for a religious pilgrimage, exactly 7 years after my construction has started. It was the year 1055 A.D. He was a younger man when my construction began and came to see me. I was by then known as the Nepalese Temple, that's what everyone called me.
He came to visit me and ordered his chief engineer to continue my construction in the memory of his late father and make the biggest and most beautiful temple in all of Varanasi. From the next day, my construction began but it took almost 10 years, until I was built.
It was 1065 AD and the king traveled all the way from Katmandu to officially open me to the Public. Even the King of India came all the way from Delhi for this big festival which lasted a week, where over 1 million people were fed and dances and parties conducted.I was now popularly known as the Nepal King Temple. What a might site I was, with thousands and thousands of Hindus coming to me every day.
I remember, I was so popular that people from far away lands used to come visit me. I was open 7 days a week, 24 hours, but I clearly remember the day I was closed for 3 days. It was a sad day, when the King of Nepal who has ordered my construction to be completed passed away.
The mourning period was 3 days but many people stayed in home for 2 weeks, in the memory of the great king who fed over 1 million people.
This was exactly 1075 AD and after this death another civil war broke out in Nepal. This war took place between the chiefs since the last king did not have a son, and so was particularly , lasting over 10 years.
During this time, all endowments from Nepal which came to maintain me halted and I was left on the mercy of poor people of Varanasi, who tried there best, but could not afford to keep me in the same grand fashion as the King of Nepal.
As the Civil war lasted ten years, and I lost direct connection with Nepal, By 1085 AD, I was known as the Apna Temple (Our Temple) because the poor took care of, remembering that it was because of me that over 1 million were fed in a day.
Those were the last days of glory. Other princes from Bhopal, Tamil Nadu, Sir Lanka, West Bengal had started to build their own palaces and temples in Varanasi, showing off their wealth and ironically their devotion to Hinduism by spending more and more money.Within the next 100 years, or 1185 AD, I was just one of many grand temples, but I was not even grand anymore. Frequently maintained and visited by poor people I was now known as the 'Ghareeb Mandir' or the Temple of the poor.
Hence, I was only attracting poor people but I kind of felt nice, since these were the people who really needed me. Many homeless people used me to sleep at night and many women brought their daughters to me when they had no where else to do.
And this went on for another 2 centuries. As the city built up, I was now located in the 'old city' behind major buildings and my entrance was through an alley, secluded from mainstream varanasi life. I was beginning to have a legend based around me now and many poor people from as far away as Thailand came to visit me, which obviously annoyed the other bigger temples, because they were only open to Kings
However, I also remember the day where many of my temple friends were destroyed when a Rajput King laid siege to Varanasi in retaliation to Delhi Sultanate. Thousands of people were passed away that day, many of whom had been regular visitors to me. Many of brother temples were set on fire as the Rajputs conquered the city
I was founded in a cave by a sage on this hill in Manali in Himachal Pradesh .to mark the presence of the first man who existed on this earth. Hence, I was named after him - Manu Temple. I feel I am as old as time since at one time I stood on the mount of a hill surrounded by tall pines, deodars and springs of fresh water flowed downhill making it pristine. Any population was far as two or three kilometers and the peace and sanctity of my presence was not usually disturbed by throng of people. Great ascetics and followers of spiritualism inhabited me and the hill reverberated with their chants every morning with the rising sun. The white blanket of snow covered my surroundings during winters making it all divine. And when the snow melted with the onset of summer laying bare the hilly slopes, different varieties of ferns, wild bushes make their appearance. By the time summer matures, the slopes were blanketed by a host of buttercups,
As the time passed by I saw the population increasing in the surrounding villages, my serenity and silence broke more often due to people visiting me as a priest started coming everyday and gradually instead of ascetics more commoners started visiting me. I believe that was beginning of what we can call commercialization of a religious place. I understand man's need for money as it makes his life comfortable, but by it so happens that one's bread becomes other's poison. The worst, when man blindly follows his pursuit of money harming others, be it his other fellow being or elements of nature with whom he is supposed to co-exist. With increasing people there were increased offerings at the altar and the family of the priest started getting richer. Nevertheless, I still stood for what I used to in the past i.e. peace and man's bond with nature.
In the other parts of the country there were news of increasing violence, but I was undisturbed by the upheaval. I was still among the tall pines and deodars, still snow covered me during winters and still buttercups bloomed on my slopes. Growing terrorism, conflict between countries and strayed youth, all led to diversion of tourists from what was called 'the paradise on earth' to my vicinity. Within a few years everything changed rapidly. On the one hand people got more opportunity of earning, thanks to tourism, on the other hand buildings and tourist spots sprawled on the once beautiful landscapes. Concrete roads were constructed on which cars and taxis ran from morning to evening. Lot many people kept visiting me and accordingly my boundaries were extended, surrounding area was fenced and a new construction came up beside me. There came up stalls and an uneven row of shops. Now, in my lawns people came and stayed for a while and disappeared. There was no chanting and no search for the supreme among them. Though presence of children cheered me, I started questioning many activities of people and their behavior. In short, the place was thoroughly changed. Initially it was too much of an undesirable change, yet nothing could be done about it.
Earlier I talked about commercialization of religion, and now I had to withstand commercialization of a place, depriving it of its long cherished beauty and sanctity. But once we start moving ahead, there is no way back. The life is like that.
I still stand here witnessing the changes over the period, sometimes I see fairs organised nearby and people taking rides on merry-go-round and other times locals luring the tourists to get their picture clicked in their traditional outfits or take a ride on their yak. After all it's all about making hay while the sun shines. But for me my sun, my warmth and my tranquility have gone and hidden somewhere I don't know about. Will I ever get it back?
Change is inevitable, then why do I resist this change? Man is so powerful that even my existence is attributed to him. I am known because of them. So many things that have happened, might have saddened him also and shaken him, his belief, still he continues to thrive. i think I need to adapt and grow with time, for in that only lies the real purpose of my existence.