Centuries of apathy and neglect have leeched the color from its ramparts, etched patience into the mortar of its homes, and turned every grain of sand in its sacred rivers into a whispered prayer. Not just Ayodhya and Bharat, but the entire world stands at the precipice of a new dawn.
The stars have aligned on the auspicious 'Mrigashira Nakshatra' and 'Amrit Siddhi Yoga' and 'Sarvartha Siddhi Yoga' for the consecration ceremony of the Rama mandir in Ayodhya on January 22, with the rituals beginning on January 17 2024.
A billion hearts echo with anticipation; the impatient among us have jumped ahead in time and are painting the scene of this grand homecoming. Or maybe we are only reliving that one pivotal civilisational memory that weaves the very tapestry of Bharat! For it has happened once before....
...The conch shells, dormant for eons, awoke with a crescendo that split the sky, their melody a tidal wave washing away years of sorrow.
Ayodhya pulsed with a joy as boundless as the Sarayu itself. Bharata, his heart overflowing like a brimming cup, had transformed the city into a living tapestry of celebration. Flowers, vibrant as temple offerings, adorned every street. Fragrances, sweet enough to attract celestial beings, hung in the air. Men and women, their faces aglow with anticipation, adorned themselves and decked their homes with garlands. Even the proud horses and majestic elephants, adorned in finery fit for kings, pranced with an eagerness that mirrored their human companions.
A sea of people lined the streets to behold the trio Rama, Sita, and Lakshman. The mandir bells tolled with the abandon of a child, their each clang a joyous peal welcoming their king.
And then a hush fell. A profound hush. In that pregnant pause, anticipation morphed into disbelief, disbelief into a sob that ripped through the throng like a monsoon wind. For there, cresting the dusty horizon, was a sliver of SriRama's chariot, a beacon of divine return.
It was a blur at first, a mirage shimmering in the heat, but then, it took shape. Rama, his face etched with deep love, stood in the chariot, his eyes brimming with tears that mirrored the Saryu's overflow. Devi Sita, a lotus blooming, clung to his arm. Lakshman, his shadow, his strength, stood beside him, their bond a silent symphony of shared joy and pain.
As the chariot rolled into the city, Ayodhya became a sea of saffron, a million prayers taking human form. The air, filled with the scent of flowers and incense, vibrated with a love that had weathered many autumns and monsoons, of hope.
And when SriRama finally set foot on the soil of Ayodhya, it was as if the earth itself sighed in contentment. His bare feet, calloused by exile, kissed the ground that had craved their touch for an eternity. In that moment, time ceased!
Today my life is fulfilled, my wish is completed. I am seeing you returned to Ayodhya again as king of this kingdom, saying this. the exalted Bharata fell at the feet of SriRama.
...Ayodhya and Bharat is no longer cloaked in sorrow. It is a civilisation reborn.
This is a homecoming like no other!
#ValmikiRamayana #RamayanaTribute #AyodhyaMandir