The Jagdish Temple at night. Busy, bustling streets below as locals climb the steep steps up to the Temple for evening worship.
The congregation sat cross legged on a large rug in the center of the temple, chanting and playing drums while a couple of the ladies danced traditional yet easy moves in the center of the group. Everyone smiled and clapped rhythmically in joyous celebration of their Lord Jagdish, preserver of the universe. Not wanting to intrude, I would sit at the side of the room, until one evening, one of the dancers brought me into the circle to sit with the others. I didn’t know the words they were chanting, but I clapped along anyway. Later the dancer threw her arms around me for a warm, smiling hug. We didn’t speak each others language, but none was necessary.
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