On a cold December morning we made our way through the labyrinth of narrow lanes that lead up to the Kashi Viswanath temple from the hallowed Ghats of Banaras. Behind us the sun was just peeping through the thick mist that hung over the mighty Ganga. Streets where humans and cows usually jostle each other for the right of the way, wore a deserted look. The oldest living city in the world was still waking up.
The only people giving us company besides the ubiquitous Bengali Tourists were the tall dark hooded figures conspicuous in Khakhi Green. Such heavy security inside a temple seemed odd. However I did not give them much thought, for suddenly before us stood the Kashi Viswanath temple with it’s majestic Golden dome looming large over the numerous small temples surrounding it. We stepped through the narrow entrance into the Sanctum Sanctorum. With folded hands and bent heads we stood before the God of Gods .
Once outside, it took me a few moments to regain my composure, to be jolted out of the sublime ecstasy into the harsh world of reality. A few feet away from the present day temple stood a gigantic Mosque with a few remains of the demolished original Temple structure still visible beneath it. The crowd of pilgrims which had now started to build up , kept casting surreptitious glances at the original temple site. The premises of one of the holiest shrines of Hindus looked more like a Border check post, with a thirty feet high barbed wire fencing separating the two structures.
The gun wielding security men who surrounded the temple caught my attention again. At that moment a strange thought came to mind. These security men, it seemed were Shiva’s modern Day Gans .They attend to our lord night and day, in the biting cold and scorching summers from the Gangetic plains of Banaras to the lofty Mountains of Amarnath. They ensure that no AURANZEB of this century can dare to harm any of Shiv’s abodes while he resides within and answers our prayers.
Har Har Mahadev
