Shri Swaminarayan Mandir, London

One Friday morning I spent an hour and a half riding the underground to visit the Shri Swaminarayan Mandir near the west end of London. It is the largest Hindu temple outside of India. During the short walk from the Stonebridge Underground station, a woman stopped me to tell me that her partner just hit her, she thought she was pregnant and she needed some change to by a train ticket to get to her mothers and it was only five pounds. She seemed distressed, or at least acted well with no visible tears. Unlike other strangers asking for assistance, I couldn’t pass her by without being rude and offered to buy her ticket for her. She gave me a rather inadequate excuse: basically, she had to take a bus to another ticket station that wasn’t near by. I doubted the change in my pocket would solve her problems but it seemed telling her so wouldn’t help either. After giving her the change resting in my pocket, I had no change left to donate to the collection plate at the temple. Is it foolish to think that the two opportunities to donate were somehow equal?

Shri Swaminarayan Mandir, London

After being offered a laptop to purchase through the window of a drive-by salesman, which I politely declined, I entered the grand temple compound which was across the street from the Shri Swaminarayan day school. There was construction going on outside the temple which restricted a close look at the veneer, but it seemed impressive. The security measures (no bags, no photographs, airport walk through metal detectors etc.) implied an importance that not only seemed to re-affirm that impressiveness but also made me question the mind set of those who make these measures necessary.

I arrived ten minutes before Murti Darshan was re-opened for Rajbhog Arti (Ritual of waving of lights to the Sacred Deities). My timing was unintentionally perfect. As I sat and waited for the ceremony, I basked in the luminescent glow of all the numinous marble carvings. The intricate dome under which all the visitors settle, is illuminated by lights that smoothly flow from a phosphorescent magenta into a royal blue before rejoining their full spectrum of white light again. Fixed around you are rows of square ‘pillars of divinity’ which feature the full pantheon of India’s many gods and goddesses carved in full relief and protected by life-size plexi-glass boxes that were well dusted. Unlike Rosslyn Chapel, it was spaciously warm.

It appeared that no limit was imposed on the money, the time and the craftsmanship that was used to mold this temple.

During my visit, a school group of young children in uniform visited and respected the silence, as politely as they could. A few looked at me, perhaps looking for direction from the only other present Caucasian male besides their teachers. I remember smiling at them and trying to read their faces. Among an unrestrained abundance of devote Indian culture, I hoped their initial experience was as intriguing as it was unfamiliar.

There are pictures available for view of the head pundit with various celebrated figures from Tony Blair to the Dalai Lama.

Tags: travel