Swami Krishna's eyes flashed
lightning bolts illumining his round, brahmin
raincloud colored face.
Igniting logs in the huge fire pit
for our ancestral puja
he chanted ancient vedic hymns,
it was a beautiful offering on
this venerable Sunday morning.
Rites for remembering ancestors
is a tradition in many cultures,
not so much in the west.
Swami Krishna elaborated on its
importance:
We thank them for the good,
for laying the groundwork and support of
our lineage.
We remember them with
love and gratitude,
he stated, wrapping the yellow and red
priestly shawl closer to his body.
Strong, musky, acrid, odor of wood burning
stung our nostrils
one by one, ritualistically we added
ghee, incense sticks, flowers, herbs
and rice to the auspicious serpentine
flames
I could sense my mother near
spicy whiff of curry and channel no. 5
mixing with clouds of smoke
A secret door slowly opened in the heavens
as a procession of ghostly relatives
took their place around the blazing havan
It was almost high noon
and Surya, the Sun God
halted His brilliant chariot
driven by 7 rainbow hued horses
Hovering mid-air over our holy gathering
He raised His Golden Hands in Blessing
