The Sparrows at Rama’s Feet

 

It was two-thirty in the afternoon. We had just puffed our way up a flight of some 25 steps to Ramar Patham – a shrine dedicated to Sree Rama’s footprints – only to find that it was closed to visitors. A few others who had arrived before us were seated on the cement verandah that circled the shrine. We found a vacant spot to one side and sat cross-legged on the floor with our backs resting against the wall. Someone seated close by announced the shrine would open at three. There was nothing to do but to sit there and wait.

The shrine stood on a hillock. As I sat gazing out on a panoramic view of Rameswaram and its surroundings, I suddenly became aware of the sparrows chirping, hopping, and flying around. There were about six or seven of them. And my, what a busy bunch they were! The front wall of the shrine had a tiny square hole covered with a mesh. The sparrows took turns to try and make their way into the shrine through this hole, and even though each one failed repeatedly, they didn’t seem deterred. Intermittently, some of them would perch on the cement floor in a rough circle and chirp at each other, heads tilting one way, then another. Their chatter, I thought, had the same texture as the anxious chirping one often hears at a high-stakes management meeting in the corporate world. One or two would then break away from the group and go sit on the wall surrounding the shrine, continuing to chirp into the air, seemingly letting off steam at something the others had said.

Meanwhile, the number of humans at the shrine had begun to swell. More and more members of this species were lumbering up the hillock and parking their bodies on the steps and verandah of the temple.

As I watched them, I wondered what the sparrows thought about us. What if they were discussing us right there, under our very noses?

“Cheep cheep. Why is that lady in pink shaking the door of the shrine? Is she getting angry?”

“Can’t tell. She shouts, then she turns and smiles at her friends.”

“Ah, here’s one of the priests – the one who always smiles. Now, he’s saying something to the lady.”

“Uh-oh, now they’re all getting up. Some of them seem to be getting angry. We better go sit on the wall. Else, we’ll be crushed.”

“Look, now the priest is saying something to the crowd.”

“Well, now they’re all saying something together. Looks like the priest is opening the door of the shrine. Cheep cheep cheep.”

Like the others seated near the shrine, we had also stood up on seeing the priest walking towards the door with a key in his hand. As soon as he opened the door, we were swept forward by the crowd that thronged the narrow passage to the shrine. As we bowed before two large footprints, I caught sight of the sparrows flying in and out of the shrine. Two or three of them perched on the windows. They appeared to be observing us somewhat distastefully. Perhaps they were a little miffed with the way we were conducting ourselves. “Cheep cheep” went two of those who were manning (sparrowing?) the windows.

  “Cheep cheep. Somebody should tell them no one gets brownie points in a temple for yelling the loudest or pushing the hardest.”