(A/N: Hello, guys! Sorry for the delay; I've been doing some research for my novel and also reading a fanfic titled I Stream DC on Marvel and a manhwa called World's Strongest Troll. You should check them out; they're really good!)
[BACK TO PRESENT]
[HARI'S POV]
As we approached the Puja area, the sight before us was both serene and sacred. A small murti of Ganpati stood adorned with flowers, a white mat neatly spread out for the ritual. Copper and brass vessels, shimmering in the morning light, were filled with holy water. Plates of offerings—flowers, coconuts, rice, kumkum, vibhuti, and of course, modaks, Ganpati's favorite sweet—were all laid out with precision.
Pandit Bhagwat looked at us, his voice calm and inviting. "Please take your seats," he said, gesturing toward the mat.
Everyone began to settle down, including me, but just as I was about to sit, Swara leaned close and whispered, her voice urgent but soft, "Hari, what are you doing? We're not supposed to sit here. This mat is for Dada and his business partners. They're the ones performing the puja, not us."
I paused, her words sinking in. For a moment, I looked at her—there was concern in her eyes, the kind of concern that showed she knew the formalities of this world far better than I did. I smiled gently and said, "You're right, Swara. It is for your Dada and his business partners."
Seeing me smile at her, Swara's eyes widened in confusion and surprise. "How…?" she asked, her voice soft, unsure of what I was implying.
Still smiling, I gently took her hand in mine. "Not only am I sitting here," I said, my voice firm yet comforting, "but you're sitting with me too, and we'll be performing the puja together."
Her confusion deepened, and our friends exchanged startled glances. Parth, Vishal, Lavanya, Nandini, and Sidharth all looked at each other, clearly caught off guard. Sidharth quickly spoke up, "But Madhav, that's not—"
Before he could finish, I waved my hand playfully, cutting him off. "Shh, shh," I said with a grin. "No more talking. Swara is doing the puja with us."
I turned to Pandit Bhagwat, my smile still in place, and asked, "It's not a problem, right, Kaka, if Swara joins us in the puja?"
The pandit smiled warmly, his eyes kind. "How could that ever be a problem? There's no issue at all."
Hearing Pandit Bhagwat's words, I smiled, turning to the others with a grin. "See? There's no problem."
They all sighed, and Sidharth, shaking his head in defeat, muttered, "Do whatever you want."
I laughed softly, but when I looked at Swara, she was still staring at me, wide-eyed, filled with surprise and confusion. "How?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Still smiling, I leaned a little closer. "I'll tell you later," I said.
But Swara wasn't satisfied. "No," she insisted, her tone more determined, "I want to know now."
I sighed, shaking my head slightly. "Don't act like a child, Swara. I'll tell you later, okay? Now let's sit."
For a moment, Swara hesitated, resisting, but the thought of performing the puja together with me seemed to sway her. Slowly, she sat down beside me, her cheeks slightly flushed. As we all settled on the mat, folding our hands, Pandit Bhagwat looked at me with a warm smile. "Shall we begin, Madhav, if you give the permission?"
I returned his smile, feeling a quiet sense of peace. "Of course, Kaka," I replied softly.
The air seemed to still as the moment prepared to unfold, the beginning of something quietly significant.
Pandit Bhagwat's voice was calm yet filled with a quiet authority as he instructed us to clear our minds. I closed my eyes, feeling the warmth of the early morning sun against my face, and tried to push away the flurry of thoughts swirling in my head. The purpose of this puja began to take shape in my mind.
The gentle flicker of the brass lamp as Pandit Bhagwat lit it brought me back to the present. Its flame danced softly in the golden light, casting a warm glow over the Ganpati murti. The peaceful atmosphere began to envelop us as Pandit Bhagwat placed the lamp at the front of the deity, signaling the beginning of something sacred.
"We will now begin with the Sankalpam," Pandit Bhagwat said, his voice steady and reassuring. "This ritual will formally declare the purpose of this puja. It connects your thoughts, actions, and prayers to Lord Ganesh."
I nodded along with the others, a wave of calm settling over me. Then, Pandit Bhagwat picked up a brass vessel filled with holy water and a few mango leaves. The soft rustle of the leaves filled the space for a brief moment before he handed them to me.
"Madhav," he said gently, "dip the mango leaves into the water and sprinkle a few drops on the ground before the murti as I chant the mantras."
I nodded, the weight of the moment settling in as I followed Pandit Bhagwat's instructions. The sacredness of the ritual, the soft chanting of the mantras, and the flicker of the lamp created an atmosphere that felt both grounding and transcendent. As Pandit Bhagwat's voice filled the space, I dipped the mango leaves into the holy water and let the droplets fall gently onto the ground before Ganpati.
"Om Vishnu Vishnu Vishnu,
Sankalpam Aham Karishye.
Mamopata samastha durita kshaya dvara,
Sri Ganapati prasada siddhyartham,
Flute & Foam café business saphalata praptir artham,
Aham pujam karishye."
The chant echoed in my ears, weaving through the still air.
Pandit Bhagwat finished the mantra and looked at me, his calm eyes meeting mine. "Now, Madhav, give the vessel to the others, and they will do as you did."
I passed the brass vessel to Swara, our hands brushing lightly as she took it. She met my gaze briefly, her expression a mix of awe and focus. As she dipped the mango leaves into the water and sprinkled the drops before the murti, I could feel a shift in the air.
One by one, everyone followed suit—Vishal, Nandini, Sidharth, Parth, each of them silently absorbing the moment, listening to Pandit Bhagwat's chants.
When the vessel made its way back to Pandit Bhagwat, he smiled softly and then took a small bowl of kumkum and vibhuti. One by one, he gently marked our foreheads with it. The cool touch of the kumkum felt grounding, and the vibhuti's sacred scent brought a sense of calm, as if the ritual had purified not only our thoughts but something deeper within our souls.
With the sankalpam complete, Pandit Bhagwat moved gracefully into the heart of the ritual, his calm yet authoritative presence filling the space with a quiet reverence. He prepared the thali, arranging the sacred offerings with deliberate care: bright red hibiscus flowers, freshly plucked durva grass, vibrant turmeric, fragrant sandalwood paste, and of course, the sweet modaks. The simplicity and beauty of the offerings felt powerful, as though each item carried a deeper significance than what met the eye.
Looking at us, he said, "Lord Ganesh is the remover of obstacles. By offering these items with full devotion, you are asking him to protect your business and ensure its success. Now, pick up a few strands of durva grass and hold them in your right hands, and repeat after me."
We all nodded, silently absorbing the weight of his words. Each of us reached out for the durva grass, our fingers brushing the delicate strands before we held them in our right hands. The air felt charged with an unspoken understanding between us.
Pandit Bhagwat's voice was soft but firm as he began to chant the ancient mantra:
"Om Gan Ganapataye Namah."
His voice resonated, rich and deep, vibrating in the small space like a hum of energy that seemed to come from the earth itself. We followed in unison, repeating the mantra after him, our voices blending together.
"Om Gan Ganapataye Namah," I repeated, feeling the mantra settle into my chest like a calm wave.
After Pandit Bhagwat instructed us to place the durva and flowers at the feet of the murti, we nodded in unison and carefully laid down the offerings. The fragrance of the hibiscus mingled with the earthy scent of durva, creating a serene, sacred atmosphere. The sound of Pandit Bhagwat's voice filled the space once more as he began chanting:
"Vakratunda Mahakaya,
Suryakoti Samaprabha,
Nirvighnam Kurume Deva,
Sarva Karyeshu Sarvada."
His words, ancient and rhythmic, seemed to bridge the gap between the divine and the earthly, creating a sense of stillness within us all. We repeated the mantra silently in our hearts, hoping that each syllable would resonate and reach Ganpati's ears.
Next, he instructed us to place the prasad before Lord Ganpati. One by one, we each picked up a modak, carefully placing it at the base of the murti. The act felt small, but symbolic, as though we were laying down our humble desires and aspirations at the feet of the one who could make them possible.
Then, Pandit Bhagwat handed me a coconut. His gaze was steady, the weight of the moment clear in his eyes. "This coconut represents your ego, the challenges, and the obstacles in your path," he said, his voice calm but firm. "By breaking it, you symbolically break through all that holds you back, offering your mind and heart to the divine. Break the coconut, Madhav."
Hearing Pandit Bhagwat's words, I nodded, but instead of breaking the coconut myself, I turned to Vishal with a playful smile. "Vishal," I said.
Vishal, caught off guard, looked at me with raised eyebrows. Understanding my intention, he nodded with a small smile of his own. Taking the coconut from my hands, he stood up and walked toward the stone placed for the ritual. With a single, precise motion, Vishal struck the coconut against the stone. It split cleanly, the water inside spilling out and running across the stone like a silent offering. There was something cathartic in the act, as though in that moment, we all let go of the burdens we carried, trusting the divine to take care of what lay ahead.
Vishal returned, handing the broken pieces of the coconut to Pandit Bhagwat, who nodded approvingly. He carefully placed the coconut pieces at the feet of the Ganpati murti, a final, quiet gesture of humility.
Then, Pandit Bhagwat brought out a small silver murti of Goddess Lakshmi, her serene face framed by delicate white lotus flowers. A small vessel filled with coins was placed before her, shimmering faintly in the soft light of the lamps. The scene was almost otherworldly, the divine presence filling the room with warmth.
"Goddess Lakshmi blesses us with wealth, prosperity, and abundance," Pandit Bhagwat said, his voice filled with reverence. "By offering your devotion to her, you ensure that your business flourishes."
As Pandit Bhagwat continued with the ceremony, he gently placed a lotus flower in each of our hands, its delicate petals soft against my palms. "Hold these closely," he instructed, his tone soothing, "as I chant the Lakshmi Gayatri Mantra."
He closed his eyes, his voice rising and falling in a melodic rhythm:
"Om Mahalakshmyai Cha Vidmahe,
Vishnu Patnyai Cha Dhimahi,
Tanno Lakshmi Prachodayat."
The mantra flowed around us, weaving a tapestry of hope and intention that hung in the air like the scent of the lotus flowers. I focused on the flower in my hand, feeling its energy as I embraced the meaning behind each word.
After he finished, Pandit Bhagwat looked at us with a gentle smile. "Now, each of you should place your lotus flower at Lakshmi's feet, offering your prayers for prosperity and abundance."
We nodded, our faces reflecting a mix of determination and reverence. One by one, we stepped forward, placing the lotus flowers delicately at the feet of Goddess Lakshmi. It felt as though we were laying down our aspirations, our dreams for Flute & Foam, at her divine altar.
Once we completed this offering, Pandit Bhagwat transitioned seamlessly into the Navagraha Puja, explaining its significance. "The Navagrahas influence our lives, and by offering prayers to them, we ensure that the cosmic energies work in your favor."
He began to prepare for the puja, arranging small idols representing the nine celestial bodies—Sun, Moon, Mars, Mercury, Jupiter, Venus, Saturn, Rahu, and Ketu—each one holding its unique significance. The air was thick with anticipation as he explained how these planets shape our destinies.
As Pandit Bhagwat guided us through the final part of the Navagraha Puja, he instructed each of us to take a small pinch of rice from the thali. My fingers brushed against the grains, feeling their texture—each one a symbol of prosperity and nourishment, a reminder of our hopes and dreams.
"One by one, offer the rice to the symbols of the nine planets as I call their names," he said, his voice steady and calming.
We formed a circle around the small altar, each of us stepping forward in turn. I watched as Swara took her place, her expression serious as she focused on the task ahead.
"Om Suryaaya Namah," she chanted, offering her rice to the Sun, her voice strong, echoing the light it represented.
"Om Chandraaya Namah."
"Om Mangalaaya Namah."
Each name rolled off our tongues, a rhythmic incantation connecting us to the cosmos. I could feel the weight of our intentions in the air, each mantra weaving a tapestry of purpose that enveloped us.
"Om Budhaaya Namah," I whispered, the sound reverberating softly in my chest as I offered my rice, my thoughts drifting to the wisdom I hoped would guide our endeavors.
"Om Guruve Namah."
"Om Shukraaya Namah."
"Om Shaniaya Namah."
"Om Rahave Namah."
"Om Ketave Namah."
As we completed the puja, the air around us felt charged with energy, as if the very essence of our dreams was taking shape. Pandit Bhagwat smiled at us, his eyes glimmering with warmth.
"Madhav, now the puja is done. It's 7 AM, and it's time for the aarti," he announced, his voice filled with a sense of accomplishment.
As Pandit Bhagwat's words echoed in the temple, we all nodded in acknowledgment and rose from our seats. The temple was already bustling with devotees, their chatter filling the air with a sense of anticipation. I looked around, and to my surprise, I noticed many eyes drawn toward us. A warm smile spread across my face as I took in the scene.
Swara, standing beside me, leaned in slightly and said in a hushed voice, "Hey, Hari, see? Everyone is looking at us again."
I placed my hand on my chin, feigning deep contemplation. "Maybe it's because I'm just too handsome," I replied with a grin, exaggerating my features for effect.
Swara let out a mock laugh, the sound bright and musical, cutting through the quiet murmurs around us. "Haha, too handsome? Really?" she quipped, amusement dancing in her eyes.
I turned to her, pretending to be serious. "What? Don't you think I'm the most handsome man you've ever seen?" I edged a bit closer, locking my gaze with hers, the world around us fading into a blur.
I could see a subtle flush creeping up Swara's cheeks, her face shifting from surprise to a deep shade of pink. It was a delightful sight, one that made my heart race a little faster. She quickly looked away, her demeanor suddenly shy, and as she held my hand, she said, "We're young, so you're just a boy. Let's go; it's aarti time." Her voice was light, yet there was an underlying warmth that made my pulse quicken.
As she started to pull me toward the front, I couldn't resist teasing her a bit more. "But you didn't deny that I'm the most handsome!" I called out, my tone playful, hoping to coax another reaction from her.
Swara glanced back at me, a smile tugging at her lips, but she remained silent. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and embarrassment, making me feel like I was floating on air. The way she struggled to maintain her composure only deepened my smile.
As we all gathered in front of the majestic Dagadu Sheth Ganapati murti, Pandit Bhagwat looked at me with a warm smile. "Madhav, should we start?" he asked, his eyes gleaming with encouragement.
"Of course," I replied, returning his smile.
To my surprise, Pandit Bhagwat handed me the aarti plate, its flickering lamps casting a gentle glow on my small hands. I glanced at Swara, standing beside me, and couldn't help but beam at her. "Swara, what are you looking at? Come here quickly and hold the aarti with me!" I urged, my tone playful.
Surprise washed over Swara's face, quickly mirrored by the expressions of Parth, Sidharth, Vishal, Lavanya, and Nandini. Their eyes widened, and I could see the unspoken questions buzzing in the air.
Lavanya leaned toward Sidharth, her voice barely above a whisper, "Hey, Sidharth, it seems your sister and Madhav's relationship is quite good," she teased, a playful smile dancing on her lips.
Sidharth rolled his eyes in response, clearly exasperated but also a bit amused. "I asked Madhav, and he said they're not in a relationship. They're in 8th standard for God's sake," he replied, trying to sound dismissive.
Lavanya laughed, a light, melodic sound that cut through the murmurs around us. "And you believe him? When he says they're not dating? You know, today's school boys and girls are more mature than we were at their age. And we're talking about Madhav here—he's more mature than us! I'm a hundred percent sure there's something between them."
Ignoring their playful banter, I turned back to Swara, a smile stretching across my face. "Swara," I called softly, she is looking at me, her eyes brightening with a mixture of joy and shyness. She moved closer, holding the aarti plate alongside mine, her smile radiating sweetness that made my heart flutter.
As the aarti began, the familiar words flowed from my lips, each line imbued with devotion:
"Sukhakarta Dukhaharta,
Varta Vighnachi,
Nurvi Purvi Prem Krupa Jayachi,
Sarvangi Sundar Uti Shendurachi,
Kanti Jhalke Mal Mukhat Phalachi,
Jai Dev Jai Dev Jai Mangal Murti,
Darshan Maatre Man Kaamna Purti."
With every repetition of the mantra, I felt the energy around us shift, wrapping us in a warm cocoon of spirituality and camaraderie. We passed the aarti to Parth, Sidharth, Vishal, Lavanya, and Nandini, their faces reflecting a mix of reverence and happiness.
As the final words echoed in the temple, a sense of tranquility washed over me. We began to distribute prasad to the devotees, the sweet aroma filling the air and inviting smiles from everyone around.
To my surprise, before taking the prasad from me, some of the devotees began to touch my feet. It wasn't just the older devotees who had been there when I first arrived, but even the newer ones. I felt a wave of confusion wash over me. "Please, there's no need for that," I said quickly, trying to stop them, but they didn't seem to hear me. Their reverence, though overwhelming, made me uncomfortable.
Swara, standing beside me, looked just as bewildered. I noticed a few of them began doing the same to her, and her discomfort was written all over her face. Without a second thought, I quickly handed the prasad to Parth and gently took Swara's hand, leading her away from the crowd. She looked at me with a mix of relief and gratitude, but neither of us spoke.
Once the commotion had settled, we made our way toward Pandit Bhagwat and Parth's mother. I smiled and said, "We should take our leave now. We still need to do the Satyanarayan puja at the café. See you both at the opening this evening."
Pandit Bhagwat nodded kindly, and with that, our group—Parth, Sidharth, Vishal, Lavanya, Nandini, Swara, and I—left the temple together, a strange mix of emotions lingering in the air.
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