Urn god
I had spent half of my childhood here. Yelling, screaming, rejoicing. I still hear those echoes now. Those desi games that we played here, those fights I had here just passed by my mind. Those huge copper urns always fascinated me. The scar on my hand, the Scar, still reminded me how angry the Maha Darshari was when I tried to open the urn's seal. 15 years hence and I had decided to do my thesis on this very temple. May be it was that childhood fantasy of mine to know what is in those urns. I had studied so much about Indian culture and never seen a caste, sect, religion, tribe worship an urn, sealed urn. I started off with an apology to the Vāsaṇa prabhu as we referred to it, loosely translated to urn god. Apology was that ‘oh god forgive me, forgive me for the fact that I will unravel the mystery inside you’. With a small pause I said 'bless me' The temple had history. It was the royal temple; it belonged to the Maharaja of Thane. The priests once were the