Tears beneath the divine

Ugadi arrived like a quiet promise

a new beginning wrapped in temple bells

and incense scented air

Around nine that night

under the golden glow of a Ganapathi temple in the city

faith felt close enough to touch

Among the crowd

I saw him

Not loud

Not smiling

Just still

Curly hair resting softly on his forehead

a lavender shirt glowing beneath the temple lights

denim pants the color of a fading evening sky

and hands folded before the Supreme Lord

as if he was holding together

something fragile within him

And then

his silence turned into tears

Not loud sobs

Not dramatic cries

Just quiet drops

falling from a heart too tired to stay strong

He bowed again and again

as if each bend was surrender

as if every tear carried a story

no one had fully listened to

They say when someone cries before God

it means they have placed their deepest pain

into hands greater than their own

Even surrounded by people

he seemed alone

And in that sacred stillness

something within me grew quieter softer

A wish rose without words

carried silently with the temple bells

hoping that whatever storm he is fighting

finds a morning that feels lighter than this night

He moved toward Goddess Saraswati

then Lakshmi

as if searching for wisdom

for strength

for peace

The night felt heavy

yet strangely hopeful

Because nothing is permanent

not sorrow

not struggle

not even tears offered at the altar

We are only humans

small beneath the infinite

And perhaps

sometimes being seen without having to speak

is enough…

This was written a month ago during Ugadi, and I’m sharing it now as it finally feels ready..

This is not imagined—it’s something I witnessed in silence, exactly as it unfolded…

I hope you enjoyed