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

This touched my heart completely 🩷