Divine Love

It was the time of the Chhappan Bhog (sixty-six offerings)—the temple was filled with such a fragrance as if the entire Jagannath temple was filled with love. The resounding beat of drums, the scent of basil and ghee wafting through the air, and the cheers of devotees—everything was divine. But standing amidst the crowd, an elderly mother's heart was filled with a strange uneasiness.

She visited the temple daily and saw Lord Jagannath as her own son—a mother's affection, a mother's concern.

One thought kept revolving in her mind—"My son is fed so many Chhappan Bhogs every day... I hope his tender stomach doesn't get upset."

As evening fell that day, she sat in her home, dried neem leaves, ground them, and prepared a powder with great care—like a mother preparing medicine for her child.

She arrived at the temple at night, so that there would be no crowds, peace, and she could offer the medicine to the Lord.

But the gatekeeper guarding the temple entrance stopped her.

"Entry at night is forbidden," he said in a harsh voice.

And before the old mother could explain, he snatched the neem powder from her hand and threw it on the ground.

The neem powder flew into the air... and tears welled up in the old mother's eyes.

She sat down on the stone steps and began to cry—"Who will give medicine to my Jagannath? Who will look after my son at night?"

Her sobs echoed off the temple walls and reached the sky.

The Maharaja, too, was not sleeping deeply that night.

Suddenly, he had a strange dream.

In the dream, Lord Jagannath himself appeared before him—pain on his face, compassion in his eyes.

He said to the king—"King! My stomach is aching today. My mother brought medicine, but your gatekeeper stopped it and turned it away. Couldn't you understand the pain of a son?"

The king woke up trembling with fear—drenched in sweat.

He felt as if the Lord was truly suffering. 

As soon as morning came, without waiting for anyone, he mounted his horse and rushed to the old mother's hut.

The mother was sitting by the stove, scraping ashes from her dry eyes.

As soon as the king arrived, he bowed at her feet and said, "Mother, forgive me. God himself has ordered me. My Lord needs your neem powder right now."

The old mother was stunned.

The mother, whose words no one had heard the night before, now seemed to have been wiped away by God himself.

The king had her prepare new neem powder.

The mother ground the leaves again with the same affection as if she were making medicine for her own child.

When the powder reached the temple, the priests offered the medicine to Lord Jagannath for the first time after offering fifty-six offerings.

A divine fragrance permeated the temple—the fragrance of a mother's love, her pain, and her worship.

And it is said that—From the day that incident occurred, the tradition of feeding Lord Jagannath neem powder after the fifty-six offerings began.

Because no matter how great the Lord is—To a mother, he always remains her little child.

Read more : -  The Woman's Share