I remember prancing through the temple. The strength of the drums and the color of the music filled the room and every soul resonated with the vibrant chanting and dancing. I felt free then. Weaving between the saris of my aunties. Each cloth an intricate curtain wrapped around these amazing women. Of course when I was three years old their elegance did not strike me and I was more focussed on dancing my way around the room.  Memories of this small, simple space occupy and fill my head. My vision was blurred by flashes of rich reds and yellows. These colors of turmeric and chillies had life, as much as every other soul in that room. But in that moment, my heart was with the music. 

The cursed melody spread with its golden touch. Burning through the room like wild fire, the walls swelling and buzzing with energy. The flames made of devotion and selfless love. Was this love for eachother or love for the lord? Were we made to choose? We need one another to become closer to the lord. The pillars of the community are made from taking and giving inspiration, and lighting the flame within others to become God conscious. This fiery smoke filled my small lungs with the familiar burn of insense. Sanctifying everything in its path.

The melody grew and grew until I was swallowed in it. I was no longer in control. My small body spun and spun with joy. This music had engulfed all of us in its powers. We were mere puppets in this act of love. The sweet nectar splashed on my tongue. Each name of the lord took shape in my mind. These melodies will forever linger with me, and dance on my lips as if I was still spinning between the saris of my aunties.