The Pager Pujari

Tucked away in the dhoti at the priest8217;s waist was a pager that kept him posted about his daily appointments. In his smart Fila bag, he carried some of the more rare ingredients required for the rituals. The ceremonies were conducted with clockwork precision. In half an hour it was all over. The flowers, wreaths, ashes from the incense sticks, broken shards of earthen pitchers were swept away, and the place was ready for the next cremation.

At Banganga, a world heritage site where the ashes were immersed, there was the same decorum, dignity and peace. There were no greedy priests trying to fleece heartbroken relatives, no beggars and no plastic bags bobbing around. Just a couple of days earlier, Chelsea Clinton had visited the site.

Hundreds of rituals are performed here every day, but the small, efficient work force keeps the place clean. In keeping with the times, women were performing rituals that were once the exclusive prerogative of the males.

But it was Master Shiva, the 25 year old who came all the way to cook at Churchgate from the Jagadamba Kalabhairva temple of Jogeshwari, who best symbolised the changing era. He was able to combine the grace and tradition of the old world with the demands of the new age. Like the priest, he was punctual and efficient. The traditional cook, who could turn out a sumptuous meal for Brahmins, was also a teacher of Bharatnatyam and, believe it or not, break dancing. He had learnt his many skills in Vishakapatnam and had come to big, bustling Mumbai to reap the reward.

Getting up at 4 am, he would bathe, do his prayers at the temple, smear a little sandalwood and vibhuti on his forehead, and catch the fast train to Churchgate. He came in smart cotton jeans at 6 am sharp. In his shoulder bag were his dhoti and angavastra. At the Churchgate flat he changed into his dhoti and within minutes steaming coffee would be prepared for those who were up at that hour.

As ordained in the book of rituals, he would cook about a dozen dishes acirc;euro;ldquo;chutneys, vada, sambar, vegetables and at least two deserts acirc;euro;ldquo;for about 40 to 50 people. His hands moved with lightning speed as he chopped vegetables and ground the spices fresh every morning. By noon the meal was ready. It would be served on banana leaves and Shiva knew the exact sequence of dishes to be served. He also knew how to keep piling up the Brahmins till they burped and the soul for whom all this was being done was happy. By 4 pm the kitchen was spotlessly clean and Shiva would change back into his nifty trousers and dash off to catch the fast train back to the Jogeshwari temple.

There, three to four days a week he would teach classical dance or, depending on the demand, break dance to young aspirants from Mumbai8217;s world of culture. He distributed advertising pamphlets of his dancing accomplishments and, with the happy blend of traditional and modern skills, this whiz kid earned a five-figure salary.

It is not just IT professionals who are doing India proud. Shiva and the priest are part of the changing new India.com!