Is my Facial Feature a Curse?

(Sometimes, the unlikeliest situation forced on you the hard reality that is also called ‘discrimination based on facial feature’ and you are given no option but to gulp it down)

I feel guilty to call myself an art-lover as I know pretty well that I know nothing about art. But whenever I do have time, I love visiting old buildings, museums and heritage sites to amuse myself with the intricate stone carving, architecture, and painting and absorb myself in what the builder, craver or painter want to convey through his/her art.

Even thought I am a Christian, I never hesitated to visit temples or mosques as long as I have someone to explain to me the painting, craving, belief and other customs and traditions associated with it. In fact, I have been to quite a number of temples like Chinpurni, Jwala Devi and Naina Devi in Himachal Pradesh, Anandpur in Punjab, Akshardham and Birla mandir in Delhi, Kali Mandir in Tripura and many small and less famous temples whenever and wherever I have the pleasure of staying.

My boss knows me pretty well so she was not really surprised when I became the most excited one when she proposed one afternoon to visit the famous Lingaraj temple in Bhubaneswar. Lingaraj temple is over a thousand year old with a unique architecture style and intricate stone craving, so it was a ready temptation for me. Apart from that we have been in Bhubaneswar for over two months and we hardly get the time to go around sight-seeing or take time off from work, so we all saw this as a good proposition to get away from the damp work place that we have imprisoned ourselves for the whole two month.

We left the office early and went straight to the temple. The moment we landed up near the entrance, priests (panda?) started following us around hoping us to make some offering. We were told to take off all leather stuffs with us like belt, watch, wallet and mobile phone and leave them inside the vehicle.

Once we get to the entrance, my colleagues and the driver went straight but as I was to enter, two policemen and three priests come up to stop me. They surrounded me and started asking me my name, my native place, and of course, my religion. I don’t understand a single word that was rapidly fired at me in oriya. I looked around for some help from my colleague or my boss and it was then that I saw something written near the gate in English –Only Hindus Allowed.

I heard my boss’ voice coming out from among the crowd telling all those people that I was a Hindu from Manipur. My boss was someone who will always get her way no matter what, but she was helpless here as more and more policemen, priests and crowds started gathering around us and her voice was lost in the mayhem. I withdrew myself and told my boss to go inside and enjoy her time.

I stand under the tree across the gate and watched at the crowd who watched me. I feel like a stray dog that people find it not fit to be admitted inside the house. I understand that they have rules to follow, but what I don’t understand is if religion is written in the face or if that rule is based on someone facial feature since I know pretty well that the driver (an oriya) is also a Christian but was allowed to enter inside without even a single glance.

I felt hurt, I feel pained, and discriminated. At the same time, I feel elated; I feel like a martyred missionary while my ego groaned in pain. I want to stomp in, I want to stomp out, and tell them that their idols disgusted me and the place is way too low for me. All those painting and carving that I adored so much before seems disgusting and ugly now. The situation forced me to fully comprehend what a little discrimination can do to someone.

I can very much do without seeing the temple; it has no religious attraction for me like my colleague. But I cannot believe that I was not allowed inside a place where even beggars can hold their head in pride just because of my facial feature. It would had been another story had the Driver been not allowed or at least being asked the simple question, but I was selected out. My boss had given me a Hindu name, telling them that I was from Manipur, I talked to them in Hindi, but I was still not allowed.

When I returned back to the hotel, the first thing I do was fish out the crucifix that my Mom gave it to me a longtime ago. I kept that in one of the side pocket of my trolley and never bothered about it. That night, when I put the crucifix around my neck and let it hang above my shirt when we went for dinner, never in my life do I felt so proud of my religion like that before.

Update:

A week later, we went to Puri inside the famous Jaganath Temple Complex. This time round, my Boss hired a Panda (Priest) as a tour guide. No one bothered me as we walked past the long queue without a single question being asked. In fact, I even take along my Camera Phone and the Crucifix, but I did not take them out of my pocket as a mark of respect.

The place hold nothing special for me, but the simple fact that I managed to enter this temple after what happen the previous week give me a big sense of relief and satisfaction, a satisfaction that someone only in my situation know.

Tags: mizo, zomi, zogam