Sixteen years ago, a trip to Vrindavan was planned as a lighthearted family vacation, not a profound spiritual journey. The author, then in her twenties and more pragmatic than pious, approached the town with the curiosity of a tourist. The family enjoyed boating on the Yamuna, explored the mystical Nidhivan, and shopped more than they prayed. Vrindavan felt like a vibrant carnival—a blend of sacred energy and human chaos. Yet, by evening, a visit to the iconic Banke Bihari Temple would orchestrate a personal transformation so deep it remains a marvel to this day.
The Heart of Devotion: Banke Bihari Temple
As the family reached the temple in the evening light, the red sandstone structure took on a beautiful pinkish hue. Built in the 19th century by the Goswamis, descendants of Swami Haridas, the temple is a masterpiece of Rajasthani architecture. Its walls are adorned with intricate carvings and vibrant paintings depicting tales of Krishna's leelas from the Bhagavata Purana. The central deity, Banke Bihari, is a unique tribhanga murti—an idol with three graceful bends. It is believed to represent both Radha and Krishna in one form. Legend states that this idol appeared to saint Haridas and was found near Nidhivan in the 16th century, eventually being enshrined in the present temple built in 1862.
The Unforgettable Moment: A Curtain Parts, A Heart Opens
Walking through a courtyard of black and white marble, the group reached a silver door leading to the sanctum. Behind it stood the dark idol with deep, captivating eyes. In that instant, the author felt Banke Bihari was looking directly at her. Then, the curtain closed. When it opened again, an overwhelming and inexplicable wave of emotion crashed over her. A self-described cool-headed and pragmatic person, she found herself speechless, her mind blank. Unbidden tears streamed down her face for ten to twelve minutes, washed in a profound sensation of vast, tender love. The usual mental list of wishes she recited in temples vanished, replaced by pure, wordless connection.
The Collective Hush and Lasting Impact
Stepping out of the sanctum, a deep silence enveloped the entire family. Her cousins, neither of whom were religious, confessed to feeling strangely light-headed, emotional, and hushed, as if touched by an ineffable force. This shared, quiet rapture bound them in a moment of collective awe. Since that first encounter, the author has returned to Banke Bihari Ji repeatedly, each time braving larger crowds. Every visit recreates that softening of the heart, where thoughts dissolve into silent gratitude before the divine gaze. The joy of that single sight—the curtain parting to reveal His face—remains so complete that it silences all worries and questions.
The Mystery of the Moving Curtain
The ritual of opening and closing the curtain before the deity is shrouded in captivating lore. Devotees and priests offer several explanations:
- Some believe Bihari Ji's gaze carries such potent divine enchantment that prolonged exposure could cause devotees to faint. The curtain offers merciful, fleeting glimpses to protect the heart.
- Another tale suggests the Lord is so tender-hearted that He could be overwhelmed by a devotee's emotion, potentially compelling Him to follow the devotee home. The curtain acts as a gentle barrier.
- A third story holds that the pujaris shield the Lord's playful, childlike essence from the nazar (evil eye), as His eternal charm could draw undue attention from the outside world.
For the author, whose heart still trembles from that first encounter, the poetry of these tales resonates with the eternal leela that makes Vrindavan magical. The experience transformed a casual tourist into a lifelong devotee, proving that sometimes, divinity finds you even when you are not looking for it.
