Recently, in the name of cultivating cultural values, I visited the BAPS Swaminarayan Akshardham temple in New Jersey. After all, everyone else had already gone, but I hadn’t. Inconceivable! I had to go.
So, I went.
Overall, the temple leaves a good impression. The architecture is intact and hasn’t worn down over time. Visitors are greeted by a statue of a fitness enthusiast posing in a yoga position. The pose is contagious; nearly every visitor tries replicating it in their photos. Not everyone succeeds, of course. Some even fall.
Right after the statue, an unpredictable twist awaited me: a pool! Named Brahma Kund, after one in India. The original Brahma Kund is a large pool with steps. Legend has it that King Jayasimha Siddharaja from the Chaulukya dynasty was cursed by Queen Ranakadevi after he captured her, with some kind of unknown skin disease. He was cured of this unknown skin disease after bathing in the Brahma Kund, which prompted him to rebuild it. The pool’s waters (the one in India) are still considered medicinal.
Testing this legend in New Jersey wasn’t possible. Around the pool stand people, guards, and statues. People take lots of photos while the guards do a lot of guarding. The statues, for their part, do a lot of standing around; some — particularly picturesquely.
Everyone is doing their part.
After walking around the pool and admiring the fountains, which, surprisingly, no one jumped into, I tried to proceed further. But another surprise awaited me. To be allowed to enter the temple grounds, I had to empty my pockets of any metal objects. Coming from a hiking trip, I had to return to the car and unload.
On the way, I noticed how the temple workers strive to create the right atmosphere for visitors — even in the open air — by burning a lot of incense. And by a lot — I mean, really, a lot!
Inside temples of almost any religion, you’ll almost always find close-up portraits of significant religious figures and, on a larger scale, important events related to the same religion.
This one was no exception — portraits and significant events galore.
Having finally breached the inner grounds, I immediately spotted familiar Yeti footprints — this time — with money. Out of curiosity, I asked one of the workers how much money they collect in a day, but he “didn’t know.”
In the courtyard, there are not one but two pools with fountains. Again, strategically allocated statues were strategically allocated around each pool. If I read the explanations correctly, they symbolize important Krishna’s virtues. The four statues represent Krishna’s interest in procreation,
chemistry,
music,
and Instagram.
That is sex, drugs, rock-n-roll, and social media. The whole set for any respectable 21st-century individual.
Another attraction in the temple courtyard is the elephants. Lots of elephants. Some, like in the famous Soviet joke, are heading north. These are standard, proper elephants.
Another group is heading south. They are different. These are magical elephants, led by the most important elephant in the world — the royal elephant, Airavata, an elephant with seven trunks.
I know what you’re thinking. No, it’s not tentacles, and it’s not Cthulhu’s war elephants. Don’t even go there because this is a whole other story.
Hinduism offers no consensus on the source of seven-trunked elephants.
According to Ramayana, Airavata was born of Iravati, a half-woman, half-serpent (known as Naga). The father’s identity remains unknown, so getting child support was a no-go. Airavata had to earn his living by working as an Uber for the gods.
According to the Vishnu Purana (another sacred Hindu text), Airavata was born when gods and demons churned the ocean of milk for a thousand years. Why were gods and demons churning milk, you ask? Simple — to restore their health and eternal youth. What happened to their health and youth? They lost them due to Airavata’s being rude to one of the sages he met along the way. A real Schrödinger’s elephant — being rude before being born.
In a third version from Matanga Lila, a scholarly treatise on the life and behavior of elephants, Airavata was born when Brahma sang sacred hymns over the eggshells from which Garuda, another Hindu deity, half human half bird, hatched. Along with Airavata, seven other elephants and eight elephant cows were born from the shell. Note the paired births — science, after all, mandates that each creature should come in pairs.
Airavata, a complex character by any account, carried the god Indra during his victorious battle with the demon Vritra. In Hinduism, this victory is interpreted as the transition from chaos to order.
Finally tearing myself away from the elephants, I caught a glimpse of the rest of the zoo.
I entered the temple’s interior, but photography was prohibited there. However, pictures on the temple’s website provide a decent idea of what to expect.
I got in just a few minutes before closing, yet there were still many people. It turns out (I hadn’t known this before) that one of the postures Hindus use when addressing deities is lying flat on the floor, face down.
The backstory of this pose is interesting.
The familiar “namaste,” understood as a greeting with hands folded in front of the chest, is just one of many ways to express respect. The prone posture — Sashtang Namaskar — requires eight body parts to touch the ground.
Ideologically (or ritually, if you want), this posture represents a “fallen tree” or “fallen branch,” symbolizing human helplessness before god and their submission. Another interpretation is that the more body parts touching the ground, the faster a person will rid themselves of “Ahankāra” or ego, allowing the Brahmins (the highest caste) to guide them toward a better life and good deeds.
Interestingly, women are advised explicitly against this posture, as sacred texts state that a woman’s breasts and belly should not touch the ground.
After photographing the temple in the twilight of the approaching night, I headed home.
The golden fitness enthusiast bid farewell to visitors with a gesture symbolizing victory. Just in case, I took it personally — I’d visited another exciting place and learned something new. All that remained was to eat, and the day would not have been wasted.
