“A Sacred Ritual, A Loving Memory: Tulsi Puja with Mom”
Last year’s autumn, in their gentle embrace, one loved Tulsi Puja with my sweet mother. In the midst of the waves of my nostalgia, the smell of basil leaves lingers, and in unison, we reverberate our own holy mantra.
We were hand in hand and heart to heart in that sacred room, having a dance of dedication in silence. Our soul, Tulsi—the epitome of purity and divine grace—brings witness to our relationship in its totality. However, I had no clue that this would end up being a lasting image that would be etched on the canvas of my memories.
The absence feels palpable today, once more, as I enter this holy day. Her laughter’s reverberations, her light touch, then a soft sighing breeze through tulsi tree tops However, in this intimate second, there is an underlying linkage that goes beyond the material and the temporal realm.
The tulsi has become a living witness of those common spiritual moments that we enjoyed during my childhood, and now it stands still as the mother lives even after death. A chapter of the history of our spiritual interweaving for every leaf.
When at prayer, I do not just enjoy the smell of tulsi but also the smell of her love—a love that blossoms enduringly with age. The rituals would remain, albeit in their changed meanings, which have been burdened by a myriad of experiences shared together.
In this sanctuary, I find peace in its quietness. I cannot help but remember how love persists as I think of those teeny-tiny emerald offerings called tulsi leaves. While it may be difficult for the physical presence to stay, there is no doubt that this kind of spiritual tie is very much alive, even beyond the known realm.
On this Tulsi Puja, I stand at the crossing point of memory and praise, weaving the strands of custom and adoration into a cloth more extensive than the perceptible edge. While touching each leaf in these prayers with devotion and respect, I understand a link between my mortal self and some ever-lasting love, and this love is as strong as these sacred Tulsi plants.
Let the sweetness of our common passion flow across the hallways of eternity, making sure I know that there is a love that transcends even death. However, instead of just doing the ritual, I am feeding the tie, which surpasses all the impermanent symphony of a mom’s affection for a child.
