Atonement - Short Story

Atonement => It is the process of showing that one is sorry for having done something wrong, by doing a good deed as a kind of repayment or self punishment. In Tamil, it is called as ‘Parigaram’ or ‘Prayachithham’. In many religious beliefs, it is widely accepted practice that one needs to atone, if he/she had done some thing bad against God.


“This is one of the best Atonement that I have presided over. Here after, the children will receive God’s blessings without any hindrance” - said the short, fat priest with mouth full of artificial smile; he was still counting the hundred rupee notes handed over by my father in law. The children he referred to were I and my wife. We were just married a week ago; and with tons of relatives and temples to visit, we are yet to spend some private time. Today’s quota is this ancient temple built by Cholas, about hundred mile away from our home, to do an atonement, for some unexplained mistake done by Father in Law years ago.

I, to be honest, detested the whole thing, and would not have come if not for my wife’s pleading. First of all, due to new policies that my office had come up with following recent recession, we were allowed to take only two weeks of leave for the marriage. And then to make matters worse, even in those two weeks I couldn’t spend time alone with her in Mauritius or Munnar or even in local Ooty as I had envisioned; I wished I could have been more stubborn and said a strong “No” to this temple Visit

It’s not that I hate temples. Though I’m an agnostic, I love temples, for its aesthetic beauty and its sculptural wonder. I love standing still in front of God in our native village, as our village priest goes through the chanting of Mantras, sincerely believing that God listened to them. Here it was different through. In between his mechanical reciting of mantras, the priest talked about his lunch plans in his mobile, discussed Dhoni’s tactical error in the previous days match against Pakistan, and also shouted in obscene Tamil at some of the devotees.

I don’t understand how my father in law, who was such an educated man, who had read all the scriptures by heart, would believe that God will forgive his mistakes done long ago, due to the Atonement, that he believes, he did today. If at all, his crime rate should have increased in the God’s book, for he encouraged Corruption in Temple, bypassed hundred’s of waiting devotees, and gave hundreds or rupees to a priest for whom a cricketer from Ranchi seemed more important than God.

I held my wife’s hands, as we walked out of the temple. That was the only little thing that can be said at least remotely positive about this trip. She knew I didn’t enjoy this trip. She must have praying all the while that I don’t make my unhappiness too evident in front of her relatives. After we went around the temple once, we sat in the couple of staircases that lead to the “Prasad Counter”. I wished her parents and relatives would at least sit few meters away respecting our privacy. However, as I know would happen, in spite of my wishes, they swarmed us like bee.

They all talked about a “Good Darshan” they got. “Its good to know priests in big temples like this” – My father in law replied with pride, soaking in glory of arranging a “Good Darshan”. I tried to avoid listening to the conversation. My wife also wanted me not to listen to it, as she feared I might retort. I tried to divert my attention by looking at the fellow devotees. A small five year old kid was playing with his parents, and I was wondering, if I would be playing the same games as his parents, few years down the lane.

Suddenly I could see an influx of college students walking past us, all with Chapels in their hand. I have never seen such thing before; people walking with chapels in their hand inside a temple. I looked at them in amazement. “Are they carrying their chapels, inside the temple, because they don’t want to pay two rupees outside to, take care of the chapels? Or is it some form of worship?” I wondered so, but I know it didn’t make sense. There must be a more rational explanation. I looked at my wife in bewilderment, for besides me, she seemed the only rational person in the gang.

She seemed to understand my doubt. Within a week of our marriage, she seemed to understand the meanings of each of my looks. “They have not come inside the temple to worship. They are going to the college on the other side of the temple, and using the roads will take lot of time. So they take the chapels in their hand and go across the temple to reach their destination. This detour saves them time.” This seemed rational enough.


Few minutes of silence followed. Her relatives were consuming Temple Prasadams like anything, even though just an hour earlier, we had lunch. I was admiring the beauty of my wife silently. My mind was dreaming that we were alone in Kulu Manali. My dreams were disrupted my Father in law’s shouting. “They should have been chased out of our country during independence itself. See now they are polluting our temples.” Besides being a business man, he was also the district secretary of the political party that believed India is a sole property of one religion. I wondered, what suddenly provoked his anger.

A Muslim lady (the costumes portrayed her religion), in her middle ages, was walking across the temple. I am sure she was using the temple, as the same way as the college students, to reach her destination quickly. However, she was wearing her chapels, instead of carrying it in her hands, like the college students did. That was what initiated my father in law to suddenly remember what happened more than half a century ago.

This time, I couldn’t control my anger. I wanted to shout at him and say, “Wearing a chapel inside the temple was no sin, compared to encouraging corruption inside the temple”. However I was distracted by my wife as she had got up and walked behind that Muslim lady. She completely detests her father’s party, so I was sure she was not going to pick up a fight with her, for wearing chapel inside the temple.

“Akka (Sister)”, my wife called her.

“Yes ma.” Muslim lady replied and turned around immediately. She was wondering, why a stranger was calling her. The fact that she was inside the Holy place of other religion must have added to her anxiety.

“Akka, you are not supposed to wear chapels inside”. My wife said in her usual, gentle sweet voice.

“Oh! I’m really sorry. I didn’t know that.” She immediately removed the chapels, took it in her hand and began to walk. Her apologetic face clearly conveyed that she had no idea that one is not supposed to wear chapels there. Meanwhile, my father in law decided that it’s time for us also to start, so that we would be able to visit (encourage corruption) in couple more temples, before we could reach the safety of our home.

So we started walking slowly towards the entrance of the temple. I was still worrying about the fact that I was also a partly responsible for encouraging corruption. If God Exists really, then I’m sure He would punish me more for encouraging corruption in his place, than for questioning his existence. And I also wondered about the foolish Atonement that my Father In law did. The whole trip seemed to be a foolish one.

As we are about to exit the temple, the Muslim Lady called my wife. She was standing near a small flower shop, run by an old lady. I walked along with my wife.

“Can you do me a favor”, the Muslim lady asked with bit of embarrassment.

“What you want us to do, Akka” asked my wife.

“Can you give this flower to God” – saying she tried to hand over flower that she had brought for ten rupees to my wife.

My wife was trying how to say No, as we have already visited the temple, and it would take lot of time, to stand in line and visit the God again. Her father had already got into the van, in which we had come. I understood her confusion, but took the flowers from the Muslim lady’s hand.

“Sure. We will give it to God.” I started walking again inside the temple with flower in the hand, without bothering about my wife. My wife followed me, as I expected. I stood at the end of the line where hundred’s of devotees were standing. I was sure this time I will get the “Best Darshan”, and If God was even half as good as what the scriptures say, he would consider this ten rupee atonement of Muslim lady thousand times more than the one My father – In law did.

Suddenly the Trip turned from a foolish one to the most meaningful one I have ever made.

Note: This story was based on the true incident narrated by my friend Padmavathi.