Vedic safari: Digitally spiritual in New Delhi

Having recently returned to India after living in the United States for five years, I consider myself relatively technologically up to date. I have grown accustomed to automated voice messages, online purchases, and doors miraculously sensing my presence and opening for me. I no longer blink as Eazypass deducts my invisible dollars or when my Mac responds to voice commands. You would think, then, that I wouldn’t be startled by a few multi-colored laser lights and a surround sound system. 

But it's all about context. When a subwoofer is wedged in a giant plaster cast of Lord Krishna’s face, I am taken aback and admittedly, a little afraid. This is ISKON, The International Society for Krishna Consciousness' attempt to "combine the West’s technology with the truths found in the Vedas" at their temple in New Delhi. A large, gold-plated gate issues me into a tangled network of doors and alcoves that steer me towards Vedic Expo: The World's No. 1 Spiritual Adventure High-Tech presentation. Gulp.

I feel as though I’ve fallen from a rabbit hole. The first room is air-conditioned and pitch-black; booming Bose surround-sound speakers bathe my senses in a quivering voice that is meant to be God's. An eerie, red spotlight flits across the kitschy paint job that sets a background -- the only familiar aspect of a Hindu temple -- to a model horse-drawn chariot at sunset. Welcome to the origins of the universe: Bollywood style.

Smoke and mirrors?

I step into a mirrored hallway titled Samsara, behind which stand robots depicting the cycle of birth and death with a baby on one end and a skeleton on the other. Their plastic eyes stare lifelessly at me; their bodies glisten with the new sheen of a lacquer glaze. 

Then, I tread carefully through a smoke-filled tunnel with thin stage lights that bleed onto the back of my neck and legs like spiders in the dark. 

From the loudspeakers come screeches from women and children, tragic sounds projected onto figures of transgression scratch at me: a youth with an electric guitar, a man drinking, and a prostitute. I wonder whether to turn around and leave, but the doors behind me are closed. I can only go forward, creating and recreating action, much like the samsaric lesson being professed. 

Finally, I reach 'Gokul', a reenacted Hindu paradise, where Krishna and Radha sit on a swing, fair-skinned, rosy cheeked, adorned with pearls and gold. There are flowers everywhere, bright lights, running water and a soft sitar playing. Now my dilated pupils adjust, as my body throbs from the inertia of the dark and blaring spaces. 

Finding my way home

But no! I have yet to wander through -- and find my way out of -- the 'Material Maze'! So I enter into a room of mirrors; a parallel reflection that leaves me uprooted. I feel like my mind is spiraling in dramatic directions. At last, I spot the exit sign and step into the sunlight and fresh air, happily leaving behind the darkness and the dreadful voices. 

On my way back home, I stop at a small, roadside temple where flowers adorn a sole sculpture of Ganesha, and a thin-framed priest smiles and offers me some sweets. I fold my hands in Namaste, thanking him. But I stay for a moment. The cool wind tickles the back of my ear. The bells tinkle. The frenzy of the multi-media nine projectors, the laser lights, the 16 track sound system, the video kiosks and the motion simulator rides with video animations evaporate as an old feeling of peace settles upon me. 

I am forced to wonder if I had returned to an imagined India. This high-tech spiritual adventure did not differ much from some of the rides I had undertaken in Disneyland -- neither for a material thrill, nor shallow entertainment.

Next I visit the pahadiwala Sikh Gurudwara in Greater Kailash: a beautiful white tomb houses the main prayer hall. But there, beside a silver-bearded Sikh sitting beneath a gold canopy reciting text from the Granth Sahib, is another, younger Sikh, behind a laptop, projecting slides of the verse on a large screen, in two versions, Punjabi and English. At first, I am elated; I understand my prayers, which are no longer empty or reduced to mere ritual.

Religious twitters

But I do not feel the familiar sense of rejuvenation. The magical mystery of spiritualism that exists without words, solely in that which is invisible, was lost. The only space that offers any respite from my daily life behind a computer, with a cell phone, with memory sticks in one pocket and iPods in another, now contain the same buzzing electric waves.

Is this the new present? I look online: hinduportal.net sends out "daily updates" with the happenings of Hinduism. They boast of forums, blogs, videos, podcasts. They have Facebook groups and daily Twitters. Imagine a toll-free message that reads, "Free mobile ring tones with a daily purchase of live darshan."

If the form of worship does not mirror its content -- a complete release of ego -- then the action is deemed empty. For example, one of the main tenets of Hinduism is the concept of dharma and sacrifice, and thus the importance of pilgrimage. Surdas, an eminent saint of the Bhakti movement, himself reminds us in grade school textbooks that we must trudge and tramp towards our enlightened states of beings, till the sweat and tears of hard work make flowers bloom beneath our feet. 

Digitally, spiritually yours

Yes, prayer is accessible to all now, but can the sacred be sought in a PowerPoint presentation? Will we stop needing sacred sites altogether? Will religion, an idea with roots in ritual and community, turn solipsistic, inward, perpetuating selfishness and greed? The future: Will I be sending my virtual priest a donation of flowers and oil through my PayPal account? Will we teach our children the ancient myths and beliefs of our 40,000 gods and goddesses through video games?

The ISKON temple has a robot of Krishna at its center, in a hall called the Animatronics Theatre, which claims to be displaying "India’s most high tech diorama stage show." The word choice itself is hard, electronic, filled with consonants, devoid of the sweet devotion of Lord Krishna's flute. The vice president tells me that they use technology (built in the United States by Creative Presentations Inc.) because God is the supreme scientist, yet I wonder if His living room has surround sound.

It is a time to reflect: of course faith must evolve; religion must progress with the times, but for now, it will do so without me. My own spiritual adventure is much more thrilling, and takes place under a tree, where the winds rustle the chimes of pure thought, and induce quietude.

Iskcon Temple, Hare Krishna Hill, Sant Nagar Main Road, Garhi, Lajpat Nagar, New Delhi; tel. +91 (0) 11 2623 5133