The Sadhu, the Cow, and the Devotee

I remember those Tuesday mornings like yesterday, though I left the city twenty-five years ago. Mumbai was still draped in darkness when my niece, a bright-eyed tenth grader, my nephew from seventh grade, and I would begin our ritual at 4:30 a.m. every Tuesday for fourteen weeks.
As tradition suggested, we committed fourteen consecutive Tuesdays at Sri Sidhi Vinayak temple to fulfil our wishes. The children’s excitement was infectious, and their faith was pure and unquestioning in a way only young hearts could manage.
By 5:00 a.m., we’d board the BEST bus — either 83 or 86 — claiming front seats on the upper deck like treasured thrones. As we crossed Haji Ali Circle, the Arabian Sea’s cool breeze would caress our faces, carrying the scent of salt and possibility. The mosque stood majestically, sometimes seemingly floating when high tide embraced its foundation.
Mumbai was stretching awake. A few shopkeepers brewed their first pots of chai, its aromatic steam rising to greet early risers. Senior citizens walked in groups, their laughter punctuating the morning quiet, while younger folks jogged with determination. At Mahalakshmi, colts practised at the race course, their hooves drumming a rhythmic morning raga against the earth.
We would move downstairs at Worli Naka, disembarking near the Century Mills Atlas statue. The final 200 meters to the temple always felt different, as we transitioned from mundane to sacred space.
The fragrance of marigolds and jasmine inside the temple gates mingled with sandalwood incense, creating that distinctly divine perfume that belongs only to places of worship. Soft bhajans floated through the air.
One morning, a fascinating trinity caught my eye: a sadhu in saffron robes, a placid cow, and an earnest devotee. The devotee purchased grass from the sadhu for two rupees, fed the cow, and performed a parikrama around it with reverence. A simple transaction, yet profound — the sadhu received sustenance, the cow got nourishment, and the devotee earned spiritual merit.
Years later, while teaching lean business methods, I would reference this elegant system, in which there is no waste — resources, actions, and benefits are perfectly aligned.
Life has grown more complex since those Tuesday mornings. Mumbai has added more skyscrapers, and technology has transformed how we connect with the divine. A visit to Sri Sidhi Vinayak temple is still prevalent on Tuesdays, and I recognize the same hopes in the devotees in the queue that I stood for decades ago.
The lesson I learned between bus rides and prayers wasn’t just about faith but about ‘looking. ’ The most profound teachings often don’t announce themselves — they’re quietly waiting in ordinary moments, like a sadhu sitting by a pillar or the cow munching, if only we have eyes patient enough to see.