Apparition.

Into an ancient, dilapidated stone temple, glowing in the moonlight, illuminated only by the flame of a single oil lamp burning in the sanctum sanctorum, she set foot. She could easily pass off for an eerie creature of the night, swathed in a white sari, long black hair tangled like a thunderstorm and the vermillion on her forehead smudged.

She was already in a daze, not caring that the sharp stones were grazing her feet or that she could barely make out anything in the dim light. Repeatedly sounding the bell at the entrance, she hurtled into the main hall and landed heavily on her knees in front of the sanctum sanctorum.

The dim light momentarily illuminated her lovely features, suggesting that she belonged to nobility. Happiness etched on her face, she reverently took in the beautiful idols, clad in blue silk and bedecked with gold ornaments from head to toe. Within minutes, the strumming of an iktara and the persistent tinkle of anklets filled the lonely temple. She began to sing sonorously:

"I have found the love of my Lord!"

"Meera's Lord is Krishna!"

"My Lord will come to me someday!"

The intensity of her song and the strumming gradually increased as her anklets tinkled more and more. She danced with carefree abandon, with the passion of a woman who was clearly deeply in love.  The edge of her sari fell from her head as she whirled round and round in circles till everything else seemed like a blur to her. She danced and sung on and on. Blood spots from her grazed feet dotted the stone floor and sweat streamed down her temples. She had not a care in the world.

She flopped down on the floor, breathing heavily, hair and clothes thoroughly dishevelled and throat parched. She looked forward to this every night, to be one with her Lord. It gave her inner peace; and a chance to attain something that Life never gave her, which she did not get even in Death.

Laboriously getting up after a while, she lunged for the nearest pillar to steady herself and keep her balance. The flame still burned bright in the sanctum sanctorum as she prostrated in front of the idols and reapplied her vermillion.

She was a widow to the world, but in her mind, she was the Lord's. His wife, who worshipped him day in and day out in the temples of Rajputana. An ascetic to the common people, who considered her an incarnation of Radha, her beloved Lord's consort.

She slowly made her way to the entrance of the temple, but not before looking back and bidding a tearful goodbye to the idols.

Only the rustling of cloth could now be heard, as the sound gradually faded away into the dark night, not indicating in the slightest that someone had been in the temple a little while ago.........

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The locals called the temple "Baawli-Jogan-Ka-Mandir", Temple Of The Mad Ascetic. It was rumored that the strumming of an iktara and the sound of ghunghroos could be heard every night from the inner chamber. And it wasnt just any rumour. A priest from a nearby village had confirmed it by actually keeping vigil outside one night to make sure that the sounds could be heard. According to him, a female voice was heard singing the bhajans of Meerabai, the poet-saint and dancing to them too.

The locals were very wary of these incidents. Children had been instructed not to play in the vicinity of the temple. The village women frequented another Krishna temple, ten miles away.

Baawli-Jogan-Ka-Mandir, which had been possessed by some evil spirit, they said. Tantriks had been summoned to exorcise the temple, but to no avail. The eerie sounds still kept on coming.

Meera watches over the village. She is grateful to her Lord for giving her a safe haven even after Death, where she can worship him to her heart's content.

And sometimes, an occasional cry rings out at night:

"Thank you Lord, for safely taking me through the turbulent waters of Life!"