Editor’s Note: “Letter From…” is a column featuring a letter from a Mainer, or person with ties to this state, who is living or traveling far from home. The following is from Krishna Akilesh of Bangor. The 22-year-old student is the son of Drs. Kumar and Usha Akilesh. A 2002 graduate of Washington University in St. Louis, he will attend Harvard Dental School this fall.

The streets are just as I remembered them – bustling, full of two-, three- and four-wheelers, and swarms of pedestrians, street vendors and stray animals. Much has changed in my life since I lived in India, and likewise, the India I had known in my childhood has changed forever. With access to everything from cell phones and CNN, to fresh squeezed Tropicana and the latest in computer technology, India is now known for both its ancient past as well as its rising future.

What makes this claustrophobic street scene mildly tolerable, and even somewhat comic, is the visible overlay of opposites that pervades life in India today. It’s this quality that makes India both stifling and seductive.

Sacred shrines share streets with garbage piles, each asserting their own presence in the crowded landscape of the southern city of Madurai. Stepping into a temple, I sensed not only the ancient ambiance but also the echoes of pilgrims from the distant past.

I have always been captivated by Indian temple architecture. Hewn out of stone and covered with religious statuary, these monumental achievements were created when mankind didn’t have much technology. As I walked through the temple towards the sanctum sanctorum or garbagriha, the sight of entire rooms carved out of granite and the wafting smell of jasmine flowers and burning sandalwood were pleasing, yet somewhat overwhelming. In front of the sanctum, a curtain was drawn, heightening my devout, curious anticipation as the priests performed elaborate rituals in keeping with the deity’s daily schedule.

Then, in a flash, the curtain was drawn back, bells clanging in unison, and the sacred stone icon in the oil lamp-lit sanctum came slowly into focus. The icon appeared covered in colorful silk brocade, and adorned with glittering gems bequeathed by a succession of royal patrons dating back to the temple’s inception more than ten centuries ago. The icon’s eyes were covered in gold and outlined in diamonds, and they gently sparkled as the priests waved butter lamps, camphor, and incense before the icon, in order to please the presiding deity and secure blessings for all those gathered at the shrine that day.

Satisfied with having glimpsed the sacred icon, I joined a sea of devotees in the sanctum. According to Hindu tradition, devotees circle around the main icon of a shrine to show their dependence on and subservience to the divine, just as the Earth revolves around the Sun on which all its life depends. The Sanskrit word for sanctum sanctorum, garbagriha, literally means “womb-dwelling.” It’s a poignant, spiritual reminder that the divine resides within us.

As I left the shrine, I felt content. Having prayed for the wellbeing of relatives and friends, I understood that the temple’s sacred icon and surroundings are no strangers to my family. Indeed, my forefathers visited this shrine for many centuries, and the shimmering eyes of the sacred icon have gazed upon many generations of my own family, just as it had recently gazed at me. At the heart of Madurai, a visit to the Meenakshi temple makes this Mainer feel suddenly at home.