Winter Larry Takes Us to Church

BAPS Shri Swaminarayan Mandir, Robbinsville

8 February 2015

Snakehead Ed was leading a fastboy ride today; I figured Plain Jim would with him.  Chris would probably be down in Hamilton, leading his Sunday ride.  John K isn't into the drive from his house all the way out to Cranbury.  Of yesterday's crew, that would leave three Slugs -- Ron, Dave H, and Bagel Hill Barry -- that might show up for Winter Larry's Sunday ride.  It was above freezing, which would help.

I was ten minutes early, so I wasn't surprised to see only Winter Larry and Waldorf when I arrived. The parking lot was otherwise empty, save for a toppled road sign and its foam holder at the far end.

I'd pretty much figured it would just be the three of us when another car came charging in, running straight over the foam debris and into a spot closer to us.  Out popped Statler.

"All right!"  I called out.  "Let's get the party started!"  Me, Larry, Neil, and Mark:  the BBC Century crew. (This predates my blogging days.  All you need to know is Cranbury-Bordentown-Belmar, the last 40 miles into a 30 mph headwind.)

"My tire's flat," Neil said, and set about fixing it.  There was the concomitant disheveledness that follows a late arrival, but we didn't lose much time.

Winter Larry's mission today was to take us to the new Hindu temple in Robbinsville.   This involved a short stretch on Route 130 to Voelbel Road.

"There's an easier way to get here," I said.  "Windsor Road."

"Yeah!" Mark agreed.  "What she said!"

Because we all thought the plan was to cross the highway.  It wasn't.  Larry turned right instead, and we followed him down a long driveway, past a small, modestly adorned Sikh temple (with only a wisp of a web presence, it turns out, so no pictures).  Ahead was an ornate guard booth.  Larry pulled up and said something to the attendant, who waved us through.  We continued another quarter mile down the drive.

Sagrada Familia has competition:  Shri Swaminarayan Mandir.

This was all hand-carved.

We entered and were immediately asked to take off our shoes.  This is no easy task mid-winter, when I have booties over zipped leggings over high-topped winter shoes.  It took a while.

A woman, whom I assumed was a guide, answered our questions.  The temple isn't complete yet; it should be finished in 2017.  All of the marble is Italian, hand-carved in India, then shipped here.  Off to one side, two men atop a cherrypicker chiseled and sanded part of the edifice into place.

The mandir is within a larger building so that it can be protected from the elements. No photography is permitted.

We stepped inside.

Larry nudged me and pointed at the ceiling.  It was a dome of more ornately carved marble.  Each pillar held more carvings.  Next to the top of one, on a small lift, a man sat cross-legged with a chisel. He was carving a section of marble.

The floor, shiny marble, is inlaid with a circle of patterned stones.  Worshippers sat within it and bowed to colorful carved statues behind glass.  Others walked in a broad circle around the center statues, disappearing behind them.  On both sides were more statues behind glass, and plaques explaining whom each person is or was, and the good deeds they did in their lifetimes. 

As I turned to go, I saw the woman who had guided us in. She was kneeling in prayer at the center of the circle of inlaid stone. She looked up and smiled as I passed.

I wish my words could do it justice, but they can't, so go here and see for yourself.  The best I could do was a zoom-in from outside, which doesn't even begin to capture what's inside.

There's more on how this temple was constructed here.

We were only at 18 miles and change when we reached Stonebridge Bagels.  When Larry told me of his planned route back, I said, "I did that yesterday."  He groaned.  "We think alike," he said. And here I thought I'd been original.

Somewhere along the route, before the rest stop, I think, Statler said something that prompted Larry to say, "Now Laura's going to blog about it and embarrass Neil."

"It's not possible to embarrass Neil," I replied.  Neil agreed.

Waldorf was getting tired.  So was Winter Larry.  They drifted behind. Statler and I dodged the potholes along the shady stretch of Old York Road as he told me about how he cooked a hot dog with electrodes and LEDs .

I wasn't feeling nearly as perky as I was yesterday, partially because my butt hurt whenever my posture started to slump.

New saddle.

I hope that goes away or I'm doomed, because Neil has now conscripted me for his 120-miler in late May.

*****

And now for something not quite completely different:  Revelation, a Rock Opera.