Golu.
It's an innocent enough word. In a text, my neighbor invited me to celebrate "Golu" with her. I thought her autocorrect must have changed something. Golu? What is that? The following day she came up to our flat, along with her son. They dabbed a little dyed powder on my forehead as a formal invitation. Turns out there was no typo. Golu was indeed the festivity I was to attend. According to my neighbor, it was a time to show off some dolls that had been in her family for generations. She encouraged my girls to come along with me. Maybe like showing off your collection beanie babies or coffee cups or spoons.
So, we went to Golu. Lydia, Molly and I stepped into my neighbors house where we were greeted with sweets (very very customary here) and small gifts. Then we saw the "dolls". There sitting on display were twenty-something idols.
Not dolls. Idols. Ganesha, Krishna, Sri Sai Baba, Visnu, all the regular crowd. Incense was burning. Candles were lit. This was a display of what my neighbor worships.
And so Golu was not an event I will soon forget. It was not that I was asked to worship or even condone the presence of these idols. But in that moment in her living room, holding my chai and little girls' hands, I saw the reality (once again) of my friend's empty faith.
Dolls. That's all they are. But they are so much more.
It's an innocent enough word. In a text, my neighbor invited me to celebrate "Golu" with her. I thought her autocorrect must have changed something. Golu? What is that? The following day she came up to our flat, along with her son. They dabbed a little dyed powder on my forehead as a formal invitation. Turns out there was no typo. Golu was indeed the festivity I was to attend. According to my neighbor, it was a time to show off some dolls that had been in her family for generations. She encouraged my girls to come along with me. Maybe like showing off your collection beanie babies or coffee cups or spoons.
So, we went to Golu. Lydia, Molly and I stepped into my neighbors house where we were greeted with sweets (very very customary here) and small gifts. Then we saw the "dolls". There sitting on display were twenty-something idols.
Not dolls. Idols. Ganesha, Krishna, Sri Sai Baba, Visnu, all the regular crowd. Incense was burning. Candles were lit. This was a display of what my neighbor worships.
And so Golu was not an event I will soon forget. It was not that I was asked to worship or even condone the presence of these idols. But in that moment in her living room, holding my chai and little girls' hands, I saw the reality (once again) of my friend's empty faith.
Dolls. That's all they are. But they are so much more.
Oh honey, that had to be so so hard. What did Lydia say? And Molly? God has such wonderful plans for all of you, and I pray for you all daily. You are so brave and such a blessing to me. I am proud to be your mom
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