A Millennial Moment: A Mandir in the Middle East Transforming History and Hearts

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A reputed journalist in the Gulf for over thirty years, Bikram Vohra shadowed BAPS in the months following the month-long birth centenary celebrations of Pramukh Swami Maharaj in January 2023 in Gujarat. Driven by his curiosity as a non-spiritual outsider, he set out to uncover what it was about this organization that had compelled the UAE leadership to accept their proposal to build a temple and 'make sure it looks like a temple'.

The strength of their beliefs, the selfless and dedicated volunteers, and the great transparency with which BAPS operates, mirror the UAE's ethics of harmony, tolerance and oneness, that bind its residents of 200 nationalities by an incredible sense of togetherness.

Spread across 27 acres and situated midway between Dubai and Abu Dhabi, this magnificent traditional stone temple was birthed in the prayers of a Hindu swami on a sand dune in 1997; it is now an oasis for global harmony. A prophetic vision come to life, the story of its inception is a captivating account of serendipity, noble intent and clarity of purpose combining to accomplish an impossible feat.

Serious yet light-hearted, A Millennial Moment evokes warm laughter with its gentle leg-pulling, and hope for the future of our world. Its simple message: Good people do good things.

Bikram Vohra joined The Illustrated Weekly in 1969 after graduating from Loyola College, Chennai, and went on to become Resident Editor of Sunday Standard and Indian Express, Mirzapur, Ahmedabad, at the age of twenty-seven. His schooling years, he describes to his kids as having been exemplary, though the truth is a bit different. He was first published at the age of seventeen, and his first regular column appeared when he was twenty-two. He anchored a TV show in India for fourteen years and was much in demand as an emcee and motivational speaker. After running Navhind Times in Goa, he came to the Gulf in 1984 to relaunch Gulf News, as its managing editor. He has had four tenures at Khaleej Times as editor, editor of City Times and as consultant. He has also helped in setting up Gulf Today, worked with Times of Oman, served as editor of Bahrain Tribune and a consultant with Arab News. His column in these papers was called 'Between the Lines' and had a passionate following. He is also a recognized aviation writer and ran the Middle East Aviation Journal for ten years, as well as the afternoon paper Emirates Evening Post. He also worked in the media section of the United Nations. His first love in writing is to make for happy laughter, the sound of which he sees as the saving grace of humanity. He currently has a column of that genre in Times of India. He has written six books and an anthology of his funny haha funny peculiar columns was published in 2019 (Between the Lines, Xponent Media).

He has had over 22,000 articles published in over fifty newspapers worldwide and has covered wars, climbed mountains and been part of air accident investigations.

An avid squash player, he once stole a point from world champion Jahangir Khan and took a lap of honour. He lives in Dubai with his family in situ-one wife, two daughters, two sons-in-law, four grandchildren, Daisy the spaniel, Toby the tortoise, an army of stray cats and a partridge in a pear tree.

When I was fourteen, I sulked for three continuous days in an effort to emotionally blackmail my father into buying me a long- playing record of Summer Holiday, a series of pop songs sung by Cliff Richards. It was for 33, and that was a lot of money then. The year was 1963. When I finally got it, I felt peculiarly vindicated. Like I deserved it. By much the same persuasion, a few months later, the film The Great Escape starring Steve McQueen hit the movie screens. In those days, there was no telephonic reservation possible so having thrown a tantrum, I forced my father to drive through torrential monsoon rain to the theatre, some 15 kilometres away, and then drive all the way back at night through even more drumming sheets of water. These two acts of teenage self-indulgence clearly had a significant impact on me and nearly sixty years later, are still startingly vivid. In many ways, they formatted my value system as I looked back at these events some years later, mortified by this brattish behaviour.

As a distillation of the adult guilt over my two indiscretions and a pubescent failure to acknowledge the life of extreme privilege I was leading, I gradually lost interest in expensive things. It wasn't a sackcloth and ashes thing, not by a long shot. I still love caviar, 80-inch TV screens, hardcover books, high-end colognes and creature comforts. Conversely, I have no interest in expensive cars, designer clothes or branded shoes. Paying exorbitant prices for a meal in a restaurant leaves me in gloom for days. I would love to travel at the front of the plane, but I cannot afford it. Food plays a nominal role in my day. If it is there, I will eat it. The bric-a-brac in our home are not collector's items, nor are the paintings on our walls worth a princely ransom. I would be happy with a cheap knockoff of a mobile phone, but I adore my Kindle.

This mindset has the hallmark of confusion stamped on it. There is a dichotomy here, as if I was picking and choosing my preferences and was more hypocritical than ascetic. I could be accused of this pretence since life has never been bad. On the contrary, I do believe someone up there likes me and yanks me back from the brink when things look bleak. Perhaps because it has happened so often, I have never planned for the future-no nest egg, no cushion, nothing to break the potential fall. Been saved but never saved.

I also like to be kind. In an obvious, upfront way. It gives me great pleasure to help people even though I know I am being conned. The 'You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din' is a valid syndrome. My spurts of generosity are not selfless; they pander to my ego, and I enjoy the homage of the grateful. Yet, I will walk a mile for the underdog. Go figure! The weaker, the poorer, the needier, the further I will walk. If that is the sort of humility that conceals a great vanity, so be it.

The establishment of the BAPS Hindu Mandir in Abu Dhabi has a significance far beyond the immediate event. It is a statement of centuries of cultural, social and economic contacts between Bharat and the Gulf. It is equally an expression of the understanding and empathy that has underpinned the relationship between our peoples. Most of all, it is a message for the future about how the wisdom and vision of leaders can help realise the goal of Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam, the world as one family.

In 1997, His Holiness Pramukh Swami Maharaj prophesied that a Mandir of historic significance would arise in the region. The realization of this dream began in 2015 when Prime Minister Narendra Modi met with UAE President HH Sheikh Mohammed bin Zayed al Nahyan. From their understanding, a project took shape that has now reached its culmination. And that endeavour embodies the UAE President's conviction that 'we are all brothers', as it does the Prime Minister's belief in one earth, one family, one future. At a time when the world is beset by conflict, uncertainty and parochialism, the Mandir has emerged as a clarion call for peace, humanity and international understanding.

The construction of the Mandir has been the labour of love for countless saints, volunteers and workers. They have been motivated by the spirituality of His Holiness Mahant Swami Maharaj.