The Sculptor of Silence
In a quiet village on the banks of the Ganges, lived Gopal Das, an aging sculptor whose ancestors had carved idols for temples across Bengal. His workshop was humble, cluttered with stone dust and forgotten tools, but his hands were said to carry the precision of the divine.
That year, the village temple committee decided to commission a new idol of Goddess Durga. Young artists with glossy brochures came from Kolkata, displaying digital renderings and 3D models. Gopal Das, wearing his torn kurta and carrying nothing but a chisel, quietly offered to make the idol. The villagers laughed. “Your style is outdated,” some sneered. “You’re too old,” others murmured.
But Gopal only folded his hands and whispered, “The Goddess doesn’t need new. She needs truth.”
Despite the committee rejecting him, he began working in silence. He carved from a single block of clay under a tree by the river, battling the harsh sun, biting insects, and mocking glances. Even his son pleaded, “Baba, let it go. They’ve already chosen someone else.” Gopal didn’t answer. His hands answered.
Word began to spread—of an idol not flashy, but alive. Fishermen swore they saw the sculpted eyes follow them. A flower seller claimed the idol smiled at her. The whispers grew louder.
Finally, as the official idol from the city arrived—grand but soulless—the villagers couldn’t ignore the pull of Gopal’s creation. People gathered under the river tree. Even the committee stood in stunned silence.
Before them stood the Goddess—not just sculpted, but awakened. She looked like she had walked out of their collective memory, gentle and fierce, mother and warrior, still and eternal.
The villagers lifted the idol themselves and carried it to the temple.
That night, as Gopal lit a small diya at her feet, he whispered, “I only did my duty.”
Moral:
Devotion without recognition, without applause, and despite rejection is the purest form of worship.
Inspiration:
Devotion to duty is the highest form of worship of God. - Swami Vivekananda
