Temple Traffic a Mixed Blessing

Congregation's Growth Causes Parking Crisis And Threatens Closure

On a cool marble altar lined with gold-haloed Hindu deities dressed in peacock blue robes, a Hindu priest traces the outline of each statue with the flame of an oil lamp, chanting in Sanskrit and ringing a golden bell. He has already offered pure water. And soon he will gently fan each one with an elaborate whisk made of long, gray yak tail.

"We fan the deities because in India it is so hot," explained Rajeev Khanna. "The idea is, you take care of us, we want you to be comfortable."

This twice-daily ritual -- three times on Sunday -- is called Aarti. It is critical for the care and feeding of the gods in any Hindu temple. It is also key to understanding why this temple, Rajdhani Mandir, in suburban Fairfax County, is having so much trouble with its neighbors.

The issue is not religion, race or immigration.

It's parking.

And unless you understand Aarti, you will not understand why something as prosaic as county zoning regulations have become a lightning rod for cultural misunderstanding, with accusations of paranoia and xenophobia being thrown about. The situation has become so volatile that county leaders threatened last week to shut down the temple if members don't get the parking under control, temple leaders said.

The problem is this: The high-tech boom and explosion in immigrants coming to the D.C. area from India have pushed the number of devotees coming to the temple far beyond anything the original builders could have imagined when they began constructing a temple for 250 people in 1998. So, with only 87 parking spaces and sometimes hundreds if not thousands of worshipers coming and going throughout the day, many wind up parking in the neighborhood, residents say, blocking driveways and intersections, making unsafe U-turns and clogging two-lane Pleasant Valley Road. Neighbors have complained to the county so often that some have been asked not to write again. They have even sent photos and videos of cars parked on grass and sari-clad pedestrians walking in the street at night.

"My backyard is adjacent to the temple's side lot, and I have for a very long time been overwhelmed by the parking in front of my house," Mary Ann Cox wrote to county officials. "I find it difficult to pull into my driveway anytime near sunset, especially on Thursdays and most especially on full-moon nights."

Thursday evenings, the fast-growing Sai Baba sect comes to worship. And many major Hindu festivals are timed to coincide with the full moon.

The neighbors and some county officials think the answer for the temple is simple: Move.

"What happens to every other church when its congregation outgrows its church? They usually find a new location and build a new church," said Scott Miller, a defense contractor and neighborhood resident who has complained regularly and bitterly about temple traffic and parking. "It happens to churches all the time. There's nothing weird about this. They're too successful. Which is a wonderful thing."

Indeed, Rajdhani Mandir is a victim of its own success. Unlike the three or four other Hindu temples in the D.C. area that cater only to one major deity or one region of India, Rajdhani, which means "capital," welcomes everyone.