Monthly Archives: December 2014

“In India, Anything is Possible”

7 Replies

We’ve returned back to the USA, but the emotions and impressions still linger.  I am sharing G’s last thoughts about the trip, because they reflect my own.

We arrived in Delhi after a thirty two hour trip, during the festival of lights, Diwali.  The owners of our guesthouse, Devna and Atul, immediately invited us to celebrate this wonderful holiday with their family.  The next evening in Jaipur, the director of an Artists Residence, whom we had never met, invited us to her home for dinner.  At our hotel in Pushkar, they managed to find me a real birthday cake and two bottles of beer, even though eggs and alcohol are forbidden in that “holy” city.  When we arrived in Udaipur, a city where we have visited many times, we were welcomed by our hotel owner/friend as long lost friends, with garlands of marigolds.  We ran out of evenings to accept all the dinner invitations from various friends.

This is the India I love-the people so open,welcoming and gracious.  There is nowhere that I have been like it.  And then there are the events-“The Greatest Show on Earth”. Diwali is the Festival of Lights and buildings are ablaze with lights, fireworks are exploding, and everyone is wearing their finest clothes, in this country of dazzling colors.  The Camel Fair in Pushkar, an annual extravaganza of camels, horses, and colorful tribesmen, was the impetus for this journey.  A few days later in Udaipur  it was Muharram, a major Muslim holiday commemorating the death of Hussein Ibn Ali, grandson of Mohammed; and celebrated with a procession of giant floats, late into the night. Then came the Full Moon Festival,Kartik Purnima.  In Palitana we sweated our way up thirty six hundred steps, a solid two and one half hours, to the great Jain temples-the pilgrims do it ninety-nine times in fifty days. We saw Asiatic lions in Sasan Gir National Park, were invited to a Maharajah’s palace in Wankaner, and crossed the caravan routes of Rabari nomads in Kutch.  In Goa it was the festival of St. Francis Xavier and in Kerala there was an arts Biennale, and the incredible Theyyam spirit rituals in local villages.  In India, the hits just keep on coming.

This was my seventh time here, and the country has become a part of me,- and in some small way I am a part of it.  The outrageous colors,the amazing history and culture, the fabulous food and above all the wonderful people I have met, have made this trip my best since my six month journey of discovery in 1976.  On the US Customs form we fill out upon return there is the question”Have you been in close proximity to livestock?”  In India that happens every day on every street.  But I still answer “no”, to avoid being quarantined.  If one of the questions was “Have you been in close proximity with the wonders of life?”, my answer would be an unequivocal “YES”.  For in India, truly, anything is possible.

NAMASTE

Seized by the Gods

6 Replies
image

Pullurkali

December 13

The sound of the waves crashing on the shore lulls me to sleep, but it is a fitful sleep. I am anxious for the day to begin, and wake up before the 3:00 am alarm.

We are in Kannur, six hours up the Malabar Coast from Kochin, and known for Theyyam ritual. It is performed during the annual festival of village temples in the region. Dancers who become “possessed” by a particular deity go into a trance and take on their persona. Once the deity has entered the body of the Theyyam dancer, the priest and the temple are blessed, thus purifying it for the coming year. This ritual is important for the spiritual and physical well being of the community, and the whole village pays for the temple and its maintenance

Theyyam is a unique supernatural event which allows villagers to have direct personal contact with a deity. It is interesting that only the “Untouchable ” caste is permitted to perform this ritual. Training starts at an early age,and is passed down through the male line in the family.

The ritual requires enormous physical and mental stamina. Elaborate headdresses can be over thirty feet tall, makeup can take from three to four hours to apply and metal anklets weighing two to three pounds each, are worn.

IMG_3724

Preparing the make up

We arrive at 4:30 am and everyone is fast asleep in the courtyard surrounding the temple, where the ceremony will take place. There is a tent structure set up- called “the green room”,considered a sacred space for the dancers to prepare themselves. I peek in and one of the performers, with face make-up,is snoring loudly.

P1060733

calm before the storm

After thirty minutes the frenzy of preparation begins. There are to be three deities manifested today and two are goddesses. The drumming begins and out comes a fierce looking Pullurkali (Kali),with an enormous headdress sporting sixteen flaming torches and four more are hanging from the grass waistband of her skirt. Dancing starts off slowly with drummers and dancer encircling the two shrines. The face has metal fangs on each side, which look terrifying, and I find myself recoiling when “she” gets too close. The ritual goes on for about one hour and at the end, villagers line up to talk with the deities, ask questions and get blessed.

image

Goddess Pullurkali

image

Villagers lining up to speak to the deity

image

The. Goddess Pullurkaii with flaming headdress

Very few villagers have come at such an early hour, yet the air feels charged with energy.

We arrive at the next village at 5:00 pm (rituals start at sunrise and sunset), just in time for an unseasonal monsoon downpour.

When the rain ends twenty minutes later, the temple attendants clean out the water that has accumulated in the courtyard, with thick burlap bags. Many more villagers are here for this ritual then were this morning, and the mood is quite festive. An ice cream truck has arrived and parks on the temple grounds. Women and children are dressed in their finest clothes.

Tonight the deities are Ilamkaruvam (Vishnu), and Poothadi (Shiva).The dancing is more vigorous with both dancers battling each other with bow and arrows and sticks. Body make up is applied as well as on the face.

image

Deities Ilankaruvam and Poothudi

Turmeric, rice paste and lime are mixed to make the colors, and the paint is applied with a coconut palm reed as a brush.

The next morning we go to a simple roadside temple and it is the most personal. Watching the villagers line up to speak to the “gods” with such earnest expressions is an awe inspiring experience.

Illamkaryvam and Muttapan

Illamkaryvam and Muttapan

The God Thiruvappan

The Deity Thiruvappan

Tonight is our last ritual in yet another village. Lights are strung up around the temple grounds and garlands of marigolds hang from the buildings. It is obvious by the level of decoration that this is a wealthier community. We are offered food and snacks and told they are expecting five hundred people. Tomorrow is the climax of the three day ritual, but unfortunately we have to go back to Kochin.

A line of villagers forms on both sides of the seated deity, asking for blessings and advice, men on one side women on the other. Meanwhile, Golikan,(another deity)with long,black hair flying around, appears, held upright by an attendant on each arm. Immediately he starts dancing in front of the fire of burning branches- spinning and yelling. He moves so quickly it is hard to keep him in sight. I am mesmerized.

IMG_3740

Golikan at night

Illanparuvam and Poothoodi

Illanparuvam and Poothoodi

We are warmly welcomed to participate,  people wanting us to come back for the big twenty four hour finale. Of all the things I have experienced in my life so far, this has to be one of the most spectacular and fascinating.

Incredible India!

Spirits in the Night/Shirtless in Kochin

12 Replies

December 10

Mr. Walton, our venerable guesthouse owner,was deep in conversation with a young journalist from Bombay as we arrived. “Tonight is the Negro spirit candle lighting.  It is something you should see. He then gave her a printout of a newspaper article describing the ritual.  My curiosity was piqued.

Portuguese colonialists maintained a brutal stronghold on the native population in Kochin starting in the mid 1500’s, and in 1663 were attacked by the Dutch.  The wealthy, in an effort to preserve their treasure, came up with a sadistic scheme; build niches in a cement wall, put African slaves with the gold in them, and then mortar it closed .

Centuries later, a mythical figure, Kapiri Mattupan, became the incarnation of these martyred slaves.  People of all religions pay homage and ask favors of the spirit by lighting candles and leaving offerings at small shrines in the city on Tuesdays and Fridays.

We look for a rickshaw driver willing to take us to the place described. At first he looks at us with a puzzled expression when he sees our directions, but when we say “Kapiri Muttapan”, he gives a knowing smile.

It is now 6:30pm and the sun has set.  In the darkness we see a very small shrine built into the wall. No one is there, but seven or eight candles are burning inside, and fresh flowers.  I get out of the rickshaw, light the candle I have brought with me, and say a silent prayer as I place it beside the others.  Meanwhile, a group of women pass by and acknowledge the shrine with bowed heads, and touch their lips and heart.

image

Kapiri Muttapan Shrine in Kochin

With a little prodding from me, our driver asks the ladies where they are going,all dressed up.  We learn there is a Shiva festival starting at a nearby Hindu temple  Off we go.

The temple is ablaze with neon lights and a big crowd has gathered in the courtyard.  One of the Brahmin attendants motions for us to take off our shoes and enter. A huge brass candelabra tower is being lit with ghee lamps.  I walk inside toward the shrine, but when G follows, they point at him and say “no”.  After many gesticulations on their part, and questioning looks on ours, we realize the problem.  Men have to remove their shirts!

image

Lighting the tower at the Shiva temple

Huge drums are beating wildly and a long horn-like instrument is being played.  An attendant rings a bell as we all wait for the shrine door to open.  I am pushed forward in order to have a better view. When the frenzy of music comes to a climax, the door opens.  Again the ladies push me near the priest so I can get blessed with the holy water. In the courtyard a stage has been set up and two tabla players and singers have started a performance of religious songs. A woman who speaks some English tells me that in a few hours the men will pierce their checks and tongues with nails.

It’s been quite an evening already, and the thought of such  a sight doesn’t thrill me, as much as I like unusual rituals.  Also, the singing is screechy and monotonous. I want to go back to the tranquility of our little cottage

Just another day in India.

The Sailor and the Saint

3 Replies

December 7

We’re in Goa now, worlds away from the craziness that is India.  Days pass like molasses slowly dripping from a jar. Our activities are walking the beach,swimming and EATING. When a long time Goa traveler tells us about the “best place to eat in Agonda”, we are right on it.

Francis was a cook in the Merchant Marines for 17 years,and now has his own restaurant, TIGER CANISHA.

TIGER CANISHA Restaurant in Agonda

TIGER CANISHA Restaurant in Agonda

From the moment we bite into his Fish Ambotik (flavored with tamarind, dried mangosteen rinds and exotic spices) we are hooked.  We now have a purpose.  Each day Gerald and I mull over the choices of Goan specialties, and decide what we will eat the next day. Sometimes we just let Francis improvise, always with incredible results.

Francis at work

Francis at work

Agonda is a small, tightly knit village of fisherman, and families cater to the influx of tourists by opening up their homes as restaurants and guesthouses. Nothing much happens, so when I see Alan (the one who told us about TIGER) he says “The word is out that you two eat at Francis’ for lunch AND dinner ever day!” 

It is  our last day and Francis tells us, “Tonight I’m making you a surprise”.  Our stomachs are so full after eating ten of his meals, but we must soldier on.  Lunch was a wonderfully spicy chicken cafreal, and I watched as he prepared the paste. (taking notes, of course!)

The cafreal paste

The cafreal paste

The look of pride and joy on his face is touching as he comes out with first, fish head soup, then whole grilled fish with pumpkin from his garden (flavored with caper berries and chilies), and the piece de resistance, a whole lobster. Food is my religion and  Francis is certainly the saint of Agonda.

The last supper with Francis

The last supper with Francis

The official Patron Saint of Goa is St. Francis Xavier, a Spanish priest who traveled throughout India, China and Japan converting the “pagans, in 1543, when he died in China, Portuguese merchants gave him last rites and buried him in slaked lime.  According to legend, when a Jesuit brother later disinterred him, the body had not disintegrated, and when his finger was cut, blood oozed out. This was reported to the Vatican and the Pope made him a saint.

SE Cathedral where the glass case with St Francis is displayed

SE Cathedral where the glass case with St Francis is displayed

Pieces of his hand were distributed around the world for their healing power, and one fervent devotee bit off a toe.  He is now displayed in the church in Old Goa, and every ten years there is an”Exhibition”of him in his silver lined glass case with his exposed feet.  This year is just such a year and we are determined not to miss this event. Although it may be hard to believe, after a week of relaxing nothingness, we actually yearn for some action; and India knows how to put on a festival.

Entrance to the "exhibition"

Entrance to the “exhibition”

Line of pilgrims waiting to get into the cathedral

Line of pilgrims waiting to get into the cathedral

Pilgrims wait on line for hours to get into the church.  We sneak around the back and find an entrance, unguarded, onto the church grounds.  Although we can’t kiss the grave, we do get to see him from afar.  Meanwhile, outside there is a carnival going on, replete with Ferris Wheel.  An exhibition hall has been set up, and each religious group has their own information booth.  My favorites have  a cardboard figure of Jesus on a motorbike, with the inscription “I will carry you on eagle wings”: and a standing cardboard Jesus with “I Miss You”.

"I miss you"

“I miss you”

"I will carry you on eagle wings"

“I will carry you on eagle wings”

Goa is 75% Catholic, but there are Hindus and Muslims who also come to experience the spirit of St Francis, and stalls line the streets leading up to the church, selling everything from food to bras.

Off to Kerala tomorrow .

A Very Auspicious Day/OY VEY!

3 Replies

The plaintive sounds of the muezzin calling the faithful to prayer at the local mosque drift into our room.  It is 6 am and time to get up.  Indians have dinner at 10pm and don’t go to sleep until after midnight, so the streets don’t come to life until about 11 am, when they start to rouse themselves out of bed.  That’s the  best time to wander, before the choking fumes of traffic and the mass of people make walking unpleasant.

Gerald is looking for great cow pictures and I monitor the changes in my favorite shrines.  Morning time is when incense is lit and flowers are offered to the gods.  It also presents a small window of opportunity to see/photograph the shrines while their little metal gate is open; otherwise it looks like the gods are imprisoned.  This morning I realize that in my haste I forgot my camera.

At the end of the road,after cursing myself numerous times for not having my camera, we hear drums.  Women are  pouring into a courtyard where a drummer is playing and a puja (blessing ceremony) is being done in front of a shrine. It is Sri Mata- a mother goddess, and this is a pre-wedding ritual. Durga, another female goddess is in the same compound  and the women pay homage to each goddess in turn.  The attendant at the shrine is a priestess. This group is from a simple village , but soon afterwards a wealthier group arrives and this time two drummers appear. First it is the bride’s family who take turns pouring offerings of milk and flowers, and there are now two drummers.  The groom’s family appears some minutes later, which presents a problem. They shouldn’t be there at the same time, but with IST (Indian Standard Time), the bride’s family was supposed to have been there much earlier.  Four generations of women dance with abandon to the drums, and I of course am invited to join them, which I willingly do.

“Gerald, I want to go to that wedding tonight, please go talk to the groom”. There will be more than two thousand guests, and it will be a gala affair. Indians are notoriously hospitable.  I am prepared with my best silk outfit and silver sandals for just such an occasion. Unfortunately this time we are not invited..  As we leave, people are arriving in cars, on foot, and rickshaw.  The wedding season has begun!

Dates for marriages are chosen with an astrologer, and this weekend is apparently an auspicious one.  Our friends and our guesthouse owner are all going to weddings with between 2000 and 4000 guests.  When I ask Mr. Singh (owner of our favorite restaurant ) if they are going to a wedding this weekend, he replies “We will be going to a big royal wedding in January.  All the Maharajas of each state will  be present and we have two chartered planes to take our group.” Now that’s a wedding I’d like to be invited to.

As we climb the six flights of stairs to our room the sounds of fire bombs exploding break the quiet. From our panoramic window we see the luxury hotel, on Jag Mandir, a private island,lit up like Las Vegas. Famous Lake Palace Hotel ( from the Bond movie “Octopussy’) is also ablaze with lights.

Our room is a bargain at $17 a night, with a painted stenciled ceiling and views of Lake Pichola on two sides,but the mattress is hard as a rock.  I am hoping for a good night’s sleep because I am pooped.  BOOM.BOOM.BOOM. There seems to be a wedding all over town tonight. Fireworks, drums, loudspeakers with disco music, people talking,laughing until the wee hours of the morning.  And if that isn’t enough, at 3 am the ever-present stray dogs go on a howling binge (maybe frightened by all the fireworks) and don’t let up until dawn.

The daily spectacle of processions, ceremonies, and incredible flashes of colors is what makes India “The Greatest Show on Earth”.