Tag Archives: Bheru

The Magical Mystery Tour

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Lake Palace Hotel

Bheru on his special name day in Udaipur

 

“Allah u Akbar, Allah u Akbar, Ashadu al la illaha ill Allah……”.

What a difference a day makes! Last week I was miserable in Ahmadebad and now it is 6:15 in the morning and the soulful strains of the Muslim call to prayer drifts in through the window of my room.  I love waking up to this.  Udaipur is in the heart of Rajasthan and is as wonderful as Ahmedabad was horrible.  It is the city of Octopussy fame, where the James Bond movie was filmed in 1981. Palaces,fanciful,flowery Mughal designs painted on walls, shrines with incense burning, bells ringing- the stuff of fairy tales.  This is the India I love.  The India of Rudyard Kipling’s Maharajahs and mysterious, bejewelled women hiding behind silky sarees, is easily summoned up in the imagination.

Wandering  narrow lanes in the early morning- before the sleepy city comes to life at 10 or 11 am- I watch the light reflected on the spectacular Lake Palace Hotel, as the sun slowly makes its way over the peaks of the Aravalli mountains which surround Lake Pichola. I check out my beloved Bheru shrine- a god favored by rural Rajasthani women.  Sometimes he is represented by an amorphous mound of tin foil, but today is his special day. An older man, the guardian of the shrine, is busy painting a smiling face with a mustache and a turban on the form.  A piece of flowery blue fabric has been draped around his “body” and garlands of marigolds and roses are hanging around his neck. I admire his work, and he smiles in recognition and pride.  I pass by several times a day to pay my respects.

The vegetable sellers are busily arranging their carts with cauliflower,carrots,eggplants.peas,tomatoes and other various fruits in season. Scooters and motorcycles are crowding around the popular food stalls selling warm breakfast snacks of samosa,and katchuri. (a type of  small,puffy bread stuffed with potatoes and drenched in an eye poppingly spicy  curry sauce. Shopkeepers are setting up their displays of copper pots and utensils, as they light incense in front of their small shrines to ensure a succesful and peaceful day.

 

 


 I have been to Udaipur four times and it remains for me the most beautiful and magicial city in India.

Return to the Village-Part II

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November 9

It is our last night in Udaipur and  I am going to Noya Guda, where six years ago I witnessed a  hair-cutting ceremony of seven year old  Iswah, and stayed in the village for two days. (If you want to see some highlights from that ritual you can go on YouTube and look up “BHERU-haircutting Ceremony” by tembigirl)

Iswah, in the front, left, now 13 yrs old

Iswah, in the front, left, now 13 yrs old

Preparations have to be made well in advance after my previous adventure.  I have a large lunch, knowing that  dinner in the village will be eaten very late, at 10 pm.  Liquids must be consumed hours ahead of our departure, because there is no toilet,not even an Indian squatter. (Last time I visited, the headman drove me to his village where he had a toilet.  Then someone waited outside the door until I finished!).

At 4:30 I go downstairs to Prem and Kesar and we load into the car.  It wouldn’t be a proper Indian outing if there were only three people, so their 19 yr. old son, 13 yr. old nephew, and giant dog, Donny, come along as well.

It is only a forty five  minute drive from Udaipur, but centuries away .  We stop first at Prem’s village, where his family compound has an elaborate Bheru shrine, and with the help of the village priest, prepare offerings.  The family joins in gathering wood branches for a small fire, pours ghee into a vessel, places incense and marigolds, and prostrate themselves in front of the god .

Priest doing puja in front of Bheru Shrine

Priest doing puja in front of Bheru Shrine

Bheru Shrine

Bheru Shrine

Meanwhile a camel, carrying a load of grasses passes by, led by a wizened, turbaned man.  I feel as if I have been transported to another time zone a thousand years ago.

When we arrive at Noya Guda, I notice that nothing has changed  since my last visit.  There is no paved road, cattle roam in and out of stone houses, and the entry into Iswah’s home is inhabited by a water buffalo and some cows.

The two sisters, now 22 yrs and 19 yrs, are married and the eldest has a one year old son.  They are here visiting the family for a week.  One lives far away in Gujarat, and the other a few hours away.  It is the custom for girls to live with their husband’s family.  Prem tells me that the younger one, (who married at 16), is now  six months pregnant, and asks if I can look at the medical record she got from her  last doctor visit.  I am not surprised to see that her hemoglobin is low, but the size of her fetus is only 11 weeks, and she is supposedly 24 weeks pregnant.  I tell them that she needs to eat more and gain some weight.  The daily diet of dal and chapattis is not enough for a healthy baby.

Making the roti for our dinner on a clay stove at the village

Making the roti for our dinner on a clay stove at the village

Dinner with Kesar and Prem and the family in the village

Dinner with Kesar and Prem and the family in the village

What concerns me more is a notation on her record.  Last year she had a “voluntary termination of pregnancy”.  India has 914 females to 1000 males.  Although female infanticide has decreased, female fetuscide exists unofficially.  The government has banned “sex determination” tests, but for baksheesh they are still available.  I discreetly ask Prem about boy and girl babies, and he insists that it is illegal to abort and is considered a crime.  I do not mention what I read.  Girls are considered undesirable because their families must pay a considerable dowry at marriage, and since the bride always lives with the groom’s family, a valuable helper is also lost.