Every Friday night, the goddess Santoshi Ma enters the body of a village woman who lives in the neighbourhood. It happens late in the evening in the temple of the devi, as classical bhajans fill the night. The woman jerks and sways as though she's having a fit. When she calms down, the goddess who has possessed her body speaks to the faithful who've gathered. For it's said that this most gentle of goddesses grants any wish that's asked of her.
It was not always like this. The woman, Nirmala, was once just an ordinary village woman. When she got married thirty-odd years ago, she was frail and sickly and regularly had fits. Believing some evil spirit had taken hold of her, her husband took her to all kinds of healers to have the spirit exorcised. One such witch doctor told him it wasn't a bhoot, but Santoshi Ma herself.
How he knew this remains a mystery to this day.
But overnight Nirmala was transformed from a poor sickly woman to the voice of the devi. And pious villagers began to crowd her little house in the hope that she would help make their every wish come true. Grant me a child. Let my husband not drink so much feni. Take away my sickness. Let my daughter get a good husband. Stuff like that. Many of the wishes, I'm told, came true.
She became so popular that the villagers contributed money to build her a temple and a large porch where the devotees can gather on Friday.
But only on a Friday. Only on a Friday Nirmala get fits. Why Friday, I asked. Because that's the devi's day, a woman replied simply. And she told me about the Shukrawar vraat, which is Friday fasting, and which if observed pleases the goddess very much.
All other days of the week, Nirmala – in her normal avatar - reads grains of rice to predict the future of all those who come wanting to know what's in store for them. People pay what they can.
I know it's Friday when at 9 o'clock in the morning the loudspeaker sings the first devotional song.
Mat ro, mat ro, mat ro, it sings consolingly, endlessly going on and on with same refrain of 'don't cry, don't cry' till you're ready to weep.
By nightfall I have bhajans coming out of my ears. The rest of the world might start partying on Friday night, all I do is wait for the miracle of silence.
Why is it that Hindus are so noisy in their worship? Why can't we observe the silent night, the holy night, where all is calm and all is bright?
Thursday, February 5, 2009
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3 comments:
:D
I love reading your blog, commenting here for the first time though.. :)
I so agree with you - Hindus are really noisy! Have you noticed how the bell-ringer increases his fervour when the 'arti' is going on?? As though, louder the noise, the more effective the prayer.. :))
Keep writing.. I love visiting this space.. :)
Cheers,
The Phoenix
Hi,
My first time here.. Didn't go through the posts much.. but liked that you in a village in Goa.. Have been wanting to do something similar for quite some time now.. may i know wat exactly are you doing?
Thanks, Phoenix.
Rozz, I think it's possible to live outside the city only if you have pots of money or if you do the kind of work that does not require you to go to office. I'm lucky I don't have a 9 to 5 job. But village life is not as romantic as you might think. Read my very first post, The way of the dream, if you want to know how i ended up here.
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