Her sms read "I'm organising a prayer ritual at my place at 4.30 p.m. - please come" She lives in the US and comes to India for periodic holidays. Known as NRIs, (non-resident Indians), these expat. Indians, own farms and apartments in India, which they leave empty, to await their return, sometimes just for a week or two in a year.
Her apartment was on the second floor. I emerged from the lift to find the front door open and as I looked into the living room, I was startled to see an immense blaze, flames shot two feet into the air - it was so incongruous in this elegant sitting room. The fire was contained within a low cauldron, a group of seven sari clad women sat around it - an image of the deity presided over the proceedings. She, Mata, the mother of all gods, sat enthroned with many garlands of flowers around her neck. The women were chanting a mantra and throwing seeds and spices into the fire, as well as spoonfuls of ghee. Every now and then the oldest lady would reach behind her back for another branch of wood to place on the fire. The heat was immense and I wondered how they could sit so close to the blaze. The mantra went on for half-an-hour, 101 incantations, I was told afterwards and then suddenly it stopped. The rhythm changed - a tray with little lit lamps was slowly turned around in a clockwise direction - we were all invited, one by one, to participate in guiding its revolution - feeling the warmth of the fire, as we did so. And then it was over - the food which had been offered to the God, known as prasaad (sanctified food) consisting of fruit, nuts and sheera (sweetmeat) was handed out to all present - we were being ultimately included in the blessing and purification of the home.
This religious ceremony did not need a priest - it was an emotional and personal family event.
Her apartment was on the second floor. I emerged from the lift to find the front door open and as I looked into the living room, I was startled to see an immense blaze, flames shot two feet into the air - it was so incongruous in this elegant sitting room. The fire was contained within a low cauldron, a group of seven sari clad women sat around it - an image of the deity presided over the proceedings. She, Mata, the mother of all gods, sat enthroned with many garlands of flowers around her neck. The women were chanting a mantra and throwing seeds and spices into the fire, as well as spoonfuls of ghee. Every now and then the oldest lady would reach behind her back for another branch of wood to place on the fire. The heat was immense and I wondered how they could sit so close to the blaze. The mantra went on for half-an-hour, 101 incantations, I was told afterwards and then suddenly it stopped. The rhythm changed - a tray with little lit lamps was slowly turned around in a clockwise direction - we were all invited, one by one, to participate in guiding its revolution - feeling the warmth of the fire, as we did so. And then it was over - the food which had been offered to the God, known as prasaad (sanctified food) consisting of fruit, nuts and sheera (sweetmeat) was handed out to all present - we were being ultimately included in the blessing and purification of the home.
This religious ceremony did not need a priest - it was an emotional and personal family event.
No comments:
Post a Comment