A quaint, early twentieth-century detailed description of a religious ritual to
the goddess Jarimari taking place in a wadi of Bombay’s Dadar, was viewed and
recorded by an ICS Englishman Police Commissioner of Bombay.
Pithy, humorous, condescending, exasperated, disbelief at what he is seeing,
astounded at what he is hearing - all rolled into one, this account in a long
ago published book, prefaced and transcribed to FB by a Bombay group
aficionado, makes for interesting reading not least because of its yesteryear
turn of phrase.
A Bhandari Mystery
Stephen Meredyth Edwardes (1873- January 1 1927) C.V.O (Indian Civil Service)
Commissioner of Police, Bombay, was a son of the Rev. Stephen Edwardes, fellow
of Merton College, Oxford. He was educated at Eton and at Christ Church. In
1894 he passed the Indian Civil Service and was posted to the Bombay
Presidency.
His acquaintance with conditions among the native population of the city and
his profound knowledge of its history, were employed to full advantage by the
British Government. He was appointed to the post of Commissioner of Police,
Bombay, in 1910.
His two books “Rise of Bombay” and “By-ways of Bombay”, give an account of
those times, even though it appears to be written in parts in a slightly
patronising tone − understandable, given the hold of the British Empire over a
large part of the world.
His short essays in “By-ways of Bombay” (published in 1912 by D. B.
Taraporevala Sons & Co.), illustrated by Mahadev Vishwanath Dhurandhar, the
Head Master, Sir J. J. School of Art, Bombay, offer a glimpse into the lives of
Indians living in different parts of Bombay Presidency.
In the essay, “A Bhandari mystery” S.M. Edwardes describes the rituals
practised by the Bhandari community to propitiate Jarimari Devi; who he
describes as “the Goddess of Cholera”, and the “thirty-eight Cholera Mothers”.
S. M Edwardes witnessed this at Borkar Wadi, Dadar. The year, in which he saw
this, is not mentioned.
His comments towards the end, present the quality of life for ordinary
Mumbaikars of those days and he also weaves in it their belief about the cause
of the disease:
"The present conditions of life in the cramped and fetid chawls of the city,
the long hours of work necessitated by higher rentals and a higher standard of
living, leave her devotees but little leisure for her worship. She is maddened
by neglect and in revenge she slays her ten or fifteen in a night."
----
A Bhandari Mystery
In the heart of the great palm-groves to the north-west of Dadar lies an "oart"
(Note: possibly from Horta or huerta, a fertile area or field in Portuguese,
Catalan and Galician) known as Borkar's Wadi, shaded by tall well-tended trees
whose densely foliaged summits, ward off the noon-day sun and form a glistening
screen at nights, at which time the moon rises full-faced above the eastern
hills.
Not very long ago, at a time when cholera had appeared in the city and was
taking a daily toll of life, this oart was the scene of a bi-weekly ceremony
organised by the Bhandaris of Dadar and Mahim and designed to propitiate the
wrath of the cholera-goddess, who had slain several members of that ancient and
worthy community.
For the Bhandaris, be it noted, know little of western theories of disease and
sanitation; and such precautions as the boiling of water, even were there time
to boil it, and abstention from fruit seem to them utterly beside the mark and
valueless, so long as the goddess of cholera, Jarimari, and the thirty-eight
Cholera Mothers are wroth with them.
Thus at the time we speak of, when many deaths among their kith and kin had
afforded full proof that the goddess was enraged, they met in solemn conclave
and decided to perform every Sunday and Tuesday night for a month such a
ceremony as would delight the heart of that powerful deity and stave off
further mortality. The limitation of the period of propitiation to one month
was based not so much upon religious grounds as upon the fact that a
Municipality, with purely Western ideas of sanitation and of combating
epidemics, refused to allow the maintenance of the shed, which was to be the
temporary home of Jarimari, for more than thirty days.
Yet it matters but little, this time-limit: for a month is quite long enough
for the complete assuagement of the anger of one who, though proverbially
capricious, is by no means unkindly.
Let us glance at the ceremony as performed on a Tuesday night towards the
middle of the month of propitiation, in the darkest portion of the waai
(possibly a typo for Wadi?) stands a rude hut, containing the emblems of the
Mother, occupied for the time being by Rama Bhandari, who acts as a species of
medium between the goddess and his kinsmen.
In front of the hut a space has been cleared and levelled, flanked on one side
by mats for the Bhandari musicians, singers, drummers and cymbal players, and
on the other by four or five chairs and a few wooden benches for the initiates
in the mysteries; and to the stems of several neighbouring trees lamps have
been affixed about five feet from the ground, which cast weird shadows across
the threshold of the goddess's home.
Rama, the high-priest of this woodland rite, a dark, thin man with a look of
anxiety upon his face, enters the hut with his assistant Govind, while several
fresh looking Bhandari boys take up their position near the gong, cymbals, and
drum, prepared when the hour comes to hammer them with might and main.
A pause - and Rama returns bearing the symbol or idol of the Mother, followed
by Govind carrying a lighted saucer-lamp. The idol, for such we must perforce
style it, is nothing more nor less than a bright brass pot, full of water, set
on a wooden stool which is thickly covered with flowers. In the mouth of the
water pot rests a husked cocoanut (sic), with a hole in the upper end into
which are thrust the stems of a bouquet of jasmine, with long arms of jasmine
hanging down on either side. Now the water-pot is the shrine, the very home of
Jarimari and the thirty-eight cholera mothers.
Behind the jasmine-wreathed stool, Govind places another stool bearing a tin
tray full of uncooked rice, camphor, and black and red scented powder; and
close to it he piles the cocoanuts, sugar, camphor, cakes, betel-nuts, and
marigolds which the Bhandari initiates have sent as an offering to Rama. He
next produces a pile of incense-sprinkled cinders, which he places in front of
the goddess, and several incense-cones which he lights, while Rama lays down a
handful of light canes for use at the forthcoming ceremony. And while the rich
scented smoke rises in clouds into the still night-air, shrouding the goddess's
face, Govind takes a little rice from the tray and a few flowers, and places
them on a Tulsi or sweet basil shrine which stands a little northward of the
hut.
All is now ready. Rama bids the boys sound the note of gathering, and at once
such a clashing and drumming arises as would frighten all the devils of the
palm-groves. The people come but slowly, for many of them work late in the
mills and have to go home and cook and eat their evening-meal before they can
take part in the rites of the Mother. But at last groups of women appear out of
the darkness, bareheaded save for flower-wreaths and a few gold ornaments,
their saris wound tightly round waist and shoulder. They cluster silent and
close-packed round the door of the hut: for they are the women whom the
thirty-eight Mothers love to possess and to lash into the divine frenzy which
only the human form can adequately portray. Govind stirs the incense-heap; the
dense smoke rolls forth again and shrouds all ; there is a feeling of witchery
in the air and in the midst of the smoke pall one can just descry Rama bending
low before the Mother.
Now he rises, draws the rattan-canes through his hands, and then leans against
a palm-tree with eyes tightly closed and hands quivering as if in pain. But
hark ! there is something toward in the hut, and out of the darkness dash two
young women right in front of the goddess, leaping and tossing their arms. They
sway and twist their lithe forms in the smoke but utter no word. Only one can
see their breasts heaving beneath the sari and can catch the sharp "Hoo, hoo"
of their breathing, as their frenzy heightens.
Now from the other end of the hut two more rush forth, staggering, towards the
Tulsi shrine, and after the same mad gyrations dance towards the Mother and
bury their heads in the smoke; and they are followed at momentary intervals by
others who fly, some to the Tulsi shrine, others to the Goddess but all mad
with frenzy, dancing, leaping, swaying, until they sink over- powered by
fatigue.
Meanwhile Rama is performing a devil dance of his own in the smoke-clouds; the
gong is ringing, cymbals clashing, onlookers shouting; the tresses of the women
have fallen down and in the half-light look like black snakes writhing in
torture; the women themselves are as mad as the Bacchantes and Menads of old
fable: in a word, it is Pandemonium let loose!
The noise ebbs and flows, now dying down as the first frenzy fades away, now
rising more shrill as the spirit of the Mother wracks her devotees more
fiercely. That tall finely-formed young woman, who dances like a puppet without
will and who never seems to tire, is Moti, leader of the dancers and the
favourite choice of Jarimari. There behind her is Ganga, the slightly-built,
beloved of Devi, and in the midst of the smoke, swaying frog-like, is Godavari,
lashed to madness by Mother Ankai. Around them dance by twos and threes the
rest of the women with dishevelled locks and loosened robes, whom Rama taps
from time to time with his cane whenever they show signs of giving in.
But at length Nature reasserts her sway, and the dancers one and all crouch
down in the smoke, their dark sides heaving painfully in the dim light like the
implements of some ghostly forge. Now Govind appears again with a tray and
marks the brows of the women with a finger-tip of vermilion, his own brow being
marked by them in turn.
He places a cake of camphor on the tray and sets light to it; and as the clear
flame bursts forth in front of the Mother, the whole congregation rises and
shouts "Devi ki Jaya” ( Victory to the Goddess). Then Moti takes the tray and.
balancing it on her head, dances slowly with long swinging stride round the
Mother, while the music bursts out with renewed vigour, urging the other women,
the human tabernacles of the cholera deities, to follow suit.
Thereafter the camphor-cake is handed round to both women and men in turn who
plunge their hands in the ashes and smear their faces with them; and so, after
distribution of the offering of cocoanuts, sugar, and betel, the celebration
closes. A few girls still dance and jerk their shining bodies before the altar,
but Rama who is getting weary, touches them with his hands, commanding the
frenzy to cease, and with a sigh they withdraw one by one into the dark shadows
of the palm-grove.
P
Such is in brief the ceremony of propitiation of the Cholera-Goddess. What does
it signify? It appears that according to Bhandari belief the disease is the
outcome of neglect of the Mother.
The present conditions of life in the cramped and fetid chawls of the city, the
long hours of work necessitated by higher rentals and a higher standard of
living, leave her devotees but little leisure for her worship. She is maddened
by neglect and in revenge she slays her ten or fifteen in a night.
Yet is she not by nature cruel. Fashion for her a pleasant shrine,
flower-decked, burn incense before her, beat the drum in her honour, let the
women offer themselves as the sport and play-thing of her madness and of a
surety will she repent her of the evil she hath done and will stay the
slaughter. In spirit-parlance a woman chosen by the spirit, into whom as into a
shrine the mother enters, is known as a "Jhad" or tree: for just as a tree
yields rustling and quivering to the lightest breath of the gale, bends its
head and moves its branches to and fro, so the women, losing all consciousness
of self, play as the breath of the Mother stirs them , quivering beneath her
gentler gusts, bending their bodies and tossing their arms beneath the stronger
blasts, and casting themselves low with bowed heads and streaming hair as the
full force of the storm enwraps them.
They are in very truth as trees shaken by the wind. Nay more, the Mother
herself once lived in human form: she knows the pleasure, the comforts of the
body and she is fain, by entering the bodies of her female devotees, to renew
the memories and suggestions of her former life.
In conclusion one may briefly record what the Bhandaris thought, of the
presence of a European at their sacred rite. Some feared him as one that
contemplated the imposition of a new tax; others viewed him askance as a doctor
from the Hospital despatched by higher authority to put an end to the ceremony;
and yet others,—the larger number insooth, —deemed that here at last was a
Saheb who had found physic a failure and had learned that the Mother alone has
power to allay grievous sickness.
Roland.
Toronto.
