The Peninsular Expedition: Day 11

Disclaimer: This post is not of importance to you if you found Day 9 and Day 10 boring.

*****

It’s true. I’ll be leaving for Sabarimala later today evening. Just for context, this if the first time that I’ll have to label myself as a pilgrim, not having made any similar to any of the other popular places of religious congregation in the country, such as Vaishno Devi and the likes. (Oh wait, I did go to Haridwar, on the banks of the River Ganga, but I was too young to think too much about it). Anyhow, being a pilgrim, there are rules to be followed. Proper protocol so as to not displease the gods.

It is a different matter altogether that neither I nor my parents, for our own  independent reasons, were interested in following the instructions to the letter. Nevertheless, just for the sake of the uninformed reader, and also for my own amusement, I am going to lay out the procedure that is to be followed.

The actual pilgrimage to Sabarimala is preceded by a 41-day-long penance in order to “purify” ones self in preparation for the communion with god. In my opinion, an hour-long bath would purify my exteriors much better than 41-days of severe austerities, but meh, what can a guy do. Speaking of guys, all males are allowed to go on this pilgrimage, whereas only pre-pubescent or post-menopausal women are allowed to trek up the mountain. This might seem odd, as it would usually be the children and old women who would not be in a physical state to make the multi-kilometer trek up the mountain, which has been described as severe by some.

Turns out the reason for this ban on 20-something-old women and thereabouts is because Lord Ayyappan is said to be celibate. This means that he has chosen to abstain from all sexual intercourse, and all marital vows in any and every form. Of course, this would immediately render the entire Percy Jackson series of books (involving demi-gods, who are born unto the (un)holy communion of a god and a mortal) immediately incompatible with some of the basic tenets of Hinduism. However, this didn’t seem to stop a certain southern belle from claiming to have done what is considered to be blasphemous.

Anyhow, getting back to the penance itself. Oh wait. I can’t. Because (for reasons that are beyond my comprehension) there are procedures to follow before the procedure which one must follow in order to gain access to Sabarimala. Yes, my cerebrum probably twisted itself into an undoable knot when I read this, but I sighed, undid the knot and moved on.

Before embarking on the penance, or as it is locally known, vritham, the pilgrim must seek permission from his family, and also his guru. Of course in my case, I didn’t ask my parents so much so as they ordered me to go to Sabarimala. A guru is simply someone who’s been to Sabarimala at least 7 times, and thus, is revered like Ayyapan himself. The guru‘s main responsibility is to impart knowledge to the pilgrims on just what in the world they are supposed to do to prepare themselves to get to sabarimala, and what to do once they’re there. Basically your average religious instructor.

So, once the prerequisite permissions have been sought and attained, the pilgrim must offer some prayers to the family deity. Yes, here, most families have a family temple. Though this is probably in the loosest sense of the word, and it is nigh-on-impossible to know every single member of your super-extended family. This includes uncles, aunts, great-aunts and great-uncles of varying degrees of separation. But the fact of the matter is that there is likely to be a family temple and a family deity. End of story.

So some prayers, and curiously, “1.25 currency units” are to be offered to the deity. Then a nice fresh garland of flowers is to be obtained, subsequently smeared all over with sandalwood paste (presumable, the gods like this sort of thing) and presented to Lord Ayyapan. Not the idol at sabarimala, of course. Like all popular gods, he has established local communication lines in the form of local temples and idols, so that no ordinary man or woman is ever left wanting in terms of spiritual satisfaction.

The pilgrim must also purchase a nice new plain colored dhoti (nothing but a 7 yard long rectangular piece of unstitched cloth, which is worn around the waist and legs) and a shawl. Next, said pilgrim must clean himself, clip his nails, shave his beard and shorten his hair. This is because the pilgrim is not allowed to cut his hair or nails for the next 41 days. The 42nd day is the day of pilgrimage. (Maybe this is where Douglas Adams sought inspiration for the answer to life, the universe and everything)

On the first day of the vritham, the pilgrim must wake up nice and early, take a bath, go to the family temple, perform a little puja to both his/her family deity as well as a mala or necklace, which he then receives from his guru amidst the chanting of invocations. This necklace is an important bit of the whole ceremony, since it means that the pilgrim is now a clone of Lord Ayyappan. The true gravity of the situation would only be realized when you think about the fact that hundreds, possibly thousand other clones will be existing at any given point of time. So I accept the more toned down version, which states that the pilgrim is now supposed to live a life similar to that of Lord Ayyappan. Makes the whole thing a bit easier to digest, in my opinion.

So for the next 41 days, the pilgrim is supposed to live an extremely pious life: serving temples, helping the poor, attending religious discourses and the likes. Purification of spirit, I assume, is the goal of these activities. He/she is also supposed to bathe at least twice, if not thrice, in a day, chant the name of the god in question about precisely 108 times, and smear his forehead with sandalwood paste. Getting into a fistfight is considered a strict no-no, even if you get assaulted in an alleyway, apparently, as is verbal abuse.

Food must not only be purely vegetarian, but must also be satvik. Satvik is a very subjective term which means ‘pure food’. It is supposed to not only be free of impurities and disease, but is also responsible for making its consumer pure. This means no alcohol, to tobacco and no meat. Moreover, the pilgrim must abstain from all social activities (again, a very subjective term, but the popular interpretation is no parties and other social interactions). I can only assume that Google Plus hangouts also fall under the purview of these limitations. Also, the pilgrim must remain absolutely celibate, and refrain from any sexual thoughts towards a member of the opposite sex, including his/her wife/husband (if the pilgrim has one). (There is a clever little loophole here that homosexuals will be more than happy to exploit)

Oh, and it is considered a rule (though I’d consider it a common courtesy) to make sure that your penance doesn’t inconvenience anybody else. This rather vague statement is naturally subject to interpretation. I’d say that all of these pious holier-than-thou activities would inconvenience the pilgrim’s employer/family, and hence, wouldn’t even bother thinking about setting off. But since I never had a choice in the first place, this reference is of little significance to my particular case.

That and some other minor rules, such as no pillows, no footwear, no hair-oil and some other restrictions sum up the 41 days that a pilgrim must lead, if one is to follow the rules to the letter, of course, which nobody does anymore. Then there is a puja involving the renunciation of all worldly desires by building a fire with camphor, and dancing around it, invoking god, but since this is optional, I’ll just brush over it.

The final pre-flight checks include the preparation of the irumudi, which is essentially a two-compartment cloth bag containing all the items needed for the pilgrimage. The front compartment is supposed to contain items for the puja which include coconuts (including one drained of it’s water and refilled with ghee). There are several other items including, but not limited to, betel leaves, turmeric powder, rice, camphor. The rear portion of the bag is supposed to contain items required for the journey and such (including food).

After the final puja, the pilgrims are supposed to leave directly from the temple, without even turning to look at family members or anyone. I’ll describe the actual pilgrimage once I’m done with the whole business tomorrow.