The monsoon is not over, yet,
but the skies are definitely changing. Sometimes
they are overcast, and it rains heavily, at other times
, the sun is out and the sky is full of cumulus
clouds. The sunsets have become more spectacular,
and rainbows have been seen. This change of
weather seems to happen miraculously just around the
time of Indra Jatra, Kathmandu's most colorful event,
lasting a week or so.
And it's quite a unique festival,
since Indra is a Vedic god who is not worshiped much
anymore, his name is invoked in ancient prayers, but he is
not worshiped, much less is a whole festival of many days
is dedicated to him. The inhabitants of Kathmandu
Valley love to celebrate, with chariots and hooch, and
there are more holidays on the calendar here, than in any
other country. The advent of democracy, and the
ecumenical addition of Christmas, Id, etc., to the
official holidays has augmented the situation. Back
to Indra - he visited this valley once, and this event is
still being celebrated with great gusto.
It all began long ago, when Indra, the king of the Gods (not of the Great Gods, like Brahma/Vishnu/Shiva and the Goddess), who is also the God of Rain and Thunder, descended into this valley in a cloud of mist. He was disguised as an ordinary mortal, and came here at the behest of his mother, who needed some Parijat flowers for her Teej rites. It just so happened that there was a dearth of those heavenly flowers in Indra's heaven, but an abundance of them in this heavenly valley. Indra, unfortunately, was caught stealing the flowers, and he was bound up and put in a cage on public display. His mother got worried when he didn't return with her flowers, and she came down in search of her son. When she found him imprisoned, she explained to the people the mistake they had made. Indra was immediately released, and both he and his mother were worshiped and showered with flowers by the abashed Kathmanduites, who instituted a yearly festival in Indra's honor, in order to make it up to him.
It all began long ago, when Indra, the king of the Gods (not of the Great Gods, like Brahma/Vishnu/Shiva and the Goddess), who is also the God of Rain and Thunder, descended into this valley in a cloud of mist. He was disguised as an ordinary mortal, and came here at the behest of his mother, who needed some Parijat flowers for her Teej rites. It just so happened that there was a dearth of those heavenly flowers in Indra's heaven, but an abundance of them in this heavenly valley. Indra, unfortunately, was caught stealing the flowers, and he was bound up and put in a cage on public display. His mother got worried when he didn't return with her flowers, and she came down in search of her son. When she found him imprisoned, she explained to the people the mistake they had made. Indra was immediately released, and both he and his mother were worshiped and showered with flowers by the abashed Kathmanduites, who instituted a yearly festival in Indra's honor, in order to make it up to him.
Indra
Jatra activities begin six days before the official
inauguration of the festival, with the search for a pine
tree in a sacred forest east of Bhaktapur. The
tree, found worthy of the task of being Indra's
victorious standard (dhvaja) is stripped of its
bark and dragged for several days to Kathmandu by men of
the various towns along the way.
Finally, the pole is raised in Hanuman Dhoka by men of the Manandhar caste (oil pressers). From that moment on, Indra Jatra has officially begun. This year it happened on Friday, Sep 9
Finally, the pole is raised in Hanuman Dhoka by men of the Manandhar caste (oil pressers). From that moment on, Indra Jatra has officially begun. This year it happened on Friday, Sep 9
A spirit of worshipful
revelry reigns thereafter in the streets of the old
city. Masked dancers, dressed as various
mythological characters, fierce and mischievous run
through the streets, taunting and teasing the crowd.
General inebriation is the rule of the days...
At this
point, the Kumari joins the fray, and the two festivals
combine. The Kumari, aka the Living (Virgin) Goddess
is a Kathmandu cult which goes back to the 10th century,
or earlier. It took it's final shape in the 18th
century, under the rule of the last Newari King of
Kathmandu, Jaya Preakash Malla. The family deity of
the Mallas was Goddesss Taleju Bhavani, a form of the
Great Mother Goddess of many names. The king
was blessed by regular visitations of the Goddess, during
which they spent a lot of time gambling. At some
point, the king, overwhelmed by Taleju's beauty,
entertained some lustful thoughts about Her. The
Goddess instantly vanished, never to come back 'in person'
again. The king was despondent. That night he
had a dream in which the Goddess told him that his reign
was going to be short, and he would never be blessed by
the sight of Her again. He could still commune with
her by selecting a young girl in the Newari jewellers'
caste in whose body the Goddess would dwell. The
king could worship Taleju Bhavani by worshipping the young
'Kumari'.
And so it
came to pass. A young girl was selected and
installed in a palace on Darbar Square to a sequestered
life of luxury. The Kumari is selected from the
Shakya caste, by a secret process which, among other
things, involves trying to frighten the child with
horrific sights and sounds. Only a little girl who
his completely unperturbed by all of this can become the
Kumari. Another attribute of the Kumari is that she
must never shed blood. If she gets any sort of
wound, or eventually menstruates, she is immediately
retired, and another Kumari is selected. During her
reign, each Kumari is treated like a living goddess.
People come daily to worship her and offer flowers and
gifts. Her intercession in all difficulties is
sought. All her moves and gestures are interpreted
as good or bad omens, and the royal family consults her on
all important occasions. At the end of the
Kumari festival, her blessing and the vermilion tika she
places on the royal brow validates and ensures his reign
for the next year.
The most
famous instance of this occurred in 1768, when the present
king's ancestor, Prithvi Narayan Shah of Gorkha, invaded
the valley. King Jaya Prakash Malla was unable to
muster his forces to counter the invaders, since everybody
was stinko celebrating the twin festivals of Indra and the
Kumari. The Newari king fled across the river to
Patan (That's what you get for hitting on the Goddess...)
, while the victorious Prithvi Narayan Shah ordered the
Jatra to proceed, leading the procession himself.
Needless to say, he wound up at the Kumari's palace, got
the first tika, and ruled from there on.
There's
another story about the Kumari. In 1955, King
Tribhuvan, the present king's grandfather went to receive
tika from the Kumari on the appointed day. The
Kumari seemed sleepy, and when she was roused by her
attendant to give the tika, she mistakenly placed the
sacred mark on crown prince Mahendra's forehead. It
was an omen, and before the year was out, King Tribhuvan
had passed away, and Mahendra ascended the throne.
The more recent rumor has been that the Kumari refuses to give tika to the President, and that a priest takes her hand and makes her do it.
The more recent rumor has been that the Kumari refuses to give tika to the President, and that a priest takes her hand and makes her do it.
Back to the festival. On the third day, the President arrives and the Kumari comes out of her abode in a chariot, accompanied by two little boys in their own smaller chariots, as Ganesha and Bhairav.
People watch nearby temples and
rooftops...
...as the chariot is pulled through
the streets and squares.
The revelry continues for several
more days. The Kumari rides her chariot three times
over the next few days, visiting different Toles
(neighborhoods) of old Kathmandu.
The Kumari comes out again on full
moon day, and on the last day of Indra Jatra, when the
President (and everybody else after him...) receives tika.
Then, late in
the evening (Sep 16), the pole comes down with great
fanfare, the special images on display all week are put
away, and life returns to 'normal'.
Wishing you love, wine
& chariots, Billy
