Chapter VI · SOME RURAL FESTIVALS AND CEREMONIES.
Reading edition
Ἐν δ’ ἐτίθει νειὸν μαλακὴν πίειραν ἄρουραν,
Εὐρεῖαν, τρίπολον· πολλοὶ δ’ ἀποτῆρες ἐν αὐτῇ
Ζεύγεα δινεύοντες ἐλάστρεον ἔνθα καὶ ἔνθα.
Iliad, xviii. 541–43.
The Akhtîj.
The agricultural year in Northern India begins with the ceremony of the Akhtîj, “the undecaying third,” which is celebrated on the third day of the light fortnight in the month of Baisâkh, or May. In the North-Western Provinces the cultivator first fees his Pandit to select an auspicious hour on that day for the commencement of ploughing. In most places he does not begin till 3 p.m.; in Mirzapur the time fixed is usually during the night, as secrecy is in most of these rural ceremonies an important part of the ritual.
In Rohilkhand the cultivator goes at daybreak to one of his fields, which must be of a square or oblong shape. He takes with him a brass drinking vessel of water, a branch of the Mango tree, both of which are, as we have seen, efficacious in scaring spirits, and a spade. The object of the rite is to propitiate Prithivî, “the broad world,” as contrasted with Dhartî Mâî, or “Mother Earth,” and Sesha Nâga, the great snake which supports the world. Whenever Sesha yawns he causes an earthquake.
In Mirzapur, only the northern part of the field, that facing the Himâlaya is dug up in five places with a piece of mango wood. The peasant, when he goes home, eats rich food, and abstains from quarrels.
Among the Drâvidian Hill tribes of Mirzapur, the ceremony seems to be merely a formal propitiation of the village godlings. Among the Korwas, before ploughing commences, the Baiga makes an offering of butter and molasses in his own field. This he burns in the name of the village godlings, and does a special sacrifice at their shrine. After this ploughing commences. The Kharwârs, before sowing, take five handfuls of grain from the sowing basket, and pray to Dhartî Mâtâ, the earth goddess, to be propitious. They keep the grain, grind it, and offer it at her annual festival in the month of Sâwan or August. The Pankas only do a burnt offering through the Baiga, and offer up cakes and other food, known as Nêuj. Before the spring sowing, a general offering of five cocks is made to the village godlings by the Baiga, who consumes the sacrifice himself. All these people do not commence agricultural work till the Baiga starts work in his own field, and they prefer to do this on Monday.
Prohibition of Ploughing.
In Northern India there are certain days on which ploughing is forbidden, such as the Nâgpanchamî or snake feast held on the fifth of the light half of Sâwan, and the fifteenth of the month Kârttik. Turning up the soil on such days disturbs Seshanâga, the great world serpent and Mother Earth. But Mother Earth is also supposed to sleep on six days in every month—the 5th, 7th, 9th, 11th, 21st, and 24th; or, as others say, the 1st, 2nd, 5th, 7th, 10th, 21st, and 24th. On such days it is inadvisable to plough if it can be possibly avoided. The fifteen days in the month of Kuâr which are devoted to the worship of the Pitri or sainted dead, are also an inauspicious time for agricultural work.
The Rakshabandhan and Jâyî Festivals.
The Diwâlî, or Feast of Lamps.
The regular Diwâlî, or Feast of Lamps, which is performed on the last day of the dark fortnight in the month of Kârttik, is more of a city than a rural festival. But even in the villages everyone burns a lamp outside the house on that night.
The feast has, of course, been provided with an appropriate legend. Once upon a time an astrologer foretold to a Râja that on the new moon of Kârttik his Kâl, or fate, would appear at midnight in the form of a snake; that the way to avoid this was that he should order all his subjects on that night to keep their houses, streets, and lanes clean; that there should be a general illumination; that the king, too, should place a lamp at his door, and at the four corners of his couch, and sprinkle rice and sweetmeats everywhere.
If the door-lamp went out it was foretold that he would become insensible, and that he was to tell his Rânî to sing the praises of the snake when it arrived. These instructions were carefully carried out, and the snake was so pleased with his reception, that he told the Rânî to ask any boon she pleased. She asked for long life for her husband. The snake replied that it was out of his power to grant this, but that he would make arrangements with Yamarâja, the lord of the dead, for the escape of her husband, and that she was to continue to watch his body.
The original basis of the feast seems to have been the idea that on this night the spirits of the dead revisit their homes, which are cleaned and lighted for their reception. Now it is chiefly observed in honour of Lakshmî, the goddess of wealth and good luck, who is propitiated by gambling. On this night the women make what is called “the new moon lampblack” (Amâwas Kâ Kâjal), which is used throughout the following year as a charm against the Evil Eye, and, as we have already seen, the symbolical expulsion of poverty goes on.
Immediately following this festival is the Bhaiyya Dûj, or “Brothers’ second,” when sisters make a mark on the foreheads of their brothers and cause them to eat five grains of gram. These must be swallowed whole, not chewed, and bring length of days. The sister then makes her brother sit facing the east, and feeds him with sweetmeats, in return for which he gives her a present.
The Govardhan.
Following the Diwâlî comes what is known as the Govardhan, or Godhan, which is a purely rural feast. In parts of the North-Western Provinces, the women, on a platform outside the house, make a little hut of mud and images of Gaurî and Ganesa; there they place the parched grain which the girls offered on the night of the Diwâlî; near it they lay some thorny grass, wave a rice pounder round the hut, and invoke blessings on their relations and friends. This is also a cattle feast, and cowherds come round half drunk and collect presents from their employers. They sing, “May this house grow as the sugar-cane grows, as Ganga increases at the sacred confluence of Prayâg!”
Cattle Festivals.
Similar customs for the protection of cattle prevail in other parts of the country. Thus, in Mirzapur, at the Diwâlî, a little earthen bell is procured from the village potter, and hung round the necks of the cattle as a protective.
In Northern India it is a common charm to drive the cattle under a rope fixed over the village cattle path, and among the Drâvidians of Mirzapur, two poles and a cross bar are fixed at the entrance of the village with the same object. The charm is rendered more powerful if a plough beam is sunk in the ground close by.
The Sleep of Vishnu.
Ceremonies to Avert Blight, etc.
Scaring of Locusts.
Betel Planting.
When cultivators in the North-Western Provinces sow betel, they cook rice-milk near the plants and offer it to the local godling. They divide the offering, and a little coarse sugar is dedicated to Mahâbîr, the monkey god, which is taken home and distributed among the children. This is known as Jeonâr Pûjâ or “the banquet rite.” The Barais, who make a speciality of cultivating the plant, have two godlings of their own, Sokha Bâba, the ghost of some famous magician, and Nâgbeli, the “creeper Nâga,” or snake, who is connected with the sinuous growth of the tendrils.
In Bengal, the Baruis, a similar caste, worship their patron goddess on the fourth day of the month Baisâkh with offerings of flowers, rice, sweetmeats, and sandal-wood paste. Some do the Navamî Pûjâ in honour of Ushas, or the Aurora, on the sixth day of the waning moon in Asin. Plantains, rice, sugar, and sweetmeats are placed in the centre of the garden, from which the worshippers retire, but after a little time return, and carrying out the offerings, distribute them among the village children. In Bikrampur, Sunjâî, a form of Bhâgawatî, is worshipped.
Sugar-cane Sowing.
Cotton Planting.
The Last Sheaf.
The same custom prevails in the eastern districts of the North-Western Provinces. Sometimes a little patch in the corner of the field is left untilled as a refuge for the field spirit; sometimes it is sown and the corn reaped with a rush and shout and given to the Baiga as an offering to the local godlings, or distributed among beggars.
First-fruits.
In Northern India the first pressing of the sugar-cane is attended with special observances. When the work of pressing commences, the first piece of sugar made is presented to friends or beggars, as is the first bowl of the extracted juice, and in the western districts of the North-Western Provinces some is offered in the name of the saint Shaikh Farîd, who from this probably gains his title of Shakkarganj, or “Treasury of sugar.”
Everywhere in treading out the grain the rule that the cattle move round the stake in the course of the sun is rigidly observed.
Ceremonies at Winnowing.
Winnowing is a very serious and solemn operation, not lightly to be commenced without due consultation of the stars.
In Hoshangâbâd, when the village priest has fixed a favourable time, the cultivator, his whole family, and his labourers go to the threshing-floor, taking with them the prescribed articles of worship, such as milk, butter, turmeric, boiled wheat, and various kinds of grain. The threshing-floor stake is washed in water, and these things are offered to it and to the pile of threshed grain. The boiled wheat is scattered about in the hope that the Bhûts or spirits may content themselves with it and not take any of the harvested corn. Then the master stands on a three-legged stool, and taking five basketsful from the threshed heap, winnows them. After winnowing, the grain and chaff are collected again and measured; if the five baskets are turned out full, or anything remains over, it is a good omen. If they cannot fill the baskets, the place where they began winnowing is considered unlucky and it is removed a few yards to another part of the threshing-floor. The five basketsful are presented to a Brâhman, or distributed in the village, not mixed with the rest of the harvest.
In the Etah District, the owner of the field places to the north of the pile of grain a threshing-floor rake, a bullock’s muzzle, and a rope at a distance of three spans from the piled grain; and between these things and the pile he lays a little offering consisting of a few ears of grain, some leaves of the swallow-wort, and a few flowers. These things are laid on a piece of cowdung. He then covers the pile of grain with a cloth to protect it from thieving Bhûts, and puts in a basket three handfuls of grain as the perquisite of the village priest who lights the Holî fire. Something is also laid by for the village beggars. Then he sprinkles a little grain on the cloth, and fills a basket full of grain which he pours back on the pile as an emblem of increase. He then bows to the gods who live in the northern hills, and mutters a prayer; it is only at this time that he breaks the silence with which the whole ceremony is performed. The cloth is then removed, and the rite is considered complete.
Measurement of Grain.
All these precautions are based on principles which have been already discussed, and we meet in them with the familiar fetishes and demon-scarers, of which we have already quoted instances—the iron implements, the sacred grasses and plants, water and milk, cowdung, the winnowing fan, and so on.
The same rule of silence often appears in the custom of Europe. Favete linguis was the principle on such occasions in Rome. So in the “Tempest” Prospero says,—
“Hush and be mute,
Or else our spell is marred.”
The Holî: Its Origin.
The most famous and interesting of the village festivals is the Holî, which is held in the early spring, at the full moon of Phâlgun. One account of its origin describes it as founded in honour of a female demon or Râkshasî called Dundhas, “she who would destroy many.”
Another account connects the observance with the well-known legend of Hiranya-kasipu, “golden-dressed,” and his son Prahlâda. Hiranya-kasipu was, it is said, a Daitya, who obtained from Siva the sovereignty of the three worlds for a million years, and persecuted his pious son Prahlâda because he was such a devoted worshipper of Vishnu. Finally the angry god, in his Nara-sinha or man-lion incarnation, slew the sinner.
Harnâkas, as the father is called in the modern version of the story, was an ascetic, who claimed that the devotion of the world was to be paid to him alone. His son Prahlâda became a devotee of Vishnu, and performed various miracles, such as saving a cat and her kittens out of the blazing kiln of a potter. His father was enraged at what he considered the apostasy of his son, and with the assistance of his sister Holî or Holikâ, commenced to torture Prahlâda. Many attempts on his life failed, and finally Vishnu himself entered a pillar of heated iron, which had been prepared for the destruction of Prahlâda, and tore Harnâkas to pieces. Then Holî tried to burn herself and Prahlâda together, but the fire left him unscathed and she was consumed. The fire is now supposed to be burnt in commemoration of this tragedy.
Lastly, a tale told at Hardwâr brings us probably nearer the real origin of the rite. Holikâ or Holî was, they say, sister of Sambat or Sanvat, the Hindu year. Once, at the beginning of all things, Sambat died, and Holî in her excessive love for her brother insisted on being burnt on his pyre, and by her devotion he was restored to life. The Holî fire is now burnt every year to commemorate this tragedy.
Propitiation of Sunshine.
It is true, of course, that the climatic conditions of Northern India do not, as a rule, necessitate the use of incantations to produce sunshine. But it must be remembered that the native of the country does not look on the fierceness of the summer sun with the same dread as is felt by Europeans. To him it is about the most pleasant and healthy season of the year, and people who are sometimes underfed and nearly always insufficiently dressed have more reason to fear the chills of December and January than the warmth of May and June. It is also usually recognized in popular belief that seasonable and sufficient rainfall depends on the due supply of sunshine.
The Holî Observances.
The Holî, while generally observed in Northern India, is performed with special care by the cowherd classes of the land of Braj, or the region round the city of Mathura, where the myth of Krishna has been localized, and it is here that we meet with some curious incidents which are undoubtedly survivals of the most primitive usages.
“Then follows a mock fight between the men of the adjoining village of Nandgânw and the women of Barsâna. The women have their mantles drawn down over their faces and are armed with long, heavy bamboos, with which they deal their opponents many shrewd blows on the head and shoulders. The latter defend themselves as best they can with round leather shields and stag horns, as they dodge in and out among the crowd, and now and again have their flight cut off, and are driven back upon the crowd of excited viragoes. Many laughable incidents occur. Not unfrequently blood is drawn; but an accident of this kind is regarded rather as an omen of good fortune, and has never been known to give rise to any ill-feeling. Whenever the fury of their female assailants appears to be subsiding, it is again excited by the men shouting at them snatches of ribald rhymes.”
The Lighting of the Holî Fire.
Next day the Holî fire is lit. By immemorial custom, the boys are allowed to appropriate fuel of any kind for the fire, the wood-work of deserted houses, fences, and the like, and the owner never dares to complain. We have the same custom in England. The chorus of the Oxfordshire song sung at the feast of Gunpowder Plot runs,—
A stick and a stake
For King James’s sake;
If you won’t give me one,
I’ll take two,
The better for me,
The worse for you.
Mr. Growse goes on to describe how a large bonfire had been stacked between the pond and the temple of Prahlâda (who, as we have already seen, is connected with the legend), inside which the local village priest, the Kherapat or Panda, who was to take the chief part in the performance of the day, was sitting, telling his beads. At 6 p.m. the pile was lit, and being composed of the most inflammable materials, at once burst into a tremendous blaze. The lads of the village kept running close round it, jumping and dancing and brandishing their bludgeons, while the Panda went round and dipped in the pond, and then with his dripping turban and loin-cloth ran back and made a feint of passing through the fire. In reality he only jumped over the outermost verge of the smouldering ashes, and then dashed into his cell again, much to the dissatisfaction of the spectators, who say that the former incumbent used to do it much more thoroughly. If on the next recurrence of the festival the Panda shows himself equally timid, the village proprietors threaten to eject him as an impostor from the land which he holds rent-free, simply on the score of his being fire-proof.
The Throwing of the Powder.
In the Indian observance of the Holî next followed a series of performances characterized by rude horseplay and ribald singing. Next day came the throwing of the powder. “Handfuls of red powder, mixed with glistening talc, were thrown about. Up to the balconies, above and down on the heads of the people below; and seen through this atmosphere of coloured cloud, the frantic gestures of the throng, their white clothes and faces all stained with red and yellow patches, and the great timbrels with branches of peacocks’ feathers, artificial flowers and tinsel stars stuck in their rims, borne above the players’ heads, and now and then tossed up in the air, combined to form a curious and picturesque spectacle.”
Then followed another mock fight between men and women, conducted with perfect good-humour on both sides, and when it was all over, many of the spectators ran into the arena, and rolled over and over in the dust, or streaked themselves with it on the forehead, taking it as the dust hallowed by the feet of Krishna and the Gopîs.
The Holî in Mârwâr.
The Ashes of the Holî Fire.
The Basis of the Holî Rite.
The Drâvidian Hill tribes of Mirzapur do not perform the Holî ceremony like their Hindu neighbours, but on the same date the Baiga burns a stake, a ceremony which is known as Sambat Jalânâ, or “the burning of the old year.”
The ceremony in another form appears at Gwâlior. There, instead of a tree, they burn large heaps of cowdung fuel. The Marwâris erect a nude figure known as Nathurâm, made of bricks, of a most disgusting shape. This, when the pile of cowdung cakes is consumed, is broken to pieces with blows of shoes and bludgeons. Another beautifully carved image of the same kind is paraded through the bazars and kept safely from year to year. This Nathurâm is said to have been a scamp from some part of Northern India, who went to Mârwâr and seduced a number of women, until he was detected and put to death. He then became a malignant ghost and began to torment women and children, and now his spirit can be appeased only by a series of indecent songs and gestures performed by the women. No Mârwâri household is without an image of Nathurâm, and a representation of him is laid with the married pair after the wedding, while barren women and those whose children die pray to him for offspring. He is in short a phallic fetish.
The Holî, then, in its most primitive form, is possibly an aboriginal usage which has been imported into Brâhmanism. This is specially shown by the functions of the Kherapat or village priest, who lights the fire. He is sometimes a Brâhman, but often a man drawn from the lower races. As we have seen, his duties among the Drâvidian races are performed by the Baiga, who is always drawn from the non-Aryan races. It seems probable that the legends connecting the rite with Prahlâda and Krishna are a subsequent invention, and that the fire is really intended to represent the burning of the old year and the re-birth of the new, which they pray may be more propitious to the families, cattle, and crops of the worshippers. The observance seems also to include certain ceremonies intended to scare the evil spirits which bring disease and famine. The compulsory entry of the local priests into the fire can hardly be anything but a survival of human sacrifice, intended to secure the same results; and the dancing, singing, waving of flags, screaming, the mock fight, and the throwing of red powder, a colour supposed, as we have seen, to be obnoxious to evil spirits, are probably based on the same train of ideas.
In Gorakhpur this spring rite takes the form of hunting and crucifying a monkey on the village boundary. This is said to be intended to scare these animals, which injure the crops. But the rite seems to be intended to secure fertility, and is possibly the survival of an actual sacrifice.
Of the same class is what is known in the Hills as the Badwâr rite, where a Dom, one of the menial castes, is made to slide down a rope from a high precipice. The intention is to promote the fertility of the crops and expel the demons of disease.
Marriage of the Powers of Vegetation.
“One of the most remarkable of the Kharwâr deities is called Durgâgiya Deotâ; this spirit rejoices in the name of Mûchak Rânî. She is a Chamârin by caste, and her home is on a hill called Buhorâj; her priests are Baigas. All the Kharwârs regard her with great veneration, and offer up pigs and fowls to her several times during the year. Once a year, in the month of Aghan, what is called the Kâruj Pûjâ takes place in her honour.
“The ceremony is performed in the village threshing-floor, when a kind of bread and kids are offered up. Once in three years the ceremony of marrying the Rânî is performed with great pomp. Early in the morning of the bridal day both men and women assemble with drums and horns, form themselves into procession and ascend the hill, singing a wild song in honour of the bride and bridegroom. One of the party is constituted the priest, who is to perform the wedding ceremony. This man ascends the hill in front of the procession, shouting and dancing till he works himself into a frenzy. The procession halts at the mouth of a cave, which does, or is supposed to, exist on the top of the hill. The priest then enters the cave and returns bearing with him the Rânî, who is represented as a small oblong-shaped and smooth stone, daubed over with red lead. After going through certain antics, a piece of Tasar silk cloth is placed on the Rânî’s head, and a new sheet is placed below her, the four corners being tied up in such a manner as to allow the Rânî, who is now supposed to be seated in her bridal couch, to be slung on a bamboo, and carried like a dooly or palanquin.
“The procession then descends the hill and halts under a Banyan tree till noon, when the marriage procession starts for the home of the bridegroom, who resides on the Kandi hill.
“On their arrival there, offerings, consisting of sweetened milk, two copper pice, and two bell-metal wristlets, are presented to the bride, who is taken out of her dooly and put into the cave in which the bridegroom, who, by the way, is of the Agariya caste, resides. This cave is supposed to be of immense depth, for the stone goes rolling down, striking the rocks as it falls, and the people all listen eagerly till the sound dies out, which they say it does not do for nearly half an hour.
“When all is silent, the people return rejoicing down the hill, and finish off the evening with a dance. The strangest part of the story is that the people believe that the caves on the two hills are connected, and that every third year the Rânî returns to her father’s house. They implicitly believe that the stone yearly produced is the same. The village Baigas could probably explain the mystery.
“In former times the marriage used to take place every year, but on one occasion, on the morning succeeding the marriage ceremony, the Rânî made her appearance in the Baiga’s house. The Baiga himself was not present, but his wife, who was at home, was very indignant at this flightiness on the part of the Rânî, and the idea of her going about the country the morning after her marriage so shocked the Baigâin’s sense of propriety, that she gave the Rânî a good setting down, and called upon her to explain herself, and as she could give no satisfactory account of her conduct, she was punished by being married every three years, instead of yearly as before.”
The mock marriage of Ghâzi Miyân, to which some reference has been already made, a very favourite rite among the Musalmâns and low Hindu castes of the North-Western Provinces, is very possibly the survival of some non-Aryan rite of this kind, performed to secure the annual revival of the year and the powers of vegetation.
The Drâvidian Saturnalia.
Some of the Drâvidian tribes enjoy the Saturnalia in other forms.