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Temple bells chime across the still
silence of the desert, the peals a
clear sound that ring for a while,
resound, and are then swallowed up into
a great nothingness. It is a sound that
bathes the dawn with an enchanted,
magical beauty, that gives definition to
a life of harsh realities: in sand and
scrub, the people have found not
discomfort but faith, a force that gives
them a positive radiance, and the mettle
to create a life that is a celebration
of their energies and their beliefs.
Every home in Rajasthan has its deities
- those from the Hindu pantheon, folk
heroes, mother goddesses, sati matas,
even maharajas who ran their kingdoms
like exemplary welfare states. Every
village has its temples - from the
vermilion daubed stones revered under
the thickening trunks of ancient trees
to carved temples that celebrate the
spirit of their faith. Every faith has
its gods - whether Hindu, Islamic, or
Jain, in the nature of gurus, or as the
cosmos itself. And every one of them has
a place in Rajasthan, not only tolerant
of each other's religions, but also
participating in many of the events, or
letting faiths intermingle to create a
new vocabulary for those who believe in
gods, and the power of gods.
The warrior spirit is a result, too, of
this faith: it is the creed of the
warrior to lay down his life in the
protection of his motherland, a belief
so strongly instilled that a spouse
worships her husband in the image of god
when he goes out to the battlefield -
this even when, should he be slain, the
wife would probably have to join in the
jauhar procession, jumping into a fiery
pit in a mass ritual of suicide. It was
this faith too that led them to live
with such zest, colouring their lives as
they did their clothes, with the passion
they believed the gods invested in their
days spent on earth.
The religious kaleidoscope is truly
amazing: the chanting of Jain hymns, and
their observance of strict austerities
is at odds with the Bhil zest for ritual
festivities in honour of the gods, or
even the Rajput exuberance in their
faith, and in the preparations leading
up to a religious ceremony, or the
Muslim month of mourning and fasting
even in the harshest climatic
conditions. The Jains do not eat after
sundown, the Muslims share their sweet
porridge of sewaiyan with others on the
occasion of Id, and the Rajputs
sacrifice goats before their gods, and
serve it as consecrated food. Yet,
between them, there has always been a
sense of harmony. The Rajput kings not
only gave permission to the Muslims and
Jain to build their religious shrines,
they also, often, gave them the lands on
which to do so.
These shrines were often, also profusely
carved and sculptured, for the people
invested their faith in creating temples
and mosques of great and abiding beauty.
Such shrines were also meeting points
for the people, not only at the time of
religious festivities, but even
otherwise, and it was therefore usual to
have plantations, even orchards,
surround them. A well was essential for
providing the water required to bathe
the sanctum, but also for quenching the
thirst of travellers who would seek
shelter at temples on their journeys
across the desert.
Given the hostile climate and landscape,
the people found comfort too in the
protection of the trees and their
wildlife, investing them with spirits,
so that tree felling was not encouraged,
and even the peacock, monkey, deer and
other animals were sanctified by faith.
In the case of the Bishnois, followers
of a 15th century saint, Jambhoji, such
protection became a credo, and they
became staunch conservatioists of their
environment.
For the Rajputs, their worship is also a
form of paying obeisance to their
ancestors, for they believe themselves
descended from the very gods they pray
too, and have the genealogies to prove
it. At all important temples and
shrines, there are Bhats, keepers of the
family records whose duty it is to
maintain genealogies, tracing them back
not just a few generations but -
provided you have the patience - to the
very beginnings of time. Most people
know the clan's history, and are
con-tent with their more recent
antecedents, but the royal families, and
those of aristocratic background, have
written records that go back (and in
great detail) to over five hundred
generations. No wonder their faith, and
their awesome ancestry, draw such
reverence.
Since these histories were sung for
patron families by bards, the heroic
deeds of their past ancestors were soon
transformed into the mythic, deifying
earlier generations. No wonder the
people of Rajasthan are so affected by
their pasts: it often seems more real
than even the present they live in. |
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