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Thaipusam: A Walk Among Gods

Selva, a devotee, in a trance as Lord Kali, the fierce Hindu goddess

Indians the world over have a gesture that, as far as I know, is unique to them. It is a sideways lift of the chin, usually performed in unison with a play of the eyes – a long, benign blink – and an almost imperceptible sway of the shoulders. Depending on context, it can be a yes, it can be a no, it can signal deference, it can signal a decision made. But regardless of context, the receiver always understands the message.

It is with this very gesture that Selva snapped out of his trance as Lord Kali, the fierce Hindu goddess. We are on the banks of the Batu River, which flows within eyesight of the famous Batu Caves, and it is the day before Thaipusam. During Thaipusam, Hindu devotees will undertake a pilgrimage from the Batu River to Batu Caves, while performing acts of penance such as carrying a physical burden (called a “Kavadi”), or piercing themselves with hooks or skewers. Devotees often enter into trances to perform these feats of endurance, calling upon one of Hinduism’s 33 million deities to possess them through intricate rituals passed down through the generations.

Ash is sprinkled over Selva’s head, as he enters into a trance

Initiating a trance

I am watching Selva perform one such ritual. First he cleanses himself. Traditionally, devotees take a dip in the river, but technology has now allowed for a public shower system to be installed on the riverbank. Then, an elaborate ceremony, conducted with the help of his entourage, follows, involving incense, fruits, Kumkum powder and holy ash.

Try as I may, I cannot keep up with or understand the maze of rites. Small braziers are lit, and some of the items held over the smoke. Milk is poured into two silver jars and secured to Selva’s Kavadi. Next to me, one of the women breaks into trance with a shriek. Another woman soon follows suit. Amidst all this, Selva bows and touches the feet of his mother, the ultimate gesture of respect in Hinduism.

One of the members of Selva’s entourage seems to perform the role of a priest, giving directions to the group. It is he who calls a trance on Selva. Selva stands before him, palms pressed together, as he chants quietly. Ash is sprinkled over Selva’s head, and his body begins to tense into a bow. I watch his eyes turn wild. With a scream, Selva drops to his knees, tongue out-stuck. He is Kali.

Next, the piercing. Selva’s penance this year involves piercing his tongue. As Selva – or Lord Kali – stands, arms akimbo, staring at the crowd that has formed around him, an exhausting amount of rites is performed over the long silver skewer that will be used. Meanwhile, he asks for a lime and chews on it. When the skewer is ready, he offers his tongue, which the priest dabs with Kumkum powder and ash, before slowly, laboriously, passing the skewer through it. He doesn’t flinch. With the skewer secured, the priest holds Selva’s head in his hands, chants some prayers, and suddenly, as if roused from deep thought, Selva’s body relaxes. Without even looking up, he lifts his chin sideways, and everyone in the group understands that the trance is over.

Now for the small matter of carrying the Kavadi all the way to the temple in Batu Caves. Like many other devotees, Selva will perform his pilgrimage today – a day earlier – to avoid the massive crowds on the day proper. “It’s OK to do it the evening before,” explains Selva when I spoke to him earlier. “It is still within the auspicious period of time, when the Pusam star is at its highest point and it emanates positive energy.”

Selva begins his journey towards the cave with the burden of his Kavadi on his shoulders

Positive energy

Energy would be the word to describe Batu Caves that afternoon. The caves are a familiar sight in Kuala Lumpur, its bone-white limestone cliffs topped with verdant green jungle often intruding into the city’s concrete skyline. When it does, it usually provides visual relief, an oasis of calm amid urban bustle. But today, Batu Caves is buzzing with energy. Inside the park area around the caves, stalls line every walkway, selling religious trinkets, clothes, cold drinks, vegetarian food, traditional Indian sweets and even furniture. The air is thick with the scent of spices and cooking oil, and vibrates with music blared from loudspeakers that have long since burst their diaphragms. Indians love their music driving, pulsating, full-blooded. People are everywhere, jostling with you, calling out to you, smiling at your camera, and when you thank them, lifting their chin sideways in return. Everyone and everything is conspiring to beat back the energy-sapping Malaysian afternoon heat.

As you walk closer to the caves, the tarpaulin tents of stalls part to reveal the famous 150 foot-tall golden statue of Lord Murugan. And next to it, the 272 red-and-white steps that takes visitors from ground level up to the mouth of the main cave complex, within which resides the most visited Hindu temple in the country. Closer to the foot of the caves, various organisations and associations have erected tents to serve free vegetarian food to the anticipated 1.5 million visitors. At the back of the tents, huge vats are cooking batch after batch of rice, which when piled into mounds on a table covered in banana leaves, resembles a miniature of the Swiss Alps.

The scene at Batu Caves during the day

In this festive atmosphere, Selva carries his Kavadi towards the cave. Kavadis range in size and form, sometimes reaching up to seven feet above the bearer’s shoulders. But Selva has chosen a modest version resembling a carrying pole, decorated with Hindu motifs, and bearing a jar of milk at each end. He has walked some two kilometres to arrive at the foot of the 272-step stairs that leads to the caves. All through the journey, through the music and the smell of food and the heat and the crowds, Selva maintained stoic focus. Many devotees would enter into a trance for the entire duration of the procession, but Selva is aware and clear-minded throughout. “That’s the way I prefer it,” he would explain later. “I want to feel the burden on my shoulders.”

Joining the crowd on their way to the temple

Resonating with the masses

An hour and a half after the start of his pilgrimage, at the top of the stairs, inside the temple, Selva completes his penance. His piercing is removed. He passes the two jars of milk to a priest, who pours it over a spear, before the shrine of Lord Murugan. I venture to ask him how he feels. “I feel fine, no tiredness,” he says casually. “Usually if there is tiredness it will set in after a day or two, but now I feel fine. Energised.”

The view from the cave

As we leave the temple, at the mouth of the cave, the view opens up. I see that the crowd had swollen significantly. Suddenly, I am aware of the magnitude of the event. Below us, beyond the stairs streaming with people, the shape-shifting multitude of devotees gravitates towards us, watched over by the golden Lord Murugan. Behind us, the gaping mouth of Batu Caves soars overhead. Surrounding it all was the dusk sky, slowly turning the colour of saffron.

At night, it’s a sea of of people, as the weather cools and more people begin their pilgrimage

Thaipusam at night

At night, Thaipusam morphs into a different animal. The crowd, taking advantage of cooler weather, easily triples. The music continues unabated, but the sun is replaced by lights of all colours, casting shifting shadows in every direction. It is the busiest time of Thaipusam. I am with K. Anuharan, a devotee who flies back from Australia every year for the procession. He is preparing to carry a 30 kg Kavadi to Batu Caves, but we are stuck, literally, in a Kavadi jam.

Anuharan carries his Kavadi, goes into a trance and emerges as the Hindu deity Lord Hanuman

Stuck in Kavadi rush hour

Kavadis tower over me from every direction. Large Kavadis, each accompanied by an entourage of family and friends, and often by a traditional drum troupe as well. It is a crush of human bodies, with not a moment’s silence, as the drum troupes take turns belting out rattling beats and devotees break out in chants of “Vel Vel Muruga”. We need to make it to the Batu River, where Anuharan can offer his prayers, carry his Kavadi, and initiate a trance. It is no more than a hundred metres away, but we simply cannot get there. Anuharan is already two hours late. He had planned to beat the nighttime peak period, but now finds himself smack in the middle of it. In a moment of calm, between organising his entourage, trying to navigate his Kavadi through the throng, and placating his young daughter (who was uncomfortable because she was barefoot), he catches my eye. “Tension”, he says with a smile. Why? “Already two hours late, and I had to make you wait.” I demur, he smiles. I am grateful enough that he has allowed me to join his entourage.

It is decided that it would be impossible to reach the riverbank. Anuharan will offer his prayers on the asphalt where we stand. Items are brought out and placed on sheets of newspaper, braziers lit with camphor tablets. Amidst the noise, the jostling, the semi-darkness, I can barely follow the ritual that takes place. Ash is smeared on his body and his forehead. He prostrates himself before his elders. The milk jar is filled with milk, and fastened to the centre of the Kavadi. Somewhere, someone flips a switch, and Anuharan’s Kavadi flashes with multicoloured lights. On the centrepiece of the Kavadi, a styrofoam peacock shimmers in the lights. Anuharan finds time to pick up his daughter, and shows her the centrepiece. “See, all this I did for you.” Anuharan had persuaded the Kavadi maker to add lights and a peacock to his Kavadi at the very last minute, even going to the extent of purchasing the lights on his own, at the request of his daughter. His daughter is placated.

It is time to carry his Kavadi. Bala, the Kavadi maker, helps mount the Kavadi on his shoulders, adjusting the metal fittings to make sure that the weight is evenly distributed across the shoulders. With the Kavadi strapped on, there is one final ritual before the procession begins – initiating the trance. The crowd around senses something is happening, and turn to watch. Anuharan’s elders step forward to bless him. Anuharan asks for the drum troupe to play louder. His entourage starts chanting. His mother breaks into a trance and starts dancing before him. The chanting turns urgent. Anuharan takes it all in, palms pressed together. His body goes taut. He throws his head back, and with a great cry, he emerges as the Hindu deity Lord Hanuman, and immediately starts dancing.

Presenting himself before the shrine of Lord Murugan

A long journey

Four hours later, Anuharan’s entourage is still yet to arrive at the steps of Batu Caves. A straight walk of the procession trail would take an hour at most, but it’s Kavadi rush hour. Moreover, Anuharan, possessed by the playful Lord Hanuman, insists on dancing his way there. Anuharan would later tell me that he cannot dance to save his life.

As we near the caves, the crush of bodies becomes almost suffocating. Ahead, the giant statue of Lord Murugan rises into view. With most of the Kavadis at this hour lit up like Christmas trees, I imagine the view from his vantage point would be quite surreal – dancing boats of lights floating on a sea of human bodies.

By the time we finally reach the summit, it is an hour past midnight. Below, the crowd, though still huge, has begun to thin. Inside the temple, the Kavadi is dismounted, and Anuharan, as Lord Hanuman, presents himself before the shrine of Lord Murugan. It seemed like the two deities shared a moment. Then, Anuharan takes a pinch of holy ash, presses it to his forehead, and, suddenly only human, he collapses.

His family helps him to the shrine, where his offering of milk is poured out before the deity. As he lingers for a moment longer, palms pressed together against his forehead in prayer, his face contorts with emotion. His journey is over. Even watching him from a distance, I felt the release. This is the culmination not of a five-hour Kavadi pilgrimage, but of a 48-day journey that started, with the commencement of his vows, in Australia. “Everything I’ve done is out of devotion to Lord Murugan,” he would explain later. “It’s not just the milk that I offered, I want to be the best that I can throughout the past 48 days. Hopefully that becomes a habit for the rest of the year, until the next Thaipusam.”

Anuharan and his daughter, after completing his pilgrimage

All are welcome

As I leave the temple, I notice a group of Chinese Buddhists who had also just offered milk at the shrine. One of them even had a skewer through his cheeks and piercings on his back. It led me to recall a conversation with Selva previously: “Hinduism holds nothing against other religions,” he said. “We believe God is one, and there are many ways for us to realise God.” Anuharan agrees. “Everyone has their own journey to walk. I am brought up a Hindu, so I walk in the Hindu path to realise God, just as a Christian would walk in the Christian path, and as a Buddhist would walk in the Buddhist path.” In retrospect, this inclusiveness is suddenly evident to me. Both Selva and Anuharan allowed me, a stranger, to share the most sacred part of their lives, without prying into my personal religious beliefs. And after everything, they thanked me, even before I could thank them. Their welcome bordered on veneration: “This person must be sent to us by Lord Murugan!” exclaimed a member of Selva’s entourage after the procession, taking my hand. I thank him in return, and he lifts his chin sideways, a gesture that says it all.

 

Missed the first part of this series? We go behind the scenes of Kavadi making to find out what it means to carry the burden.

Discover more things to do, see and experience in Malaysia at www.tourism.gov.my

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Thaipusam: a celebration of faith and gratitude

While many of us associate Thaipusam with crowds at temples and the awe-inspiring sight of kavadi bearers, how many of us actually understand the significance of the occasion?

A devotee bearing a kavadi – the symbol of humility and devotion

Thaipusam comes from an amalgam of the words “Thai” – referring to the Tamil month of Thai (January – February) – and Pusam – the brightest star during this period. Falling between 15 January and 15 February every year, Thaipusam is a celebration of Lord Murugan’s victory over Soorapadman’s tyranny.

Soorapadman believed himself invincible since he cannot be killed by anything other than a being that was a manifestation of Lord Shiva, one of the most important Hindu deities. Unluckily for him, Lord Murugan was one such being and he used his spear or vel, which was given to him by Lord Shiva’s consort, Parvati, to defeat Soorapadman.

So it is that during Thaipusam, the people thank Lord Murugan for granting their wishes and defeating the “daily demons” that plague their lives, be it illnesses, career blocks or infertility. Believers not only thank him, they also ask forgiveness for trangressions made, as well as pray for blessings.

The rituals of Thaipusam usually begin much earlier before the big day itself. Some devotees fast for more than a month before the occasion while others shave their heads as an act of gratitude, repentance or as a poignant plea to have prayers answered.

On the eve of Thaipusam, the image of Lord Murugan is transported from one temple to another, accompanied and waited on by devotees bearing offerings to the deity. Milk, a symbol of purity and virtue, as well as flowers and fruits are common Thaipusam offerings. Kavadis, literally “sacrifice at every step”, can be seen attached to devotees via hooks and thin spears that pierce their backs, cheeks and mouths.

This can be quite a sight for onlookers who no doubt wonder how these kavadi bearers withstand the pain, but devotees will tell you that their fervent faith in their Lord Murugan’s protection spares them from pain and prevents them from shedding blood. Bearing a kavadi is an act of devotion and humility.

Additionally, coconuts are smashed to signify the breaking of the ego and the emergence of a purer self.

In Batu Caves – one of the focal points of Thaipusam celebration in Malaysia – the procession accompanying the silver chariot bearing Lord Murugan’s idol, starts from Sri Mahamariamman, in the centre of Kuala Lumpur, to the temples of Batu Caves. The procession usually starts before midnight on the eve of Thaipusam and is a 15 kilometre journey that can easily take 8 hours.

Devotees wait for hours just to catch a glimpse of Lord Murugan on his chariot and extend their offerings while hundreds of thousands more join the procession to the temples. The number of people at Batu Caves during Thaipusam can range from 700,000 right up to 1.5 million. At Batu Caves, devotees faithfully carry their offerings and kavadi bearers staunchly shoulder their burdens up 272 steps to the temple.

Celebrations also take place in other parts of the country. Other principal places of celebration include the Waterfall Temple in Penang and Kallumalai Temple in Ipoh, Perak.

A procession accompanying the chariot bearing the Hindu deity as it makes its way to the temple during Thaipusam

Thaipusam, to any who are lucky to witness the festivities, is both a vivid celebration of colours and a fascinating display of faith. Yet, this is not the only Hindu festival that is worth bearing witness to. Other holy days, important to Hindu belief and culture, are just as interesting and engrossing.

Deepavali, literally meaning “rows of lamps”, for example, is a celebration of light triumphing over dark. On this day in the Tamil month of Aippasi (October – November), one legend has it that the Lord Krishna defeated the demon king Naraka. Hindus celebrate the occasion by anointing themselves in oil and partaking in a ritual bath early in the morning on Deepavali day. Then new clothes are worn and prayers are performed. Deepavali is quite possibly the best known Hindu festival in Malaysia. Other festivals besides Thaipusam and Deepavali are:

Thai-ponggal

Celebrated for four days, beginning from the first day of the Tamil month of Thai, Ponggal means the “boiling over” of rice and is a thanksgiving to the elements that have contributed to a good harvest – mainly the sun and the cattle. On this day, the cattle gets a well-deserved day of rest, a good wash and their sheds similarly get a thorough cleaning. They are also decorated with garlands and fed with ponggal – sweet rice. The Sun God is thanked as well with both prayers and sweet rice. But the gratitude isn’t only limited to the Sun God and the cattle; on the third day of celebration, visits are made to family and friends, employers customarily present gifts to their employees and single women present offerings to their home deities, praying for a worthy husband.

Sivarathiri

Taking place on the 13th night of the Tamil month of Masi (February – March), this is a festival of fasting and prayers. It is also known as Shiva’s Night.

Panguni Utthiram

This festival falls on the same day as that of Lord Shiva’s union with Parvathi and the birth of Lord Murugan from sparks emanating from Lord Shiva’s eyes. Falling on the day of the full moon in the Tamil month of Panguni (March – April), the festival is celebrated much like Thaipusam in Murugan temples.

Tamil New Year

Here new year refers to the first day of the Tamil month of Chittirai (April – May). It is on this day that the sun enters the first sign of the Hindu zodiac – Aries. During the Tamil New Year (also known as the Hindu New Year), the house is thoroughly cleaned and decorated. This includes the prayer room which will be adorned with gold jewellery, rice, silk cloths and other favourable objects. Those who take part in the celebrations wear new clothes, eat a vegetarian meal and go to the temple to perform prayers.

Navaratthiri

Literally meaning “Nine Nights”, this festival is celebrated in the Tamil month of Puraddasi (September – October). The celebrations are in honour of the goddess Shakti, who is the “Great Divine Mother” in Hindu belief. On this day, a kolu – a dais with nine steps – is filled with the images of Hindu deities and saints while the “Great Divine Mother” is invited to take her place on a kumpam – a beautifully decorated, water-filled pot that is covered with husked coconut as well as mango leaves and placed on banana leaf that also has rice on it. Offerings in the form of nine types of grains are placed at the kumpan as well.

 


Map: Batu Caves


Mini Thaipusam

Mini Thaipusam in living colour

Miss World Malaysia 2009 Thanuja Ananthan

Colours of Deepavali [PIC]

Oil Lamp or Vilakku

Deepavali – The Festival of Lights

Malaysian Children

Festivals and celebrations in Malaysia

Arulmugu Sri Ruthra Veeramuthu Maha Mariamman Temple

A temple stands proud

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Malaysia Travel Guide

Thaipusam

Thaipusam is celebrated by Hindus on the full moon day in the Thai month of the Tamil calendar, which is in January or February.

Also known as Thaipooyam or Thaippooyam in Malayalam, it is a festival to mark the birth of Lord Murugan, the youngest son of Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvati.

The festival also marked an occasion when Parvati gave Murugan a vel (lance) so he could vanquish the evil demon Soorapadman.

Hindu devotees in Malaysia celebrated Thaipusam on 8th Feb 2009 to mark the birth of Lord Murugan by going to several temples in the country.

The chanting of “vel, vel” rose above Batu Caves as an estimated 1.2 million Hindu devotees and visitors thronged the Sri Subramaniar Swamy Temple for Thaipusam 2009.

Here are some amazing photos of the celebration of Thaipusam.

Malaysia Thaipusam 2009
Image credit: SJ Photography

Image Malaysia Thaipusam 2009

Photo Malaysia Thaipusam 2009
Image credit: kiki-la-la

Photos Malaysia Thaipusam 2009
Image credit: xiangxi

Images Malaysia Thaipusam 2009
Image credit: xiangxi

Event Malaysia Thaipusam 2009
Image credit: xiangxi