“Whore!”

“Rotten c*nt!”

“Ugly, unlucky widow!”

“May you rot in hell!”

These are the “relatively benign” curses hurled by a group of traditional abusers (asaadis) at the fierce Goddess Marikamba, who looks on wide-eyed over the triennale festival in the taluka town of Sagar in Shimoga district of North-West Karnataka's Western Ghat region.

This week-long festival of the town's presiding deity whose temple was built in the centre of the township during Venkatappa Nayak's reign. He ruled over Keladi and Ikkeri kingdom during the 16th CE. “The Nayaka dynasty who invoked the goddess before setting out in battle, began the triennale tradition which now sees lakhs converging from not only all over Karnataka but South Maharashtra, Goa, North Kerala and Western Andhra Pradesh too,” points out temple committee vice president, U L Manjappa. “There are records of visiting Maratha chieftains and landed gentry from neighbouring Goa which date back to early 17th CE.”

Caste, patriarchy, misogyny mix

But why is abuse part of the tradition? The answer to that question is a deadly mix of caste, patriarchy, cult mythology and misogyny which has the indelible religious stamp of approval.

The mythological tale associated with the goddess harks back to when pre-pubescent marriages of young girls was the norm, points out Manjappa who adds, “Any girl who hit puberty before marriage had to be forsaken in the forests. Accordingly a young Marikamba who was born into a Hayvaka Brahmin family was abandoned. There, seduced by a fair, handsome young man who lied about his caste, she married him and had a son. It was only when she saw her young son sewing together leaves was she curious. The son ended up telling her he had picked it from his cobbler father. Furious at how 'her honour was deceitfully taken' she slayed both the father and son.”

It is this fierce (some say macabre) narrative that has been worshipped in Sagar for centuries. “Up until the late 70s a he-buffalo representing her cobbler husband and a goat representing the son were slaughtered in a sacrifice before annointing her with the blood,” says Nagendra Kumtha, the 60-year-old temple committee treasurer who has kept his tryst with triennale since his birth.

Blood on the floor

Flanking the shrine are two others: Marikamba's maternal home and her marital one. The festival kicks off with a specially made 20-feet tall red-faced idol of the goddess (carved from a single jackfruit trunk) taken in a procession from her maternal home in a huge overnight procession that takes her to a pandal set up near her marital home.

“The ritual worship before she leaves in a procession to the accompaniment of music and dance performances is reserved for uppercastes. Tradtional offerings to a new bride, like coconuts, rice, banana bunches, green bangles, blouse-pieces, saris and jewellery form the staples of their offering.”

Once she reaches her marital abode, the godess who was sporting a traditional kalash in her hands now weilds a sword. Now widowed, she is stripped of her bridal get up and is dressed like a warrior. Adorned with large canine teeth to mark her fierce form, she now wields an axe, trident and a sword. Here castes representing saltpan workers, washermen, musicians, cattle castraters, leather curers, midwives, hangmen, undertakers all line up to worship with roosters and lambs for sacrifice.

While the system of slaughtering a he-buffalo has been abandoned, blood drawn in a syringe from a young male is still mixed with rice (charaga) which is then sprinkled around the perimetre of the township. “In historical times this was preceded by a town crier since anyone who crossed the path had to also be sacrificed like the he-buffalo,” points out Kumtha. “Till the 70s such persons would have their index finger pricked and this blood would be added to the canister carrying the charaga.”

A raging protector

It is here that the goddess is then hurled choiciest abuses by asaadis in a bid to get her angry. Somashekhara Sanappa, a Dalit leader and ardent Marikamba devotee says: “The goddess is somnolent for three years. This rouses her anger and wakes her up. It is only when furious that she can protect devotees from disease and disaster.”

Unlike some Dalit groups who have advocated stoppage of a ritual which underlines their lower status, many like Somashekhar find nothing wrong in owning and making the most of that status. “Until a few years ago, asaadis who came for the ritual abuse were simply made to stay out in the open. They would get their own rice and offerings. Given that most are poor daily wage labourers, they would end up running huge debts every three years.”

In 2012, he organised a protest and said the Dalits would not perform the ritual if they were not compensated and given boarding and lodging by the temple trust. “This led to an impasse as the whole festival came to a standstill. When they threatened violence we promised to fight them back tooth and nail. Ultimately they agreed to our terms. Now the Dalit devotees also get equal respect at the festival.”

Syncretic flavour

Incidentally the festival draws a huge crowd of Muslims from across India. “Almost all the stalls and rides are run by Muslims who come from all over,” says local septuagenarian Amir Sayyed who has been setting up a stall bang outside the temple for over five decades.

One of Kannada's most well-known litterateurs Na D'Souza admitted that the festival had syncretic flavour from the beginning. “While Christian families in the region, like mine, may not actually go to the temple, a plate of offerings and money is unfailingly passed on through Hindu neighbours since they too believe Marikamba is the Mother Goddess who protects.”

Patriarchy to the fore

Before we leave we can't resist asking Manjappa if he doesn't think the swearing insults women. “Even if she is a goddess, she has crossed a line by marrying someone below her caste. Obviously she has to pay the price for that.”

Now you know why the goddess sees red?