A Rishi, Three Goats, Four Seasons, and a Full Half-Journey

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Shoja, Inner Seraj Valley, Kullu District, Himachal Pradesh



May 15, 2015





“....the path ...... must eventually be abandoned, just as you abandon a boat when you reach the other shore. You must disembark once you have arrived. At the point of total realisation, you must abandon . The spiritual path is a temporary solution, a placebo to be used until emptiness is understood.”



Dzongsar Jamyang Khyentse





The plan mooted a week ahead was to trek up to the nearby mountain sacred site of Skiran with a friend (Ved) to witness the huge local religious ceremony held there in May each year.

This particular ceremonial festival is where the Shringi Rishi god statue is carried to Skiran (where there is a small wooden Shringi Rishi temple) from his usual temple abode below Chehni (four hours by foot) and answers devotees prayers (through mediums called 'gours') in return for them sacrificing goats and sheep.

Shringi Rishi was a legendary Hindu saint of the Ramayan era of ancient India, now immortalised as a very powerful deity of Inner Seraj (the valley I am in) and is associated with the yagya (sacrificial ritual) which the Rishi performed in Tretayug to bless Raja Dashrath with sons (among them Rama). And so Shringi Rishi is credited with powers to grant male progeny. He was also an expert in the super science of mantras and the guru of Lord Rama.

On the appointed day, I woke up and it had been full and hard rain most of the night. Rather than late Spring and the summery days of the week gone, it felt like Winter (well maybe not quite; not here where Winter is full snow and minus temperatures), or at best mid-Autumn or early Spring, and I did not fancy going to a mountain camp where there were no facilities, getting wet and cold on the way and then trying to keep warm over night.

The plan with Ved was to meet at his cafe on the road below my house at about 11 am, get ready, and set off around 12 noon for the 4 hour trek, to reach Skiran coming from the opposite direction than Chehni. At about 10 am, with the rain still pelting down and the valley in full mist, Ved rang me to say he was thinking of not going (just like me) because of the bad weather which he said would surely be worse up on the mountain. At about 11.30 am I rang him because the rain had stopped and the mist was lifting from the valley. We agreed I would come down and we would then decide to go or not. When I got there, two of Ved's friends were also there ready to come with us. We waited some time for the weather as it was again raining a bit. And of course we have a couple of chais. Then another friend shouts out from above the road (his village) saying he would like to come with us as well. So we have to wait for another 40 minutes for him to get ready and by this time it must have been about 1 pm at least. We wandered down to the village of Gyagi where the track starts. Ved and his friends started talking to other friends there and bought a few things from the local shops to take (Skiran has nothing... you must bring your own food).

And so... by the time we left Gyagi it must have been past 2 pm.... and by the time we climbed (and its a big climb... probably at least 1,000 metres up) to Sirthi tartch it was after 4 pm and Ved and his friends decide to eat chowmein at one of the makeshift dhabas. By the time they were ready to leave for the final 2 or so hours to Skiran it was already past 5 pm.

Sirthi tartch is a staging point half way (well maybe it's ¾ way distance wise but not in terms of the time it takes) to Skiran. A tartch is a kind of village 'commons' or mella ground; a clearing or open field. I had been there before on my way to another mountain a couple of years before. It is so peaceful and so beautiful... a vast grass area resembling a filled in volcanic lake (and in fact that seems to be exactly what it is because one local told me the legend of a Rishi god coming and moving the lake to another place). It only has one house overlooking it and is otherwise remote from the lower village of Sirthi itself. It has a very cute open sided little wooden temple hut typical of Kullu District.

I made a decision not to go with Ved and his friends to Skiran that day as it would be dark when they arrived. Also I was feeling pretty tired from the climb so far. I pitched my tent on a soft flat grassy part of the tartch. The plan now was that I would get up at about 4.30 am and then trek up to not miss the ceremonies going on early at Skiran (including the illegal sacrifice of 100s of goats and sheep. The Indian Government had recently passed a law against animal sacrifice in India, but the locals were having none of that against their age old religious traditions).

But... meanwhile when we arrived at Sirthi tartch a god had arrived (carried up) in full fanfare from Gyagi (horns sounding, drums beating, and flutes playing). I found out that this was the same Shringi Rishi god as the one which would be arriving at Skiran (i.e. another manifestation of the same god, but a different actual statue).. and that Sirthi tartch temple had exactly the same significance as the one at Skiran and that there would be the same rituals happening here as well. The only difference I was told, was that here all would be low-key and shanti with just 3 goats sacrificed verses at Skiran where their would be thousands of people and hundreds of goats and sheep getting the chop.

I woke up at 4.30 am... mainly because I was cold... and went to the temple to get warm around the huge fire that had been burning all night (to keep the dozen or so men warm whose duty it was to keep the god company and appropriately serviced (about every hour during the night the horns and drums and flutes would start up for a few minutes). I then decided that here was very nice (Sirthi tartch)... that I would stay and not go up and bust my guts to get to some chaotic mella of thousands of people with so much bloodshed going on at Skiran.

A good decision it was too... so nice just wandering around the tartch, keeping warm by fires at various points, talking to people (I was the only foreigner there and later I was told by people returning from Skiran that there were no foreigners there either), having chai and pakora and allu channa and jellabi ... and of course the odd beadie spliff being offered to me (what to do? It would have been rude to refuse). The morning was now fully fine and back to Spring glory (no rain) and the light was incredible as the sun began to streak through the huge Deodar trees. By about 9 am I was fully thawed.... after my cold night.... and began to shed my many layers. I even found a really flat grassy spot behind my tent to do my hatha yoga.

The sacrificing was not so peaceful, but contextually it did fit the occasion and was done with religious respect. I was banned from taking pictures because of concern about the Government's new laws. The first sacrifice was pretty dramatic....two wallas in dhotis dragged a poor goat up onto the roof of the temple, straddling the ridge board.... and all of a sudden.... swish, one makes a clean blow with a huge very sharp saber, cutting the head clean off. The head rolled down one side of the roof onto the ground and the body down the other. They threw flour all over the blood and that was that for the goat. The other three were beheaded around the grounds of the temple over the next hour or so. Later they cut the meat up ready for people to take home. I think there was a bit of a meat party at Sirthi tartch itself after I left, but certainly (specially from all the sacrifice going on at Skiran) meat was very much on the menu in the many valley villages that night. A local friend had told me some days before that when his wife was pregnant 5 years ago, he had taken a goat to Skiran to be sacrificed and to ask the god for a boy (which did then happen. Well it was at least a 50%!c(MISSING)hance). It might be interesting to do a census of males born between now and February in the valley villages as well.

While all this was going on, people would line up in front of the two gours attending. These guys are somehow chosen by the gods, grow their hair long, often in dreadlocks, which are kept covered usually with a white turban type hat or scarf and only let down during such ceremonies. The gours would then hand out mustard seeds to supplicants lining up with hands outstretched. If you got an odd number or 10 seeds, you were in luck for your future and could even ask a specific question of the gour. Otherwise (if you scored a 2, 4, 6, or 8) you simply threw them away and kept asking for more until you got an odd number or 10. Apparently this all works well, even though it is less lucky to not get an odd number or 10 on the first occasion.

I left there about 10.30 am and headed back to Jibhi via the house I used to stay in at a village called Solanu. I caught up with some friends there, got a glimpse of how the inside of the house I had lived in now looked (now occupied by the family who owned it) and had mint tea before heading the 1,000 metres down through the beautiful Deodar forest to Jibhi. On the way it felt like Summer again, and that was enough to entice me to jump the path and take a dip in a very fresh mountain creek just below the village of Kotachi.

Once in Jibhi, I caught a bus back to Gyagi... had a tali at a dhaba and walked back to Ved's cafe. Suddenly the clouds came over the mountains, thunder clapped, and I was walking in heavy rain and hail. Again it was cold. I got home to a welcome hot shower.

So... all in all a very nice, albeit varied, time.

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Comments

[Kuan Yin]

Thanks for the interlude
Thanks, Paul. I always enjoy reading your stories, and this one gave me a peek into a world unknown to me.

[Marguerite]

What a day!
Beats sitting in pre departure brief in hotel conference rooms in Adelaide. As always luving your adventures luvy. Best hugs

[D MJ Binkley]

So much India and so little time
A great climb once everyone got organized. Sounds like you made a great decision to go it alone mid way. Interesting ceremony. Sorry it was so cold.

[taracloud]

So wise to use intuition!
Yes, three goats sacrificed vs hundreds and enjoying spring weather in the less populated spot vs a hard climb and thousands of people--these sound like wise decisions. It seems as we age, it seems we no longer feel that need to "prove" that we can make it "all the way," and accept the blessings of knowing when we've arrived. Such an amazing experience that most of us will never experience--thanks for sharing!