Kasi Chombu

We had a little bit of rain today. It was not the kind of rain that I described in Summer Tempest. No, this was a silent rain, the kind that creeps in quietly, descending as a very fine mist, recognized only by the wet ground later. Living in San Diego, I have become accustomed to long dry spells, but this year has been particularly dry. I remember the first rain during the year we moved to San Diego. I was at the grocery store when all of a sudden people were rushing to the front. I was surprised to learn that the commotion was caused by the fact that it had started to rain and quite sharply. Apparently, it was a novelty for water to come out of the sky here. 

Naturally, today's bit of rain made news. But it was certainly not significant. It did not cause water to run in streams or collect in puddles. And so I was surprised to find water running down the street when I walked out after the rain. It turned out that it was actually the runoff from someone's lawn where the sprinklers had come on! I thought it looked like a miniature river as it flowed down the side of the street. I walked alongside for some time as the water meandered down toward the storm drain that would eventually take it to the Pacific ocean. I felt a childish pleasure watching that  little stream of water on the street, remembering the days when we used to sail paper boats down such streams.

I wondered if rivers actually began their journey in this humble manner. Or did they dash down madly all at once? How magical it would be to witness the birth of a river! King Bhagiratha did just that (as related in the Ramayana) when he got the celestial river Ganga to come down to the earth. Of course, it was no easy task getting Ganga to descend from heaven. It took many years of hard penance. Finally, when she came down, she was swallowed up by Shiva's matted locks and was released in seven gentle streams so that the world would be spared her destructive force. Of these, one followed Bhagiratha's chariot.

Descent of Ganga (Mahabalipuram Sculpture)

"The effulgent royal sage Bhagiratha, sitting in a divine chariot, moved ahead and Ganga followed him."(Valmiki Ramayana 1-43-30/31)
"In whichever direction Bhagiratha went, Ganga followed"
(Valmiki Ramayana 1-43-33)

This is the part that really thrills me even today. Ganga followed Bhagiratha faithfully, full of vigour, dancing to his tune, overflowing the banks here and there as he made his way to the ocean.  Imagine being present to watch the first drop of water emerge from the river's source. Imagine guiding the river down the hills, along the plains and into the ocean. I wonder if Bhagiratha said, "Alright, let's take a left here around these villages here and there, hang a right by the woods", and so on. Were there natural channels for the river to flow into or did she carve out the banks instantaneously? Did Bhagiratha really lead her or just ride along as she made her way? Either way, it was a sight like none other. It is said that there was a veritable stampede in the sky as celestial beings jockeyed for the best viewing positions.

Born in heaven and sanctified further by her contact with Lord Shiva, the Ganga is held sacred by Hindus and a pilgrimage to Kasi and other holy places on her banks is a must for devout Hindus. While Bhagirtha might have brought the river from heaven to earth through extraordinary effort, ordinary people take her water to their homes in far flung parts of the country with much greater ease. Those who go on the pilgrimage to Kasi carry back some Ganga water in sealed copper pots or 'Kasi Chombus' (chombu - pot or vessel) as they are known when they return. They would also bring lengths of black threads called 'Kasi kayaru' (Kayaru - rope/string) which were given to kith and kin to wear as bracelets around the wrist, symbolizing a pledge to make the pilgrimage one day.

It is common to see the little sealed pots alongside idols and pictures of God and Goddesses in the pooja room in traditional homes. When I was young, I used to be intrigued by these little 'Kasi Chombus' . They were part of the retinue in the altar and obviously held an important place. You could shake them and hear the liquid sloshing inside. The pots were never unsealed or at least it seemed that way. I did not understand their purpose until the day my grandmother passed away. On that day, one of the pots was opened so that she could be given a little Ganga water which is believed to purify one of all sins. When I heard the story of Bhagiratha, I learned that he too had brought the Ganga down to earth so that her waters could wash over the ashes of his dead ancestors and enable their souls to go to heaven.

Some have suggested that the Ganga that had been locked up frozen in the folds of the mountain during the ice age, had started flowing again with the warming of the earth and this might have been immortalized in the story of Bhagritha and Ganga. Stories apart, the importance of the Ganga, a lifeline to hundreds of millions, is very real and tangible. Like the rain, the Ganga too has her origin in the heavens. Like the rain, she too sustains life on this earth. But unlike the rain, it is said that she takes care of our lives in the next world too. She provides both external and internal purification. She is Mother Ganga. May we respect her and keep her waters pure.

Ganga's Descent Image Courtesy: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/6/69/Descent_of_the_Ganges_01.jpg/320px-Descent_of_the_Ganges_01.jpg