In God she trusts

Upadhye has reason for taking umbrage — she is a priest, learned in the rites to perform Hindu marriages, funerals, pujas and the Vedas; a woman in a field dominated by men.

“In all these years, not once has anyone questioned or criticised me for performing the puja even though I am a woman. My experience has been that Maharashtra, at least the urban belt, is quite progressive. I am sure there will be a gradual change in the hinterland, too,” says Upadhye, who began studying scriptures at 50, when she sought voluntary retirement from her job as an auditor in the state government’s auditor-general’s office.

Her father and father-in-law played a big role in encouraging Upadhye to train as a priest. “I was never very spiritual. But after taking voluntary retirement, there was a void in my life. I was not interested in kitty parties and shopping. At their behest, I joined a class to learn the Vedas and puja. I increasingly felt at peace,” she says.

Dressed in a sari with flowers in her hair, Upadhye says this time of the year, the Hindu calendar month of Margashirsha, is a lean period. “I am usually very busy in the months of Shravan, Bhadrapad and Ashwin, going to other people’s houses with my group of stree purohits (women priests) to perform pujas there,” she says.

Satisfied with her preparations for the puja, the septuagenarian sits ramrod straight, declaiming Sanskrit mantras in a clear, strong voice; 10 other women priests accompany her. She makes an offering of flowers, sacred threads, vermilion, performs a doodh abhishek, cleansing the deity with milk, and lights an incense stick. Upadhye spends the next couple of hours in deep concentration.

Upadhye is one of several women in Maharashtra who, over the past two decades, have mastered the scriptures, attained priesthood, and regularly travel to offer their services. “We are more sincere than our male counterparts. It could be because we are more devoted to god, but it is also because we have a constant fear of being judged for being a woman doing what has historically been a man’s job,” says Upadhye, seated in her prayer room, a small enclosure in her two-bedroom apartment.

Upadhye’s day begins at 5.30 am to prepare breakfast and lunch for her 80-year-old husband, a lawyer who still practices; she also packs a tiffin for her daughter, a doctor. After cleaning the house, she performs an elaborate puja. Then, she steps out to perform her duties as a priest.

Today, at least 25 families spread across Thane, Dombivali and Badlapur regularly call her home to perform a number of rituals, especially laghu rudras and maha rudras for Shiva, and sahastravartan for Ganesh.

On days that she does not have to venture out, she spends her time revising and reciting her scriptures. On Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays, she sharpens her recitation of the rudras, verses for Shiva; on Sundays, it is the saurasukta for the sun, and on other days, it is the Ganapati Atharvasheersha, and Sri Sukta and the Purusha Sukta, verses in the Rig Veda.

A few days later, as the laghu rudra puja finally draws to a close, she draws a swastika on the wooden chaurang and offers a plate of pedas in front of the idol. The small stack of books filled with Sanskrit verses that she had kept next to her as a reference has mostly remained untouched. With an effort, she heaves herself up, letting out a relieved sigh, as the blood returns to her legs, cramped sore from sitting continuously for nearly three hours. “Please sit on a chair the next time,” a younger woman purohit says to Upadhye.
She firmly retorts, “Absolutely not. As long as my body works, I will do everything properly. It is, after all, god’s grace.”

She firmly retorts, “Absolutely not. As long as my body works, I will do everything properly. It is, after all, god’s grace.”