There is a story about a Samuthiri (Zamorin) of Calicut that has some bearing on the recent debate on the depiction of Maa Kali on a film poster. In the mid-18th century, the then Samuthiri after praying at the Varakkal Bhagawati temple was given a slice of fish and a sip of toddy, which was the prasadam at that time. As he partook of the blessed gift he saw that the Eralapad, the heir apparent, had thrown away his portion. The Samuthiri told his younger brother: “Our dynasty will be ruined during your rule”.
Years passed and the Eralapad of the story became the Samuthiri. It was during his reign that Haider Ali of Mysore invaded Calicut, the first to do so in the four or five hundred years since the city was founded. (Given the lopsided nature of history teaching in India, not many would know that the overlords of Malabar fought off the Portuguese for a century and the Dutch for another. Many would also not know that when the Mysore forces entered his city, the Samuthiri blew up a powder magazine with his own hands, destroying himself and most of his palace).
It must first be noted that the Samuthiris were mostly vegetarian, especially when they rose to the sthanams (the first five positions in the dynasty). That did not prevent one from accepting the prasadam, while the other rejected it. In imbibing fish and toddy, the ruler sought divine blessings for his realm and his family. The one who rejected the prasadam seemed to have prioritised his own moksha. There might not be a single doctrine in the Hindu belief systems that treats the Eralapad of the story as nobler than the Samuthiri.
The purpose of narrating this story is to reiterate what every Hindu knows about their faith or way of life. There is no single path and no single conceptualisation of what divinity is. In certain parts of the country, the Devi might be conceptualised as a soft, benign figure who sits demurely on her tiger. In other parts, especially much of the dehat, she is either a fiery warrior or a stern, demanding matriarch. Sacrifice is her due.
For all the legislatively-imposed bans of a century or more, animal sacrifices are still undertaken in many parts of the country. In some temples, vegetables and coconut milk are used as symbolic substitutes. In other places, the blood rituals are conducted on sites close to but outside the perimeter of the temple. There might even be a few shrines which form blind spots for the civil authorities, where the ritual is performed openly. Why? The bali, especially during Dussehra, is an integral part of the traditions of most regiments of the Indian army. If chickens and goats can be cut for the dining table, why not for the altar?
Anthropologists should be able to explain why alcohol has been a traditional part of these forms of worship. Intoxicants were probably an intrinsic part of the earliest fertility rites and the connection seems to have carried on into the Shakteya system. After all, the Devi is the provider of all the bounty in the world and there is a need to exalt and celebrate her fecundity. Mood elevation by using the products of that bounty is one way of doing so.
A good half of the Hindu community in the country would be on the same wavelength as the TMC’s Mahua Moitra up to this point. What about the further contention that the depiction of a “smoking Devi” should be given the same treatment? First of all, there is the reality that tobacco confers no benefit, not even mood elevation, and causes only harm. Should inspiring figures, deities included, be shown as indulging in this habit? That weed-ingesting sadhus are endemic to places of worship is not an adequate counter. The main ingredient in their chillums is not tobacco and marijuana is said to have some medicinal use.
From this perspective, the idea of Devi with a cigarette seems a silly, gimmicky, distortion. Personally, I find it offensive. But certainly not offensive enough to want to hurt the person responsible or agitate for her arrest or silencing. On the other hand, I cannot buy into the argument that this is a depiction appropriate to an age of liberation. Perhaps the pull of tradition is too strong. Then again, so is the strength of a devotion that says the Devi is too mighty to be belittled by needless controversy.
The writer is former editor of Mathrubhumi
