Religions of India in Practice

The following songs are sung by Rajasthani women at rātijagās (literally “night wakes”), which are held in conjunction with auspicious occasions such as births, weddings, and home consecrations. Women gather together with female relatives, friends, and perhaps servants to spend an entire night singing praises to their ancestors and to the various deities who protect their families. If women neglect to perform these wakes, ancestors and deities may retaliate by making mischief; they may cause sickness, poverty, and discord.

Included in this collection of songs are various ancestral songs that introduce the reader to well-known categories of ancestral spirits and fundamental Hindu conceptions of the afterlife, salvation, fertility, prosperity, and devotion. The first few songs are dedicated to satīs or satīmātās, women who immolated themselves on their husbands’ funeral pyres and so became divinities. Following these are songs devoted to jhūṇjhārs, divine heroes who once died in battle. Like satīs, jhūṇjhārs are powerful protectors of descendants. The next two songs are dedicated to ancestors, (pūrbajs) particularly those who, like heroes, died suddenly or unexpectedly. The final song is about the rātijagā itself and is included here to provide ritual context.

See Stuart H. Blackburn, “Death and Deification: Folk Cults in Hinduism,” History of Religions 24:3 (1985), 255-74; Peter J. Claus, “Medical Anthropology and the Ethnography of Spirit Possession,” Contributions to Asian Studies 18 (1983), 60-72; Diane M. Coccari, “The Bir Babas of Banaras and the Deified Dead,” in Criminal Gods and Demon Devotees, edited by Alf Hiltebeitel (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1989), pp. 259-69; Paul Courtright, The Goddess and the Dreadful Practice (New York: Oxford University Press, forthcoming); Ann Grodzins Gold, Fruitful Journeys: The Ways of Rajasthani Pilgrims (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1988); Lindsey Harlan, Religion and Rajput Women: The Ethic of Protection in Contemporary Narratives (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1991); and Sudhir Kakar, Shamans, Mystics, and Doctors: A Psychological Inquiry into India and Its Healing Traditions (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1982).

The first song relates a conversation between a satī and her devar or husband’s younger brother. In Indian folklore and popular imagination, the relationship between a wife and her devar is a close one; the rule of avoidance that applies to a woman’s older male in-laws does not pertain to younger ones. Here the wife enlists her devar to help her get ready to follow her husband’s body to the pyre so she can become a satī (literally, a “good woman”). She asks her devar to fetch or buy jewelry so she can proceed to the pyre adorned with all the marks of an auspiciously married woman—earrings, a nose ring, bangles, and so on. Devoid of these, she would appear as a widow, an inauspicious woman, and not a satī, a woman who retains her auspiciousness despite her husband’s death.

The ornaments are listed in head-to-toe order, as is typical of devotional songs of this nature in Rajasthan and elsewhere in India. The sari for which she asks is saffron (kesar), the color associated with renunciation of desire and with sacrifice of life. The saffron sari is usually draped over a red skirt and blouse. Connoting auspiciousness, red is the color worn by brides. Together the saffron and red convey the auspiciousness of the satī’s self-sacrifice.

The song employs a dialogue between two people, which is a common convention in rātijagā songs. The dialogue is punctuated with a refrain that continually reestablishes the presence of the singers. Their command, “cool the satī under a shady banyan tree” suggests that the satī becomes especially warm as she prepares to join her husband in the afterlife. A satī is believed to possess great stores of sat, a moral fuel that heats up at the time a woman decides to become a satī, and it can spontaneously ignite. The singers want the satī to be comforted, perhaps with sprinkles of water—the Rajasthani word they use, sīlāo, means both “cool” and “dampen.” Banyan trees are often located near village wells or tanks. Here the water with which they cool the satī may be coming from such a source. Support for this reading comes from the variant “lead the satī to the shady banyan tree” and from the line in a jhūṇjhār song (below), which has a jhūṇjhār adorning himself by a tank under a banyan tree. In this context, the satī’s cooling could be associated with the ritual bathing that a satī does before ascending a pyre. An alternate reading of the line has the singers asking that the satī’s memorial stone be cooled or dampened, as the monuments marking a satī’s presence are frequently located under such trees and near water. Memorial stones receive lustrations as part of ritual devotion. The problem with this reading is that it seems inconsistent with the “lead the satī” variant, unless the leading of the satī refers to establishing her presence in a memorial stone for the very first time. Native exegesis favors the first reading.

The second song is sung by someone, presumably a female relative or maid-servant, who is helping a satī dress for the procession to the pyre. Here the satī is not instructing but being instructed; she is encouraged to hurry as her husband’s body and entourage are waiting for her. Her husband rests under a balcony, an oriel of sorts, adorned with a screen of tiny windows through which women, who keep seclusion (parda), can observe the outside world without being observed. The satī’s companion looks out through a screen to the screened oriel she is describing. The architectural references suggest that the scene is an estate or palace. The husband who awaits her is a young man, which makes the satī an especially poignant paradigm of self-sacrifice. This song employs the head-to-toe convention found in the first one. In such songs many different ornaments could be listed by the singers. Any list of this sort reflects caste or family convention, the taste of the singers, and the amount of time singers feel motivated to devote to detail.

The final song portrays a visit by a woman who has already died a satī to a household she protects by exercising her supernatural powers. The satī’s footprints are of two colors, saffron (from saffron itself and from turmeric) and red (from kaṅkū—turmeric and lime—and meṇhdi-myrtle stain), which again connote sacrifice and auspiciousness. The head-to-toe description includes jingling anklets, which indicate the satī’s motion as she moves through the household. The description not only conveys an image of what a satī looks like, but also constitutes a list of decorations with which devotees would typically adorn a satī stone. It is thus a useful detailing of both iconography and ritual veneration. The song concludes with a petition for the satī’s presence during this degenerate age, the Kaliyuga or “dark age” of humanity, a time in which it is particularly difficult for human beings to live according to dharma or righteousness.

Satī—1

“Buy me a forehead ornament—do it quickly little brother-in-law.

I will follow my husband (as a satī).

Dear younger brother-in-law—yes, dear little brother-in-law.”

Cool the satī under a shady banyan tree.

“Bring me earrings—do it quickly, little brother-in-law.

Buy my earrings—do it quickly, little brother-in-law.

I will follow my husband. dear little brother-in-law—yes, dear little brother-in-law.”

Cool the satī under the shady banyan tree.

“Bring me a nose ring—do it quickly, little brother-in-law.

I will follow my husband.

O dear little brother-in-law—yes, dear little brother-in-law.”

Lead the satī to the shady banyan tree.

“Buy a necklace—do it quickly, little brother-in-law.

I will follow my husband.

Dear little brother-in-law—yes, O dear little brother-in-law.”

Cool the satī under the shady banyan tree.

“Buy me bangles—do it quickly, little brother-in-law.

Buy me bangles—do it quickly, little brother-in-law.

I will follow my husband.

Dear little brother-in-law—yes, O dear little brother-in-law.”

Cool the satī under the shady banyan tree.

“Buy a saffron-colored sari—do it quickly, little brother-in-law.

Buy a blouse piece quickly, little brother-in-law.

I will follow my husband.

Dear little brother-in-law—yes, O dear little brother-in-law.”

Cool the satī under the shady banyan tree.

“Buy toe rings—do it quickly, little brother-in-law.

Buy ankle bracelets—do it quickly, little brother-in-law.

Dear little brother-in-law—yes, O dear little brother-in-law.”

Cool the satī under the shady banyan tree.

Satī—2

Satīmātā, take a forehead ornament and wear it.

O take a forehead ornament and wear it.

Why the delay for the forehead ornament [hurry up!], Satīmātā?

Your husband’s litter is waiting under the balcony.

Your young man’s litter is waiting under the balcony.

Waiting under the balcony, waiting under the balcony windows.

O Satīmātā, take your earrings and wear them.

Why the delay for the earrings, Satīmātā?

Your husband’s litter. . . .

O Satīmātā, take your nose ring and wear it.

Why the delay for the nose ring, Satīmātā?

Your husband’s litter. . . .

The song continues with other auspicious signs of a married woman—a forehead dot, necklace, bangles, saffron sari, and toe rings.

Satī—3

Why are there saffron footprints in my courtyard?

Why are there turmeric footprints in my courtyard?

Why are there kaṅkū footprints in my courtyard?

Why are there meṇhdi footprints in my courtyard?

Come sit on this throne, Mother.

Sit on this platform (bājoṭ).

With your loose hair, Mother,

On your forehead a line of saffron,

On your eyes a line of lamp black,

Your teeth are decorated with gold.

Your lips are reddened with pan [betel].

On your hands meṇhdi.

On your feet, pungent perfume.

You are covered with a deep red sari,

and the bells on your ankle bracelets are jingling.

In this degenerate age [Kaliyuga], Satīmātā, come and be my guest!

There are many different kinds of heroes venerated in Rajasthan. All have in common the fact that they died in combat. The most championed hero is the jhūṇjhār, who continues to fight even after his head has been severed. The word derives from the verb to fight (jhūṇjhno or jūṇjhno), but the nominal form indicates a person who struggles on in battle to avenge his own death. Whereas the term satī has no good English equivalent (“good woman” is misleadingly broad) the term jhūṇjhār can be loosely glossed as “struggler,” as this captures the spirit of the warrior’s miraculous efforts to recover his dignity and spill enemy blood.

The first song invites the struggler to accept pan, a concoction of spices and tobacco wrapped in betel leaf. Jhūṇjhārs are fond of the same treats and vices they enjoyed while living, and this particular jhūṇjhār has retained a liking for pan. The singers inform him of the devotion to him shared by all the members of their royal family. They also seek blessings from him: they want indestructible wedding saris and bangles, that is, longevity for their husbands; they want marriage and longevity for male offspring; and they want long-lasting eyes and knees for themselves as they approach old age. Having died violent deaths and struggled on despite their deaths, the jhūṇjhārs have great powers over life—the power to extend life and the power to produce it by granting children.

At one point the singers point out that the jhūṇjhār died alone while fighting in a forest. Many jhūṇjhārs die while attempting to retrieve cows single-handedly from a band of cattle thieves. Dying alone, they have no one to perform proper cremation rites, but these are unnecessary because the hero’s death has assured him a place in warrior heaven or vīrgati (literally, “goal of heroes”—the destiny of Hindu warriors since Vedic times). Ascent to warrior heaven is a permanent achievement; it brings liberation from karmic reincarnation.

The jhūṇjhār is called by the epithet “saffron” or “kesariyā,” a designation used to refer to all heroes and, by extension, to all husbands, who are heroes to their wives. I have glossed the epithet as “saffron-donning” because jhūṇjhārs and other heroes wear turbans or clothing of this sacrificial hue as they give up their lives in battle. The hero here is also characterized as “merry” (rangraliyā) and “ruddy” (rangbhariyā), both terms indicating that he is excited and flush with red color due to intoxicants taken before battle, to the intoxication of battle itself, or probably both. The saffron and red colors convey the same connotations as they do in the satī songs.

The second song is a dialogue between a woman and a jhūṇjhār, which is interrupted by the singers’ refrain. It begins with the struggler bathing and adorning himself with appropriate oils, clothing, ornaments, and so on (doing his sṛngār), then going to his fields, where he enjoys a cucumber, a favorite cool snack during the heat of the Indian summer. Throwing seeds into planting rows, he becomes responsible for the future fertility of the fields. From the fields he goes to his house, where he passes through the major rooms as he visits his wife and children.

Like many rātijagā songs, this song reads both as a scenario leading to death—Lord Rāma’s (God’s) invitation is an invitation to die—and as depiction of a visit after death, one like that described in the last satī song. According to the first reading, the hero tours his property and says a final good-bye to his family before facing death. His actions are described through his conversation with the unidentified woman. The dialogue exemplifies a motif common to many jhūṇjhār stories: the hero encounters a woman either on his way to battle, in which case the woman (generally a female relative) tries to stop him, or after his head has been severed but his body has not fallen, in which case the woman (usually a stranger) serves as a witness to the miracle of his headless struggle. According to the second reading, the heroic spirit blesses his house with his presence and is observed by a woman who converses with him. In this case the jhūṇjhār does his toiletry by the tank under a banyan tree where his memorial stone is established. That this reading is also intended is suggested by the verse describing the struggler as having played (khelgyo) in the field. The word “playing” is often used to depict visits by spirits, who enjoy themselves as they visit their properties and families.

The final verse expresses the widely cherished belief that no true warrior can turn his back on his duty to fight. To shrink from a challenge would reflect badly on all relatives with whom the warrior shares blood (kul members). It would especially shame his mother, as mother’s milk is thought to endow sons with strength and courage.

The final song gives a head-to-toe depiction of a jhūṇjhār. It works as a description of the struggler going into battle, a depiction of the spirit appearing in a vision, and as an enumeration of iconographic detail on a memorial stone. The vast majority of strugglers are depicted both in song and in stone as equestrians. Of particular note is the “lovely watch” the struggler wears over his traditional warrior-bracelet. This anachronism reflects the rage for fashionable watches that has swept India, among other countries, in recent years, and illustrates the way rātijagā songs are evolving to accommodate contemporary taste.

Jhūṇjhār—1

My merry struggler—take pan.

My saffron-donning struggler—take pān.

The king worships you—take pān.

Lord, my sons’ wives and grandson’s wives grasp your feet—take pan.

My ruddy struggler—take pan.

The king’s son worships you—take pān.

Lord, make our bangles and red saris indestructible.

My saffron-donning struggler—take pān.

My ruddy struggler—take pān.

Lord, in the forest you fought alone—take pān.

Lord, the king worships you—take pān.

Lord, to the brothers give long life.

Lord, make our bangles and saris indestructible—take pān.

My saffron-donning struggler—take pan.

The grandsons worship you—take pān.

Lord, give the children and adolescents long life—take pān.

Lord, make sure they get married—take pān.

Lord, we singers grasp your feet—take pān.

Lord, give all sons and grandsons long life—take pān.

Lord, make our eyes and knees long-lasting—take pān.

Jhūṇjhār—2

“O struggler, you bathed and washed your dhoti.

O struggler, you bathed and washed it and adorned yourself.”