Blessings from the Dead

While the world around me was engaged in playing dress-up with sculptures, lighting up buildings, bursting crackers, drunk dancing, confusing fish and being a general nuisance in the name of an elephant-headed god, there was a somewhat morbid ritual going on in my home. The occasion was my grandma's seventeenth death anniversary and every year on this day, my family calls over vathiyars (pandits) to perform rituals according to Tamil Brahmin customs. While the premise of Brahmins outsourcing pujas itself is ridiculous, I'm not vocally against the ritual as it is humbling.

The holy nature of this ritual, however, is forgotten the moment the vathiyars cease their incoherent chanting and get down to business. Of course, these holy men are offered fruits and coffee. But every man, holy or otherwise, also requires some things that don't grow on trees. Their fees increase with the times and let's just say it can feed a family for a few days. For some reason you might even have to pay for vathiyars who weren't there. I guess they were present spiritually, whatever. It's a small price to pay for a blessing from someone who died almost two decades back.

My parents, unfortunately, will have to languish in Limbo as I refuse to do such god-knows-from-which-century rituals myself, despite being a theist. I know heaven is a bitchin' place, but I'm assuming souls that transcend space and time aren't so busy that they can only bless you once a year. I told my parents to haunt me if they needed a ritual done and they agreed. Resources can be put to better use than pretending to talk to the dead.


Comments

  1. ha ha luv the blurb :) especially the haunting part . Blog has really improved continue writing v witty

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