Durga Asthami in the last village of India

October 24, 2020: It is a rainy Saturday in Guwahati, and I am finding comfort in a cup of piping hot tea. Sitting near the window, i hear raindrops crashing on the metal roof, creating the familiar pitter-patter sound. The air exposed to the divine smell of petrichor is attaching an unusual pace of calm to the neighborhood. Strange for the auspicious day of Durga Ashtami, weird as the now-quiet streets used to display a scene filled with the chatter of locals jostling to the temple for darshan. Kids happily carrying toys and ballons fetched from the mela, women draped in their best sarees, and the familiar tunes of honking swarmed these streets. But, the pandemic this year has played its cards to keep the celebrations of Durga puja at the bay. The new normal. As I gaze at the evening sky covered in the blanket of gray clouds, my mind wavers back to the night of 6th October 2019. The night of Durga Asthami in 2019, the night when i bore witness to the celebration of Durga Ashtami in the last village of India, Chitkul.

6th October 2019: With dirty boots partially filled with snow and gravel, I returned to Zostel Chitkul after the tiresome trek along the great Baspa River.

After a much needed hot shower, i got informed by the Zostel receptionist that the nearby Mathi Temple stood set to hold a ceremony to celebrate Durga Ashtami. In a couple of minutes, i managed to slip into a fresh pair of thermals and some thick layers of clothing, ready to witness something new and entirely unaware of things to be unfolded. The evening started to crawl down the village. The snow-capped mountains in the background got hazed by a pack of descending clouds.

On the western horizon, the sun stood starkly behind the dark sky, blinking through the clouds at a regular interval. I called it the peek-a-boo of skies. With a pack of other travelers in Zostel, I walked through the weather-beaten uphill road and saw villagers carrying firewood to their houses. The street laced with the five colors of Tibetan prayer flags that held the mantra 'Om Ma Ni Padme Hum.' fluttered in the evening breeze. According to tradition, the prayer flags carry the prayers along with the wind so that they can reach everyone in need.

After a few minutes of walking inside the village, my gaze stumbled upon the wooden top of the Mathi Temple, peering through an array of huts. The Mathi temple stood gloriously in the middle of the village. I was not a big fan of architecture but, a mere gaze at the temple in its full pomp and glory changed it forever. The temple complex encompassed three different chambers, each of them intricately designed with Walnut wood that shined under the yellowish lights. The grandest chamber where the deity resided carried two brilliantly carved dragons coiled around the front pillars. The razor-sharp teeth, big furious eyes, and the scales on its body stood boldly, designed to perfection. The receptionist strictly advised us about the prohibition of travelers from entering the diety chamber and kept note of it.

I stood there in the middle of the massive temple complex, basking in the yellow light that shined from the overhead lamps, exposed to the cold Himalayan breeze. Silence engulfed the atmosphere, and i remember tasting peace at that moment. But, my brief moment of peace got knocked out by the sounds of a few villagers who strictly asked us to leave the temple as the Ashtami stood on the verge of beginning. A wave of shock ran through my brain as i desperately wanted to see the celebration.

But it seemed like the element of luck didn't bail out on me completely. After seeing the look of disappointment on our faces, an aged man wrapped in a gray shawl told us about the entire celebration in detail.

A huge amount of food gets prepared by the ladies on this day. The food prepared gets served to the dragons in the temple, who also get worshipped and believed to be the protector of the diety. The man told on Durga Asthami, a pack of elders visits every house in the village where a table full of food and liquor is kept ready for them. In return, the elders bless the house and its members in the name of the goddess. After devouring the food in every hut, the entire village and the elders gather at the temple, where they together perform the final prayers.

Through the same old man, I came to know that the people of Chitkul are fiercely protective of their culture, which is why no outsider is allowed to be a part of village ceremonies. On my way back to Zostel Chitkul, i carried a broad smile on my face and a sense of satisfaction in my heart. Happy to know how different yet beautiful cultures are rooted in the country that stay veiled from the world.

24th October 2020: Now that I am done with my tea and session of reminiscence, I guess I will go out to the Durga temple nearby. Yes I know there is no celebration this year, but, who knows I might stumbled across another story that I will end up sharing someday.