It was an annual event. However, this time it was going to be different because I was one of them. I was going to participate in the fire-walking celebration ritual in honour of the Mother. Oh how I dreaded it for it was my first attempt! What if the Mother was not pleased with me? What if I was not holy enough? There was just no time to consider these anymore. There was no back-out plan, was there?
Soon, it was five in the evening. The ceremony was about to commence. I positioned myself in the middle of the pack where I felt more secure. I was bearing flowers on my head, my face painted with white stripes and a red dot on my forehead.
The march finally began as we moved forward toward the temple. The pace was brisk and the mood was exhilarating. I was stuck and dragged along by my fellow devotees. The temple soon loomed into view. My heart started pounding like the African drums. Indian music was blaring near the entrance of the temple, played by musicians using traditional instruments. We continued to surge forward as the eyes of at least the eyes of a thousand dark faces were observing us with intense expectancy.
Before us was a pit carved from stone-hard earth. Embers were at the base and granite chips were laid over them. The burning granite stones caused the heat to rise and anyone near it would feel as if he was in the hellish heat of an oven furnace. Vigilant temple attendants were black shining figures stripped to the waist, ready to attend to the devotees walking across the pit.
Fervour rippled across the ecstatic crowd. They were pressing in to witness the famous ritual, ready to snap photographs and take videos of the fire-walking ritual. The noise died to a subdued murmur of intense expectancy. The devotees started to move across the pit one by one. Some ran across as if they were participating in an Olympic race. Others were half-walking and half-staggering. Tears welled up in their eyes as they were overcome with inexplicable emotions.
It was now my turn. At the edge of the pit, I hesitated. Half of me was screaming from within, “It's not too late to back out!” Suddenly, I felt a stab of pain as the rope whip wielded by the temple priest lashed on my bare back. Like a man in the depths of a trance, a gush of emotions surged through my body as I floated along over the length of inferno of hot stones, my face contorted with a flood of secret ecstasy. I heard nothing; saw nothing; felt nothing. Then, I felt the sudden coolness of my feet as I plunged my feet into milk water and collapsed into the waiting arms of the temple attendants. Meanwhile, a string of devotees after me followed one after another likes ants in a straight line in rapid succession and made their entranced passage across the pit.
Finally, the orange sun set and the ceremony ended. None of us suffered burnt feet. When it was over, a water hose extinguished the heat at the pit and the imprisoned inferno sizzled into billowing clouds of hot white steam. As the pit gave up their heat under the shower of water, the crowd rushed over to seize a charred crumble of the sacred embers.
A sense of achievement and pride overwhelmed me. In-between tears of joy, I gazed at the temple tower with hundred of Her loving images, clasped my hands together and bowed my head in prayers. Then, I caught sight of the crying faces of my family and friends and held them in one tight loving embrace. A thought struck me: Maybe, just maybe, I could do it again.
PS: I am not a Hindu and have not attended this ceremony. My students shared that their parents had done it before. I think this cultural experience is very rich and interesting. The inspiration came from a comprehension passage with powerful sensory phrases and the phrases in bold are my favourite phrases from the text. There is no author's name or article title found.
Soon, it was five in the evening. The ceremony was about to commence. I positioned myself in the middle of the pack where I felt more secure. I was bearing flowers on my head, my face painted with white stripes and a red dot on my forehead.
The march finally began as we moved forward toward the temple. The pace was brisk and the mood was exhilarating. I was stuck and dragged along by my fellow devotees. The temple soon loomed into view. My heart started pounding like the African drums. Indian music was blaring near the entrance of the temple, played by musicians using traditional instruments. We continued to surge forward as the eyes of at least the eyes of a thousand dark faces were observing us with intense expectancy.
Before us was a pit carved from stone-hard earth. Embers were at the base and granite chips were laid over them. The burning granite stones caused the heat to rise and anyone near it would feel as if he was in the hellish heat of an oven furnace. Vigilant temple attendants were black shining figures stripped to the waist, ready to attend to the devotees walking across the pit.
Fervour rippled across the ecstatic crowd. They were pressing in to witness the famous ritual, ready to snap photographs and take videos of the fire-walking ritual. The noise died to a subdued murmur of intense expectancy. The devotees started to move across the pit one by one. Some ran across as if they were participating in an Olympic race. Others were half-walking and half-staggering. Tears welled up in their eyes as they were overcome with inexplicable emotions.
It was now my turn. At the edge of the pit, I hesitated. Half of me was screaming from within, “It's not too late to back out!” Suddenly, I felt a stab of pain as the rope whip wielded by the temple priest lashed on my bare back. Like a man in the depths of a trance, a gush of emotions surged through my body as I floated along over the length of inferno of hot stones, my face contorted with a flood of secret ecstasy. I heard nothing; saw nothing; felt nothing. Then, I felt the sudden coolness of my feet as I plunged my feet into milk water and collapsed into the waiting arms of the temple attendants. Meanwhile, a string of devotees after me followed one after another likes ants in a straight line in rapid succession and made their entranced passage across the pit.
Finally, the orange sun set and the ceremony ended. None of us suffered burnt feet. When it was over, a water hose extinguished the heat at the pit and the imprisoned inferno sizzled into billowing clouds of hot white steam. As the pit gave up their heat under the shower of water, the crowd rushed over to seize a charred crumble of the sacred embers.
A sense of achievement and pride overwhelmed me. In-between tears of joy, I gazed at the temple tower with hundred of Her loving images, clasped my hands together and bowed my head in prayers. Then, I caught sight of the crying faces of my family and friends and held them in one tight loving embrace. A thought struck me: Maybe, just maybe, I could do it again.
PS: I am not a Hindu and have not attended this ceremony. My students shared that their parents had done it before. I think this cultural experience is very rich and interesting. The inspiration came from a comprehension passage with powerful sensory phrases and the phrases in bold are my favourite phrases from the text. There is no author's name or article title found.
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