A Holiday was created during a battle, where one side prayed to one of their primary gods, Shiva, for a leader that would bring them to victory. Shiva complied, and to recognise that victorious day the people created the festival Thaipusam. Thaipusam is one of the biggest Hindu Festivals. A yearly event, it is celebrated by devoted followers majorly in India and Nepal.
This celebration is quite cautioned for children of non-celebrators. Why? Well, as a way of appreciating their life, many Hindus put hooks into their bodies. Through thin pieces of outer skin on their back and chest, or penetrating not-so-thin pieces of their tongue and cheeks. This is happening throughout the night before Thaipusam, as preparation for a 5-mile walk from Georgetown, Penang, to a temple slightly hidden on the side of a mountain.
Now not everyone does this. Personally attending the event, climbing up the steps to the temple and back down again, thousands were with me. Everyone from Indian Grandmothers in their 80’s, to young boys being tugged behind them. Tourists flocked, taking pictures of the hundreds of stalls set up for the event. There was almost a small town with all of the wooden huts and stands set up, roaming left and right around the base of the temple endlessly. They offered Indian, Western, Malay, Chinese, and even Japanese food. Snake Whisperers and resting Ritualistic Dancers hid in their shade. Countless shrines of Hindu Gods are propped against every other stall, incense pouring out of them among scented candles and flowers set up on the plastic table.
As I said, thousands upon thousands of people are rather celebrating, making way to the temple, dancing, selling something or looking in different shops at Indian clothing being sold at top-price. It is jam-packed no matter where you are. Except for when a hooked believer is making his way through the crowd. With a spike through his cheek, or his tongue, and a man holding a drink with a straw ready to serve the Hooked Man if he needs it along with an entourage of other supporters. Most of the men with something in them were dragging a cart behind them (With hooks in their back) or balancing a colorful, but heavy item on top of their head. With no shirt on, sweat pours across them as their group chants with a rhythm. They are making the ultimate act of thanks for their religion, and they are treated as if so.
The trip along the stairs, through the temple, and back down again was tiring. Yet competing with people 60 years older than me gets me a bit more sparked to walk. Free food was at the end, along with juice and sour milk. The temple had reeked of sour milk, where they poured it our glass after glass. Overall, I would’ve gone again if I could’ve.
Next year though.
Thanks for posting about this! I was in Penang at the time but only got to see part of the procession at the beginning.
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