A Question Of Rites

HIGH priestesses and nouveau religion have come home to Maharashtra. All in the name of God. Across the state, in one-hour noon-day classes, increasing numbers of women are attempting to grasp the rites of passage to priesthood. And with this daily initiation process, the aspiring priestesses are standing religious routine on its head, flouting the trappings of tradition and cocking a spiritual snook at unbelieving male practitioners.

A study commissioned by Hinduism Today , a California-based magazine, lists 6,000 women priests trained in the last 10 years in seven districts of Maharashtra--Nashik, Pune, Pandarpur, Satara, Sholapur and Wale. In contrast, only 4,000 male priests were trained during the same period.

Most of these women are middle or upper middle class Brahmin Hindu women with grown-up children. The rigours of household having been relaxed, they can afford the luxury of time spent on a religious calling. Though a few college students once attempted the course, academics overruled the pursuits of a higher life. The schools run for one hour from Monday to Friday, except in the summer and Diwali vacations so that family life does not suffer.

This silent changeover from homemaker to high purohitas has been gradual but has met with grudging acceptance. Not that ill-will from the more orthodox elements has stopped the self-styled soldiers of God. On the contrary, religious fever and raging tempers questioning their new roles have only fuelled the determination of the female purohitas to walk the untrodden path. And, in the process, to clean up what has become a profit-making profession.

Baksheesh for priests varies from Rs 50 to Ks 500 depending on the financial capability of the families and the rite to be performed. The Shravan month is especially bountiful because blessings come in the form of a tight schedule and loose purse-strings. The purohits say baksheesh is just a byproduct and is no criterion for their adherence to the Vedas. But the new priestesses are intent on running the buksheesh-seeking purohits to the ground and out of business. And the ploy seems to be working.

The city mainly responsible for this recent revolution in the religious order is one steeped in Brahmanical tradition: Pune. The inspiration, ironically, came from a man. Shankarrao Thathe, impressed with the women priests in Upasani Baba's ashram at Sakori, Nashik, vowed to set up a similar school at Pune's Sadashiv Peth, for any woman who desired to learn the scriptures. Marital status, caste and creed were no considerations. Religious feathers were ruffled and the concept was roundly condemned even as the 10 members, who responded to the advertisement placed by 'Mama' Thathe in a newspaper, enrolled in the Shankar Seva Samiti's first batch way back in 1976.

"The general opinion was 'what can these ladies do?' It was only when local acceptance turned into invitations to perform religious rites that the opposition became strident. In fact, there was once a stay order passed against us on a function scheduled at the Dharma Chaitanya Mandir," reminisces Sushila Andhare, a student of the path-breaking batch. Subsequently, calls from Goa and Karnataka started pouring in. And soon, coaching classes led by individual women cropped up in town in quick succession.

"The intention is to make the knowledge available for women everywhere," says Pushpa 'Mami' 'Thathe, the 73-year-old widow of the pioneer. The samiti hasn't applied for official recognition from the government because this would result in restrictions, rules and regulations. Consequently, the classes are at present available to women of all ages and backgrounds without reservation. And a Muslim student has cut through the last barrier--that of religion! With their formidable faith, this band of highly-enthused, mainly middle-class, middle-aged purohitas can tackle anything-mantras, pujas, yagnas, thread ceremonies, marriages, rudras, abhisheks... everything except death and the accompanying ritual of antiyashti . "The rites require exceptional strength and a woman is not emotionally equipped to handle it. In any case, not all male priests perform the rites of death," says Pushpalata B. Dharmadhikari, teacher at the Shankar Seva Samiti and priestess for 12 years. "The fact is," she continues, "that (technically) a woman priest can now perform right from the vastushanti to the antiyashti."

USING sex as a subterfuge to discount the spiritual validity of the new challengers, the die-hard conservatives are chanting in a singular voice: "Blasphemy, blasphemy, blasphemy," even as the recitation of rudras by the rishikas strike their ears. Detractors refer to Adi Shankaracharya's description of the ideal pandita as one well-versed not in religious texts but in the running of a well-oiled household. Others allege that purohitas lack the voice modulation and tenor required for the efficacy of the chants. P.R. Paranjape, a shastri at the Vedshashtrottejak Sabha, observes: "Only one qualified in Vedic recitations and a recipient of the thread ceremony is permitted into priesthood. The Vedas permit thread ceremony for women but 99 per cent of the women priests in Pune haven't got it done. Therefore, logically speaking, they do not qualify to be priests."

But the purohitas refuse to attach such strings to their roles and counter-argue that the men are threadbare in the ways of tradition. Pointing to their spiritual shortcuts, Rekha Bapat, a priestess, says: "There is no logic to rejecting women priests. In Maharashtra, a century ago, 80 per cent of Brahmin males were priests. Now they are down to less than 5 per cent. This has led to male priests very often cramming in four to five appointments a day--with payment determining the duration of the prayers."

Further, the rishikas reject the reactionary notions of having fraudulently strayed onto the rite path. "Never mind what the Shankaracharyas say. Maybe they are right in their objections because my knowledge of the Vedas isn't so deep. But since deal with my teacher on a day-to-day basis, I personally feel that what she says is right," says 65-year-old Leela Phadke, a retired teacher turned student-purohita.

Staunch supporter and scholar, Dr V.L. Manjul of the Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute, adds that only the orthodox opt for male priests while the more discerning prefer women. "This is because purohitas are more accessible, less prone to cutting corners and are more sincere in sticking to the demands of the ritual." The opinion is shared by Yashwant Lele, founder member of Jnana Prabodhini, a school committed to the spread of Sanskrit and Indian culture. "Nowhere is it mentioned in the Vedas that women are not authorised to become priests. The objections to women are founded on tradition and lack a scientific base. People may not be aware of this but Vishwawara, a priestess in the Vedic times, can be easily established as the founder of this modern-day women's wing." Meanwhile, amidst rumblings of discontent, the persevering women priests go about their work--in their own homes and that of others--celebrating the various stages of life. "Let them (male priests) say what they want to do. Let them do their work and allow us to do ours," says a pragmatic purohita. Indeed, if the men have lost their rites, let them fight for it. For the women have already established theirs. ·