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 Malaysia's capital, Kuala Lumpur is a city of lush parks, lively shopping centers, world-class hotels, excellent restaurants, for a time the two tallest office towers in the world and all the trimmings of a 21st century city. Under this glittery exterior, there flows a Southeast Asian current of intense religious fervor dramatically displayed in the almost overpowering sensory experiences that make up the Thaipusam, a festival celebrating the day in the Hindu pantheon on which the God Siva danced with His consort Uma and to the birth of Lord Subramaniam, also known as Muruga, the first-born son of the God.
To the Hindu faithful, the young Lord Muruga is the very manifestation of handsomeness, youthfulness, masculinity and unmatched valor. Humans are born, age, die and are reborn endlessly in many forms. In contrast, the young God is everlastingly youthful and unchanging. Thaipusam is his birthday.
The holiday is observed throughout the Hindu world, but nowhere with more exuberance and fervor than in Kuala Lumpur. In 2007 upwards of one million people attended the event that occurs during the Tamil month of Thai--late January or early February in the Western calendar. (In 2008 the holiday fell on February 2nd.) Although not for the squeamish, if your travel plans take you to the capital of Malaysia at this time of year consider partaking in the festivities, as it is a most unique travel experience.
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| The site of the festival is the Batu Caves, located nine miles north of the city center. The focal point is a small temple hidden inside an enormous cave reached by a "stairway to heaven" and the several hundred steps penitents must negotiate to the cave entrance and communion with the newborn god. On a normal day, more tourists than celebrants make the climb. |
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Thaipusam is not a normal day. It is a major religious holiday that lasts for 24 hours, and, in addition to the celebrating throngs, many tourists attend. Due to the extreme heat and humidity many tourists opt to attend at night or early morning when conditions are a bit less oppressive. My wife and I boarded the tourist bus in downtown Kuala Lumpur at 11:30 PM for the drive to the Batu Caves, the festival site nine-mile north of the city center.
Because of the crowds the trip took well over an hour, and we had to walk the last half-mile as our vehicle was unable to navigate the throngs of revelers, penitents, and sightseers wending their way to the staging area. |
As we stepped off the bus everyone's reaction was identical: "What did I get myself into!" The crowds were reminiscent of New York's Times Square on New Years Eve. Loud music blared from every corner. There were food stalls, carnival stands, drumming, shouting, bright lights, noise, incense--imagine a combination state fair, tent revival meeting, and hard rock mosh pit. The man standing next to us simply gasped in disbelief.
The driver dropped us off with a simple "Good luck," reminding us that the bus would return at 5:30 AM sharp so be sure to leave enough time to get back to the parking area. His advice was well taken, as maneuvering through that sea of bodies would require both a Herculean effort and a good deal of time. |
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Thaipusam is a holiday when people cleanse themselves of past sins and seek to avoid future adversity via gifts and self-flagellation. Prior to the festival, pilgrims prepare themselves with a regimen of prayer and fasting.
On the day of the festival they parade the nine miles from Mariamman Temple in central Kuala Lumpur to the gathering site at the Batu Caves. They wash themselves in a nearby river while some of them also go to a "barber shop" to shave their hair as a sign of repentance. There are hundreds of such shops lining the walkway between the river and the staging area. The pilgrims sit in a chair and, a few seconds later, are completely bald. Their newly naked head is smeared with essence of sandalwood, a pale yellow powder holy to Hindus.
After the ritual bath and haircut, some pilgrims don a traditional yellow sarong and begin to enter a trance-like state. Using prayer, music, drumming, and repetitive chanting, they become hypnotic, almost catatonic. They unconsciously move and sway, pushing, shoving, and occasionally bumping into anyone standing near them.
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Once entranced they are pierced by their attendants with wooden lances, usually through their tongue, cheeks, and lips. The use of sharpened sticks commemorates the occasion when Parvati, Lord Subramaniam's mother, gave him a Vel with which to vanquish the demon Soorapadman. This Vel is a sharp, triangular lance symbolizing penetrating spiritual knowledge. To this observer the penitents did not appear to bleed or feel pain, even though their flesh was pierced completely through.
Some of the most intense participants went beyond wooden sticks and had metal hooks pulled through the skin on their back. These hooks were connected to ropes, which allowed them to pull a ceremonial chariot, called a kavadi, using only their own flesh. The kavadi is a large wooden frame decorated with peacock feathers, and holding incense, fruit, milk, honey, and other gifts for Lord Subramaniam. The penitents drag their chariots through the madding crowd shouting and chanting prayers, all the while helped along by attendants and friends should they should fall down or faint from exhaustion, ecstasy, or pain.
To those unfamiliar with these traditions, including myself, watching this mortification of the human body can be both fascinating as well as disturbing. Within the festival grounds were tens of thousands of penitents, hundreds of thousands of helpers/musicians/dancers, and countless sightseers, vendors, and other assorted attendees taking in the multitudinous sounds, sights, and smells of this huge event.
In addition to religious activities there was also a carnival area on the periphery of the ceremony with stalls selling food and souvenirs as well as fortunetellers offering to read your palm, predict the future, or sell you peacock feathers, sandalwood, and incense. |
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Temple Cave, the site where pilgrims bring their gifts and receive final absolution, is at the top of a rather steep hill. An enormous gilded staircase (40 feet wide, 272 steps) snakes up the mountain leading to the temple and its 140-foot statue of Lord Subramanian. What seemed like an endless procession of supplicants slowly hauled their gifts and dragged their chariots up the steep steps.
Tourists are permitted to join the march, but my wife and I opted instead to watch the torchlight parade of pilgrims wind its way up the hillside, marveling at this awe inspiring demonstration of both religious fervor and human will. We also began plotting our strategy for returning to the parking lot--a decidedly non-trivial operation since pilgrims and visitors were still pouring into the festival site. Thankfully, we found the bus and returned to our apartment, totally enraptured with and absorbed in the evening's experiences. We also smelled (maybe reeked is a better word) of incense, sandalwood, curry, sweat, and mud. We stood under a hot shower, made a pot of tea, and tried to comprehend fully the sights that we had just witnessed. Sleep did not arrive until the following morning. |
I am not sure if it is proper to say that one has "enjoyed" such an experience, what with the loud noises, crowds, pushing and shoving, not to mention the sight of people piercing their flesh in the name of religious passion. But it is certainly fair to say that we were mesmerized, awed, and fascinated--an evening unlike anything else before or since. If one purpose of travel is to see, smell, hear, and taste things that one cannot experience at home, then attending Thaipusam in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia most definitely qualifies.
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PHOTO CREDITS: Michael Schneider, Romar Traveler
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Asian Continent
