Memories of Shitala Sashti - A festival of Odisha

Today is SHITALA SASTHI, a festival celebrated in Odisha per Gregiorian Calendar. It is not a very widely followed occasion - nevertheless limited to few villages and cities of the state where the occasion is celebrated on a larger scale. Not sure if the event is going to be celebrated this year with the pomp and gaiety as before in the era of many localized, native festivals of Odisha are slowly but sadly getting extinct. Yet the memories of this unique festival from past years is still vivid.

On one such hot, sultry SHITALA SHASTI day during my early teen I happened to be in my native Brahmin dominated village near Puri during the long summer holidays. Accompanied by my Grandpa, I went to a nearby village named "Rayakhandi" where his sister's family lived, to see the celebration of SHITALA SASHTI famously celebrated in that village which attracts myriads of tourists and onlookers from far and near.

Came evening, we were porched on a high level verandah covered with coconut trees as canopy, typical of villages near Puri, watching the "Radha Krishna" dance duet performance by a local troupe under street light to the tune of beating up mega drums and PENKAALI (large Trumpets, a crude version of Sehnai). As the Shitala Sasti celebration went on full swing, came a burst of SHITALA (cool) wind wafting through the dense Coconut groves, followed by a squalor lashing out slices of rain. The artists and the onlookers ran helter shelter for cover as the electricity went poof. 

It was pitch dark for a few minutes. Soon the rain stopped and normalcy was restored, but not the electricty. The organizers hand pumped Petromax lights to glare, throwing some lights onto what we were going to see. Radha, the paramour of Lord Krisna, whom I imagined to be a full bosomed woman dancing with gyrating hips not long ago, now turned into a half bosomed man. The artificial bosoms made up of stuffed soft coconut coir covered with shell of a dried coconut (locally available in plenty and called KATAA in Odia) tied to the man's breast apparently came off during the strong gales accompanying the thunderstorm. Commotion followed to the amusement of the curious spectators. Throwing out his female outfit, he was busy putting his coir back into his blouse frantically scrambling to salvage whatever residual coir fell off on ground, plucking them off and putting them back to fullflll both his artificial breasts. He continued doing his act nonchalantly, ignoring the laughter and cat calls surrounding him. Finally the he turned she managed to complete the curtailed act of Radha Krishna romance.

It was now dinner time and electricity was still playing truant. Though the rain had stopped the air was still through which stars popped out of the dark night sky. Our host served us an ascetic dinner on the same high podium used earlier for watching the dance show. It consisted of CHUDA GHASA (crushed parched rice mixed with Ghee and sugar), DALMA (boiled lentil with mixed veggies) and the dessert of SUJI KHIRI (made from  from coarse grains of flour) and if lucky, a restricted supply of only one serving of the luxurious KADALI CHAKATA (Mashed Banana in Sweetened milk).

It wasn't a hassle free dinner, trying to avoid the ever swarming JHADI POKA or the local fire ants who develop wings during the unseasonal rains. A la a lover knowingly gets burnt being attracted to its beloved's flame of love, many of those insects were consumed by the hot surface of the lanterns and petromax lights. Those who couldn't be "Samme Pe Parwaane" made a kamikaze dive into my food plate. I had to be extremely careful to avoid them lest a true vegetarian feast gets supplemented with additional animal protein. Not many were lucky, as they swallowed some of these locust in the semi-lit area, desperately doing "THOO THOO" to spit the winged fire ants them out. 

Post dinner it was a trying time to get back home, guided by whatever light thrown by the golden zigzagging lightening on the sky, amidst the croaking of frogs excited on the natural swimming pools provide by the fresh rains. The year was the year 1983, probably the last SHITALA SHASTI celebration I ever attended, but still fresh in my memory like yesterday. Happy belated SHITALA SHASTI to folks back home.