The next day, we were picked out of the chaos by the words, "Hey, you look like the king of pop, Michael Jackson". It was three young (16, 17 and 18) students and the loudest boy, Michael, was referring to my Columbian drug-lord hat. He was an serious M.J. fiend and constantly sang all the popular songs to us. The three boys were going to the festival so we shared an auto-rickshaw with them to Gaya. We arrived on the scene to find huge crowds filling the streets, as well as doorways, windows and balconies. Everyone was looking at an area roped off in the street about as wide as a tennis court, inside which was filled with banners, horses and dedicated Muslims. The atmosphere was electric with anticipation.
It soon became apparent that the several men dressed in white robes would be participating in the self-flagellation as they were looking very solemn and holding carrying cat-o-nine-tails, razor blades and chain whips.
We were actually given quite special treatment by being given a seat off the dusty street and handed chai. A number of Muslims then explained the history of the self-harming practice to us, making sure they were listened to clearly. It seemed very important to them that we understood the practice as a reasonable thing to do. We weren't able to see properly from the streets and the balconies were all full. Tam and I were invited to walk inside the roped area (off to the side) in order to get a good view of the action. Tam declined, but I wanted a closer look. After seeking permission from the elders, I took off my shoes and followed them in. I was assured that I would be safe and out of range of blood-splatter.
It began with some praying and mild chest-beating, with the hardcores reading aloud from prayer books. It slowly worked up a notch as one man began shouting into a microphone and the robed men used both hands to assault themselves. The microphone holder began screaming at the crowd and it all reached a fever-pitch when a couple of robed Muslims pulled out straight-razors and started hacking away at their own chests. Blood flowed freely down their bodies as they continued to wail prayers.
A fellow must be feeling pretty sorry about something to flay the skin of his own back with rusty knives, but considering it is done for something that happened 1330 years ago, it strikes me as borderline, if not over-the-line, psychosis. It is a shocking thing to see a man involved in such self-destructive behaviour and in the dying throes of the year 2009, it boggles the mind to consider how primitive we still really are.
Suddenly one of our friends was at the sideline calling me out. Apparently someone wanted us to leave and all of a sudden, we were not welcome anymore. The police escorted us away from the festival while another Muslim shouted at us and waved a big stick. It turned out to be a mixture of factors that caused our expulsion; concern for our safety, confusion about whether we were paying someone to guide us there, but mainly because Michael had given his last name which had immediately identified him as a Suni Muslim. Everyone knows Shi'as and Sunis don't get on real well, so we left. Unfortunately we didn't get to see the flails in action, but its probably for the best
