The Other Carnival

Aaji's Goa was a living showcase of supernatural phenomena. During the Portuguese rule, Goa's thick forests and beaches were perennially haunted. Though, it being Goa, you didn't see your regular floating, white spectres and dead women with twisted feet. The Goan X-Files were of a completely different genre. You had people the size of a human thumb, who would sit on trees and wail. You had marriage processions of dead people that would vanish in the Church. You had the 'God's hand', which a lost person would suddenly find on his shoulder, and which would lead the lost person to the nearest village. But one story chills all of Aaji's grandchildren (me included), every single time she narrates it.

Most people of Goa worship Saptakoteshwar, an avatar of Lord Shiva. The temple of Saptakoteshwar is in a small village called Narve. Every year, the villages around Saptakoteshwar's temple would get together for a carnival in celebration of the God. The preparations would run into days of decorating, washing and cooking. On the day of the carnival, there would be an elaborate 'pooja', or reading of the holy scriptures with vedic rites. The God would then be placed in a palinquin and taken for a boat ride in the huge pool at the entrance of his temple. Aaji says the idol of the God seemed to come to life in that palinquin.

Along with the festivities, was the carnival, where people came from all over Goa to sell bangles, pots, cane baskets, coconuts and all kinds of things. A lot of money changed hands on the carnival day and many a seller went back to their wives with food, new clothes and spare money.


On one such carnival day, a gentleman came to the temple to sell his wares. He'd heard about the prospects at the carnival and had travelled down from an obscure village in the Konkan, far outside Goa. He payed his respects to the God first and then asked for directions to the carnival site. The carnival was held on top of a hill behind the temple. So he trudged up the thickly forested hill and set up his meagre tent. A few hours before sunset, he'd sold everything and filled his jute bag with money.

Tired with all the hard work and ecstacy of reward, he decided to spend the night at the temple and leave for his village early next morning. He climbed down to the temple for dinner and by the time he was through, it was already nightfall.

Now, I must tell you here that in the Konkan, poverty was so stark that people only owned two loin cloth pieces or two torn saaris. A new saari for the wife, a pair of slippers for the son and a bag of rice would be a rare luxury. He looked at his small bag of fresh money. Then he looked up at the hill top and saw lights and merry-making and thought of the saaris and slippers and food he could buy to take home. He would never get such goodies in his little village. With one last effort, he forced his exhausted feet to carry him back to the carnival.

On the hill top, the merry-making was in full swing. Crowds of people shuffled about yelling out bargains and calling out to customers. He couldn't carry his bag in the crowd. There would be thieves and pick-pockets. So he went to a homely looking shop keeper and thrust forward his bag.

"Arre saiba. (My friend)" he said. "Would you please keep my bag of money with you till I finish purchasing a few things? I'll collect it from you later."
The shopkeeper was an accomodating man. "Arre hay hay (Oh yes)!" he said. "Tu vach(go)!"
He hid the bag under his desk and smiled. The konkani villager took a bit of money and got lost in the crowd with a lighter heart.

After buying all the gifts he wanted, he came back to the shopkeeper. But he was so exhausted that he didn't have half a heart to climb back down to the temple.

"I think I'll sleep by your shop." He told the shopkeeper. "I'll take my bag from you in the morning." The shopkeeper simply nodded and signaled him with an arm to a mat inside the shop. The poor Konkani villager hugged all his gifts and fell asleep.

At the break of dawn, the first rays of the morning sun woke up the poor Konkani villager. He yawned and stretched and looked around to take in the beautiful clear landscape. Not a soul to spoil its beauty. What a carnival it had been last night! So much money he had earned, and the wonderful gifts still near him, and his bag of money...HIS BAG OF MONEY? He looked around frantically! Not a soul! Nothing!


He ran down to the temple with tears streaming down his hot cheeks, screeming 'thief! thief!'.


The priest at the temple caught hold of the running villager and calmed him down.

"H..he..he stole my bag.. ma.. my money.. bag .. ma..", he poor villager fumbled for breath with all the crying.

On the steps of Saptakoteshwar's temple, the priest sat and heard the whole story of the villager. His eyes widened with fear and the poor villager felt that his soul was getting heavier. The priest ran inside the temple and prayed fervently for moment. Then, with renewed strength, he approached the villager again and put his hand on his shoulder as a gesture of assurance.
"You must listen to me carefully." he said. "Your bag and money, both are safe. Return to the temple next year, on the day of the carnival. Wait until after sunset. Then, go back to the the same shop. You will meet the same shopkeeper. Don't show any signs of distress or anger. Just very calmly, tell him that you had forgotten your bag with him yesterday an-"
"Yesterday?" the already bewildered villager interjected.
"Yes, yesterday, and that you would like to have your bag back."
"But why yesterday?"
"Don't ask questions. Just do as I say. Take the bag from him and start walking towards the temple. Don't run. Walk calmly. The shopkeeper might call out to you. Don't turn. Ignore the calls. Just walk away. You understand?"
The villager nodded.
"Dev tuzha bara karo." the priest blessed the villager and bode him well.
The poor villager was flabbergasted. But he realised that he had no choice but to come back for his earnings next year. So with a heavy heart, he returned to his village.

Next year, the carnival preparations began in full fervour and devotion. The villager stood in front of the idol of Saptakoteshwar and prayed. The words of the priest had hung in his mind all year since that fateful day. He felt his legs wobble in fear of the unknown. He asked the God for strength. Then waited for the sun to sink behind the hill.

When it grew dark, he began trudging towards the carnival site. Outside the temple, a local stopped him. "Tu khany vata (Where are you going)?"
"Jaatreik (The carnival)." replied the poor konkani villager.
"Avains! Tuka khabar na (Don't you know)?" he blurted out, "The carnival is over! Everybody's gone home!"
"But the priest sa-"
"Arrey! Rhaav rhaav! Haanv tuka saangta! Ti bhootachi jaatra marein!"
"Kitein (What)?"
"Bhootachi jaatra! Ti tar bhootachi jaatra!"
The world around the poor villager began to spin. A ghost-carnival? It couldn't be. He held his head in his hands and stood for a moment. The local kept babbling in panic, but he couldn't hear a word. He looked up to the top of the hill and saw lights. There was so much of hard earned money there, that could feed and clothe his family for months. He mustered all the courage he could and left the yelling local behind him.

As he approached the carnival, he saw the same merry-making he had enjoyed the year before. He calmed his nerves, said a prayer, and walked straight upto the shopkeeper he knew.
"My bag. I left it with you... uh... yesterday. Could I have it back... uh... please..."
The shopkeeper smiled and pulled out his bag from below his desk. The villager took his bag with shivering hands and checked its contents. Everything was there as he had left it. He smiled to the shopkeeper and gave one quick nod. Then turned around, bag clutched tightly to his chest, and started walking towards the temple with long, brisk strides.
"Arre saiba! Rhaav re maatso! Rhaav!" he heard the shopkeeper calling out to him to stop. He didn't. He clutched his bag tighter and kept his speed.
"Rhaav! Rhaav tuka saangta! Rhaav! Rhaaaaaa...."

The voices began to fade. He kept walking till he reached the temple. He looked at his bag of money and almost cried. Then he turned back to see the hill top. It had drowned in the night.