Naturally, a pilgrimage.
It has been (let me fetch a calculator) eighteen years since I left the place.
I am going to the adobe of Khir Bhawani, situated at village Tula Mulla. According to a famous local religious belief, the Goddess used to drink blood in Lanka of Ravana, but in Kashmir, she developed a sweet tooth, hence the Khir in the name. A writer once linked the revival of Khir Bhawani cult in the late 19th century to the rise of Queen Victoria led British influence in the region. But, this is not the post about that.
This is about the trip.
I am going with fourteen of my family members and relatives. My parents are surprised and delighted that I am going to a temple.
I have been to Tula Mulla earlier, I must have been seven, but I still have some vivid memories of that trip and some not so vivid memories of that place.
When I returned home after that trip, the same day, I managed to baldy burn the index finger of my right hand.
The cause: I draped a polythene bag around a twig taken from a broom, and lit it up for the pure joy of watching little droplets of fire. I picked up this trick from some kids after having watched them do it at Tula Mulla. Or may be I got the idea from watching all the aartis and all the diyas.
A little droplet of fire fell on my finger. Hot molten plastic melted onto my figure, glued onto its skin, burning it all the while. Afraid. I removed the plastic.Pain. Running water, tap, put toothpaste on it, Colgate, and still it burned. A few days later as the wound started ballooning up, Burnol was applied. In a few days the wound punctuated as burn wounds often do. Watery for days. And then the wound started to heal itself. It stopped being a bother. In a few months, the wound completely healed leaving an oval smooth skinned small scare on my index finger.
The affect: The scare is still there. There are days when I check up on it to make sure that it is still there.
I am happy.
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