To this New Yorker article from the August 4, 2008 issue by William Dalrymple about the realm of sacred prostitution in India. Fans of technique must admire the lede, almost entire in the voice of the Devadasis, women "dedicated" to a life of marriage to a deity, which in practice means institutional sexual subservience:
“Of course, there are times when there is pleasure,” Rani Bai said. “Who does not like to make love? A handsome young man, one who is gentle . . .”
She paused for a moment, looking out over the lake, smiling to herself. Then her face clouded over. “But mostly it is horrible. The farmers here, they are not like the boys of Bombay.”
“And eight of them every day,” her friend Kaveri said. “Sometimes ten. Unknown people. What kind of life is that?”
“We have a song,” Rani said. “ ‘Everyone sleeps with us, but no one marries us. Many embrace us, but no one protects.’ ”
“Every day, my children ask, ‘Who is my father?’ They do not like having a mother who is in this business.”
“Once, I tried to open a bank account with my son,” Rani said. “We went to fill in the form, and the manager asked, ‘Father’s name?’ After that, my son was angry. He said I should not have brought him into the world like this.”
“We are sorry we have to do this work. But what is the alternative?”
“Who will give us jobs? We are all illiterate.”
“And the future,” Kaveri said. “What have we to look forward to?”
“When we are not beautiful, when our bodies become ugly, then we will be all alone.”
“If we live long enough to be old and to be ugly,” Kaveri said. “So many are dying.”
“One of our community died last week. Two others last month.”
“In my village, four younger girls have died,” Kaveri said. “My own brother has the disease. He used to be a truck driver, and knew all the girls along the roads. Now he just lies at home drinking, saying, ‘What difference does it make? I will die anyway.’ ”
She turned to face me. “He drinks anything he can get,” she said. “If someone told him his own urine had alcohol in it, he would drink that, too.” She laughed, but harshly. “If I were to sit under a tree and tell you the sadness we have to suffer, the leaves of that tree would fall like tears. My brother is totally bedridden now. He has fevers and diarrhea.” She paused. “He used to be such a handsome man, with a fine face and large eyes. Now those eyes are closed, and his face is covered with boils and lesions.”
“Yellamma never wanted it to be like this,” Rani said.
“The goddess is sitting silently,” Kaveri said. “We don’t know what feelings she has about us. Who really knows what she is thinking?”
“No,” Rani said, firmly shaking her head. “The goddess looks after us. When we are in distress, she comes to us. Sometimes in our dreams. Sometimes in the form of one of her children.”
“It is not the goddess’s doing.”
“The world has made it like this.”
“The world, and the disease.”
“The goddess dries our tears,” Rani said. “If you come to her with a pure heart, she will take away your sadness and your sorrows. What more can she do?”
Dalrymple is a well-known historian of India and he is able to plainly explain how such a practice developed. In short, there was a golden era of the Devadasi, when they had higher social status, more like courtesans, but those days are long over. It is now a variant of commercial sex work with a sacred sheen. And the story of Rani, the woman whose story Dalrymple tells, is heartbreaking. Do read.
Lindsay & Nick - Thanks Dustin!We love the pictures and had such a great time with you! We conant wait until our wedding day in less than three months!
Posted by: Bongs | Jul 13, 2012 at 11:52 PM
By March 8, 2011 - 11:05 PMhahaha, i thought that avoid tainlkg to people thing' was going to be about how to sneak away when you see people you know in the store and you don't feel like chatting. not that i do that it was sooooo funny, oh my goodnes. thanks for sharing.
Posted by: Dian | Apr 24, 2012 at 01:33 AM