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Bathing Ritual - Rani Iyer "I trained as an ecologist and worked blissfully in forests of Western Ghats. Since then I have lived in many places in North America. I currently reside in Washington State. I find nature to be eternally fascinating and resilient. Likewise, places and people constantly renew their acquintance. Deep within each of us resides a new community of thoughts that have the power to uplift or pull us down as we process our daily reactions to events. In this series, I attempt snapshots of those moments."

Courtyard Vistas Series 3

On Saturdays nobody can guess the tricks mothers are up to. They always surprise us and give us an oil bath before afternoon. Mahadeva had his bath before breakfast. He was sitting near the cowshed chewing the neem leaves, when his mother dumped some warm oil on his head and handed the dish with soap-nut powder and crushed hibiscus leaves. Uncle Shivanna, who on his way to the river, dragged Mahadeva along. His eyes were red and tearful after the bath. Still, he altruistically alerted us when he saw anyone with the oil vessel.

By mid-morning, we were out of places to hide. The first victim was Nagamani. She squealed and squirmed trying to wriggle out of her mother’s hold. Worse, she opened her eyes when her mother scrubbed her hair with the dreaded soap-nut powder. We knew that she would not stop wailing for the rest of the day. Sharanamma went to drink water. Next we heard her scream. Mahadeva and I shuddered.

“When I grow up, I will invent tearless soap-nut powder,” I promised.

“If you wait till you grow up, you will do the same to your kids,” Mahadeva said.

“I will not!” I shouted, with a scarlet face.

We sat on the mango tree in the orchard watching the river. At noon when the crows began to drink from the river, Mahadeva went to eat his lunch. A flowering mango tree is not an ideal hiding place. The fiercely territorial red ants bit me until I abandoned my hiding place. I feasted on some guavas, not minding that squirrels had tasted them. I was hungry; no one would serve food unless I bathed. Today nothing motivated me to bear the ordeal of the soap-nut powder bath.

Sitting under sandy bank of the large champak tree I watched the river as she curved around the rocks and splashed against the trees. In her shallow depths, she gurgled over the pebbles. At a distance, she dived like a happy child. To catch her refreshing spray, I ran towards the small splash. On the green moss, the spray glistened like diamonds. Climbing up and reaching down the bark were all kinds of plants, greedy for moisture from the stream. Even the clouds that moved along were carrying water from the river. In monsoon all that water would be returned. The kingfishers dove for a catch, and the crows waded the shallows to snap up the tadpoles. The frogs, fishes, the kingfisher, the duck, the crow, the cat, the cow, and the trees enjoyed the closeness to water. For some creatures, living in water was a way of life, for others looking for water formed a significant part of life.

I waded into the river. My long-skirt ballooned around me. I chased the dragonflies, scared the fishes, disturbed the cormorants, dived with the kingfisher, and floated with the clouds. I laughed and played until I spotted Granny. We sat on the rock, which was drenched in sunlight, as she began to reminiscence.

“When I was a little, we were 6 girls. We went to the river at dawn. We rubbed each other’s hair, first with oil and then with soap-nut powder. Hibiscus was a rare plant in those days. We worked hard to raise lather from the soap-nut powder. We all had fine, strong and long hair.”

“Granny, you have so little hair now!”

“I lost a lot of it!”

“Did you lose it because you did not bathe?”

“I was lazy. Treat your own hair gently.”

“Will I have long hair if I wash it with oil and soap-nut powder every week?”

“Certainly.”

“I hate it!”

“The trick is to shut your eyes tightly.”

“Do you know all the tricks about bathing?”

“Maybe….”

“Why do we have to bathe everyday?”

“We have to bathe for every occasion. We all bathed when you were born, when your great-grandmother died. We will also give you a special bath when you grow up.”

“Those are special days. Why everyday Grandma?”

“Each day is special in our calendar. We can make everyday unique and special.”

“If each day is special then why do we have the special ceremonies to bathe grandma?”

“Everything that happens in your life is a celebration. Rejoice at every opportunity!”

“Why do we bathe in the temple water fall?”

“For our joy. What does God care if your skin is clean? He knows who you are inside.”

“Why do we take Gods to the river or sea?”

“For our joy.”

“Should we do everything to feel some joy?”

“You bet.”

“What do you do when you feel sad?”

“I bathe.”

“What do you do when you are happy?”

“I take a slow bath, like you did today.”

“What do you do when you are neither happy nor sad?”

“I work.”

I blurted tearfully, “Grandma, I hate the torture of oil bath!”

Grandma slowly rubbed my dripping hair with her sari. My stomach growled. Much to my surprise, granny patted my back and whispered, “Madam, you have earned a special treat today!”

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