Alida is an obscure village 50 kilometres south of Calcutta, close to Magrahat in South 24-Parganas. It is believed to have been named after countless aals or embankments between paddy fields, fish ponds and creeks in the area — not very far from the deltas of the Sunderbans.
In the heart of the village stands the temple of Alida Bibi Mata with an unusual design that reflects architectural elements of both mosques and temples. The spires look like turrets and, instead of a dome, there is a cylindrical top. Inside, there is a thaan or altar made of three stones — similar to those found in mosques. Beside it, there’s a staircase and on its steps you’ll find rows of idols of goddess Alida Bibi. About two-foot tall, each clay idol is dressed in a colourful sari and has flowing hair.
During a three-day annual festival in the month of Chaitra, beginning mid-March, people from all faiths visit the shrine and offer an idol and special prayers for hajat or wish fulfilment. Before they set up the idols on the staircase, the devotees arrive in processions. One of them sprinkles holy water from the Ganges while circumambulating the temple.
Then they offer batasa, jaggery and dry sweets to the goddess to the accompaniment of rituals. Women burn incense and light a fire in earthen pots. When the fire burns, the worshippers chant “Ameen, ameen”. Presiding over it all is an imam; he offers prayers to the goddess all year round, and a special prayer every Monday and Friday.
A singer of the Satya Pir panchali with his accompanist in Burdwan Courtesy: www.koulalpotrika.com
Hindus and Muslims working as farmhands, fisherfolk and foragers in the mangrove forests, all worship Alida Bibi Mata. These people live in constant fear of the elements and the wild — tidal waves and cyclones, tigers, crocodiles and poisonous snakes. Religion has morphed in an unusual way here, shaped as it were by a particular way of life.
Still deeper inside the marshy lands, goddess Bon Bibi and bizarre legends around her survive in the many scattered shrines. Believed to be the daughter of Berahim (Ibrahim), a fakir from Mecca, the goddess is venerated by people of both faiths as the guardian of forests. Local folk, irrespective of faith, also worship the Hindu demon king Dakshin Rai, who they believe attacks humans in the guise of a tiger.
Swapan Kumar Thakur, a researcher of folk history and culture, has found many such syncretic gods across remote villages of Bengal. The rural historians he has trained travel with him to document instances of such unique fusion of religious beliefs — that have survived attacks from puritans, fundamentalists and propagators of divisive politics of both faiths. These are to be found in the online repository and bilingual magazine koulalpotrika.com.
“Unless you carry out intense field research, you won’t know how deep-rooted cultural and social syncretism is in the minds of rural folks,” says Thakur. According to him, these villagers, who have to fend for themselves amidst pestilence, flood, drought and other adversities, forget about the constructed barriers of religions.
Amit Dey, a senior historian and professor at Calcutta University, agrees, “The daily grind of rural society encourages people to cooperate with neighbours and people around them. In their struggles for existence there is little demarcation of religion, caste or creed.”
Thakur talks about Jagannath Pir of Kandra village near Ketugram in eastern Burdwan. The guardian angel of the village is an idol that resides in a hut looked after by a family of khadems for ages. The idol, missing all limbs, resembles Lord Jagannath. The current khadem, Shah Alam, who is the descendant of one Isha, told Thakur a fascinating story of the idol’s discovery by his ancestor.
According to him, Isha had found the idol centuries ago when he undertook a pilgrimage. When he returned home and started worshipping the idol, his neighbours objected to the act that is considered blasphemy in Islam. When they threw away the idol into a nearby pond, a series of misfortunes began with sudden deaths and pestilence. The villagers fished the idol out and reinstated it in a hut — which is currently the god’s thaan.
Muslims worship this god as Buropir and Hindus pay obeisance to Jagannath Pir. Just beside the hut, there is the grave of one of the early khadems of the thaan, Jaher Khadem.
Jagannath Pir is offered daily puja or nityaseva with fruits, sweets and shirni. On the ninth day of Durga Puja, devotees fill urns with water from that pond and offer prayers to the beating of drums and plates of bell metal. Among them are, especially, couples eager to start a family.
Thakur talks about Satya Pir, who is believed to embody the holiness of a pir from Mecca and the Hindu deity Satyanarayan or Vishnu. Worshipped in the region for centuries, Satya Pir is a classic example of the amalgamation of folk traditions, Hinduism and Islam.
Anthroplogist and social scientist Ralph W. Nicholas — who studied the region for nearly five decades and penned books such as The Fruits of Worship: Practical Religion in Bengal — tells The Telegraph in an email from Chicago, “Satyanarayan is known throughout India but his appearance as Satya Pir is Bengali.”
