Panguni Uthiram festival

On my way to a hospital appointment yesterday morning, I was caught in a heavy traffic congestion that stretched almost a mile long. At first, I thought that there was an accident up ahead but when I rounded a corner, I realised it wasn't. It was an Indian religious festival taking place, every year around this time in Bukit Mertajam. 

Along the road to the hospital, cars were moving bumper-to-bumper, going past temporary stalls and altars. Eventually, I passed by the Shri Maha Mangalanayagi Amman Devasthanam, crowded with devotees mainly wearing yellow. My curiosity was piqued. What an opportunity it would be to visit. But that would have to wait until my appointment was over. 

Leaving the hospital at about 11.15am, I crossed the road only to be stopped in my tracks by the temple chariot being pushed and pulled to the main road. What luck, the procession was about to begin. Only then did I begin to appreciate what I had just stumbled into.

This temple goes way back to 1893. More than a hundred years old, it started off tucked inside a Tamil school, the old Ramanathan Tamil School. In those days, the deity was known as Sungurumbai Mariamman. Over time, as the school moved out, the community grew and the temple grew with it, eventually becoming what it is today, a full-fledged devasthanam. This was quite typical of how early Indian settlers in Malaya did things. They started small, built what they could and slowly over the years, those little shrines became proper temples.

Today, the temple stands along Jalan Kulim, not far from the hospital, with its towering gopuram and all the usual South Indian architectural features. And of course, that chariot I spoke of. Big, imposing, intricately carved, and I was standing just feet away. People say it is one of the largest in this part of the region and seeing it up close, I have no reason to doubt that.

The festival itself, which I had unknowingly walked into, was the Panguni Uthiram, the main event of the year for this temple. Everything had built up to this day. Early in the morning, special prayers would have been conducted. The goddess, Mangalanayagi Amman, would have been dressed in silk sarees, adorned with gold jewellery and fresh flower garlands. By the time I arrived, all that had already been done and the focus had shifted outside.

The chariot was brought out slowly to the road. The deity placed within, and then the long pull began. Devotees took hold of the ropes, inched the whole structure forward along a fixed route through town. Wasn't a fast affair, the procession could take the whole day accompanied by the steady beat of drums and the wail of the nadaswaram.

Along the route, people lined both sides of the road. Makeshift stalls were everywhere, a bit like a moving carnival except that underneath it all, there was a deep sense of devotion. I could see it in the faces of those carrying milk pots on their heads, fulfilling their vows. Others carried the kavadi, walking barefoot under the hot sun. These are personal acts of devotion, fulfilling promises made and now being honoured.

What struck me most was how the whole town seemed to adjust itself around the procession. Traffic slowed to a crawl, people waited patiently, nobody really complaining. Everyone knew what was happening. This wasn’t an interruption. It was part of life here.

The first thing I noticed on entering the temple was the dwajasthambam standing tall in front of the main sanctum that housed the Goddess Mangalanayagi Amman. But since the statue had been taken out for the procession, only the priests remained. Devotees continued lining up to pray before the sanctum, and the priests kept passing containers of cow’s milk inside. At the side of the sanctum, the emptied milk flowed out through an opening in the wall. 

In the multi-purpose hall next to the temple, free food was being served. I was curious to see what was on offer and suddenly, an empty plate was thrust into my hand. A holy man urged me to join the queue, and I came away with a plate of Indian vegetarian rice that never tasted more delicious.

All these sights, sounds, smells and tastes at the temple. To think that I had almost dismissed them as just another traffic jam.