Salangai Pooja

Kalimandir. Rome, 7 November 2021

On November 7th I participated, at the invitation of my friends from Sri Lanka, in a pooja (the Hindu prayer) that I had never seen.

It was also an opportunity to return after almost ten years – it was 2012 the last time I was there – to the Kalimandir Hindu temple, located in Casal Lumbroso, far from the chaos of the big metropolis.

The temple is on the estate owned by Yogi Krishnanath and Gori Nath, who opened it in 1974 after living for decades in India, following the teachings of guru Govinda Nath.

Surrounded by greenery, with a small temple dedicated to Kali and one, below ground level, dedicated to Durga, this was the perfect scenario for this pooja which must have already been performed in the previous months, but which due to the sanitary restrictions that we all know took place on this day.

 

The pooja is called Salangai Pooja, and was organized and performed by the Chanchala Bulathwatta Academy of Arts, a traditional dance school with Sri Lankan girls who dance both the traditional dances of their country and the Indian ones. Among them there is also the daughter of my dear friend Bianca Dilrukshi whom I have known since 2010: it's thanks to her and to the teacher Chachala that I had or occasion to attend this splendid pooja.

Why gorgeous? I believe that its charm is the linked aspect, not only to art but also to the emotional one.

First of all, what does salangai mean? It's none other than the name of the anklet with bells, also called ghungroo, which is used in the classical dance Bharatanatyam, one of the most fascinating – in my opinion – of all Indian dances.

With the neologism Bharatanatyam we mean a composite neo-classical art having as its constituent elements dance, dramatic art, music, rhyme, and rhythm built on principles formulated in the “Natya Sastra” of Bharata Muni (holy revered in the Indian system of thought). For centuries the Devadasi, priestesses-dancers dedicated to a divinity since childhood, have contributed to the daily worship with the Dasi-Attam or Sadir dance, since, according to the sacred texts, no offer, no prayer is more pleasing to the Gods. The “Bharata Natyam”, a neologism created in the last century, indicates the recoding of that liturgical dance dating back to the end of the nineteenth century. It's, therefore, to be considered a neo-classical dance, which includes not only dance but also theater and music.

It's no coincidence that the pooja took place in front of the image of Naṭarāja, or Shiva, also called the Lord of the Dance, or the Dancing God; this is the most popular image and corresponds to the dance called nādānta, the one that according to Shiva tradition performed in Chidambaram (or Tillai), in the forest of Tāragam to defend himself from the ṝṣi followers of the Mīmāṃsā and from the dwarf they had created to attack him.

 

So Chanchala explains to me the deep meaning of this pooja:

“While every art form provides immense learning in its own right, to both the learner and the audience, a classical dance takes it to a completely different level. Talking of South Indian Bharatanatyam style, there is so much heritage/culture/value system packed into this dance form: every move, every sequence, every beat is overloaded with grace, beauty, and admiration of not just the Lord but every animate descendent.

Salangai puja is done when students complete a formal study of Bharatanatyam or when they start to learn Bharathanatyam.

 

The learners start formally wearing the anklet and stage dance performances. The custom holds a lot of significance because without performing the mandatory salangai pooja no student of the classical dance can adorn the salangai.

The positive energy of the entire team with the blessings of Lord Nataraja, the guru or dance teacher ties the Salangai around her student's ankles and blesses the student. After that the students also receive the blessing from their parents, only then they can perform in front of everyone.”

 

These are my photographs that try to tell this long day.

For me it was very interesting because it showed me a different side of the various Hindu prayers I have seen – it must be said that this is mostly celebrated in Tamil Nadu, South India, while I mainly follow Hare Krishna Hinduism in West Bengali, northern India, and Bangladesh.

It was a touching intertwining of art, dances, and family love.

As Bianca told me, the effort and love with which the families of the students help and encourage them should be highlighted and admired: without them, this day would not have been possible.

Seeing a child kneeling at a parent's feet always has a certain effect. It reminded me when, last month, during Durga Pooja, a friend of mine asked me to photograph him kneeling at the feet of his father and his mother standing.

In the end, I believe that this prayer is a beautiful plastic way of seeing the devotion to God that is then embodied in one's teacher and parents, like a wisp of incense smoke that reaches from the fiery red tip to the nostrils of us human beings and it becomes part of us, incarnating.

 

I hope that all of this can be read in my few images.

 

Last thing: before leaving I asked Bianca how photography is called in Sri Lanka, just out of curiosity and to add it to the other terms of the languages I know, and she replied, ඡායා රූප, chāyā rūpa; she didn't even have to translate it because I had already recognized that it was a purely Sanskrit term, common to the Indo-Malay language, and means the form (rupa) of light (chaya).

I find it one of the most beautiful ways to give a name to photography.

 

Italian version