At the end of worship in the temple or in the home, prasāda is usually distributed. Prasada is some substance that has been made holy by the act of worship for distribution to the worshipper(s).
Prasada is the material symbol of the deities’ power and grace. During puja, different substances – ash, water, flowers, food [generally sweetmeats], or other items – have been transferred to the deity, so that they have been in contact with the images, or, as with food, have been symbolically consumed by the deity in its image form. As a result, these substances have been ritually transmuted to become prasada imbued with divine power and grace, which are absorbed or internalized when the prasada is placed on the devotee's body or swallowed. Whenever puja is concluded by waving a camphor flame, taking in the prasada is a process that replicates and consolidates the transfer of divine power and grace through the immaterial medium of the flame. Hence the flame and prasada together divinize the human actor to achieve the identity between deity and worshipper (including non-participatory devotees), which completes the transformation initiated by the offerings and services made during puja.
(Fuller 1992: 74;on pūjā and prasāda see pp. 74–82)
So prasāda is a ‘graced’ substance that establishes a form of identity between deity and devotee. It also demonstrates the superiority of the deity over the devotee. As a kind of ‘leaving’ or residue (ucchiṣṭa) of the deity,9 which the votary absorbs – in the everyday world of caste-practice such leavings from humans normally pollute their eater10 – the prasāda, rather than polluting the votary, has a sanctifying effect by enabling the votary to merge in some way with the deity. Prasāda is also a means to establish a form of shared identity between its human takers on a social level (this does not mean that no sense of rank or precedence in its distribution may not also be observed), as well as on a religious plane in so far as by its acceptance communion of a kind is established between the votaries as a group and the deity. Since the effects of pūjā and prasāda are temporary, they need to be practised on a regular basis for these particular relationships to be sustained.
What sort of prayers, we may ask, do worshippers make to the deity at home or when they visit the temple? As one would expect, such prayers vary. It is very common for the votary to petition the deity for some favour, such as good health for self or loved one, a cure from sickness, success in finding a job or in undertaking a task, seeking peace of mind, the (healthy) birth of a child (especially a son), and so on. Samanta translates a formal Sanskrit prayer to Kālī made during her worship in the temple, as follows:
Give me long life, fame, good fortune;sons, wealth, satisfaction of my desires, O one who may prevent all well-being. Kālī, Kālī, great Kālī, the destroyer of my sins; give me dharma, artha, Mokṣa, Goddess, hail to you!
(1992: 56)
Not much is left out in this prayer! No doubt, this is a way of saying that all good gifts reside in the power of the Goddess, and that without her blessing nothing good ensues. It asserts the absolute superiority of the deity. On the other hand, there are many formal and personal prayers that are made to praise the deity alone, and to assert unwavering devotion and unconditional self-offering to him/her. Here is a declaration of faith of a higher order, made by the well-known classical vocalist, Pandit Jasraj, in reference to the deity Balaji of the Tirupati temple: ‘I have never asked for any fulfilment of wishes, but with just His darshan and blessings, all my work has been getting done well. His image is always there in my mind. Whenever I am in difficulty, I do not have to ask for anything. He calls me and my problems are solved. This is my joy, my devotion that I always remain at his feet’ (The Week, 14 September, 2008, p.38, inset).
It may be appropriate now to comment on some features of Hindu iconography. As noted earlier, the image or ‘icon’ does not exhaust the form or power of the Godhead. It is ‘not an object at which one's [spiritual] vision halts, but rather a lens through which one's vision is directed’ (Eck 1983: 20). When damaged or destroyed, it is disposed of, as we have seen, and another is installed in its place. The nature or form of the deity it displays is subject to the directives of a (long) textual and/or local tradition. The image will usually depict a particular story of the great or little tradition in which the deity has a prominent role, or a particular manifestation or aspect of the deity or member of its religious ‘family’, or a particular teaching associated with the deity, or perhaps some combination of these motifs.
Let us consider the image in a Vaiṣṇava context. The image may be of Viṣṇu himself, the cult icon of a sect, characterized by the sacred thread over the left shoulder, beautifully arranged hair, and a cakra or disc in one hand, symbolizing the wheel of dharma or the orb of the sun, and agadā or mace in the other, signifying royal authority. Such an image portrays Viṣṇu as an establishment figure, the God of dharma or order. Or the image may be of Viṣṇu, right leg upraised in a giant stride: Viṣṇu tri-vikrama or urugāya, ‘Viṣṇu of the three strides’ or ‘wide-striding’, which harks back to a motif associated with an early phase of the Veda in which Viṣṇu appears as a dwarf, obtains the boon from a powerful demon-king of receiving as much land as he can cover by three strides, and then progressively encompasses the universe! Or it may be of Viṣṇu as another of his avatāras, e.g. Narasiṃha, the'Man-Lion, with the demon Hiraṇyakaśipu being torn open on his lap – another popular, but much later motif.
Or the image may be of Rāma, or of Krishna dancing on the multi-hooded Kāliya, the fearful serpent-king who terrorized the denizens of the Yamunā river till the boy-God subdued him (a theme taken from an episode of the Bhāgavata Purāṇa). It may be, however, of Krishna and Rādhā in loving embrace, he dark-skinned, playing his flute, head adorned with an ornament of peacock feathers, she fair, possibly demurely showing the varada-mudrā or ‘gift-bestowing gesture’ to the devotee. The Rādhā-Krishna image may be ‘Vaiṣṇava’ for purposes of classification, yet in various devotional schools drawing inspiration from the teaching of Caitanya, this pair are conjointly the Godhead and are worshipped as such in their own right (in this context, the term ‘Viṣṇu’ may be used simply as another name for Krishna). Or as Vaiṣṇava, the image may be of Hanumān, the monkey-devotee of Rāma first described in the Rāmāyaṇa, and in many parts of India now a cult-icon in his own right.
Whilst it is true that image-worship can generate strong sectarian preferences on the part of Hindus, even within the same broad tradition, it is no less true that many Hindus, while perhaps favouring a particular iconic form, may relate positively to a number of images across sectarian divides by a kind of ‘image-prioritization’ in their approach to the divine. We have given an insight into the theology underlying this approach earlier in the chapter. Although Viṣṇu seems to have been a significant focus of the Transcendent already in the Ṛg Veda, not-withstanding his relatively brief appearance in that text, the processes that led, increasingly from the middle of the first millennium B.C.E, to his becoming the assimilative centre of worship for a great many Hindus and one of the chief Gods of later Hinduism, are far from clear.
The situation is similar in the Śaiva context. Historically speaking, the Śiva of latter-day devotion is a composite figure, originating from various sources including the Vedic devas Agni and Rudra, and perhaps cultic worship in Harappan religion (see Chapter 2 and O'Flaherty 1981a). On the basis of the Svetāśvatara Upaniṣad, which seems to be a sort of counterpart to the Bhagavad Gītā by exalting Śiva, we may conjecture that by the beginning of the Common Era he was a monotheistic cult deity (recall the discovery of the Śiva stone-temple remains dating to about the third century before Christ, mentioned earlier). In time, like Viṣṇu and the Goddess, he became the assimilative centre of a vast and many-stemmed mythic and cultic tradition, a microcosm of the Ancient Banyan of Hinduism itself. Iconographically, in another context, we have already described Śiva as Lord of the Dance (Śiva-Naṭarāja; see Chapter 10). But Śiva may also be depicted with trident
and matted locks, one or more cobras draped about him (often encircling his neck and/or waist) and a tiger-skin around his loins: here, we have Śiva the ascetic, and yet paradoxically a symbol of fertility and the new life of creation: as such he is not a little disruptive of conventional codes of morality. Or Śiva may be portrayed in various standing or seated postures in the company of his wife and lover, Pārvatī, and so on – the themes abound.
In the Śaiva context, let us spend some time considering the iconography of what to Western tastes may be a bizarre focus of the divine – the elephant-headed Gaṇeśa. Mythologically, Gaṇeśa is placed in Siva's family. According to a dominant theme in this context, he was produced from rubbings off Pārvatī’s body, decapitated in a fit of anger by Śiva (who was ignorant of his identity), subsequently restored to life with an elephant's head since this was the first head that came fortuitously to hand, and then adopted by a penitent Śiva.
Gaṇeśa means ‘Lord of the ganjas’; the gaṇas are Śiva's henchmen, portrayed as ludicrous, and sometimes sinister, dwarves. Gaṇeśa is also known as ‘Gaṇapati’ – which has the same sense – in western India, and Pillaiyār in the south. Gaṇeśa lost his original head in trying to guard his ‘mother’ Pārvatī’s privacy, and it is in the role of guardian and facilitator/enabler that he is generally worshipped. His main feast is celebrated on the caturthī or fourth day of the bright half of the (Hindu) month of Bhadrapadā (August-September);the celebrations may last for 10 days (Courtright 1985 gives a description).
Gaṇeśa protects his worshipper from danger and mishaps. As ‘Lord of obstacles and Lord of beginnings’ (the title of Courtright's book), he is ‘vighneśvara’ and is invoked by the pious Hindu at the start of some enterprise, religious or other: an act of worship, a visit to the temple (Gaṇeśa images are commonly found at the entrance to temples or inner shrines), a journey, a building project, examinations, a business venture, marriage, writing a letter, the working day etc. Otherwise, the sinister streak in his nature may assert itself and he may refuse to help. As Lord of obstacles, not only can he remove difficulties, he can create them too! In this capacity, Gaṇeśa is resorted to across the sectarian divides. Though history records a fairly minor tradition of Gaṇeśa-worship where he would be the central cult deity, and though, mythologically, he is placed in Siva's family, through his role as Lord of obstacles his image is worshipped in virtually every sect or denomination of Hinduism, not to mention in countless Hindu households.
So there he is before you, usually sitting or standing (very occasionally balancing on one foot in a dance-posture), sometimes with many hands, sometimes with but two, a somewhat comical figure with his elephant-head and prominent paunch. What to make of him? The Hindu is adept at relating to Gaṇeśa on more than one level. There is the level of narrative and myth. Stories about how he came to acquire an elephant's head and a broken or chipped left tusk are widespread.11 There is also the level of religious symbolism. The elephant signifies sagacity and kingly power, and when in rut, that unpredictability which is potentially so dangerous. The trunk has phallic associations and hence stands for creativity and fertility; the ears are like winnowing-fans, sifting wisdom. Gaṇeśa's trunk usually extends along his large belly and ends near a small hand-held pot of sweetmeats, the trunk's tip encircling one of the round sweets: here we have Gaṇeśa represented as both the symbol and the giver of prosperity and success. If he is shown with a number of hands, one hand may bear a hatchet which signifies ‘the cutting away of ... false teaching’;another often holds an elephant-goad representing'the logic that cuts through illusion’. Yet a third hand may carry the noose with which wild elephants are captured, signifying the power to restrain worldly passions, and one or two hands may gesture reassurance and the giving of blessings, respectively (see e.g. Courtright 1985: 4).
For the Hindu devotee, the divine being is essentially spiritual, devoid of hands, feet, body and head(s). But for the Hindu artist, many hands become a device for bearing a variety of objects that can be given symbolic significance in the way described above. Hence the many hands of Hindu religious images are only an artistic device, not a theological necessity. Images are always given an even number of hands, sometimes up to 16 or 32 (some Tantric images are described as having over 50!), though more usually 4 or 8. The attribute of each hand can be given theological significance; thus, a Hindu religious image is a many-layered but condensed theological statement which can be ‘read off’ by the knowledgeable. More than two hands, further, symbolizes the dynamism of the deity; when the God is represented as serenely self-controlled – as in the case of Śiva in his pose as meditating Yogi – only two relaxed hands are shown.
One further feature of the Gaṇeśa-image deserves special mention: Gaṇeśa is almost always portrayed as accompanied by a rat or mouse (mūṣaka) which is usually placed near or under his feet. This is Gaṇeśa's vāhana, a technical iconographic term, that means ‘supporter’ (in more than one sense of this term). The vāhana is usually an animal of some kind, though in some Tantric cults the vāhana can be another deity (i.e. a lesser manifestation of the supreme deity); the vāhana helps identify the figure it is associated with, and also carries added theological significance. Thus, in Gaṇeśa esa's case, rats and elephants are supposed not to get on, yet by juxtaposing Gaṇeśa and the rat we are led to perceive a complementarity of opposites in the deity. Just as the elephant is large and powerful, and the rat small and surreptitious, so God's omnipotence is complemented by his immanence; he can overcome great obstacles, stealing his way into our hearts and the dark and complex alleyways of our minds to bring guidance, light and solace. Again, just as the elephant is discerning and the rat persistent, so the deity combines wisdom with perseverance in the dispensation of his saving grace – and so on. There is an added depth to Gaṇeśa's strange appearance: according to some, the half-animal, half-human figure intimates the divine as immanent in all life-forms, as well as the animal straining to ‘evolve’ into the human, and the human in search of communion with the divine.
Most, if not all, cult-deities have their vāhana(s) who, in turn, can play active roles in the narratives and myths of their deities. Śiva has Nandīthe bull, a symbol of strength and fertility; Viṣṇu has Garuda the eagle and also the cosmic serpent Ananta or Śeṣa, two mythic opposites symbolizing transcendence and immanence;Krishna, the divine cowherd of Vrindaban, is associated with cows; the Goddess Durgā is mounted on a lion (sometimes a tiger) which symbolizes fierce strength and indomitability; Kārttikeya, also known as Subramanya and in the Tamil South as Murugan, and generally placed in Śiva's family as a brother of Gaṇeśa, has the peacock, here signifying the beauty of youth, and so on.
And now to a consideration of the image of Devī or the Goddess. In Chapter 9, we referred to the Devī Māhātmya, which is part of the Mārkaṇḍeya Purāṇa, and which presents one of the earliest coherent theologies of the Goddess (fifth or sixth century C.E.). Here, the Goddess is described not only as the transcendent, supreme, personal Principle and Goal of all being, but also as immanent in all being, ‘operative both as the material world and in the material world’ (see earlier). This earthy dimension of the Goddess emerges iconographically usually in narrow-waisted, broad-hipped and full-breasted figures, viz. the Goddess as mother and/or nubile consort. There are exceptions, as we shall see, but this is the usual representation of the Goddess in image-worship.
The Goddess is divine śakti or power personified. This underlying power can be given distinctive theological emphases, of course – as creative force, as the mediator of divine grace (Lakṣmī in the Śrī Vaiṣṇava tradition), as the energy of divine bliss (Rādhā for the Gauḍīya Vaiṣṇavas), as the might of the deity (Durgā in Bengali Śāktism). Sometimes the Goddess is depicted as the śakti of her consort-God, sometimes as divine power in her own right. Śākta is a term derived from śakti; it can refer either to the context in which the Goddess is worshipped, or to the worshipper of the Godde
ss. Let us consider portrayals of the Goddess, first as the consort of a male deity, and then as Supreme Power or śakti in her own right.
A popular consort-Goddess is Lakṣmī as the wife of Viṣṇu. By the late Gupta period in north India (ca.400–500 C.E.) Lakṣmī had been associated with Viṣṇu as his inseparable wife and helper, after a previous literary history in which she was linked to a number of other divinities. Lakṣmī is regarded as another name or form of the Goddess Śrī, so it is not unusual to refer to her in a hyphenated way, viz. as Śrī-Lakṣmī. As such, Lakṣmī is usually portrayed as a beautiful, resplendent, shapely young woman, gorgeously apparelled in red, her chief quality and gift being ‘general well-being in terms of physical health, material prosperity, bodily beauty, and ruling majesty’ (Kinsley 1987: 20). To these we may add ‘fertility’. She is usually accompanied, iconographically, by the lotus and/or elephant. As ‘a symbol of fertility and life which is rooted in and takes its strength from the primordial waters’, the lotus ‘suggests a growing, expanding world imbued with vigorous fertile power ... Rooted in the mud but blossoming above the water, completely uncontaminated by the mud, the lotus [also] represents spiritual perfection and authority’. Because, in Hindu mythology, the elephant is associated with clouds and their rain-bearing properties, this animal also suggests fecundity, and because the king was supposed to preside over the fertility and abundance of the earth – which was regarded as his ‘bride’ – elephants were associated with kings, and therefore royal authority (Kinsley 1987: 21–2). In the medieval Pāñcarātra literature, Lakṣmī’s theological intimacy with Viṣṇu is so strongly established that she becomes his creative and mediatorial śakti (P. Kumar 1997: Chapter 3). So Lakṣmī can be approached on various levels: (i) as the manifestation of deity that bestows well-being and prosperity (irrespective of the religious denomination to which one belongs), but also, deriving from such texts as the Lakṣmī Tantra of the Pāñcarātra tradition, (ii) as the Supreme Power in her own right in so far as she is one pole of the Godhead in the closest ontological union with Viṣṇu, and (iii) devotionally, in Śrī Vaiṣṇavism, as Viṣṇu's gracious and mediating consort.
Hindus: Their Religious Beliefs and Practices (The Library of Religious Beliefs and Practices) Page 56