RAKHI – THE BOND OF PROTECTION.
As I left disappointed from my third shop, I told myself, success would be at the next store. After all how hard could it be to find a simple Rakhi? Every Indian grocery store was stocked with them and they were colourfully displayed at the front counter. Promising brothers that they were loved! Assuring sisters that they were protected!
Every year on the full moon in the month of Shravan, sisters tied this sacred thread around the right wrist of their brothers. On Rakhi Purnima, they pray for their brother’s long life. In return they seek their brother’s sheltering love. And every year brothers reach out their hand to accept this mutual expectation
I stopped my car in front of ‘SPICED INDIA – If it’s a Rakhi you want, it’s a Rakhi we have’. Optimistically I rushed in and then minutes later, slowly walked out. Amidst the dozens that were displayed my special little Rakhi was noticeably absent. I got back into my car. Next suburb, here I come!
Rakhi, that has its foundation in the Puranas where it was referred to as Rakshikabandhanas, has changed in character but has survived the many invasions and the many materialistic assaults to remain the supreme proof of the love between a brother and sister .The rich buy fanciful ones, the poor, a single thread. The meaning remains the same as does its essence.
Ah, I sighed, ‘INDIA GALORE – let us help you prepare for Rakhi’. True to their world they did help me prepare for Rakhi. I got a silver tray which the man called a thali. On it sat a diya, roli, tika rice, haldi, kum kum, sandalwood, incense sticks and ‘moli’. The diya which would hold the light and the incense stand which would hold the incense sticks were fixed to the tray but the little lota or water urn was loosely placed. There was space in the centre for flowers, sweets and of course my Rakhi. I had everything now but my special Rakhi.
And so I proceeded on to the next retail outlet.
Raksha Bandhan, binding of protection, a celebration invented by the Hindu but crossing the many faiths. It is said that Hindu queens sent Rakhi’s to Mughal rulers to forge a bond. Thus Muslim Humayun became a brother to a Hindu sister Queen Karnawati. Adopting a brother is still common especially with single children. And the tie of affection still crosses the many religions.
“UNREAL INDIA – we have everything that the real India has’ – reading that I walked in and began to browse.
Unreal India was loaded with stock but still did not have what I need. Maybe the salesman was right when he remarked that even ‘real India’ would not have what I was looking for.
Rakhi, the origin is mysterious and shrouded in myths. Was Yama the first brother to receive the Rakhi from sister Yamuna? Or was the celebration first called ‘Baleva, after Goddess Lakshmi, made King Bali her brother? Did its sanctity arise after Draupadi torn off a strip of her sari to bind Lord Krishna’s wrist to stem the bleeding from his hand and bound him forever in a sibling’s bond. In return did she receive his promise and protection?
And was Rabindranath Tagore responsible for making it a secular festival when he asked Hindus and Muslims to celebrate this festival together? Or did children simple tie the thread on one they wanted for a sibling?
A dozen stops and a dozen disappointments later, I realized that if I wanted the perfect Rakhi, I would have to make it myself. And so at the last stop I got all that I needed for my perfect brother.
I rushed home and got out my craft bag. And then I began. Carefully I placed layer after layer as I created my sacred tie. Velvet as soft as a rose’s petal became the base! To the Fragrant Sandalwood carved into an Om, I added strands of cellophane that quaintly rustled and little bells that gently tinkled as it moved. And when they had all been glued into place, I attached the string made of five strands. They stood for love, for prayers, for purity, for eternity and finally protection.
After that I cleared the house and cooked the dinner. It did not bother me that the dishes did not look that great, I just wanted them to taste the best. Once that was done I arranged the thali with fragrant roses and aromatic sweets. After a shower I cleared the shrine and set up the space when I would tie the thread. Then I wore my clanging bangles and jingling anklets. I looked in the mirror. I was ready and so was my thali. I lit the lamp and enclosed it in a glassed dome.
Just then the doorbell rang and I voiced that I was coming. As I pulled open the door, there stood my little baby brother and behind him, my mum and dad.
As he stepped in, I moved a fallen petal out of his way and took hold of his outstretched hand. My Rakhi will not ask for a brother’s protection instead it will a promise my little brother, this sister’s unending care.
My perfect little brother, who just happened to be ‘visually impaired’
THE END
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