An effort to recapitulate and share my ideas,views and thoughts in words...

It’s the festive season in my village; the temple is all set for welcoming the oracle. Dressed in bright red and holding the holy sword, the oracle starts his day with energy and vigour, likely to get more intense as the day progresses. Few local villagers accompany the oracle to collect rice grains and money from the houses that lie in the vicinity of the temple. It is intended to benefit the temple workers and the poor.

The festival means a lot to the villagers. It is meant to bring prosperity and good luck to the village and so, the oracle is considered to be a person through which the mighty goddess conveys her blessings to the people [Oracles are usually associated with temples that worship goddesses].
Anxious people await the oracle to arrive in their houses and bless them. Tension is always in the air when the oracle arrives at the house. He runs around the house maneuvering him through the narrow corridors throwing rice grains. This ritual is believed to purify every corner of the house. Children hide desperately, too afraid of the oracles enthusiasm with the sword in his hand. The long hair, dark skin and bright red clothing with an enterprising sword in his hand make a fearful prospect for the kids. The blessing ceremony is traditionally done by placing the blunt end of the sword on the devotees head, often turns out to be a nightmare for the younger members of the family. This marks the end of the oracles duties, now the family head shows his gratitude by offering the oracle rice grains and money. The oracle is now all set to move on to next house and repeat the rituals.

The oracle finishes blessing the houses by dusk and starts his venture towards the temple along with the local villagers who accompanied him to the houses.
The jingle of bells as he walks on vigorously cuts through the tranquility prevailing in the village. His energy levels now begin to increase in an exponential fashion as he approaches the temple. It reaches its maximum on arrival at the temple. The people greet him with prayers. The deafening sound of instruments and the mystic smell of holy smoke create an atmosphere that sets fire to the dynamite waiting to explode in the oracle and he bursts into dancing and jumping vigorously. A strange energy runs through his blood, he cuts his head time and again and blood pours out like lava overflowing from a volcano. The temple now would have definitely evoked a sense of chaos in a young individual. The oracle continues to dance in the bedlam. Villagers pray with desperation and after several minutes of self-mutilation, the oracle calms down. The people cover his wounds with turmeric powder to check the overwhelming bleeding. The oracle sits exhausted.

The villagers believe God himself incarnated into the oracles body as for he knew no pain when he cut through his head. The oracle was in another world for several minutes, where he had no family, no belongings, no emotions, not even a body of his own. The power of faith in the goddess, the rigid feeling that the goddess will bless the village through him made his soul imbibe an energy that is alien to the world of science.
It has been a long day for the oracle, his deeds done, mission accomplished. Now he walks back carrying his humble share of rice grains and money through the murky night to his home, where his family awaits for his selfless soul.  

The great forests of Ranathambor and Sundarbans which once flourished with mighty tigers now run dry,Illegal hunting and poaching has paved way to a remarkable decrease in the number of tigers.
Man is expanding his niches to the dark forests due to lack of room for himself and his family,the incereased proximity between humans and the wild is resulting in unwanted encounters with the tigers.A single taste of human flesh turn many tigers into maneaters,and when they are on prowl,danger lurks,the local residents in the mangrove forests of Sundarbans often face tiger attacks,hence the beast turns as an unforgiving enemy for them.The villagers show no mercy in beating the tigers to death that come too close for comfort.
What we are going to lose is our national animal,the grandeaur and endurance of a tiger is unmatchable and its virtues has continued to inspire people for centuries.Tigers are also a part of our heritage and culture.
There are just over a thousand tigers left in the wild,The fate of Tigers is in our hands,If we can raise our voices against poaching and the injustice they are facing,we can certainly help the future generations appreciate one of the great manifestation of nature.So lets join our hands and work for the cause,SAVE OUR TIGERS!!

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The images you see in this blog are executed by my sister , Sreevidya P.A...

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