Jamlu of Malana
It is late one October afternoon in 2010, and I call Jonty to see if he is ready for a little adventure. As always, he is ready in minutes and off we go on foot to town. I have heard that Jamlu camps on the other side of the river, but how to find the exact location might prove to be difficult. We head down towards the river from lower Dalpur and plan to cross the bridge in Sarwari Bazar. Without any plan, not to mention direction, we meet up with a man on the bridge sporting a colourful Kullu cap. In broken Hindi, we enquire as to the whereabouts of Jamlu of Malana. Not expecting that anything will come of the first enquiry, we are delighted when the local man says that he is going there and that we should just follow along. We are thrilled.
We follow along up a small foot path with the occasional rustic rock stairs, cross the overflow of a small spring making the path a bit slippery, cut through a small field with some kind of leafy green vegetable—all in all, a very picturesque little walk. About twenty minutes later, he points and says that they are just over there to the right. Excited to see what is actually there, we proceed to find a cement platform with the name Jamlu written in Hindi and covered in flowers, a gantha (bell), and a darach (a ceremonial vessel in which herbs are burnt). ahh! We think we have found Jamlu of Malana. We pay respects and offer twenty rupees, but then the man sitting there brings us to another place where there are three bells and darach. These devtas are Jeev Narayan of Jana, Devta Ajimal of Soyl, and Shakil Nag of Tandala. Confused, we again try to enquire about Jamlu of Malana. Then, a man of fairly fair complexion and unusual features points to a rock—embedded in the mountain—with some flowers on it. He tells us, “This is Jamlu.”
Have they brought something from Malana to represent their god? Is there some manifest aspect that we are just not seeing? The language barrier is far too great to continue talking, and so we just make an offering and enjoy the space of the villagers who are camping outside of the fair, true to their traditions.
Later, we found out that the land we had reached was actually owned by the devta, and that, in fact, Jamlu of Malana has no rath, no mohras—only some articles from days past. A golden sword, another sword broken in half (made of another material), a few other spiritual artifacts, and musical instruments are what comprise the form of Jamlu. The very fact that the Malanese pujari was there and did puja, gives credence to the idea that Jamlu is present at the fair. Jamlu’s tradition is to not cross the river.
It is two years later and Zach, Jonty, Jyoti, and Sarah and I head up to where Jamlu of Malana camps. There are five devtas there. Jeev Narayan of Jana, Devta Ajimal of Soyl, Shakil Nag of Tandala, Nag from Saur, and, of course, Jamlu of Malana. It seems that the old pujari either chose to not come this year or has died. His nephew is here this year. His name is Shui Ram, and he asks that I sign his book. (He asked for a second book for himself.) I find it fascinating that of all the gods’ caretakers, and all the people (barring Jawal the mohra maker), Shui Ram is the one to ask me to sign his book. So I sign it, and in a moment, he goes off and washes his hands. I believe I may have inadvertently touched his hand when I passed the book back to him.
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