Animal Sacrifice: Indian Crackdown Provokes Believers' Ire

Animal sacrifice is banned in the southern Indian state of Tamil Nadu, but popular demand helps the practice to continue, as was proved last week when police seized nearly 4,000 animals meant for ritual slaughter in a famous village festival.

On September 5, the police swooped down on a biennial mass animal sacrifice at a temple in Sirumalanji village 25 kilometers from Tirunelveli town. Their catch: 2,500 goats, 1,000 pigs and 500 chicken, which were raised especially for the occasion by devotees.

The Sudalai Andavar temple's trance-dancer, who was to perform prayers at midnight and then taste the blood of the sacrificed animals, was kept under house arrest. It triggered tension, but effectively prevented the sacrificial orgy.

In a deeply religious country, the crackdown hasn't gone down well. Says Sethuramalingam, a temple trustee, "We are hurt as we have performed this festival without fail for the last 80 years. Now people fear their sacred vows have been violated and our God will be angry."

On August 28, the state government had banned animal and bird sacrifice in temples throughout Tamil Nadu. Chief Minister J. Jayalalithaa issued the order after 500 buffaloes were slaughtered in a village temple in another part of the state a few days earlier.

Animal sacrifice is an ancient tradition that has a devout following in Tamil Nadu's rural hinterland. It is a regular ritual in rural churches also.

Though a state law promulgated in 1950 bans the, "killing or maiming of any animal or bird for the purpose of or with the intention of propitiating any deity," it has never been enforced in the state up until now.

Elsewhere in India as well, state laws exist largely on paper. The famous Kali temple in Kolkata is known to conduct animal sacrifice.

In recent weeks a proposed Bill in the Indian Parliament to ban the slaughter of cows, considered holy by the Hindus, has added a political angle to the issue of animal rights.

For believers, the government's move is nothing less than sacrilege. Protests Uma Devi (name changed), who lives near the Puthupet shrine, 200 kilometers from Chennai, which has a tradition of animal sacrifice, "Animals are killed in butcher shops everywhere. So can you ban meat eating too?"

Counters vice-chairman of the Animal Welfare Board of India, Chinny Krishna, "Animal sacrifice is illegal. If you think the law is wrong, you must agitate to have it changed. Secondly, the temple is sanctified territory as compared to a butcher shop."

He adds, "The gruesome beheading of a live animal is against the basic tenets of spirituality. Thirdly, sacrificing animals brutally in a temple makes it morally acceptable, even admirable. Finally, young children can witness these blood-spewing events. It has a dehumanising effect."

But Sethuramalingam claims there is no question of polluting the temple's surroundings. He says, "The premises are cleaned before and after the proceedings using disinfectants and chlorine. We do not allow sacrifices other than on specified days."

Despite the crackdown, ancient rituals aren't disappearing in a hurry. A day after the ban was announced, the suburban Pandi Muneeshwarar temple on the outskirts of Madurai in the deep south witnessed the killing of scores of goats and fowl.

Even though the police prevented the altar from being used, sacrifices took place in areas adjoining the temple.

Typically, the sacrificial animal is garlanded and anointed and placed on the chopping block before the deity. The beheading is quick and death immediate. It is cooked in the vicinity of the proceedings and shared among the devotees.

The head is given to the officiating priest.

Most devotees are farmers or farm hands, seeking blessings for the birth of children, to finalise marriages or to find relief from health problems.

Says A. Balapandian, 54, a trance-dancer and priest at the Sirumalanji temple, "People are deeply hurt. They had promised God they would perform the sacrifice. Now police interference has made it impossible. They fear bad things will happen to them now."

But as rights activists point out, much of the protest is related to economics. In the village, the witch doctor also doubles as priest and moneylender. So when an ill person walks in, he recommends they sacrifice a goat. He lends them the money and performs the ritual for a fee.

Remarks Krishna, "This way, the gullible are kept in perpetual bondage by preying on their superstitions."

At the Madurai temple, the 100 shop-owners who sell prayer items were seen protesting. Men engaged to slay goats and roosters for around 10 cents a head were upset at the blow to their livelihood.

In fact, before the Sirumalanji crackdown, a devotee of the presiding deity, S. Senthilvel Nadar, had filed a petition in the Madras High Court, seeking continuation of the practice.

The court has ordered the government to respond in two weeks.

Says Nadar, "If they wanted to introduce such a rule, they should have imposed it much earlier, not when the festival was less than a week away. People had travelled great distances to participate. The village spends money on the festival. Hundreds of thousands of people are hurt."

At Sirumalanji, the epigram that religion is the opium of the masses was proved right. A third of the devotees did not return without wrapping up unfinished business. As the temple was off limits, they sacrificed several hundred goats, pigs and fowl outside it.

As Balapandian explains, "Many young men prefer jail to a broken vow."