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| Uma Pun (38yrs)at Shalija Daidanda Deutini Bajai courtyard |
For almost a year, Uma Pun (38) of Thutepipal, Rupandehi, had been experiencing strange episodes. Her family believed that the spirit of her late grandmother—who had been a jhankri (shaman) during her lifetime—was entering Uma’s body and distressing her. Her father-in-law, Yam Lal Pahre Pun Magar (71), originally from Ponathok in Malika Rural Municipality, had moved to the Tarai as a child after losing his father. So, when Uma began showing signs of possession by her maternal grandmother’s spirit, even he had no idea how to help her.
After months of uncertainty and struggle, the family heard that taking her to Shalija Daidara Than could bring relief. But they neither knew where Shalija was nor what kind of ritual was required. Eventually, after gathering information and preparing the necessary ritual items, they set out on Thursday for Shalija, Jaljala-6, Parbat district, where the annual Daidara rituals were being performed on the first Saturday of Mangsir, 2082 B.S.
Uma (38), her five-year-old son, her elder sister Pampha Shris Magar (45), and Yam Lal (71) made the journey together.
It was Pampha’s first visit to Shalija. Standing in the courtyard of the Mandali Than, she repeatedly said she didn’t know what they were supposed to do. Just then, the pare (ritual assistant) approached, picked up a ceremonial flag from among the ritual items, and placed it in Uma’s hands as she sat on the ground. Immediately, Uma’s body began to tremble. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she started to cry.
“We don’t know anything—are all the items we brought correct?” Pampha asked anxiously.
Uma, eyes closed, paused for a moment and said, “Yes, they’re correct.”
Pampha continued, “Grandmother has descended into her—so I asked. Are you happy?”
Still with her eyes closed, Uma replied softly, “I am happy.” But moments later, she burst into tears again. “Even if it was only one, my son should have come with me.”
Then she said she wanted to go to the odar (cave), explaining that she had once been hidden there as a child. Before anyone could ask where it was, Uma said, “I know.” The pare sprinkled water on her, placed a tika on her forehead, and her trembling slowly eased. Regaining partial consciousness, she prepared the ritual offerings and got ready to go toward the shrine with the pare guiding her.
Below the shrine stood an old demmar tree. The original tree had died long ago, and a new one had grown from its roots. Uma stood beneath it, staring intensely. “Is this the place where you were hidden?” her sister asked.
Uma closed her eyes, began crying, and signaled yes. She muttered several things, almost like she was speaking to someone unseen, and finally said, “Grandmother, please stay here. I will call you if necessary.” She placed both hands on her head, then pointed toward the stone-covered cave beneath the tree. Little by little, the trembling faded.
Pampha asked again, “Is this the demmar tree?”
“This is not the one—the tree was the third one, over there,” Uma said, looking around. But I told her, “That tree died; this one grew in its place.”
Once Uma fully regained consciousness, she said she wanted to take her grandmother’s ritual items back to Rupandehi so she could continue the offerings at home. She went inside the shrine and searched carefully. After a long search, she finally found her grandmother’s gaja (shaman’s ritual staff). Holding it, she became overwhelmingly happy.
