The Dhamrai Rathajatra and the nature of Asharh

Asharh means kadam flowers, Asharh means rain, and the festival of Rathajatra. In Bangladesh, it is a beautiful fusion of nature and culture. On the morning of the 13th of Asharh, a brief shower occurred. Ignoring the drizzle, I set off from Dhanmondi to Dhamrai. The sky remained cloudy. Since childhood, I have heard that it always rains on the day of the Rathajatra, meaning chariot pulling, with every pull of the chariot's rope. In different places, the rope is pulled at different times. Does that mean it rains locally at those places? Perhaps not. But such is the nature of Asharh rain—it doesn't last continuously for long. It comes and goes.

On the way to Dhamrai, the sky cleared up significantly. It had rained in Dhanmondi, but upon reaching Dhamrai, there was no rain. I spent the whole day experiencing the rural scenery of Dhamrai and the fair at the Rath. Arriving at the fair around 11:30am, I heard that the chariot would be pulled at 5-6pm in the evening. But the fair had already spread across Rathkhola and the market, even along the roadside, with hundreds of stalls that would remain for a month. From wooden furniture to puffed rice and sweet shops, toys, and circus games—everything was there.

For one month, Dhamrai would be immersed in a different kind of joy, filled with people and festivity because of Rathajatra. The traditional, beautiful Rath chariot was displayed at Rathkhola. It was decorated in various colours and with flowers. Behind it stood the temple of Yashomadhav and the event stage. The roads were filled with people. In some parts of the road, banana and sugar vendors had set up stalls. They were loudly advertising “banana-sugar” (some saying “sugar-banana”). The first ritual of the day is to offer banana and sugar to Yashomadhav upon first sight as a sign of reverence. I got it easily for just ten takas. After offering, I also received prasad. Small groups of people were expressing their joy in the procession by dancing and singing in various colourful ways. In one group, five or six people dressed as Shiva were singing devotional songs. Hundreds of people surrounded them, listening intently.

The ancient and traditional Dhamrai Rath fair began in the Bengali year 1079. Even today, it takes place every year in the month of Asharh for an entire month. The formal observance lasts ten days. Every year, the idol of Yashomadhav is mounted on the chariot and pulled to Rathkhola, and ten days later, on Dashami, it is brought back. This return is called the Ulto Rath. The Madhav temple next to Rathkhola is one of the main and oldest pilgrimage centres for Hindus.

It is said that the last king of the Pala dynasty, Yashopal, once visited Shimulia in Dhamrai from Dhaka on an elephant ride. At that time, he saw a red earthen mound. When the mound was excavated, a temple was discovered. Inside the temple, idols including that of Madhav were found. King Yashopal established the idols including Madhav at various places in Shimulia for worship. The Madhav idol was established in the Madhavbari of Dhamrai. The king’s name was attached to the idol, making it Yashomadhav. The Rath fair continued from Bengali 1079 to 1204. At that time, the temple of Yashomadhav was a thatched hut and the chariot was made of bamboo. Over a hundred years ago, a brick building was constructed there. However, the exact date of the wooden chariot's construction is unknown.

It is heard that 250 wood artisans from different parts of the country came together to build the magnificent wooden chariot of Dhamrai. Stories from the Mahabharata were engraved on the wooden chariot. Including the spire, the chariot was 80 feet tall, 40 feet long, and 45 feet wide. It stood on 32 wheels. The three-storey chariot had nine chambers. Hence, it was named the Navaratna Rath. During the Liberation War of 1971, the Pakistani invading army and their collaborators burned and destroyed this ancient traditional chariot. Afterward, another chariot was built, 30 feet in height. Currently, this is the one that is pulled.

But the chariot pulling was still five or six hours away. What to do? So, I decided to visit some rural natural scenery of Dhamrai. I left Rathkhola and took a motorised rickshaw to Siti village in Kulla Union. My friend Ratul from Dhamrai had informed me about a park there. From Dhulivita, I had to cross the road and travel several kilometres to reach the park. On the way, I observed the nature of Dhamrai. Though it was the month of Asharh, the wetlands on either side of the road were devoid of water and crops. The rice had already been harvested, and the scattered, regrown rice plants had turned the whole wetland green. Occasionally, there were patches of jute, mesta, and corn fields. Along the roadside were rows of mahogany, akashmoni, neem, and kadam trees. The wetland fields were lower than the road. Elevated chicken farms indicated that water would soon fill the wetlands.

In the open fields stretching to the horizon, there were scattered tall and bushy hijal trees. On the way, several culverts had to be crossed. Beneath the culverts were canals or streams. The water was minimal, likely from recent rains. Along the banks, rows of hijal trees stood. From the tips of their branches, thin filament-like floral clusters of reddish hijal flowers were blooming sparsely, accompanied by young fruits swaying in the breeze. The green fruits, resembling haritaki, were gradually growing. The canals were choked with layers of water hyacinth, kesordam vines, and helencha.

Along the canal banks stood clumps of hogla reed plants. On some, narrow spike-like inflorescences resembling rolling pins adorned the tips. In the chocolate-coloured floral clusters, cotton-like flowers had bloomed. Along the roadside, pitali trees were bearing numerous round, ripe fruits hanging from their branches. Another name for it is medda. The fruits are globular, light brown, or pale golden. As children, we would stick toothpick-like sticks into the fruit and spin them like tops. The tree is considered useless, but the adjacent chitki and barun trees once held significant value. Barun leaves were used to ripen mangoes. The barun tree now bears egg-shaped fruits.

Many trees had been climbed by telakucha vines. Their white flowers looked like stars. Between the vines hung bright red fruits resembling pointed gourds. The Assam vines had grown profusely with the rain. Their serrated leaves, resembling betel leaves, seemed almost magical. If accidentally cut, applying the sap of the Assam vine would close the wound and stop the bleeding. Another name for it is Germany vine. Another vine spotted along the way was the gowali vine, with rather large leaves. Along the roadside slopes were dense with kanai-banshi and kanshira grass, along with the rampant Singapore daisy vine. A few yellow star-shaped flowers bloomed, and the serrated green leaves had formed dense, compact layers that overwhelmed all other herbs and grasses. A few years ago, this pesky weed was only seen in parks or gardens. Never this much. Its flowers bloom in spring and summer. Even in Asharh, a few flowers were spotted. It seems this foreign intruder can no longer hide its aggressive nature from us. Its Bengali name is now Keshuria.

Along with that, another surprising sight appeared. A beautiful reddish-orange insect was seen eating holes in the green leaves of the Keshuria. I had never seen this insect before. So, has the Keshuria not come alone but brought this insect too? After trying to identify it, I found its name is Spine Leaf Roller Weevil, or in Bengali, Patamorano Kata Keri Poka. Dubo, chapra, mudha, onguli, kakpaya grasses seemed defeated by the Keshuria. Small bluish-purple flowers of beguni hurhuri, holud hurhuri, kantanata, keshuti, foskabegun, tridhara, bondhone and other weeds were crushed under the Keshuria's pressure. It seems this foreign plant might cause the extinction of many native plants, just as akashmoni and eucalyptus are doing. This widespread aggression of invasive plants must be stopped.

A dense babui tulsi plant had overgrown the Keshuria, proclaiming its victory. On the large-leafed perennial babui tulsi, flowering had started long ago, and a few remnants of blooms remained on the long stalks of the floral clusters. On the shiny green tips of branches, spittlebugs had built homes and spiders spun webs. The kalkasunda trees were raising their heads, preparing to bloom. In the middle of the field, a few tiny okra plants bore small green fruits on their tips. In the damp wetland soil, grew ghagra, sanchi, bishkatali, mechchua, and foskabegun plants. Scattered kadam trees were found throughout Siti village. Along a village path, a sturdy kadam tree bloomed profusely with yellow-white round ball-like flowers, lighting up the whole tree.

I returned again to Rathkhola. There were still two hours left before the chariot pulling began. What else to do? I walked from Yashomadhav temple along the Maona-Dhulivita road, crossed a bridge, and headed towards Sharifbagh. Along the banks of the Bangshi river, the paved path shaded by trees and shrubs was quite pleasant. In the middle of a pond, a hijal tree struggled to survive. Several banyan roots had coiled around it like pythons, and epiphytic ferns had grown on its branches. Wild taro plants grew in the pond. Numerous vhatphul plants stood there, devoid of flowers and fruits. Peepul, poisonous taro, and black taro were also there in the nearby bamboo grove. In the occasional open space, eggplant and sponge gourd plants struggled against the grass. On the sponge gourd plants, brown stink bugs were laying eggs, and the eggplant leaves were being eaten by leaf beetles. In the bamboo grove, a red-tailed bulbul peeked out. Maybe the bird was searching for tender eggplants to eat. Everyone wants to survive. It is an inevitable truth of life—Darwin’s law of survival of the fittest—only the strong will survive, the weak will die or move aside for the strong.

Such a sunny day doesn’t quite suit Asharh. Occasionally, grey-black rain clouds floated across the sky, but flew away without shedding rain. Soon after, soft cotton-like white clouds emerged. White clouds floated in the blue sky—their shadows fell on the waters of the Bangshi river. Is this the hint of autumn within Asharh? This year, the monsoon arrived slightly earlier than usual. For this reason, Asharh's behaviour might also be slightly different. But rain is needed in Asharh—heavy, continuous rain. Otherwise, the soil won’t be wet, ponds and marshes won’t fill. Both Aman rice and fish are needed on Bengali plates. For rice and fish, rain is essential. We need Asharh and rain like in the 1927 poem by poet Sunitrimal Basu “Again Begins the Drizzle-Drizzle Rainfall Song”—
“Again begins the drizzle-drizzle
Rainfall song—
The fire's blow ends now,
The soul feels cool.
Clouds have gathered in the blue sky,
A smell of fresh earth comes,
Ponds and marshes brim with water
The flood rushes through the river,
Again begins the drizzle-drizzle
Rainfall song.”

Mrityunjoy Ray: Writer on nature