A QUEST OF THE YONI AND THE DIVINE FEMININE

One recent morning, after my daily prayers, it struck me that I hadn't visited the seat of a female deity in years.

- SANDHYA MENDONCA

One recent morning, after my daily prayers, it struck me that I hadn't visited the seat of a female deity in years. I mentioned it to a friend that evening, and she said, "I'm going to the Kamakhya Temple at the end of the month. Would you like to join me?" And just like that, a long-held wish became a reality.

It was just a few days after the annual Ambubachi Mela when I arrived in Guwahati. It had been a while since I'd seen a short film about a festival that celebrates the menstruating goddess, and I had made a mental note to visit. Two previous plans to travel to Guwahati had fallen through — by which time, that mental note had almost faded. So, it felt fitting that this visit would be solely to experience the energy of the divine feminine atop the Nilachal Hills.

My friend, an experienced and well-connected pilgrim, ensured that from the moment we arrived at the temple gates, we were guided through all the significant spots and into the sanctum sanctorum. We stepped down into the darkness of a cave where, instead of an idol, there was a stone cleft kept moist by an underground spring — symbolizing the goddess's menstrual cycle and fertility. We offered garlands of red and blue flowers, prostrated ourselves, and dipped our fingers in the spring water. It's a tight squeeze getting in and out of the cave, but helpful hands guide pilgrims, each carrying fervent prayers.

Amidst the crush of bodies — as many men as women — I didn't feel the instinct to cross my arms over my chest, a protective tactic many of us learn as teenagers. I sensed that the men seeking blessings from Ma Kamakhya wouldn't dare test her wrath by touching women inappropriately. Or so I hope.