Do the Newars still drink from a Karuwa or is there running water in every home now? Since the terrible earthquakes, I daresay many of the modern conveniences have disappeared or been interrupted, taking people back to the Karuwa and the fountains in the centre of the villages.
Above are photographs of a vintage Karuwa. I do believe it was buried somewhere for a long time, as it is not patina but a heavy crust of mud that obscures the brass. Some people believe in leaving 'artifacts' the way they are found, but I am not one of them, especially when the object has an intended use as well as a sacred significance. The Karuwa is both a ritual item and a very practical household item. It is made to hold and dispense water. How can it be right to keep a Karuwa encrusted with mud? Furthermore, the artist and, it was an artist who crafted this particular vessel, laboured to create a sound jug or pitcher that would hold water and dispense it properly.
When I first encountered the Karuwa, I thought it a bit bizarre-looking, squat and heavy, without the grace of a swan vase or other type of pitcher. I then began to associate this particular style with Nepal and in later years, a photograph or drawing of one would bring memories of my childhood flooding through the locked gates I had erected.
Finally, though, I began to appreciate its beauty and the genius really of its design. The rounded belly of it is quintessentially feminine, a fecund shape that speaks eloquently of the fertility of the Great Goddess. The narrow spout is masculine, a phallic symbol of the God. Hinduism is filled with symbols that are overtly phallic as well as those of the female genitalia. They are symbols of great power and are worshipped as such, both in temples and in private homes. I now see the Karuwa as a very potent form that brings both male and female together in a vessel that dispenses to its users the very water of life.
The weight of this Karuwa is very satisfying in a visceral way. When filled with water, it does feel pregnant with life itself. The design is perfect in a practical sense. The spout is positioned to filter out any silt or impurities in the water and to send forth a perfectly-directed thin stream of water that can travel unerringly at least half a foot from the end of the spout to the user's open mouth. It therefore is very hygenic, much more than cups or chalices shared by more than one person.
The people who had this Karuwa appear to be more focused on Tibet and Buddhism than Hinduism and the Newar culture. They told me that this particular Karuwa had been in their bedroom for a decade filled with silk flowers. Aesthetically pleasing in its way I suppose but so very contrary to the spirit of this vessel! Silk flowers are artificial and have nothing whatsoever to do with the powers of life. They are beautiful admittedly and symbolise all sorts of things, but they have no need for water.
Furthermore, although the dark patterns of the mud on the surface of the vessel may be interesting and even beautiful in their own way, they too run contrary to the very essence of the Karuwa. I originally thought I would be able to place it by my bed and drink water from it during the night. I see now that doing so would be tantamount to a game of Russian roulette at this point in time. I wanted it to bring life, not death, even though the Great Goddess and God dispense both equally, with sublime indifference.
I then thought to use it in my bath to rinse my hair. This proved to be a wiser choice and very pleasing aesthetically. When I first rinsed it out, I found some ancient insect had adhered to the inner wall. It was a dessicated creature shaped more like a leech than anything else, but I could not and did not even wish to explore its identity. It was the mud that gushed forth with abandon from the spout that was the most dramatic result of first use, sending a dark brown stream into the basin. Fortunately, I did not choose the bath for its baptism as it were, but rinsed it out a few times under the spout of the washbasin.
Much of the mud remained stubbornly part of the vessel's exterior and I was able to use it in my bath without sending too much into my bathwater. The heaviness of the Karuwa and the way the water poured from the spout brought back so many memories of times spent with my girlfriends in Banepa. It brought back memories of bhojs, the festival meals served on heavy brass tals where we always were treated as the most honoured guests. It would have been an insult to refuse an invitation to a bhoj and so we went from house to house, eating one meal after another in quick succession, often full to bursting before we even reached the third home. Some of the pickles served with the curries and rice were very hot. I often was reduced to tears by them and had to learn how to dilute the pickle with heaps of rice and a lot of water.
Back to the Karuwa... Contemporary Western life usually does not include the ritual of polishing silver and brass. It once was an essential part of domestic life, even if many had servants to perform the task. Even as a child, though, I always enjoyed polishing the silver. It gave me a sense of real satisfaction to see the dark tarnish disappear slowly, allowing the pure light of the silver to emerge. I liked polishing brass as well. Where silver represents the icy light of the moon, brass and gold represent the sun in its brilliance. I am very fond of brass... and gold. Indeed, I love all metals and gems.
To restore the Karuwa to its original glory therefore will be not only a labour of love but a real pleasure, even if it takes months. I do not intend to destroy its patina, but I do intend to clean it thoroughly so that one can drink water from it without danger of illness.
Although there is a certain nostalgic power in feeling the mud of Nepal beneath my fingernails, Nepal's dirt was NOT clean by any means. It was filled with parasites as there were no toilets outdoors. Certain streets were designated for this in villages but on the paths in the hills, people simply squatted whenever they felt the urge and one encountered these leavings almost at every step. The most common parasite found on these trails was the hookworm that fastened its greedy mouth to any bare flesh that it could reach. I would doubt that this ancient dirt contained any parasites and even if it did, I would hope that the passage of time killed them off, but even so, I shall make certain that it all is removed before I ever drink from this vessel.
This is not a Karuwa for an alter, although there are miniature versions that are perfect for puja or other forms of home worship. This Karuwa is full-sized, created to dispense water to a family. I am not Hindu but I do love the ritual of the puja as well as the Western pagan alters and rituals of blessing. In Northern Pagan traditions, the alter is a circle divided into four quadrants and each is ruled by one of the Elements. Earth in the North, Air in the East, Fire in the South and Water in the West.... there are other variations upon this but this was the form I liked.
The Element of Earth could be represented by a stone or a dish of Salt. The element of Air can be a bit difficult but can be represented by a Bell, a fan or even incense. Fire usually would be represented by a candle or oil lamp and finally Water would be a chalice or other vessel.
The dagger or athame or a wand can be a symbol for air, even if the association is more arcane. In point of fact, it is all invented and people can do whatever makes sense to them.
A small Karuwa is a perfect symbol for Water as a Sukunda lamp is a perfect symbol for the Element of Fire. A figure of a God or Goddess can be the symbol of Earth and incense or a Bell can be the symbol for Air. One can combine the ritual of Hindu puja with a traditional Western pagan blessing.
In fact, I believe that all religions for the most part share a common source and exist for the sole purpose of bringing us closer to the Divine. In Islam, they call it 'qurbatan ilallah' or 'nearness to God' and the prayer rug serves as the magic carpet or altar that allows the worshipper to enter a sacred space. The Shias use a Muhr (Moor) stone made from the sacred soil of Karbala as a focal point. When the perform sajeda, they do so by resting their foreheads upon the muhr. Some Sunni object to this but I think it is a perfect focus for Salat. The mud or clay of Karbala is sacred soil. By making it a part of every Salat, the Shia are reminded of one of the great Sacrifices of Faith.
