I am lingering in the courtyards, watching everyone watching the rats, and the attention turns to me. “Selfie please madam?” My reply of “Ok, yes, only one”, is followed by endless permutations with different family members. I get handed a toddler wearing black eyeliner and a look of confusion. The pilgrims are in high spirits, many coming hundreds of miles to make their wishes to Karni Mata. “Make a wish, any wish. And come here and it will come true!” one elderly gentleman tells me.
The desert village of Deshnoke sits 30km from the city of Bikaner, in a little visited corner of Rajasthan. But despite its remote location, every day thousands of pilgrims swarm to this village seeking the promise of good fortune in the temple of goddess Karni Mata. According to locals, 20,000 rats, called kabbas, or ‘little children’, live in the temple. Among them are a handful of white rats, believed to be incarnations of Karni Mata and her children themselves. Worshippers come to pay their respects to these kabbas, and hope for a glimpse of an auspicious white one.
Born into the revered Charan caste in the 14th century CE, Karni Mata was a fearless warrior from whom other Rajasthani rulers sought advice. According to legend, she led a celibate life, after encouraging her husband to marry her younger sister. Her husband and sister had four sons, one of which, Laxman, drowned as he tried to drink from a pond. Karni Mata begged Yama, the Hindu god of Death, to revive him. After initially refusing, Yama eventually relented and incarnated Laxman and her other male step-children as rats.
As I arrive, a huge queue of people is waiting to see the deity in the main belly of the temple. They are chanting, fisting the air, many carrying offerings of flowers and sweets. Rats are running around the white marble floor, causing as much entertainment to the Indian pilgrims as they are to me. Several people are attempting to take selfies with the furry creatures, only to squeal and leap away when the rats charge towards them. The floor is covered with rat excrement, and given no one is allowed to wear shoes inside the temple, I mull over what diseases I am almost certain to contract.
I soon meet Gajendra Singh, a Depavat and the current priest of the temple. The Depavats are families said to be descended from Karni Mata, who devote their lives to looking after the temple and caring for the rats. I jump as an unforeseen rodent darts from a hidden cubby hole. Laughing, Gajendra assures me a rat running over my feet is particularly lucky. From a huge steel pot, an elderly gentleman starts ladling out prasad (food offered to the goddess and then given for eating) into small paper plates. The plates are placed on the ground and in seconds the rats are attacking the sugary treat. Gajendra shoos a nibbling creature away from one plate and offers me the prasad. I politely decline.
Before long he drags me off to a corner of the temple, and pushes through a crowd of worshippers. “Make a wish,” he says triumphantly, pointing to a skinny white rat. Now I understand why the crowd has gathered, why people are climbing on top of each other and why one man has his cheek to the floor looking through the gaps between people’s feet.
But I also start to realise a trip to the temple is more than a fun day out; it is an integral part of the life of a Hindu in their unending quest for good karma. I see a woman carefully topping up a bowl of milk, trying not to disturb the dozens of furry bodies perched on the bowl edge, furiously drinking the white liquid. Another man winces in fright as he drops seeds in front of a rat’s face. If the rat accepts this offering, this discomfort may bring him good luck. The gods must be attended to, satisfied, kept happy, daily, and this is needed to keep the believers safe from harm.
Meanwhile, the selfie deluge is not letting up. But Gajendra Singh points out that every person who takes a photograph must pay the temple 30 rupees. While many have withheld the urge to take a selfie with the rats, most do not pass on one with a foreign tourist. As another girl runs up to me phone in hand, Gajendra swoops in for his cut and I hope Karni Mata notes my contribution when handing out the day’s luck.