A Brazilian couple travelled to a remote corner of Orissa, to get married at the 14th Century Narsinghnath temple at the foothills of the Gandhamardan hills, after they (Julio and Adriana) heard about the legend surrounding Marjara Keshari its cat-faced god. It seems Adriana had a recurring element in her dreams of a cat helping her out of difficult situations, which she confided to her yoga guru who then told her about the legend. As it goes, Lord Vishnu assumed the avatar of a cat to put down Musika Daitya, the mouse demon, who was creating havoc on earth. Marjara ran after Musika and the latter hid inside a tunnel under the mountain. It is said that as long as the cat-god stands vigil at the mouth of the tunnel, the mouse demon cannot come out and ravage the world. Julio and Adriana were so charmed with the story that they took the help of omniscient Internet to home in on Narsinghnath, where they solemnised their marriage. The legend about Marjara Keshari would have originated at a time when mice were proliferating and having a ‘field day’ destroying crops. So the people, seeking divine intervention, must have prayed for — what else but a heavenly cat to deal with the worldly rats.
There’s an interesting side note to this tale concerning Narsinghnath. Some years ago, the cat-faced idol was stolen from the temple and its disappearance remained a mystery till a couple of years later it mysteriously turned up inside a gunny bag lying abandoned on a railway platform in Sambalpur. The unattended gunny bag attracted the attention of the railway authorities who suspected it to contain a bomb, presumably placed by the Maoists. People said that tight security by the police had prevented the thief/thieves from removing the idol elsewhere or sell it. But others believed strongly that only the divine power of Lord Vishnu had thwarted the crooks. It so happened that near about the time when the idol disappeared from the temple, Bharat Aluminium Company (BALCO) started mining bauxite from the Gandhamardan hills, in spite of vehement protests by the local inhabitants and tribals living in those hills. With the Marjara no longer there to guard the hills, the Musika emerged from its hole in the tunnel to spread pestilence of a different kind. Where previously the mice had destroyed only crops, now they assumed the form of huge machinery and trucks to destroy a whole range of hills, whose forests and perennial water sources had sustained the environment and many life forms.
The uncanny part of the story is that at about the same time that the idol was recovered and restored to Narsinghnath Temple, the mining lease of BALCO was rescinded. It was one of the earliest victories recorded by tribals and environmentalists over the machinations of a powerful company. Though the two events (theft of the idol and mining by BALCO) may appear to be unrelated and coincidental, true believers that the 20th Century incarnation of the Musika — the mining lobby — could not have been driven back into its underground existence without the power of a rejuvenated Marjara. But corporate ‘rakshasas’ never give up and the latest to try and exploit the hills is Vedanta. How ironic that the name comes from ‘Veda-anta’, the end or purpose of the Vedas! Will it finally bring about the end of Narsinghnath temple and the Gandhamardan hills as we know them?