Every April, in the rural stretches of eastern India and Bangladesh, a strange ritual unfolds—Charak Puja, where men hang from hooks jabbed into their backs, swinging over dusty fields in a supposed tribute to Shiva. Tied to the Gajan festival, it’s pitched as devotion, a plea for prosperity and forgiveness. But peel back the layers, and it’s a messy display of pain masquerading as faith, one that the Portuguese and British rightly questioned centuries ago. This isn’t some noble tradition—it’s a relic of Hinduism’s excesses, propped up by a caste system that keeps Brahmins comfortable while others bleed.
Portuguese Eyes: The Códice Casanatense
When the Portuguese hit India in the 16th century, they scribbled down what they saw in the Códice Casanatense, a 1540s manuscript stashed in Rome. One sketch shows men with hooks through their loins, dangling from poles, cutting their flesh in a “sacrifice to their gods.” They even claimed some died, their bits kept as relics—a stretch, maybe, but it captures their shock. Through their Christian filter, it looked like pure madness, a far cry from anything holy. They weren’t entirely wrong to see it as a disturbing oddity.
British Gaze: Paintings and a Failed Crackdown
The British rolled in later, turning Charak Puja into a colonial sideshow. Paintings from the late 18th and early 19th centuries—like a Murshidabad piece from 1795-1805 at the V&A or Sophie Belnos’ 1832 illustrations—show these guys swinging, hooks in their backs, with crowds gawking below. Made for East India Company types, the images toned down the messiness for British tastes. By the 1860s, though, the charm wore off. They tried banning it around 1860-1865, fed up with what they called a barbaric ritual. The effort floundered—rural folks kept at it, proving rules don’t easily kill old habits.
What’s It For and Where?
Charak Puja hits on Chaitra Sankranti, the last day of the Bengali month of Chaitra, when the harvest fades and rains loom. It’s a pitch to Shiva or some local stand-in like Dharmathakur for better crops and a clean slate. You’ll see it in West Bengal, Tripura, Assam, and Bangladesh spots like Moulvibazar or Pratapgarh—rural nowhere, basically. They prep for weeks, then do their midnight prayers, ending with the hook-swinging stunt. It’s less a festival, more a grim endurance test tied to the land.
The Point—or Lack Thereof
They say it’s about sacrifice, purifying the soul, winning Shiva’s favor. Devotees claim they don’t feel the hooks, lost in some trance—convenient story. But let’s be real: it’s a holdover from darker days, maybe when landlords got a kick out of watching peasants suffer. Now it’s “spiritual,” a badge for the desperate. Hinduism loves this trick—spinning pain into something sacred. Meanwhile, the Brahmins stay safe, letting others take the hit. It’s less about divine deals and more about a system that thrives on suffering.
Who’s Caught in the Hooks?
The ones swinging? Lower castes—Scheduled Castes like the Hrishidas in Tripura, or Bengal’s Bagdi, Dom, and Muchi. These are the outcasts Brahmins wouldn’t let near their temples, so they built their own rough rituals. For a day, they’re “Gajan Sannyasis,” acting like they’ve climbed the ladder, but it’s temporary—they’re back to the bottom fast. Brahmins? They don’t swing. They watch, maybe mumble a prayer, keeping their hands clean while the grunts do the dirty work. It’s a caste con, plain and simple.
The Ban That Didn’t Stick
The British saw the nonsense and pushed to stop it in the 1860s—around 1860-1865, give or take. Papers like The Calcutta Review called it superstition run amok, and officials wanted it gone. Didn’t work. Rural types clung to their hooks, shrugging off the ban. Cities swapped them for ropes to dodge trouble, but the countryside stayed stubborn. It’s not resilience—it’s inertia, a refusal to ditch a bad idea.
The Raw Truth
Charak Puja isn’t some misunderstood gem. The Portuguese pegged it as sacrifice, the British as barbarism—both had a point. It’s Hinduism flexing its worst side: pain dressed up as piety, with Brahmins smirking from the sidelines while the lowly tear themselves open. Those hooks aren’t just in flesh—they’re in a mindset that won’t let go of pointless suffering. Next time someone waxes poetic about its depth, picture the blood and the caste divide. That’s the real story.
If you want to see British or Portugese depictions and modern day practice of Charak Puja, click here
