The bleating continued, gradually increased, reached a crescendo – and then, it was all silent.
The devotees watched on, somewhat startled. The procession of goats continued. It was like an assembly line of death.
One of the red robed priests held the goat firmly, while the other red robed guy held the rope tied around the goat’s neck to keep it in position. The machete rose in the air and then – WHAACK!
A spray of blood.
Momentary silence. The priest tossed away the severed head nonchalantly into a heap of many severed heads. Next goat, please!
The sacrifice has been offered. The Goddess shall be pleased. The devotees shall have good fortune at a relatively nominal price – a goat’s life.
Nice start to my Sunday morning. I think I’ll have to give up coming to these temples at some point of time. I can’t bring myself to believe in a Goddess that is appeased by animal sacrifice.
Not anymore! I’m losing my faith.
Who is more guilty – the devotees who offer, the priests, or the Goddess?