Perhaps no other creature in the Indian ethos evokes as much fear and superstition as the snake; so much so, that cutting across caste and creed, it is venerated as a veritable god (and goddess) with many temples erected to it and an auspicious day set apart for its worship.

This incident was narrated to me by my sister and I have cross-checked its veracity from several sources.

She was married into a priestly family and, many years ago, went to live with her husband and in-laws in a remote Malnad village. It was a typical Malnad house with a sprawling backyard and the worship room set in a far corner. Before her marriage, she had taken a vow to visit Dharmasthala, but due to circumstances she could not fulfil it. To atone she tied a new Rs 1 coin in a ochre cloth and placed it behind a god’s photograph in the worship room.

One day as she was attending to her daily chores, she was horrified to see a black snake in the backyard where she had hung up some ‘untidy’ clothes to dry.

Being brought up in a city, she had never seen a snake before and she stood petrified in her tracks while the snake quickly disappeared into a small crevice in the floor.

She later told her husband about this incident and he said that snakes appearing in houses in thickly forested Malnad was quite common and there was no reason to fear.

A few days later, she again saw the same snake but on this occasion, she took it in her stride and the snake disappeared into the same crevice.

About a week later, a mendicant sadhu carrying a snake-shaped veena— called ‘Swami Jhunjappa’ in that region— appeared at her door seeking alms. Her husband was also at home. In a stern voice, Swami Jhunjappa told them that he had visited their house twice earlier and on both the occasions, they had ignored him, but my sister and her husband just could not recall having seen him before.

The sadhu then asked my sister to recall anything to her mind and she instantly thought of the Rs 1 coin she had kept in the worship room. The sadhu then took her leave and walked into the house and went straight into the worship room and took out the Rs 1 coin from behind the god’s photograph.

Swami Jhunjappa then asked my brother-in-law to recall anything she desired. The latter, many years ago, had lost his youngest brother in a tragic drowning accident and his photograph was prominently hung on the wall. He silently remembered his deceased brother and the sadhu instantly walked up to the photograph and placed his hands on it.

After receiving some alms, Swami Jhunjappa disappeared as mysteriously as he had appeared.
Was ‘Swami Jhunjappa’ the same snake in human form that had appeared in my sister’s backyard and was it to remind her to keep fulfil her vow to visit Dharmasthala? Perhaps... there is no answer.