DesiPundit

Mark, an ‘Englishman in Mumbai, stumbles into an Ashura procession.

But now it became clear. A space opened up in the press and some of the twenty-something young men, also bare-chested, formed a rough circle. They were holding short chains, at the end of which was a clump of three curved attack-knives. Cautiously they swung them to and fro (the drums hammering, and watching men striking the tops of their heads with each beat) and then they would fling the knives full circle over their shoulders to thud against their backs – whereupon the flesh is immediately clean cut, and blood squirts off the skin in tiny droplets. They were flagellating themselves with knives. Again and again. And the floor gradually became as soupy as that in a butcher’s shop.
Curiously, in my first walkings, I’d seen the knife-grinders in the streets, all busy sharpening these dagger objects. Naively I had thought they were ceremonial weapons only.

Hat Tip:Lyndee