In the scorching summer of 1925, when a relentless drought gripped our village in Thailand, my Thai Cat, Sii Sward, became an unlikely heroine. Amidst the parched land, she was bestowed with the extraordinary honor of being elected the Rain Queen.
For three long months, the heavens remained stubbornly dry. The heat was oppressive, baking the earth and turning our once-plentiful public well into a muddy puddle. The river, the lifeblood of our community, dwindled to its lowest point, mirroring the despair that was settling upon us.
It was during this time of desperation that someone proposed reviving an ancient Brahmo-Buddhist rain ceremony known as Nang Maaw, the queen of the cats. This age-old ritual, performed by peasants for generations, was our only hope to appease the sky and beckon the rain.
My father, a man of quiet authority, approached me and Sii Sward with a serious demeanor. He gently stroked Sii Sward’s head, his gaze softening as he addressed me, “Ai Noo (my little mouse),” he began, “the villagers have requested my assistance in performing the ceremony for rain. I have promised them our cat – your Sii Sward.”
I was taken aback, my mind struggling to grasp the connection. How could my beloved cat possibly bring rain? A chilling thought crossed my mind, a comparison to the Chinese rituals where chickens were sacrificed. Was Sii Sward to suffer a similar fate? The mere idea sent a jolt of protest through me.
“Oh, no Father,” I almost shouted, my voice trembling with emotion, “I cannot allow anyone to harm Sii Sward, rain or no rain. I simply cannot bear it.”
In our Thai family, my father’s word was law, his authority absolute. To defy his wishes was unthinkable. Yet, my father, a man of deep understanding, looked at me with a calm reassurance. “Son,” he said quietly, “no one intends to harm Sii Sward. Instead, because our cat is renowned as the most beautiful and cleanest in the entire village, the people have chosen her to be the Rain Queen of our district. This is a great honor, both for her and for our family.”
Despite his comforting words, reluctance still lingered within me. It was only when my father added, “We will bring Sii Sward home as soon as the ceremony concludes,” that I finally relented.
Preparations for the ceremony began swiftly. Two skilled artists constructed a large bamboo cage, transforming it into a miniature castle with intricate decorations of flowers and leaves.
At midday, Sii Sward enjoyed her usual meal of dried mudfish and rice, oblivious to the momentous role she was about to play. Then, my father bestowed upon me the significant honor of carrying her to the temple grounds. As we arrived, elderly women approached, brushing and spraying sweet-smelling native perfume upon her regal head. Sii Sward, however, was far from impressed. She protested with vigor, struggling to escape my grasp, and I had to gently place her inside the adorned cage.
Despite the scorching heat of the day, the monastery grounds were packed with villagers eager to witness Sii Sward, the Rain Queen, and to offer their prayers for rain.
By mid-afternoon, the sun’s intensity drove the villagers to seek refuge under the shade of the large mango and Po trees surrounding the temple. A group began to chant the Nang Maaw song, their voices starting softly before gradually rising in volume until everyone seemed to be shouting in unison. Long native drums, taphone, joined in, their rhythmic beats resonating through the air.
The ceremony was truly impressive, filling me with a sense of warmth and a burgeoning belief in the Rain Queen’s powers.
Throughout it all, Sii Sward remained asleep, seemingly unfazed by the spectacle unfolding around her. As we proceeded towards the open marketplace, the noise intensified. Firecrackers exploded with deafening cracks. Women who traded in powders and perfumes approached the cage, pouring cups of fragrant perfume and scattering flowers upon the bewildered Rain Queen. The combination of frantic shouts, chanting, firecrackers, and the deluge of perfumed water proved overwhelming for poor Sii Sward. More and more water and perfume were splashed into the cage. Finally, Sii Sward stood up, her blue eyes fixed on her tormentors. Her once-smooth brown fur was now soaking wet. A plaintive cry escaped her as she desperately sought a way to escape her gilded prison, but in vain.
Witnessing her distress escalate, I was on the verge of tears, pleading with my father to rescue her. However, he calmly assured me that everything would be alright. Eventually, the villagers seemed satisfied with their perfumed offerings and the noise subsided, as if in acknowledgment of the Rain Queen’s tormented cries. At that moment, Sii Sward, too, ceased her cries. She stood trembling, drenched and undoubtedly terrified.
The procession continued, moving slowly and quietly back towards the monastery. Even the drummers and the men who had been chanting so fervently just moments before had calmed down, their energy spent.
Upon reaching the Vihara, the men placed the cage before the temple, and then everyone entered to pray to the rain goddess once more. Seeing my opportunity, and with the last person disappearing inside the temple, I swiftly removed Sii Sward from the cage and fled home with her, cradling her close.
It must have been around three o’clock in the morning when a sound like a speeding train and a powerful hurricane filled the air. Then, the rumble of thunder echoed across the mountains, followed by the blessed sound of raindrops – a real tropical downpour. The entire village stirred from their sleep, overjoyed. Farmers rushed to their fields. The rain continued for three days and three nights, a seemingly endless deluge, until the parched land was finally quenched. Our crops were saved.
But Sii Sward remained indifferent to the life-giving rain she had supposedly summoned. She slept soundly throughout the three days. Later, farmers and their families visited to pay their respects. They gently stroked her delicate fur and offered her gifts of dried fish and meat, her favorite treats. That year, the farmers truly believed that Sii Sward was a heroine.
