up a thin bone and a human skull and touched the woman’s forehead with the objects, all the while shouting in a commanding tone, “In the name of all powerful Mahakali, I demand you identify yourself! Show yourself to me! Reveal yourself, I command you!” So saying, he again flung some rice at her. The woman trembled as if she had a terrible chill; she looked at the shaman with wild eyes, and then, abruptly, a simpering smile escaped her parched lips.
“I am Bhawani,” she hissed back. “Where do you come from? Tell me!” the shaman commanded. “My home is in Taplejung,” she replied. “What are you doing in Birgunj?” asked the shaman. The woman looked down, and then glanced at him slyly from the corner of her eyes. “What are you doing here?” the shaman repeated his question. That coy smirk again, “I was murdered in my sleep. I woke up in this woman’s body.” “Leave her body. Make her free. I command you in the name of Kali, get out of this woman’s body. I grant you freedom in the name of the all powerful Mahakali,” said the shaman.
The small boy’s eyes widened as he saw the woman quiet down, her trembling had stopped completely. Her head hung down listlessly. Her whole body appeared to be passive now. The three shamans stood up as one, jumping up and down together in synchronized fashion. Two of them continued to beat their hand held drums in tune with the heavy jingle of the bells and in harmony with their hypnotic incantation. They circled the now passive woman three times, throwing rice on her as they moved around. After the third round, they carried on towards the open door leading out onto the street. The emancipated shaman now held a naked khukri in his right hand while in his left he held a struggling live rooster. All three moved