HOTHLAL PARI
AREESHA KHUWAJA | PUBLISHED: 5/4/2025
Karoonjhar, a land carved by time and memory, holds within its ridges a powerful presence: Hothlal Pari. She is not merely a figure of folklore, but a manifestation of the land’s spirit — a guardian whose memory has lingered for centuries, whispered from stone to spring, from grandmother to child.
In the earliest layers of remembrance — what Hindus call the Satya Yuga — Hothlal Pari is felt as a nurturing presence, a celestial force bound to the rhythm of water, wind, and earth. Her spirit is entwined with the clean wells and untouched forests of Karoonjhar. She represents balance of this Eden — the quiet assurance that the land is alive and looking after its own.
But as the Yugas turned, and time grew heavier, her form changed.
In the Treta Yuga, as harmony frayed and danger grew closer, Hothlal Pari transformed. She became a protector. Some elders recall her taking on the guise of a warrior, a mortal woman clothed as a warrior man in defense, shaped for resistance. This shapeshifting is not merely magical; it is symbolic survival. In a land where stories are coded warnings, her transformation speaks to an enduring truth: when the land is threatened, the feminine divine adapts.
The idea of shapeshifting runs deep through the folklore of Kutch and Gujarat. Spirits that take the form of sandstorms. Women who become wind. Fairies that vanish into salt flats. Even in popular narratives like the 2005 Bollywood film, Paheli, a ghost takes the form of a man to love and protect. These are not fantasies, they are cultural expressions of fluid power, of identities shaped by necessity, resilience, and love.
In some tellings, Hothlal Pari is seen bathing in a sacred pond — perhaps Parinagar — when a warrior, awestruck by her presence, proposes marriage. It's a fleeting moment in oral history, but telling. Even in her vulnerability, she commands reverence. Her beauty is not ornamental, it is forceful. A reminder that power and care are not opposites.
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Her story is powerful because it shifts the idea of protection. She does not stay suspended in some soft realm of stars, watching over like a distant mother. She descends. Changes shape. Wears the armor. Walks the same dusty path. She meets the land at eye-level.
Hothlal Pari teaches us that to protect something sacred, you cannot hover above it, you have to become part of it. She is a custodian not only because she has wings or magic, but because she acts. Because she steps in when no one else will. Because her love for the land is not abstract, it’s tactical, embodied.
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And this is the deeper truth the story holds: these spirits do not save us. They join us only when we rise to save what we love.
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This is not a myth of intervention. It is a lesson in alignment. The protector will arrive not from outside, but from within, when we begin to act as protectors ourselves.
And so, Hothlal Pari does not simply belong to Karoonjhar, she is Karoonjhar. Her breath is in the winds that echo through the canyons, her steps in the ridges of the granite. Not just a legend to remember, but a presence to recognize, whenever we stand up to defend what is sacred.
The author, Areesha Khuwaja, an artist and multimedia storyteller who works under the alias Pakkhee. With a background in Creative Multimedia, her work explores themes of myth, belongingness, and cultural erasure. All artwork is original and © Pakkhee.