"East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet" ... 
- Rudyard Kipling, 1889

It was a scene so bizarre, I felt like I'd suddenly been transported from the twentieth to the twelfth century; from a time of light to one of darkness. As hundreds of rats crawled around a red stone altar, devout Hindu pilgrims knelt in silent devotion.

I was in the temple of the goddess, Karni Mata, in the Indian state of Rajasthan. And, as often occurred on my journey through this foreign land, Kipling's words came to mind.

With the occasional rat scurrying across my feet, I watched as temple priests laid out bowls of grain, sugar and milk for the rats to eat. According to Hindu tradition, the rats in this marble temple are sacred incarnations of human spirits.

Suddenly, a yellow-toothed swarm of them scrambled into the open for a fresh offering. Some scuffled in a large pan of milk. Others climbed over their brethren, while a few furiously fought as they angled for the most advantageous feeding position. Torn ears and gnawled mangy brown coats testified to the ferocity of past feeding frenzies.

Beyond the white eye of this multi-tailed maelstrom were a hundred or so other rats quietly milling about, oblivious to the commotion. With a casual connoisseur's air, these "kabas" as the holy rats are called in India, ate errant bits of rice and grain scattered across the floor. In their midst, reverential Hindu pilgrims prayed to an idol set into the altar. Other faithful laid fresh fruit and luscious flower garlands at the base of the deity.

Looking on, I grimaced as an old woman in a flowing sari ate a bit of food from one of the feeding pans.

"Please, sir," a red-turbaned Hindu ascetic behind me said; "To partake of the rats' food is to bring good fortune."

He laughed heartily when with a smile, I rather quickly held my hand up to decline the opportunity.