Words by Narayana Menon K                                     Photographs from Wandertrails

“Aaaarrgghhhhhhhhh….!” A spine-chilling guttural cry emanated from the being in front of us. I exchanged a side glance with Akhil. Yes, it has begun. The journey of transformation where humans take the divine form to play out the dance of the Gods was on. We were in Kannur and witnessing this visual spectacle of Theyyam, a ritualistic form of worship that incorporates dance, mime, and music. The infusions of tribal cultures are also visible wherein worship was not just limited to the godly but also included ancestors, folklore heroes, animals, and spirits.

Read about the rest of the encounter that Narayana Menon K had with the awe-inspiring Theyyam in the latest Travel Special issue of FWD Life Dec-Jan 2018.

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Text by: Fathima Abdul Kader    Photos: Various Sources

Kathakali

With a history that traces back to 1st millennium CE, Kathakali is a story play art genre with elaborate makeup and costumes. The characters in the play are signified by their distinctive attire and the varying colors signify character traits. Red, green, white, gold, multiple layers and ruffles are the common elements of the costumes and they serve the purpose of raising the actor-dancers to a level of magnificence that will effectively transport the audience to a world of wonders.

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Theyyam

The ritual dance with roots in northern Kerala has over 400 varieties and incorporates dance, mime, and music. It plays homage to the tribal culture of hero and ancestral worship. Theyyam or Kaliyattam is often given a daunting image due to the dramatically painted face and the crazed frenzy that the performers attain at the height of their performance. Tier joined skirts, metallic studs, and accents, predominantly red face makeup, as well as highly structured headdresses, are the common elements across different forms of Theyyam.

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Kummattikali

While most ritualistic art involves face painting, Kummati Kali is a colorful mask dance performed around the time of Onam. The festive performance takes place on the roads and the performers are traditionally covered in sprigs of “kummatti pullu” or wear garbs of dry leaves and grass. The wooden masks worn by the performers are of mythological significance and are often handed down through the generations. The look is often supplemented with floral garlands and even pom pom garlands.

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Puli Kali

The most renowned recreational folk art from Kerala, Pulikali is performed on the fourth day of Onam and revolve around the theme of tiger hunting. Hundreds of men who are trained in pulikali spends hours painting their body in shades of yellow, black and orange, don golden shorts, wear bells around their hips and put on fur trimmed tiger masks prior to their performance. The biggest pulikali event in the state happens in Thrissur where it originated from.

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Words by Likhitha P Nair    Photographs from Midhun Vijayan

Year after year, they told him ‘The gods are here’. Among toys and neatly lined notebooks, a little rage that never left his blood longed to be one. But when the clamour closed in, fear was his closest ally.

His face reflected wrinkles from knowledge that refused to promise freedom. A god he has known, dipped in red and covered in palm leaves shared a skin with him. Half man, half skilled masquerader, he played roles that never met in the middle.

Were gods ever charmed by innocence? Dressed in silk gowns and crowns, maybe they were flying around the corners, laughing at the boy who came to make friends. The boy who would grow up to be a man of ordeal.

The trick is to not let them know. They believe, they need to and the celebrations need a reason. A certain calling that he never heard, but it was all in him, the power, the faith and the god himself.

The mystery of omnipotence that no one ever saw or touched weakened their steps. Sweat tumbling down their foreheads smudging a certain pretence hidden away. Their eyes met – the idol the generation bowed before for blessings, for a good harvest, for the village’s lost sons to return.

The deity who cured sickness and bore the weight of their hopes. Overworked bones and a wayward childhood was no match for an almighty. Yet, all eyes were on them, all prayers hung by their shoulders. Does god ever remember the bittersweet life of a man who tamed mud and cattle? Or that of a child with torn clothes and no money for after-school snacks? Those who made a man the ruler and another his bearer never knew whom god favoured. Or visited without excuses.

Every now and then, the man looked back at his spirit. The idol in a tiny dark room who welcomed reverence and request with a straight face. Many years ago, he was a child awaiting a miracle every time the percussion peaked. But now, he only looks at the mighty one with a certain painful apathy. Who is the god anyway?

He waits, as the myriads gather around him and the dilapidated drums let out raging roars. He waits for the miracle he has secretly nurtured for years. Eyes fixed on nothing, the boy in him wondered if his mates would fear him now. The nasty children who never shared their toys. No fire could burn him now. It was his initiation to the unknown, and faith was bliss.

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