Part 33

The following graphic account of a Kama Mystery Play, in which Malasars are represented, has been given by Mr. S. G. Roberts. [162] "The play, as the writer saw it in a little village on the banks of the Amravati river, was at once a mystery or miracle play, a mime, a tragedy that strangely recalled the Greek choral tragedies, and a satyric drama. These various ingredients gave it a quaint nebulous character, the play now crystallising into mere drama, and again dissolving into a religious rite. Just as an understanding of the Greek mythology is necessary for the full grasping of the meaning of a Greek tragedy, so it is necessary to portray the legend which is the basis of this mystery, all the more as the characters are Hindu gods. Kama, then, is the Hindu Cupid, not a tiny little child like the Roman god of love, but more like Eros. He has beautiful attributes. His bow is of the sugar-cane; his arrows are tipped with flowers; and his bow-string is a chain of bees--a pretty touch that recalls the swallow song of the Homeric bowstring. For all that, the genius of the country has modified the local idea of Eros. He has long ago found his Psyche: in point of fact, this Hindu Eros is a married man. His wife, Rathi, is the other speaking character, and she certainly displays a beautiful eloquence not unfitting her position. Moreover, like every married man, Kama has a father-in-law, and here the tragedy begins to loom out of the playful surroundings of a god of love of whatever nation or clime. Siva, the destroyer, he of the bright blue neck, the dweller, as Kama tauntingly says, among graves and dead men's ashes; Siva, mighty in penance, is father of Rathi. In the play itself, he is not even a muta persona; he does not appear at all. What he does is only adumbrated by the action or song of the other characters. The legend strikingly illustrates the Hindu view of penance. Briefly stated, it is that anyone who performs any penance for a sufficiently long time acquires such a store of power and virtue, that the very gods themselves cannot stand against it. Hindu mythology affords many examples of this belief. Siva himself, in one of his incarnations, saved the whole Indian Olympus and the universe at large from a demi-god, who, by years of penance, had become charged, as it were, with power, like a religious electric 'accumulator.' The early sages and heroes of Indian story had greater facilities for the acquisition of this reserve of power, in that their lives lasted for centuries or even æons. It may be imagined that three centuries of penance increased the performer's strength to a degree not expressible in modern figures! In this case, the gods had viewed with alarm a penance which Siva had begun, and which threatened to make him master of all creation. In spite of a few grotesque attributes, the mythology lends to Siva a character at once terrific and awe-inspiring. When his third eye was closed on one occasion, the universe was involved in darkness, and the legend under discussion presents a solemn picture of the god, sitting with his rosary in sackcloth and ashes, immersed in his unending penance. Kama was deputed to break the spell. Accompanied by his nymphs, he sported before the recluse, taking all shapes that could 'shake the saintship of an anchorite,' till this oriental St. Anthony, but too thoroughly aroused, opened his tremendous frontal eye, and, with a flashing glance of rage, consumed the rash intruder on his solitude. Such is the legend which supplies the closing scene of the life of Kama, a life that is celebrated, as March begins, with several days' rejoicing in every town and village of Southern India. The writer had seen the heap of bricks that support the Kama pillar in a village which he visited a few months after first landing in India. As March came round, he saw them in whatever village his work brought him, and the legend was impressed on his memory by a case in court, in which the momentous word 'Kamadakshinasivalingamedai' (or the high place of the emblem of Siva who consumed Kama) was pronounced by the various witnesses. It was not, however, till the spring of 1900 that an opportunity presented itself for witnessing the performance of the Kama mystery. The time of representation was the night, the playtime for old and young in India. It has this special advantage, from a theatrical point of view, that everything in a village street takes on an adventitious beauty. The heaps of dust, the ragged huts, lose their prominence, the palm trees become beautiful, and the tower of the temple grows in majesty. Everything that is ugly or incongruous seems to disappear, till the façade of a wealthy Hindu's house wears the dignity of the old Grecian palace proscenium. The rag torches give a soft strong light, that adds effect to the spangled and laced robes of the actors, and leaves the auditory in semi-darkness, quite in accordance with Wagnerian stage tradition. Kama was represented in full dress, with a towering, crocketed, gilded mitre or helmet, such as is worn by the images of South Indian gods. He is not like the unadorned Eros of the Greeks, and he shows his Indian blood by the green which paints the upper half of his face. Kama had the bow of sugar-cane, and Rathi, otherwise dressed like a wealthy Hindu bride, also bore a smaller bow of the same. The buffoon must not be omitted. He figures in every Indian play, and here, besides the distinction of a girdle of massive cow bells gracefully supporting his paunch, he showed his connection with this love drama by a small bow of sugar-cane fastened upright, by one tip, to the peak of a high dunce's cap. The play began by Kama boastfully, and at great length, announcing his intention of disturbing Siva's penance. Rathi did her best to dissuade him, but every argument she could use only stirred up his pride, and made him more determined on the adventure. The dialogue was sometimes sustained by the characters themselves; sometimes they sang with dreadful harshness; sometimes they but swayed to and fro, as if in a Roman mimus, while the best voice in the company sang their songs for them. Now and then, the musicians would break into a chorus, which strikingly recalled, but for the absence of dancing, the Greek tragic chorus, especially in their idea of inevitable destiny, and in their lamentations over the disastrous end of the undertaking. Meanwhile, the buffoon played his part with more or less success, and backed up the astonishingly skilful and witty acting of the players, who provided the comic relief. In most Tamil dramas the action of the play is now and again suspended, while one or more comedians stroll on to the stage, and amuse the audience by a vesham, i.e., an impersonation of different well-known street characters representing men (and women) not only of different castes, but of different nations. Needless to say, the parts they play have little or nothing to do with the subject of the drama, but they afford great scope for delineation of character. There is not, of course, in Southern India, the uniformity in dress that we notice in England of the present day. A man's trade, profession, religion, and sect are expressed by his dress and ornament--or lack of both. To mention three of the different veshangal shown on this occasion, there were a Mahrattah tattooing-woman, a north country fakir, and a man and woman of the Malsar caste, each of the parts being dressed to perfection, and admirably sustained. The Malsars are a low caste, and employed in certain parts as bearers of announcements of death (written on palm leaves) from the family of the deceased to relatives at a distance. As they hobbled about, bending over their short crooked crutch sticks, with turbans of twisted straw and bark, and girt with scanty and dirty sackcloth kilts, they would have made a mummy laugh; and they were equally mirth-provoking when they broke into a rough song and dance peculiar to chucklers (leather-workers) when more than usually intoxicated. When Kama had finally declared his unalterable determination to engage in his contest with Siva--a point which was only reached after discussion almost as interminable as a dialogue of Euripides--the performers, and part of the audience, moved off in a procession, which slowly perambulated the town, and halted for prayer before the village temple. The 'stage wait' was filled up by some simple playing and singing by a few local amateurs. This brought on the climax of the tragedy. The Kama stake, to give it an appropriate English name, was now ready. This was a slight stake or pole, a little above a man's height, planted among a few bricks, and made inflammable by a thatching or coating of cholum straw bound round it. The top of this straw pillar was composed of a separate sheaf. When all was ready, and the chorus had sung a strain expressive of grief at Kama's doom, a rocket, representing Siva's fiery glance, shot along a string, and (with some external assistance) lighted the Kama stake, thus closely following the procedure in an Italian church festival. The player who represented Kama now retired into the background, as he was supposed to be dead, and the rest, hopping and dancing, circled slowly round the fire wailing for his fate. It seemed to be a matter of special import to the audience that the stake should be completely consumed. This was an omen of prosperity in the coming year. The funeral dance round the fire continued for a long while, and, when it was but a short time to sunrise, the mummers were still beating their breasts round the smouldering ashes. It seemed that, though some of the songs were composed for the occasion, a great part of the play was traditional, and the audience knew what to expect at any given period in the performance. At one stage it was whispered that now the giant would come in, and lift up a sheep with his teeth. In a few moments he made his appearance, and proved to be a highly comic monster. His arms, legs, and body were tightly swathed in neatly twisted straw ropes, leaving only his feet and hands bare. His head was covered by a huge canvas mask, flat on front and back, so that the actor had the appearance of having introduced his head into the empty shell of some gigantic crab. On the flat front of this mask-dial was painted a terrible giant's face with portentous tusks. Thus equipped, the giant skipped round the various characters, to the terror of the buffoon, brandishing a quarter-staff, and executing vigorous moulinets. An unwilling sheep was pushed into the ring, and the giant, after much struggling, tossed the animal bodily over his head with a dexterous fling that convinced most of the onlookers that he had really performed the feat with his teeth."

Malava.--The Malavas or Mala Bhovis are a small cultivating caste in South Canara, "the members of which were formerly hunters and fishermen. They profess Vaishnavism, and employ Shivalli Brahmans as their priests. Hanuman is their favourite deity. Like the Bants and other castes of Tuluva, they are divided into exogamous septs called balis, and they have the dhare form of marriage. They speak Canarese." [163] They are said to be really Mogers, who have separated from the fishing community. The term Bhovi is used to denote Mogers who carry palanquins, etc.

Malavarayan.--A title of Ambalakkaran.

Malayali.--The Malayalis or Malaialis, whom I examined in the Salem district, dwell on the summits and slopes of the Shevaroy hills, and earn their living by cultivating grain, and working on coffee estates. Suspicious and superstitious to a degree, they openly expressed their fear that I was the dreaded settlement officer, and had come to take possession of their lands in the name of the Government, and transport them to the Andaman islands (the Indian penal settlement). When I was engaged in the innocent occupation of photographing a village, the camera was mistaken for a surveying instrument, and a protest raised. Many of them, while willing to part with their ornaments of the baser metals, were loth to sell or let me see their gold and silver jewelry, from fear lest I should use it officially as evidence of their too prosperous condition. One man told me to my face that he would rather have his throat cut than submit to my measuring operations, and fled precipitately. The women stolidly refused to entrust themselves in my hands. Nor would they bring their children (unwashed specimens of brown humanity) to me, lest they should fall sick under the influence of my evil eye.

In the account which follows I am largely indebted to Mr. H. LeFanu's admirable, and at times amusing, Manual of the Salem district.

The word Malaiali denotes inhabitant of the hills (malai = hill or mountain). The Malaialis have not, however, like the Todas of the Nilgiris, any claim to be considered as an ancient hill tribe, but are a Tamil-speaking people, who migrated from the plains to the hills in comparatively recent times. As a shrewd, but unscientific observer put it concisely to me, they are Tamils of the plains with the addition of a kambli or blanket; which kambli is a luxury denied to the females, but does duty for males, young and old, in the triple capacity of great coat, waterproof, and blanket. According to tradition, the Malaialis originally belonged to the Vellala caste of cultivators, and emigrated from the sacred city of Kanchipuram (Conjeeveram) to the hills about ten generations ago, when Muhammadan rule was dominant in Southern India. When they left Kanchi, they took with them, according to their story, three brothers, of whom the eldest came to the Shevaroy hills, the second to the Kollaimalais, and the youngest to the Pachaimalais (green hills). The Malaialis of the Shevaroys are called the Peria (big) Malaialis, those of the Kollaimalais the Chinna (little) Malaialis. According to another version "the Malaiali deity Kariraman, finding himself uncomfortable at Kanchi, took up a new abode. Three of his followers, named Periyanan, Naduvanan, and Chinnanan (the eldest, the middle-man, and the youngest) started with their families to follow him from Kanchi, and came to the Salem district, where they took different routes, Periyanan going to the Shevaroys, Naduvanan to the Pachaimalais and Anjur hills, and Chinnanan to Manjavadi."

A further version of the legendary origin of the Malaialis of the Trichinopoly district is given by Mr. F. R. Hemingway, who writes as follows. "Their traditions are embodied in a collection of songs (nattukattu). The story goes that they are descended from a priest of Conjeeveram, who was the brother of the king, and, having quarrelled with the latter, left the place, and entered this country with his three sons and daughters. The country was then ruled by Vedans and Vellalans, who resisted the new-comers. But 'the conch-shell blew and the quoit cut,' and the invaders won the day. They then spread themselves about the hills, the eldest son (Periyanan), whose name was Sadaya Kavundan, selecting the Shevaroys in Salem, the second son (Naduvanan, the middle brother) the Pachaimalais, and the youngest (Chinnanan) the Kollaimalais. They married women of the country, Periyanan taking a Kaikolan, Naduvanan a Vedan, and Chinnanan a 'Deva Indra' Pallan. They gave their sister in marriage to a Tottiyan stranger, in exchange for some food supplied by him after their battle with the men of the country. Some curious customs survive, which are pointed to in support of this story. Thus, the women of the Pachaimalai Malaiyalis put aside a portion of each meal in honour of their Vedan ancestors before serving their husbands, and, at their marriages, they wear a comb, which is said to have been a characteristic ornament of the Vedans. Bridegrooms place a sword and an arrow in the marriage booth, to typify the hunting habits of the Vedans, and their own conquest of the country. The Malaiyalis of the Kollaimalais are addressed by Pallan women as brother-in-law (macchan), though the Malaiyalis do not relish this. It is also said that Tottiyan men regard Malaiyalis as their brothers-in-law, and always treat them kindly, and that the Tottiyan women regard the Malaiyalis as their brothers, but treat them very coldly, in remembrance of their having sold their sister 'for a mess of pottage.'"

The account, which the Malaialis of the Javadi hills in North Arcot give of their origin, is as follows. [164] "In S.S. 1055 (1132 A.D.) some of the Vedars of Kangundi asked that wives should be given them by the Karaikkat Vellalas of Conjeeveram. They were scornfully refused, and in anger kidnapped seven young Vellala maidens, whom they carried away to Kangundi. To recover them, seven Vellala men set out with seven dogs, leaving instructions with their wives that, if the dogs returned alone, they should consider that they had perished, and should cause the funeral ceremonies to be performed. Arriving at the Palar, they found the river in flood, and crossed it with difficulty ; but their dogs, after swimming half way, turned back and returned to Conjeeveram. The men, however, continued their journey, and killed the Vedars who had taken away their maidens, after which they went back to their homes, but found that they had been given up as lost, their wives had become widows, their funeral ceremonies performed, and they were in consequence outcastes. Under these circumstances, they contracted marriages with some Vedar women, and retired to the Javadis, where they took to cultivation, and became the ancestors of the Malaiali caste. This account has been preserved by the Malaialis in a small palm-leaf book." There is, Mr. Francis writes, [165] a tradition in the South Arcot district that "the hills were inhabited by Vedans, and that the Malaialis killed the men, and wedded the women; and at marriages a gun is still fired in the air to represent the death of the Vedan husband." The Malaialis returned themselves, at the last census, as Karaikkat Vellalas. The Malaialis of South Arcot call themselves Kongu Vellalas. All the branches of the community agree in saying that they are Vellalans, who emigrated from Kanchipuram, bringing with them their god Kariraman, and, at the weddings of the Kalrayans in South Arcot, the presiding priest sings a kind of chant just before the tali is tied, which begins with the words Kanchi, the (sacred) place, and Kariraman in front. Copper sasanams show that the migration occurred at least as early as the beginning of the sixteenth century.

The Malaialis of the Shevaroys call themselves Kanchimandalam. Many, at the last census, returned themselves as Vellala and Karalan. Malakkaran and Mala Nayakkan are also used as synonyms for Malaiali. All have Goundan as their second name, which is universally used in hailing them. The first name is sometimes derived from a Hindu god, and my notes record Mr. Green, Mr. Black, Mr. Little, Mr. Short, Mr. Large, and Mr. Big nose.

As regards the conditions under which the Malaialis of the Salem district hold land, I learn from the Manual that, in 1866, the Collector fixed an area around each village for the cultivation of the Malaialis exclusively, and, in view to prevent aggression on the part of the planters, had the boundaries of these areas surveyed and demarcated. This area is known as the "village green." With this survey the old system of charging the Malaialis on ploughs and hoes appears to have been discontinued, and they are now charged at one rupee per acre on the extent of their holdings. The lands within the green are given under the ordinary darakhast [166] rules to the Malaialis, but outside it they are sold under the special waste land rules of 1863. In 1870 the Board of Revenue decided that, where the lands within the green are all occupied, and the Malaialis require more land for cultivation, land outside the limits of the green may be given them under the ordinary darakhast rules. In 1871 it was discovered that the planters tried to get lands outside the green by making the Malaialis first apply for it, thereby evading the waste land rules. The Board then ordered that, if there was reason to suspect that a Malaiali was applying for lands outside the green on account of the planters, the patta (deed of lease) might be refused.

Subscribing vaguely to the Hindu religion, the Malaialis, who believe that their progenitors wore the sacred thread, give a nominal allegiance to both Siva and Vishnu, as well as to a number of minor deities, and believe in the efficacy of a thread to ward off sickness and attacks by devils or evil spirits. "In the year 1852," Mr. LeFanu writes, "a searching enquiry into the traditions, customs, and origin of these Malaialis was made. They then stated that smearing the face with ashes indicates the religion of Siva, and putting namam that of Vishnu, but that there is no difference between the two religions; that, though Sivaratri sacred to Siva, and Sriramanavami and Gokulashtami sacred to Vishnu, appear outwardly to denote a difference, there is really none. Though they observe the Saturdays of the month Peratasi sacred to Vishnu, still worship is performed without reference to Vishnu or Siva. They have, indeed, certain observances, which would seem to point to a division into Vaishnavas and Saivas, the existence of which they deny; as for instance, some, out of respect to Siva, abstain from sexual intercourse on Sundays and Mondays; and others, for the sake of Vishnu, do the same on Fridays and Saturdays. So, too, offerings are made to Vishnu on Fridays and Saturdays, and to Siva on Sundays and Mondays; but they denied the existence of sects among them."

"On the Kalrayans," Mr. Francis writes, [167] "are very many shrines to the lesser gods. The Malaialis themselves do the puja (worship). The deities include Mariamma, Draupadi, and many other village goddesses. In some of the temples are placed the prehistoric celts and other stone implements which are found on these hills. The people do not understand what these are, and reverence them accordingly. The practice of taking oaths before these shrines to settle disputes is common. The party makes a solemn affidavit of the truth of his case in the presence of the god, holding some burning camphor in his hand. Having made his statement, he blows out the flame to signify that, if he is lying, the god is welcome to snuff him out in the same sudden manner."