Inside Malabar, rich in history, tropical jungles, old tharavads and modern homes, there are these little clearings dotted with temples. Often, a human dallies here with divinity and manifests a spiritual art called Theyyam. Those used to tourism brochures from Kerala are aware in a general sense of this ancient devotional endeavour.
‘The book can be treated like an encyclopaedia on Theyyam.’ | Photo Credit: Pepita Seth
However, for those living in this land of ballads and ‘kalaripayattu’, the traditional martial art, Theyyam serves as an unrestrained belief in having a holy communion with the gods from the Hindu pantheon. This is all about colour, often bright reds and yellow, fire-torches made with palm leaves, the music of ‘chenda’, Kerala’s unique drums, and the synergy between the devotee and the man, who plays god. Holding a believer’s hand, the Theyyam artiste listens to woes and requests, watches tears flow, and offers hope and blessings. This is catharsis and comfort, and for those who have seen a Theyyam, it offers a perspective on Hinduism’s diverse strands.
The Theyyams of Malabar; Pepita Seth, Scala Arts & Heritage Publishers Ltd, ₹5,001.
Into this complex world, Pepita Seth wades in with a sense of wonder, extreme patience and a scholar’s hunger for knowledge. The result is a stunning coffee table book, In God’s Mirror, The Theyyams of Malabar. Coffee table books at times get dismissed as gloss, offering relief to the eyes and nothing more, but Seth begs to differ. Irrespective of whether you consider Theyyam as just an art form or an intensely spiritual pursuit, this book needs to be savoured.
Pepita Seth | Photo Credit: K. Pichumani
Whispers of mystery
British writer Seth, who set out from London in 1970, in a bid to mine her memories of an ancestor, who once lived in India, was also inexorably drawn towards Kerala. Her trips gradually moved northwards and then she discovered Malabar. The vast ocean of literature does have many stunning lines and we all have our favourites — it could be a passage about the monsoon from Allan Sealy’s The Everest Hotel or any other excerpt that readers of this review may remember fondly. To that list please add these lines by Seth: “Malabar is a beautiful word, slipping off the tongue like a sighing whisper, murmuring of mystery and shadows, suggesting somewhere unknown and unreachable.”
‘Face-writing’. | Photo Credit: Pepita Seth
Armed with a camera, notebook and an insatiable desire to understand Theyyam in all its complexities, Seth throws light on this ancient form of worship. William Dalrymple’s Nine Lives, published in 2009, was perhaps the first to offer a glimpse into Theyyams in mainstream writing. His chapter, ‘The Dancer of Kannur’, is essential reading for those who want a quick grasp of Theyyam. What Seth does across 336 pages is to offer a breathtaking range of perspectives and photographs about the world of Theyyam.
The book can be read from end to end or it can be treated like an encyclopaedia on Theyyam. Want to know who Chamundi or Gulikan is? Or curious about Bhagavathi or Kuttichathan? They are basically manifestations of the Hindu pantheon, be it Shiva, Vishnu or Durga, but for more details, just dive into the relevant chapters and relish what is on offer. Seth’s constant travels within Malabar, across Kozhikode, Kannur and Kasaragod districts, throw up a macro-level analysis of diverse Theyyams, including a rare one in which a woman dons the attire and invokes the divine spirit.
‘The caste equations that underpin Theyyam is also dealt with as specific clans are associated with this old art form.’ | Photo Credit: Pepita Seth
Toppling caste hierarchies
The caste equations that underpin Theyyam is also dealt with as specific clans are associated with this old art form. For those in the know, in a welcome move, Theyyam also topples rigid caste hierarchies as a lower-caste man playing god offers his benediction to an upper-caste devotee. Seth writes about her interactions with Lakshmanan Peruvannan, who used to perform the Muchilottu Bhagavathi Theyyam. The blurring of lines between man and god becomes evident in these lines: “Mahavishnu is his friend and therefore, when giving naivedyam, he may take a bite himself, have a taste and then give the rest to the god — simply because there is no difference between him and God, and it is only right that he does this.”
Many Indians became aware of Theyyam thanks to the Kannada blockbuster Kantara, which dealt with Bhoota Kola, a variant practised in neighbouring Karnataka’s coastal districts with a Tulu inflection. Seth looks at this too while moving around Kasaragod and this highlights an old truth: boundaries can never rein in the fluidity of cultural influences. Be it the religious, artistically inclined or those invested in social anthropology, this book is essential reading about a unique landmass and its accompanying beliefs.
vijayakumar.kc@thehindu.co.in
