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Many choose to stay within the cooler confines of their houses and watch the 36-hour spectacle unfold on their TV screens. But I chose to brave the sweltering heat of Kerala and watch the ritual under its humid skies.
It started that morning with the people rushing out of the hotel where I was staying as soon as the sound of drumming was heard. The deities from the eight smaller temples from around Thrissur were making their way to the main temple, the Vadakkunatha temple, on elephants. So efficiently is it organised that the programme gives routes, timings and even the number of elephants for each temple.
Legend states that Sakthan Thamburan ((1751-1805) decided to hold the Pooram, which used to be held in Arattupuzha nearby, in Thrissur after the smaller temples complained that they were not allowed to participate one year as the monsoons delayed them. So he had the massive teak forest in front of the Vadakkunathan temple cleaned and held it there. He then directed the main temples in Thrissur, the Paramekkavu and the Thiruvembadi temples to support the eight smaller temples. It is said that underlying his decision to shift the venue was a desire to bring to heel the priestly Brahmin aristocracy.
Thus it is truly the common man's festival.
The itinerary is strictly adhered to, starting with the raising of the flag in the temples. Then the deities are taken in procession on elephants to receive offerings of paddy.
There are two time honoured curtain raisers which set the mood of the festival — the display of ornaments from the temple and for the elephants and the sample fireworks at dusk a day before the Pooram.
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A magnificent spectacle
Maya Jayapal
Festivity
It is the last day of the famous Pooram festival in Thrissur, when there is a final display of spectacular rituals, religious fervour and magnificent organisation. When all of India — and the world — converge on a small town in Kerala called Thrissivaperur or the abode of Lord Siva.
Many choose to stay within the cooler confines of their houses and watch the 36-hour spectacle unfold on their TV screens. But I chose to brave the sweltering heat of Kerala and watch the ritual under its humid skies. It started that morning with the people rushing out of the hotel where I was staying as soon as the sound of drumming was heard. The deities from the eight smaller temples from around Thrissur were making their way to the main temple, the Vadakkunatha temple, on elephants. So efficiently is it organised that the programme gives routes, timings and even the number of elephants for each temple.
Legend states that Sakthan Thamburan ((1751-1805) decided to hold the Pooram, which used to be held in Arattupuzha nearby, in Thrissur after the smaller temples complained that they were not allowed to participate one year as the monsoons delayed them. So he had the massive teak forest in front of the Vadakkunathan temple cleaned and held it there. He then directed the main temples in Thrissur, the Paramekkavu and the Thiruvembadi temples to support the eight smaller temples. It is said that underlying his decision to shift the venue was a desire to bring to heel the priestly Brahmin aristocracy.
Thus it is truly the common man's festival.
The itinerary is strictly adhered to, starting with the raising of the flag in the temples. Then the deities are taken in procession on elephants to receive offerings of paddy.
There are two time honoured curtain raisers which set the mood of the festival — the display of ornaments from the temple and for the elephants and the sample fireworks at dusk a day before the Pooram.
Early in the morning on Pooram day, the images of the deities from the Paramekkavu and Thiruvembady Devi temples are taken in procession on elephants, accompanied by percussion ensembles, to the main Siva temple at Vadakkunnathan. The Paramekkavu temple, situated on a rock, is dedicated to a Bhagavathy or goddess who has a direct connection with the Siva temple. Story goes that she came originally from another ancient temple where an ardent devotee from Thrissur would go every month to worship.
But age and ailments made it difficult for him to undertake this arduous journey. So the goddess accompanied him back to the town on the back of his umbrella. He rested the umbrella under the ilanji tree in the Siva temple and because of Her power it was difficult to move it. It was later shifted to the present temple. The original ilanji tree has fallen and a new one is there now and it is near this that the magnificent melam is conducted.
It is three extraordinary hours of percussion playing by 250 musicians lined up in front of the elephants and a huge crowd. It is a beautiful sight, the thunderous music synchronised with the raising and lowering of the mahouts' yak tail whisks and peacock feather fans. It is almost as if this is the mission of the men and their mounts in life, all their experiences culminating in this remarkable finale.
The pulsing crowd raised their hands with the palm leaf fans to keep in tune with the crescendo of the music. It is almost like a rock concert, but the appreciation is tinged with awe and reverence for the ritual, the men and the animals.
The elephants, on their journey to the main temple, are accompanied by the pancha vadyam, the five-instrument orchestra which every musician worthy of his instrument aspires to play at the Pooram. We waited in the sweaty hot climate for almost two hours for the performance to start. There was no impatience.
For the Pooram, the tuskers are chosen with great care, and each of the two devi temples uses 15 elephants, with the smaller temples being allotted less.
I visited both the Paramekkavu and the Vadakkunnathan temples in the morning before the throngs arrived. Sheaths of palm leaves, the first tender clusters, were strung up from the rafters and beams surrounding the sanctum sanctorum, interspersed with golden marigolds. Women in white mundus with coloured or gold borders, and bare chested men in mundus, walked along the circumambulation path, making their offerings of jaggery, rice, paddy, kumkum, ginger, haldi, etc.
The Vadakkunnathan temple, equally majestic, is over a 1,000 years old and has beautiful 17th century murals depicting the Mahabharata. The koothambalam or traditional theatre within the temple is of artistically carved teak. The idol of Siva is covered under a mound of ghee, formed after years of offerings. When the eye gets accustomed to the hallowed darkness of the sanctum, there is the 13-foot mountain of ghee embellished with the cascading crescents of gold and three serpent hoods at the top. Sometimes, this ghee mound, which does not smell or taste rancid, breaks up and is offered to devotees.
The grand finale is conducted on the maidan in front of the Siva temple with 30 elephants, with the images of goddesses on the central biggest elephant, facing each other, and changing the umbrellas. Thirty sets of umbrellas of variegated hues and patterns are passed up to the men on the elephants, while all the time the whisks and the fans are moved up and down. The patterns of the umbrellas are a close secret and every year after the function they are sold off. And when darkness falls, the torches are fired and the whole spectacle is like an illumination. And all this to the accompaniment of the resonant, vibrating music.
What was amazing to me was the discipline of the crowds. I did not, at anytime, feel unsafe or threatened amid the lakhs of spectators, for they had time only for the pulsating hypnotic ritual. I spoke to a couple of spectators who come every year with their families. The women say that they do not feel threatened at all in the crush of the crowds. Truly a democratic festival, with all the pomp and panoply of royalty.
But age and ailments made it difficult for him to undertake this arduous journey. So the goddess accompanied him back to the town on the back of his umbrella. He rested the umbrella under the ilanji tree in the Siva temple and because of Her power it was difficult to move it. It was later shifted to the present temple. The original ilanji tree has fallen and a new one is there now and it is near this that the magnificent melam is conducted.
It is three extraordinary hours of percussion playing by 250 musicians lined up in front of the elephants and a huge crowd. It is a beautiful sight, the thunderous music synchronised with the raising and lowering of the mahouts' yak tail whisks and peacock feather fans. It is almost as if this is the mission of the men and their mounts in life, all their experiences culminating in this remarkable finale.
The pulsing crowd raised their hands with the palm leaf fans to keep in tune with the crescendo of the music. It is almost like a rock concert, but the appreciation is tinged with awe and reverence for the ritual, the men and the animals.
The elephants, on their journey to the main temple, are accompanied by the pancha vadyam, the five-instrument orchestra which every musician worthy of his instrument aspires to play at the Pooram. We waited in the sweaty hot climate for almost two hours for the performance to start. There was no impatience.
For the Pooram, the tuskers are chosen with great care, and each of the two devi temples uses 15 elephants, with the smaller temples being allotted less.
I visited both the Paramekkavu and the Vadakkunnathan temples in the morning before the throngs arrived. Sheaths of palm leaves, the first tender clusters, were strung up from the rafters and beams surrounding the sanctum sanctorum, interspersed with golden marigolds. Women in white mundus with coloured or gold borders, and bare chested men in mundus, walked along the circumambulation path, making their offerings of jaggery, rice, paddy, kumkum, ginger, haldi, etc.
The Vadakkunnathan temple, equally majestic, is over a 1,000 years old and has beautiful 17th century murals depicting the Mahabharata. The koothambalam or traditional theatre within the temple is of artistically carved teak. The idol of Siva is covered under a mound of ghee, formed after years of offerings. When the eye gets accustomed to the hallowed darkness of the sanctum, there is the 13-foot mountain of ghee embellished with the cascading crescents of gold and three serpent hoods at the top. Sometimes, this ghee mound, which does not smell or taste rancid, breaks up and is offered to devotees.
The grand finale is conducted on the maidan in front of the Siva temple with 30 elephants, with the images of goddesses on the central biggest elephant, facing each other, and changing the umbrellas. Thirty sets of umbrellas of variegated hues and patterns are passed up to the men on the elephants, while all the time the whisks and the fans are moved up and down. The patterns of the umbrellas are a close secret and every year after the function they are sold off. And when darkness falls, the torches are fired and the whole spectacle is like an illumination. And all this to the accompaniment of the resonant, vibrating music.
What was amazing to me was the discipline of the crowds. I did not, at anytime, feel unsafe or threatened amid the lakhs of spectators, for they had time only for the pulsating hypnotic ritual. I spoke to a couple of spectators who come every year with their families. The women say that they do not feel threatened at all in the crush of the crowds. Truly a democratic festival, with all the pomp and panoply of royalty.
Regards,
Shashi
Shashi
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