Thank:taken from Internet:
Aiyanar and Aiyappan in Tamil Nadu : Change and Continuity in South
Indian Hinduism
The Aiyappan
Cult : The Meeting Ground of Hindu Militancy, Egalitarianism and Universalism
Introduction
IN recent years the Aiyappan cult has attained enormous popularity. It has spread from Kerala
and into Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh and Karnataka and is now moving even further
north. Obviously this fairly conventional bhakti cult is seen by many as the answer to their
religious and social
needs at the present time But
what
are these needs
? The answer to that
question is rather complex.
There are conservative Hindu groups, who try to
project the cult as the answer to all the forces,
which seem to threaten
Hinduism in the modern world, such as conversions
to Islam and Christianity, as well as the rise
of militant nationalism in conjunction with religious
revivalism such as can be seen in all the states
surrounding India, like Sri Lanka,
Burma, Malaysia,
Pakistan and Iran. No doubt this general trend in the area also affects peop’ie
in India, who feel they must respond
to this threat and rally round their endangered spiritual
heritage. This aspect is stressed in much of the writings on the Aiyappan
cult, which is often referred to as the proper
religion of the
Kaliyuga, the dark age in which we live where men and values are debased.
Hence the need for
austerity and self-control, so that one may
withstand the prevailing negative tendencies of the modern world. There are numerous
myths about Aiyappans prowess as a warrior and they are
well known and popular. Since he is the eternal celibate, the link between sexual continence and spiritual and physical
power is strongly brought
out. This is also a prominent
feature in the cult practice,
since a period of sexual abstinence of at least forty days is
mandatory for all who wish to go on pilgrimage to Aiyappan’s temple at Sabari Malai.
t
However, there is also another
tendency, which sustains the popularity of the cult, and that is the egalitarian element
which is common
to all
bhakti cults. Most informants stressed this as the
most attractive feature of the cult and said : “We
are all equal in the eyes of Aiyappan”.
Obviously the pilgrimage and the preparation
time preceding it are a welcome escape
from the restrictions of traditional
hierarchic norms.
A third aspect of the cult, closely linked to its
egalitarian tendency, is its aspirations to become
a universal religion. People of all castes, creeds and religions are welcomed
without the slightest reservation. Anyone who wishes to participate can
do so, provided
he prepares himself in the
prescribed manner.
The cult is truly
open and willing to accept
all. My participation in the pilgrimage on several occasions as participant
observer was not seen by my fellow pilgrims as a conversion to Hinduism,
but rather as evidence of the genuinely
universal nature of this cult.
All these aspects
of the cult cannot be treated
within the limitations of this article, and some I have treated elsewhere. Here I present
the results of a field study of the gradual spread of the Aiyappan cult in a region in Tamil Nadu, and how this new cult is integrated into the existing religious patterns in that area, and how newly formed Aiyappan groups in Tamil Nadu have allied
themselves with an ancient
royal lineage in Kerala, the traditional
keepers of Aiyappan’s
jewels, and are forming a new religious network,
transcending the former impregnable barrier
between Kerala and the Tamil area.
In recent years there has been a spectacular
growth in the number
of pilgrims, who gather at
Sabari Malai in Kerala in January
every
year in worship of Aiyappan, the peculiar South
Indian god. The rapidly
growing interest
in Aiyappan in Tamil Nadu seems
to be mainly responsible for this.
Aiyappan is a son of Shiva and Vishnu (in the female form of Mohini), who is known only in
South India, mainly in Kerala and Tamil Nadu. There are now Aiyappan
temples in Bombay and New
Delhi and a few other places in North
India, but these have all been built by Keralites residing in the North, and are mainly
attended
by th m. (concerning Aiyappan’s theogony see :
Vaidynathan 1978, Kjaerholm
1982, and appendix). Apart from these exceptions,
Aiyappan worship is not known further north than
mid-Karnataka, where it was probably
introduced from Kerala (Srinivas 1965).
Although Aiyanar and Aiyappan are considered
to be the same god, (Gopinatha Rao 1916), there have emerged two rather different modes of
worship of Aiyappan in Kerala and Karnataka,
and of Aiyanar in the Tamil area.
In Tamil Nadu Aiyanar is
worshipped
as a village guardian god and
his priests are mainly from non-Brahman
castes, like the Velar (potters). In Kerala
Aiyappan is worshipped in Shiva temples and has
Brahman priests. Another striking
difference is, that
Aiyappan unlike Aiyanar has been made the
object of bhakti devotion (i.e.
a popular
emotional form of worship, which aims at
merging with the god in devotional love).
The Return of the Native
In this article I am not concerned with the historical development which led to the
evolution of the Aiyanar Aiyappan
forms of worship (see : Clothey
1978, Adiceam 1967). What I am concerned with here is the unique and interesting historical situation, that a god—
Aiyappan—is today being introduced in the
Tamil area with a mode of worship, which was
unknown to most people
in that area before
1940. At the same time the Tamils recognize Aiyappan as identical to Aiyanar or Sasta, the common village god of Tamil Nadu. Whether
it is justified or not the Tamils accept all references
to “Sasta” in classical Tamil literature,
which dates back—possibly—to 300 A.D. as clear evidence of the worship
of Aiyanar/Aiyappan in the Tamil area in such ancient
times.
Aiyanar Worship in
and around
Madurai
Aiyanar is a village deity, and his temples
are found—as a rule —only
in villages. There are
Aiyanar temples within the city limits of
Madurai, but this is because
the city has grown
so much recently. Most Aiyanar priests in this
area are of the Velar (potter)
caste, who also make the terracotta
figures of the gods in the temples, as well as the numerous votive offerings,
cows, horses
and other animals, which are so
typical of the rural scene in Tamil Nadu. To seek better business opportunities many village
potters have now moved to Madurai.
There are important Velar settlements at Arappalaiyam and Talla-kulam, but they retain their links to the surrounding villages.
The running
of the temples is usually
financed by temple
lands, and the right
to dispose of the
income from these lands are inherited in individual potters
families. Over the years these
rights have been split between many heirs. For example, a group of eight male relatives may
have inherited a priesthood and income from
temple lands. This right is then shared
in a rotation system,
which means that each of them
takes a turn to function
as priest for one year. In spring
there are many Aiyanar festivals, when
villagers place votive offerings at their local Aiyanar temples. These offerings
are usually terracotta
figures, representing horse, cows, chickens, babies, scorpions, camels, elephants, and
other things, given as thanks for boons
bestowed on the worshipper. Such festivals take
place at irregular intervals, every third year or so,
depending on the wealth of the villagers. The terracotta figures
are taken out in procession
from the house of the potter, who is priest,
and perhaps also made the figures, to the village
temple. This is why so many processions can be seen going from the suburbs
of Madurai to a great number of villages around Madurai.
The Role of the Kodangi
The reason why people
decide to donate
votive offerings is usually that they have a problem. Then they consult
a kodangi, a man who is able to
get
possessed by the village gods. He beats an hour-glass shaped
drum, sings, and when the god has
descended on him he can be consulted as oracle about
what to do to gain the help of the
gods
to solve the problem.
The kodangi then
suggests which offering to make, and to which god, and it is then ordered from the potter
and offered at the next festival. However, it is never
Aiyanar himself, who is consulted
thus, because people who are possessed by him are unable to
speak; they stand stock-still
while tears run from their eyes. Aiyanar is thus too powerful for
possession, so for divine guidance lesser
gods like Karuppaswami, a god always found in Aiyanar temples, are invited to descend
on the possessed.
Aiyanar is the protector of the village against
flood
and evil spirits,
and Karuppaswami is the next-in-command in Aiyanar’s army in eternal
combat against evil forces. The two gods are
often seen as statues of gigantic figures on horseback in front of Aiyanar
temples. There are also people who take vows to go to an Aiyanar temple once a year and become
possessed by Karuppaswami. They are called cami
adis (“god dancers”). They have to prepare for this for
weeks, abstaining from meat, liquor and sex. On the
appointed day they dress
up in a peculiar dress and hat supposedly worn by
Karuppaswami and start walking
from their homes to the temple
preceded by a band with
nagaswaram (oboe) and drums. Sometimes they also carry the big chopping
knife, which Karuppaswami holds
in his right hand. As they
approach the temple they get more and more possessed. People on the route come out and stop
the cami adi and ask questions about their
problems and how to solve them. I once saw a mother
place her child in a cami adi’s
arms and
ask him about
the child’s future
education. When the
cami adi reaches the temple and faces the god, who
has possessed him, he is overpowered and
passes out, and the possession is over.
Someone in the family may also get possessed by
Karuppaswami or any other village deity and in
oracle fashion tell the family
which offering to make to solve a particular problem.
We may briefly sketch the Aiyanar
worship as a closed
religious-economic village system largely devoted to solving mental,
health and economic problems of the villagers. This system involves
no higher deities and no Brahman priests. Only
through Aiyanar is it formally connected with sanskritic Hinduism, since
he is the son of Shiva
and Vishnu.
kodangi
is possessed by intermediary god
potter makes votive offering
Aiyanar Temples and Village
Hierarchy
Aiyanar temples usually
contain 21 gods. The
other gods may vary from temple to temple.
These
gods may be ths family
deities—kula deyvam— of
particular lineages, which gather
from all parts of the country once a year in order
to worship and become possessed by the deity. In this way the lineage retains a geographical
link to a place of origin, which
all family members may have left long ago. There is also
a certain hierarchy among
the gods (Dumont 1970), which is based on the local
principles of caste hierarchy. Some gods are
vegetarian and hence
purer than others, who will
accept blood-offerings. As one particular
example I list the gods in the Aiyanar
temple at Kochidai near Arappalaiyam on the outskirts of Madurai
in the order in which they receive
offerings from the temple priest:
1. Ganesh (is always worshipped first
as a matter of convention,
not because of higher rank in this case)
2. Aiyanar
3. Karttikeya (Murugan)
4. Adi pucari (a late priest)
5. Pecci Amman (female)
6. Muthu Karuppu (Karuppaswami)
7. Irulappan
8. Viranan
9. Bhadrakali
10. Rakkayi Amman (female)
11. Irulayi
12. Samayan
13. Cappani
14. Mandi Karuppu
15. Conai
16. Muniyandi
17. Naga
18. Nagappa
19. Navangraha (nine planets) and outside the temple wall:
20. Sangili Karuppu (Karuppuswami
with the
Chain)
21. Meiyandi
Aiyanar, Karuppaswami and the
Complex of the Village Religion
In the minds of the Tamil villagers Aiyanar is
the figure who links
almost all the characteristics of Tamil village religion.
He is the chief,
so to speak, of almost all the village gods. This means that he is always implicitly present when one of the
lesser gods is worshipped, even if he is not
represented in the temple. This village religion also involves annual worship of the lineage deity
during which lineage members are possessed by
the deity.
Both the lineage deities and the lesser
gods in
the Aiyanar temples may be thought of as
intermediaries in relation to Aiyanar,
who is more powerful than they are. He is too powerful for people to be possessed by him, so
Karuppaswami is often sought
as intermediary. Karuppaswami is so closely linked to Aiyanar,
that to mention
one is to mention the other. This is why Karuppaswami plays such an important role
as a linking figure—as
we shall see later—in this religious complex. Karuppaswami is also important as a link between this village religious complex and the new version of Aiyanar
worship, the Aiyappan pilgrimage cult, to which
we
shall now turn.
Aiyappan Worship in Madurai
Through systematic interviews with a great
number of Aiyappan devotees from various
groups in Madurai, I have found that the cult
was
introduced in this area from Kerala
beginning in 1945. I have found
a few isolated instances of pilgrims going from Tamil Nadu to
Sabari Malai as far back as the 1920s, but their
activity seems to have left no trace in Tamil society. Prior to 1945 the cult seems to have been
virtually unknown in the Tamil area. I reached
this conclusion by asking the Aiyappan
devotees who their gurus were, and when and how they
came to know about Aiyappan. I then tried
to find the gurus and ask them the same questions. Invariably I ended up with either a guru who had
come to Madurai some time around or after
1945, or a Tamil guru who had gone to Kerala
and became acquainted with the cult there around the same time.
There are now—to my knowledge—four Aiyappan temples in Madurai,
and three of them
have had Aiyappan statues
installed between
1981-83. In January 1983, I witnessed the inauguration of an Aiyappan temple and the
installation of a statue of Aiyappan in West Masi Street in the centre
of Madurai. The ceremony
started on 19th and lasted three
days. I heard
a long speech there by Kandaswami Pulavar, the
well-known Tamil scholar. He explained
that Aiyappan was not a foreign god, but really of Tamil origin,
although the cult was being
introduced from Kerala.
As evidence of this he
quoted the ancient Tamil epic, Silappadikaram. This information surprised the audience, but it is true, that there
is mention of a god called Patanda Sasta in this epic, and Sasta
is another name for Aiyanar/Aiyappan. It seems that the
Tamils accept all references in ancient literature
to “Sasta” as synonymous with Aiyanar/
Aiyappan, although the texts give absolutely no information about these “Sastas”
apart from the name. Later Kandaswami Pulavar told me about
the important role which P.T. Rajan played in
Madurai in spreading knowledge about Aiyappan. P.T. Rajan was an industrialist who was active in collection of money for a new Aiyappan statue for the temple at Sabari Milai. An
Aiyappan Sangam (society) started in 1955 is
responsible for the collection for the new temple
in West Masi Street in Madurai.
The sangam has about 200 members. From a brochure, printed
by the sangam in order to raise funds, I quote the following information about its history:
“From
the early fifties quite a number of
Aiyappan devotees would meet in West Masi Street, Madurai, in the months of Karthigai and
Margali
every year for singing bhajan in praise of
Lord Aiyappan and offer worship to Him. That
fraternity grew wider
from year ro year and
finally merged into Sri Sabari Malai Ayyappa Bakhtargal Sangam, and in course of time found an
ideal president in the late Tamizhvel Sri P.T.
Rajan.
It was
under the guiding and inspiring leadership
of Tamizvel P.T. Rajan that the Ayyappa Bakktargal Sangam embarked upon the plan of erecting a pucca temple
for Lord Ayyappa in Madurai city. It was on the first of March 1968
that the Sangam was registered ...”
The text then mentions
that:
“Sri Ayyappa according
to history was brought
up by the then PanJian king who was reigning
over the Pandala
kingdom having his
headquarters at Pandalam
formerly of Tamil Nad
but now forming part of Kerala.”
In this way several things are brought to the
attention of the Tamil public, which is requested to donate money for this new temple : that
Aiyappan’s place of origin
was old Tamil territory, that the king who adopted Aiyappan
was
of Pandyan decent related to the old Pandyan rulers of ancient Madurai.
Thus not only literary sources, but also “history”, are used to
demonstrate the links
between Tamil culture
and Aiyappan. All this shows, that the Tamil
audience needs to be told about it.
Since many people
mentioned P.T. Rajan’s great
importance, I went to see his son, Kamla
Tyagarajan,
who now manages the family’s
factory. One often hears P.T. Rajan described as a
man who worked particularly
to spread the worship of Aiyappan in Tamil Nadu, but during the talk I had with his son, I got a somewhat
different picture of P.T. Rajan’s involvement. He was an extremely pious man who supported
many other religious causes. What prompted him to
collect money for the new Aiyappan statue
at Sabari Malai, was the fire accident there in 1949,
in which both temple
and idol were destroyed. Since
it was rumoured that people from Tamil Nadu were behind the fire, P.T. Rajan felt that
the Tamils should donate money to the temple.
He was a prominent member
of the group of
people, who collected
money all over Tamil Nadu for the Sabari
temple. Thus, in his view, could
the Tamils atone for the sin, which might
have been committed by some of them. Fred Clothey (1982 : 47) also mentions
P.T. Rajan’s importance in spreading the Aiyappan cult.
But although many of my informants have told me that
they first came to know about the cult
through his campaign, I think that the evaluation of P.T. Rajan’s role presents a classical problem
in history writing and evaluation
of sources. The
fact is, that most of my informants learned about
Aiyappan through a variety
of other sources, and that
it was the example of close friends, and the
boons they got by going to Sabari Malai, which
actually prompted them to do likewise. The
oldest members of the Sathagoparamanuja group, with which I went to Sabari Malai
in January 1984, told me, that it was the example of Karuppa Pillai, a close friend
of the guru, that
really convinced them of Aiyappan’s power.
Karuppa Pillai had been unable to get
children for a long time, and as a last attempt wanted to try to implore Aiyappan to grant him issue. Shortly after
his return from Sabari,
his wife conceived, and bore him a son, and this really made
an impression on many people, and convinced them that they should worship Aiyappan. But as time goes by, and all these individual stories
are forgotten, the importance of
the personal contact
is perhaps forgotten, and in
retrospect the importance of famous men
tend to grow larger than it actually
was.
Simultaneous with the opening
of the West Masi Street temple, another
Aiyappan temple was inaugurated at Tallaku-lam near the tank of the Vishnu temple. This temple
has been built
by a sangam centering around
a guru from Kerala,
now
settled in Madurai. A third temple
is found near the Collector’s Office Bus Stand, but it is not functioning due to personal
strife in the sangam.
A fourth temple is located at Arappalaiyam near
the bypass road south of Madurai. R. Sadasivasami, who was born in Kerala in 1927 and
came to Madurai in 1936, started building
this temple in 1960. He spent most of his own
money and collected money from others. It got its
final shape in 1973. In 1984 March, a stone
statue of Aiyappan was installed at a grand ceremony lasting three days and three nights.
When
Sadasivasami came to Madurai, nobody there knew about Aiyappan. He went himself to Sabari Malai in 1942 along with 25 natives of Madurai. Their guru was from Kerala.
Since
1945 he has functioned as guru and has every year
taken about 60 people
to Sabari Malai. However, the most important part of Aiyappan
worship
is the pilgrimage to Sabari Malai and the preparations for it. For that reason,
the following account of my observations of a pilgrimage group in 1983-84
is important to explain
what
the cult means in the present-day religious life of the Tamils.
Report from a Pilgrimage: Preparation Time
On December 24th 1983 I went to an Aiyappan
puja in a private house in Madurai. A number of Aiyappan devotees had been invited to come and
worship Aiyappan by a man, who was just about
to leave on a pilgrimage to Sabari
Malai. The one
room in the house was transformed temporarily
into an Aiyappan temple, and only men were allowed to enter it. As I have seen in many other
houses, there were picture of Aiyappan and
other Hindu gods on the walls, and a special
Aiyappan altar with the indispensable model of the 18 steps leading up to the temple at Sabari Malai. This temporary transformation may last
40-50 days and starts, when the pilgrims wear a
necklace made of rudraksha beads
given to him by his guru.
After receiving the necklace the pilgrim lives a restricted life. He stops shaving, walks bare-foot,
and abstains from sex, meat and alcohol.
He wears the special dress
of the Aiyappan pilgrim’
a coarse cotton vesti (South Indian men’s dress), which is either
blue, green, saffron or black.
Since the men gathered in that small house were
all men, who had started preparing themselves for
the pilgrimage about
a month earlier, they all looked very much alike with their rudraksha
necklaces (some wore several of them), coloured
vestis and the grey smears of holy ash and red kum-kum on their foreheads. The devotees addressed each other
as “swami”, meaning
Aiyappan, and they were in fact in the process
of merging their identity
with the god. Hence it was logical that they greeted each other by kneeling
down and touching each others feet with their
hands.
I had started growing a beard, but had not yet received my rudraksha
necklace. My guru was
present at the gathering, and after we had been
served a meal on the roof terrace, I went with him
to a small Murugan temple nearby. My guru was the son of the illustrious Aiyappan guru,
Sathagoparamanuja, whose life-size portrait
hung to the right in this Murugan temple. The
guru
and I made offerings of bananas, betel
leaves and incense
sticks. He garlanded
me with a huge flower garland, which I took off immediately, as one is supposed
to do. He then placed the rudraksha
necklace round
my neck. I had bought it earlier the same day in the
Meenakshi temple in the centre of Madurai. Attached to it was a bronze medallion
showing Aiyappan in yogic meditation posture. I was to
wear
this necklace day and night until the guru removed it after our return from Sabari.
I knelt down to worship
his feet, and the guru did the
same to me. Then he applied holy ash and red kum-kum to my forehead. I was now a member
of the Sathagoparamanuja group, which was to
leave for Sabari
Malai on January 10th in time
for the very important annual festival,
Makaravilakku. I had been told, that “our group is
green”, so I wore a green vesti.
During the two months
before the pilgrimage,
the pilgrims attend a great number of bhajans-
religious song gatherings. I attended a number of
bhajans arranged in the houses of members the Sathagoparamanuja group. The guru was invariably
invited, but he was in such demand, that he could not always attend.
The group had
around 300 members, and no house could
accommodate them all at the same time. It was inevitable, that our group members
would occasionally arrange bhajans on the same dates.
When the Aiyappa swamis arrived at the bhajan dressed in their green
or blue vestis, they
would line up outside the house. The women of the house
would then come out with water and wash
their feet, apply sandel paste and kum-kum to them, and kneel down and touch their feet in
worship. Then the swamis would enter the house and
gather around the Aiyappan altar with the inevitable 18 steps in front, always profusely decorated with flowers. On some occasions
the stress would be on ritual, and the Aiyappan service might last an hour or more depending
on how many of Aiyappan’s saranams (Aiyappan’s holy epithets)
were recited. In the ritual part of the bhajan was included worship of particular interest to the host and his family, and this might
be performed by members of the family. Thus
the Aiyappan devotion was woven into the religious life of the individual hosts and their
families, and into the larger pattern of South Indian—and indeed pan-Indian—bhakti
religion. Aiyappan devotion is rather
novel in Tamil Nadu, but the worship of this god seems
to be easily absorbed into the traditional patterns
of religious life as yet another facet of
Hinduism.
After the rituals would follow the true
bhajan with songs, and sometimes
dances. The songs would cover the whole range of well-known Hindu
deities, and there were always songs on
Murugan (Tamil name for Karttikeya), the god of war, so popular in Tamil Nadu, as well as
Ganesh, Rama and Mariamman. The element
of bhakti was very much stressed in these
gatherings. Sometimes the devotees would sit in pairs
with one swami resting
his head on the
other’s lap while singing
about the divine
love between Radha
and Krishna. Sometimes more energetic dances would be performed, for
instance accompanying songs on Hanuman, the divine monkey warrior, with vigorous leaps, but more
often the dance was a simple, slow circular dance with the swamis holding
each other’s hands. It was not easy to get the necessary room for
dancing, because the house was invariably
crowded with on-lookers, men who were not
going on pilgrimage, and women who took great interest in the activities of the Aiyappa
swamis, although they could
not participate themselves. (On
the reasons for his see Kjaerholm 1982).
All through the evening swamis would arrive,
greet the guru and the other swamis by kneeling down and touching their feet, and the greeting would be returned. Some swamis had been garlanded with huge flower garlands. To show proper
humility one is supposed to very quickly
present it to someone else. I received garlands
quite often, and it was not easy to pass them on,
because the other swamis protested
in show of modesty.
After the bhajan
a light meal would be served, and
the host would be very particular that all the swamis ate his food and the fruit presented to Aiyappan. To feed swamis is an act which gives
the host merit, like the feeding
of Brahmans. Once I tried to leave the bhajan discretely, but was told that I must ask the guru’s permission to leave and greet him properly by kneeling
and touching his feet. Apart from
this recognition of the guru’s superiority the stress in an Aiyappan bhajan group is on equality of all members, including the guru. The basic idea is to approach
one’s identity to the divine object of devotion, so
that “we are all equal in the eyes of Aiyappan,”
as one swami put it.
I never received any formal teaching from the guru,
since the cult’s rituals
and mythology are
public knowledge. The Aiyappan guru is supposed to be just a good example
for the devotees and to lead the way on the hazardous
journey through the jungles and mountains
around Sabari Malai. The pilgrims can learn about
Aiyappan’s mythology and rituals from a
very large number of books and pamphlets on these
matters, which are published or reprinted during the pilgrimage
season. Also a large number
of songs are available in books and cassettes. In fact,
the pilgrim can learn everything necessary about the cult from the songs at
bhajans and by watching the rituals
on those occasions. Temple
worship of Aiyappan
is not necessary and not yet very common in Tamil Nadu, where there are not yet many Aiyappan temples.
The participants
at the bhajan were not only members of our group but came also from other
groups. Membership of a group is not a
permanent or binding thing. One may join other groups at one’s convenience. Since
the groups leave at different times, one may not be able to
go with one’s usual group, but can then easily shift to another group.
During the preparation time there are also
special kanni pujas (literally : virgin puja). These are
special Aiyappan services at which the swamis, who are going for the first time, are worshipped. I was once invited to attend such a
puja performed by another group. The kanni
swamis were placed,
one after the other, on a low stool
and people, mostly women, lined up to worship
the kanni. They bent down and touched the
swami’s feet, which had been washed and anointed with sandel paste
and red kum-kum. When they got up and faced him with their
palm joined in greeting,
he would apply sacred ash and kum-kum on their foreheads, thus giving them
the kanni’s blessing, which is considered especially powerful. Since I was also a kanni swami, I was asked to receive homage like the others.
At no time during this period of preparation
did I meet any obstacle in my quest for knowledge about
the Aiyappan cult, and nobody ever questioned my right to be present at any gathering. On the contrary, I was greeted warmly
by
most and it was never thought strange, that a vellaikaran (“white man”) should
join them in worship of Aiyappan. This is because the cult
stands out from all others
as a “universal”
brand of Hinduism. To worship
Aiyappan is a seasonal
thing which during a short period can unite all men, be they Hindus of different castes, or even
Muslims or Christians, in universal brotherhood. So the Hindu Aiyappa
swamis did not consider
me as a Christian convert to Hinduism (which I never pretended to be), but rather a Christian
who temporarily wished to share this universal brotherhood with them.
It was explained quite often to me, that the
Aiyappan
cult is the religion of the Kaliyuga,
this most difficult and conflict-ridden and debased period, in which we are now considered
to live. It was to help man overcome conflict and
base lust, that Aiyappan came into being,
and hence the stress
on brotherhood, love and
friendship between men of different castes
and religions, as well as the stress on asceticism in the
cult practice.
I often heard the claim,
that Muslims and Christians participate in great
numbers in the Aiyappan pilgrimage, but although I was
constantly on the look out for them, I never
came across any Muslim or Christian Aiyappa swamis. Those I have met and interviewed were all
Hindus from Tamil Nadu or Kerala.
The Pilgrimage
On January 10th all the members of the Sathagoparamanuja group gathered in the evening in front of the guru’s house in the Raliway
Colony in Madurai. A large
leaf- thatched shelter
had been erected
in front of the
house—large enough to accommodate the 300
pilgrims with family and friends. Now the
irumudi ceremony was to take place, i.e. the pilgrim’s cloth bag with its two compartments
was
to be packed. The front part contains
a coconut filled with ghee and other offerings to Aiyappan, the rear part contains
the pilgrim’s
own
food. (Concerning the irumudi see Vaidyanathan
1978 and Kjaerholm 1982). Under the shelter
were too Aiyappan altars with the 18 steps in front decorated with flowers and light bulbs. The filling of the irumudi u an important
ritual done by the guru, and each swami comes forward and sits in front of the guru. They both pour
ghee in the coconut, and when it is filled it is sealed and placed in the front part of the irumudi. Rice
is taken handful by handful
and poured into the rear part
of the irumudi, and
family members come forward to pour in rice. Although not all were aware of it, the
significance of this is that of the Hindu death rite, where the relatives offer rice to the
deceased. Should the pilgrim die on the way, he
would then not miss this essential last rite.
When the irumudi was packed and tied securely
by the guru, the pilgrims placed blankets on their
heads and knelt in front
of the guru, who then
placed the bags on their
heads. The pilgrims then
got up, were turned around thrice and respectfully backed away from the guru, so as not to
show him his back. The pilgrims were now—
so to speak—under the guru’s command and must stay with him, until
they returned from
pilgrimage. They could not remove the irumudi
from (heir heads without
the guru’s permission.
This
ceremony lasted
well into the night, and once
we had received the irumudi we were
allowed to place it in front of Aiyappan’s altar and
lie down to get some rest. Once the pilgrim
has received the irumudi, he is a member
of the sacred brotherhood and can under
no circumstances go back to his home, until he has
finished his pilgrimage.
In the morning on the 11th the irumudis were
distributed (they were numbered) to their
owners by the guru, and we proceeded one by one to the four buses
to find the seat allotted
to us, carrying the
irumudi and blankets
on our heads and other necessities for the journey in shoulder bags. On the way the pilgrims were greeted
by relatives, many of whom knelt
down and touched the pilgrim’s feet and received his blessing. The pilgrims smashed coconuts on the
ground and children fought eagerly to get the pieces. This ritual
signifies the pilgrims
departure and separation
from his former social identity.
Our group consisted mostly of elderly
and middle-aged men, but there were some small girls and older women as well. Women who are
able to bear children
are not allowed to participate in this pilgrimage. (On the reasons
for this see Vaidya-nathan 1978 and Kjaerholm
1982). I was given a seat in the guru’s bus, in which the bhajan group was also travelling,
so we had good music and singing
on the way. The buses
first went round the Meenakshi in the
centre of Madurai and then proceeded south towards Sabari Malai. On the way we halted
south of Madurai and had breakfast. This was
prepared earlier in Madurai by our eight cooks
and brought out to the spot in advance. The group had hired cooks, because
cooking is of special importance—as we shall
see below—to this
particular group.
We proceeded south in our four buses with bhajan singing and the chorus call “swamiye
saranam Aiyappa” which is repeated frequently all through the journey in order
to urge the
pilgrims on. We passed by Tenkasi, crossed
the Kerala border and started climbing the Western
Ghats. At 1 PM we reached one of the five
important Aiyappan temples, the one at Ariyankavu. Here the group rested, worshipped Aiyappan, had lunch, bathed in the river, and the
cooks and their volunteer
helpers prepared lunch packs for the next day, when we were to start trekking,
and cooking therefore
would be difficult. Late in the afternoon we drove on to
Erimeli, a village in the Western Ghats, which
has another important Aiyappan temple, and
with a brief stop for dinner on the way we reached Erimeli
at 1 A.M. on the 12th. Since
Erimeli is the starting point for the 48 miles
trek to Sabari Malai,
the crowd there was extremely dense. Our group, although
fairly large, seemed to
drown in this sea of people
as we pushed our way to the place allotted
to us in advance in
front of the local school, where we lay down to
sleep on the ground.
We were awakened before dawn and prepared ourselves for an important
ritual, which takes place
at Erimeli, the Ottu
Tullal dance. We adorned our heads with coloured balloons, (formerly feathers were used), decorated ourselves with powder in different
colours and began a lively dance
while singing “swami tindakatom-tom”. This meaningless phrase was explained to me as being a corrupted
Malayalam phrase meaning
“the swami (Aiyappan) is in
your heart”. We hired a local band consisting of nagaswaram (oboe)
and drums, and with the musicians in front we joined
the countless other dancing groups. It was quite
a sight. I cannot even guess how many pilgrims were there, may be more than half a million, all gaily decorated with balloons and coloured
powder, dancing and singing, while the bands competed with each other.
The dance started at the Ganesh temple, where
make-up and balloons were put on, went around “Vavar’s Temple” (Vavar is a Muslim warrior associated with Aiyappan; see Vaidyanathan
1978), and ended at the Aiyappan temple, where everybody had a bath in the river and washed the
colours off. Some in the group carried the guru
on their shoulders while dancing. This is a tradition started eight years earlier in the time of
the present guru’s father. I saw no other
group carrying their guru in this fashion. The crowd was so thick, and the dancing so vigorous and
the lanes so narrow in places, that people could have been easily trampled to death—as
so frequently happens at film premiers
in India—if people had not shown admirable
regard for each other in spite of their abandon.
The whole
idea of the Ottu Tullal was
puzzling to me. and when I asked members of my group
about it, I was told that the idea was, that we should
humiliate by behaving like primitive
forest people. Thus singing and dancing with
child-like abandon
we would get rid of oar pride, forget our social position, and be able to merge more completely with the “Swami” (Aiyappan). The dance is in memory of Aiyappan’s visit to
the jungle people during his sojourn in the jungle.
After this dance, on the morning of January
12th, our group split in two, the elderly men and
women went on by bus to the river Pampa to
take
the short 8 miles
route to Sabari, but most
of us started on the arduous
48 miles trek through jungles and mountains. At the
beginning of this route is a Muslim “shrine” for
Vavar, where a fakir collects
offerings of money.
After walking some hours
we rested at Kalaikatti Ashram, the place from where Shiva watched the fight
between Aiyappan and the buffalo
demoness Mahisi. We went onto the Alutha river, where
huge numbers of pilgrims were preparing lunch. Our cooks had gone there ahead of us
and made the food. However, it was not so easy to
find the exact spot. Fortunately, we could
easily recognize members of our group among
the five million other
pilgrims, because we all
wore yellow cloth tags with the name
Sathagoparamanuja group printed
on it. Due to our number and the enormous mass of people moving along the jungle
path, we could not possibly keep together while on the move.
On the banks of the Alutha river the battle between Mahishi and Aiyappan took place. After killing her, Aiyappan was informed by Brahma, that the demon’s dead body would grow until it
darkened the sun and the moon,
unless it was
buried under a heap of stones. This may be the origin of the custom of taking a pebble from the river bed while crossing the Alutha river
and placing it on large heap of stones
later on. However, it seemed that not many pilgrims were aware of this mythological detail.
The motive, I
encountered most often,
was simply, that they
wanted to have a wish fulfilled, and thought this was a sure way of achieving it.
After a bath in the river we crossed the Alutha
river, some took up stones
from the river bed,
and we continued through still rougher country to a night camp called
Mukkuli. It was a huge temporary camp, accommodating tens of thousands, with huts covered with flimsy palm
leaf thatch, that did not protect us from the light rain throughout the night.
Along the route
the Aiyappa Seva Sangham
had laid electric cables
and in the big camps they had offices, which mainly served as meeting
places
for lost pilgrims and their groups. All through the
night I heard
the Aiyappa Seva Sangham’s
loudspeakers blasting Aiyappan songs and religious discourses, but mainly announcing the name of lost Aiyappan pilgrims and where they hailed
from, informing their groups where they
could be picked up. This was interesting to listen to, because I could deduce—if
we got a representative sample of the pilgrims —that
virtually all of the pilgrims
were from Tamil Nadu, and that all districts of Tamil Nadu were
represented.
Receiving Aiyappan’s Jewels
On the 13th morning we proceeded
from Mukkuli before dawn to reach another very large camp, Periya Yanai, at the Pampa river and at the
foot of Sabari Malai. Outside the pilgrimage season this is a watering place
for elephants. Occasionally there are problems with elephants.
Two pilgrims were killed
by elephants just after
our departure. Most of our group camped in the open
on a ground reserved for us. Some of us rented room in thatched huts. This camp was very densely populated
and there may have been
anything between a half and one million people.
Day
and night the pilgrims came pouring
in and
out of the camp. Many individual styles of religious worship could
be seen here. Some groups of pilgrims performed a peculiar ritual after they had eaten a meal on palm leaves. The leaves were then placed
in a row with the leftover food
on them, and one or several in the group
would lie down and role over the leaves, so they were smeared with rice and various vegetable
dishes all over. Then the group would proceed to the
river while singing
and dancing, carrying the
dirty leaves, to take a bath in the Pampa river. Such groups could be seen everywhere day and
night. To my knowledge no explanation for this
ritual is found in Aiyappan’s mythology, and
some groups frown on it. I was told by members of my group that, “we don’t do that”, and that they found it irrelevant and in bad taste. The
reason I got, when I asked, was that through this ritual “we wash away our sins”. To touch other people’s food, especially left-over food, is
normally highly polluting, so this was certainly a “reversal rite”.
However, the idea might
be that since as we are all Aiyappans on this pilgrimage, none
can pollute the other. Later I was told, that this
peculiar ritual is fairly common in Tamil
Nadu, and that people do it in order to cure
stomach ailments
.
Another ritual performed on this spot is called “Pampa Vilakku”
(“Pampa Lamp”).
On structures made of sticks, candles
are placed and lighted. Balloons are tied to the base
of the structure, and the groups go singing and dancing
to the river and place the floats on the water.
The floats “carry our sins away”, was the justification for this ritual,
which also lacks any
basis in the mythology, and it was not done by
our group either. These two rituals are the only exceptions, I observed, to the general rule, that
the whole pilgrimage is a detailed enactment of the very eventful Aiyappan
mythology. This is in fact
such a large subject,
that I have only been able
to give a few examples in this account.
In the evening our group performed Ali
puja. (Alis are the huge demonic warriors, in this case the
forest spirits, in the retinue of the gods). A
big fire was built in the middle of the camp and offerings like camphor, coconut, ghee, apples and
money were thrown into the fire. The pilgrims danced round the fire singing bhakti songs. After
this, puja was performed for the irumudis, which
were
placed in a big heap while we camped.
In
the night, while everybody else in the group
slept, 20 members of the Sathagoparamanuja group opened all the irumudis, took out the rice in
them and closed
them again. This rice was to
be used for the great feast for the raja of
Pandalam, when we were to serve lunch for him
and his party the following day.
On the 14th, the first day in the Tamil month
Tai, we had
Pongal (rice
boiled with brown sugar)
for breakfast. This was the Tamil New Year,
called Pongal. Because of this festival we took
bath in the river, worshipped the guru and
offered coins to him, which he gave back. The
coins were kept in a special
cloth bag with sacred
ash as a sign of the spiritual
bond between the
guru and his disciple.
Now the Sathagoparamanuja group started
hectic preparations to receive the Pandala
raja
and his party and serve them lunch. It is a special privilege of the group to do this. The custom
was started in 1958, when Sathagoparamanuja insisted on the honour of serving a meal to the
Pandala raja. No one and nothing
may stop the raja and his party, when they carry Aiyappan’s
jewels to Sabari, so naturally they declined the
offer. However, one of the men carrying the
boxes was possessed
and said that they must
accept the invitation
from Sathagoparamanuja. For five years after this, the raja was received by the
Sathagoparamanuja group. The boxes were placed on a shelter, where a member of the
group had the privilege of opening the boxes and
worship the jewels. In the boxes were, according to this man, two elephants, two
swords, and a large face mask made of gold. But
after five years
the police prohibited the opening
of the boxes for security reasons.
After the camp was cleared, a shelter
was built, and the entrance
was roped in to keep the crowd away. The cooks and numerous
helpers had been working
since early morning to prepare a first class South Indian rice meal. Then the guru and
four others went to invite the Pandala raja, who
was resting in a camp two miles away. The guru invited the raja and his retinue, as well as five members
of the Sathagoparamanuja group, who were travelling
with the raja.
They had left Madurai on the 10th and gone to Pandalam,
where they received the irumudi from the raja. To have the coconut filled with ghee by him is very auspicious, since the raja is a relative of
Aiyappan. On the 12th day the raja’s party and the
five guests from our group started from Pandalam. They have two days to cover the long and
arduous stretch to Sabari
Malai, so they walk day and night. Two white-faced kites will precede the Pandala group all the way from Pandalam to Sabari, and we were waiting in the Periya Yanai camp
for the kites to announce
the imminent arrival of the raja. When we saw the two kites glide high in the air the entire crowd called out “Swamiye saranam
Aiyappa”, and worshipped
the kites. There were also other signs that the raja
was approaching. The police
came with communication equipment to guard the three
jewel boxes and their precious contents. The kingdom
of Pandalam was abolished long ago,
but still the descendants of the royal lineage claim
the right to keep the Jewels in their ancestral palace in Pandalam. Sabari is located in the
former Pandalam territory, so the royal
family are so to speak
the hosts for all the pilgrims entering
the area. The royal Pandalam
family must be present at the temple
on this occasion still.
The members of the Sathagoparamanuja group received the raja with bhajan singing, as he and his
party came rushing into our camp. The boxes
containing the jewels were placed on the shelter and worshipped, and the raja and his relatives
were
welcomed by the guru. Under the shelter
a very fine meal was served for them on palm
leaves. The royal party ate the meal behind
a curtain, so no one could see them eat. When they had
finished the meal, members of our group went to kneel in front of the raja and receive his blessing. An enormous crowd had by now
gathered, and our group had quite a
job controlling them. They surged forward to see the
boxes and receive the raja’s blessing. After
a brief rest the raja’s party continued to Sabari and we
all had lunch, and I must say that this meal— although prepared in the wilderness—was fit for
a king. After the raja’s
departure our group packed quickly and started climbing Sabari
Malai. We were to reach a place half way up in time
to see the Makara Vilakku,
the holy light, which appears on the hill tops above Sabari. We
saw
the light around 7 P.M.; it was rather tiny and
shone very briefly but aroused
huge enthusiasm among the hundreds
of thousands of pilgrims around us. Our choice of this
particular spot to watch the light was dictated
by necessity. Along the entire width of the 6-8 yards wide
path a flood of pilgrims was pouring down
all evening, so it was impossible to go up. At 2
A.M. on the 15th it was possible for us to climb
up to Sabari Malai, where we were let in groups
of about 200. Then we rushed forward to climb
the 18 steps while breaking a coconut. This was the culmination of the pilgrimage. At the temple a
dense crowd was jostling to reach the temple door and get a glimpse
of the deity. The Kerala
police were out in strength and controlled the crowd efficiently. Those swamis who tried
to ascend the stairs which were meant for descending were pulled
down without the
slightest regard for their sanctity.
After visiting the temple we went to rest in the Nambiar lodge, one of the permanent buildings in the otherwise uninhabited area, put at our
disposal by Nambiar, the Tamil film actor and Aiyappan devotee. Later our group carried sandel paste in huge quantities as offerings to Aiyappan. In the evening a puspanjali – an
offering of flowers – worth more than rupees
3000 was carried by our group to the temple.
Our group decorated the 18 steps with lamps. The latter ceremony is a prerogative of the Sathagoparamanuja group and together with the lunch for the raja of Pandalam testifies
to the special merit earned by the late Sathagoparamanuja. Flowers and sandel paste offerings are also made by many other groups, but the number of pilgrims at Sabari Malai is now so great it was estimated
that year to be
around 5 million people over three days—that
they cannot all be allowed to bring
their offerings to the sanctum sanctorum.
The ghee in the coconuts was poured
out. Some was given to the temple and a small quantity was
carried back by pilgrim in bottles.
Many pilgrims regard this ghee as miracle-working
medicine for all sorts of ailments, because it has been poured
over Aiyappan’s statue. In the early morning on
the 1-th we climbed down the 18th steps while breaking a coconut, thus taking leave of Aiyappan. Below the steps
in a huge fire the
coconuts which had contained the ghee were
burning. This was explained to me as a symbolic funeral pyre. The ghee is the essence of life, the
ever-living soul; the coconut is the body, which serves no purpose after
the soul has passed on. After a quick walk 8 miles
downhill we came to
the Pampa river, took a bath,
boarded our buses and reached Madurai
at 2 P.M. on the 18th. The
guru
then removed the necklace, received a symbolic offering of money from each, and the
pilgrims dispersed in the
night.
The journey had cost each of us about
rupees
300, bus travel, meals, and irumudi included. On top of that some swamis had spent large sums on
special puja decorations and offerings on the
way. Three hundred
rupees is close to the
average monthly income of a clerk or labourer
in Tamil Nadu, and is a substantial sum of money for most people.
Conclusion
After two years of fieldwork in the Madurai area I can draw some conclusions about the relation
between Aiyanar and Aiyappan worship, and
what the introduction of a new version of an old god means in the cultural and religious system
of the Tamils.
The rapid spread of the Aiyappan cult has the effect of revitalizing Hinduism
and certain of its traditions. This revitalisation comes about because the Aiyappan devotees realise
that this new
god is identical to the ubiquitous
and familiar Tamil village god, Aiyanar.
At many Aiyanar temples can be seen depictions of the
Mohini myth. Aiyappan/Aiyanar was the son of Shiva and Vishnu in his female form, Mohini. However, the two styles of worship and slightly
different identities of Aiyappan/Aiyanar are still
kept separate. This is because the Aiyanar worship
is in the hands of the Velar priests
and closely connected with their artistic traditions,
and depends on hereditary rights. I found
only one example, where Aiyanar and Aiyappan had
been merged into one identity. This was an old
Aiyanar temple at Panaiyur
about 10 miles South
East of Madurai. This temple
had been renamed “Sri Sabari Aiyanar/Aiyappan temple”, which
was
written above the entrance
to the sanctum sanctorum. Significantly the hereditary priest of
this temple was not a Velar but a
Pillaimar.
When the identity
between the two gods is
realised, the Aiyappan devotees tend to become
more interested in worshipping
Aiyanar and the god so closely associated with him, Karuppaswami. Evidence of this is the fact that
there is a Karuppaswami temple at Sabari Malai
to the right of the Aiyappan temple, and the
god’s name is written
in Tamil letters, because
this god obviously is the main concern of the
Tamil Aiyappa swamis, not those from Kerala. One member of the Sathagoparamanuja group had
“18-Steps-Karuppu” as his kula
deyvam and was frequently possessed by him. It so happens
that there are 18 steps leading
up to some Karuppaswami temples—hence the name 18- Steps—Karuppu. This is taken as evidence
of a link between Aiyappan
and Karuppaswami. This
man took Karuppaswami’s symbol, the chopping knife— with him to Sabari and placed it on the
18 steps leading up to Aiyappan’s temple. Then
he took the knife back and placed it on his model
of Aiyappan’s 18 steps in his house when worshipping Aiyappan there. To this man Karuppaswami’s chopping
knife and 18 steps is
tangible evidence of the link between his old village
religion and the new
bhakti cult. A closer
look at the character
of the Aiyappan worship
shows a very conventional
attitude, which is derived from the Aiyanar village cult. Having interviewed a large number of devotees of
Aiyappan and Aiyanar my conclusion is, that the goal, which is highest in the Aiyappan
worship— according to the popular Aiyappan pilgrimage
literature—namely merging with the god, is secondary. The most important motive for going on
pilgrimage is the same, which makes people
present votive offerings
to Aiyanar : a certain material goal is desired. Most commonly the Aiyappa swamis desire offspring, success
in business, farming or education, or relief of illness Although the Aiyappan cult introduces a new style of worship, the motive for worship has not
changed significantly among the Tamils. Another aspect of the revitalising effect of the Aiyappan cult is the tendency, I observed in my sample
of swamis, who had forgotten or ceased to worship
their kula deyvam,
and who took a renewed interest in the family deity, renovated
the family deity temple, and gathered all the relatives at the annual kula
deyvam festival. One
swami told me how someone
had said at an
irumudi ceremony; he attended, “there is
someone here who does not worship
his kula deyvam”. This had struck his bad conscience,
because his family had not worshipped its kula
deyvam for decades. So the family began to search
for the kula deyvam temple, they did not even know where it was any more, and contacted
other family members, and now worship the kula
deyvam on a grand scale. The kula deyvam and
its worship is of great importance in Tamil Nadu, but
may easily be overlooked, because the deity is never represented in people’s homes in any
visible form, although numerous other
god’s may be represented
either with prints or small bronze
statues. Nevertheless, the kula deyvam is
always thought of as present in the house, and
whenever the family is afflicted with disease or financial problems, some coins are offered
at the kula deyvam temple. The kula
deyvam still looms large in the religious life of the family. Often
family members—mainly the women—see
the deity in their dreams and receive messages from
it.
It is a plausible hypothesis that strong religious
involvement
in a cult like that of Aiyappan tends to
remind people of other, more traditional aspects of their religious life, and to further their interest in religion in general. Aiyappan devotees
tend to be very active in other religious spheres
as well. They participate in bhajans for various
other gods, they frequent a great number of local
temples, go on pilgrimages to temples all over Tamil Nadu, and worship a great variety of
gods. Only to very few does Aiyappan worship become so important, that all other
gods are neglected. I have found only one devotee of Aiyappan, a guru, who had taken Aiyappan as his
kula deyvam and ceased to worship his hereditary kula
deyvam, because he declared
that now Aiyappan was his kula
deyvam. But there was no
sign, that other Aiyappan devotees would do the
same. However, all this does not explain,
why people in such great numbers choose to worship
Aiyappan, when there are so many other gods
and so many other bhakti
cults in South India,
and so many other pilgrimage places, so naturally
one must ask:
Why Aiyappan ?
There are several reasons, one might list,
for Aiyappan’s recent popularity. In the first place,
there is the very simple
reason, that Sabari
Malai is geographically within reach. In my interviews I
found very few, who had gone on pilgrimage
outside Tamil Nadu; many declared, that they wished to go to Benares
and other holy places in North India,
but could not afford it.
Secondly, Aiyappan
is a god, who is known only
in South India. Aiyappan’s theogony is an exclusively South Indian
addition to the wellknown myth about the churning of the
ocean. Since Aiyappan is introduced to the Tamil public as a product
of Tamil culture, he is
received as a lost son. When references are made to ancient
Tamil texts in order to demonstrate Aiyappan’s Tamil birth right, the Tamil
consciousness
about their cultural
separateness is strengthened.
In the third place, the Aiyappan
cult entails an adjustment of the social
forms of contact. Although Aiyappan and Aiyanar may be identical, Aiyanar worship is socially very rigid
and connected with particular
geographical spots, and local village hierarchies. The Aiyanar cult expresses the social
and political exclusiveness of the village. This is seen in the fact
that Aiyanar is tied to a specific
local pantheon and always has a local name or epithet.
Aiyappan, on the other hand, represents
the national level, that which is common to the
Tamil nation.
Aiyappan worship makes it possible
to form groups of people
from different castes, who may
have various motives to be together. It is
doubtful whether the Aiyappan cult activity as such creates new contacts
but is obvious, that it gives people a plausible reason for gathering periodically.
The strongly publicised ideals
of equality in this cult do not seem to have any socially revolutionary purpose. It is simply a new way of meeting, but what makes the meeting possible
is that the lower castes must accept the purity ideals, (vegetarianism asceticism of the life style of
the higher castes. So the meeting
between high and low castes takes place
on the terms of the
high castes. This really means a universal
acceptance of the hierarchic principles of ritual
purity/impurity on which caste hierarchy largely rests
in Tamil Nadu.
Now that an egalitarian
cult like the Aiyappan cult is becoming popular, one might expect
kula deyvam worship to die out, but the opposite
seems to be the case. This is understandable once we consider, that the equality in the Aiyappan
cult is only “in the eyes of Aiyappan”. It is my
hypothesis, that kula deyvam worship has an important role to play in the somewhat
schizophrenic situation with two very different
versions of the same sod existing
simultaneously. Kula deyvam worship seems to be the part of Tamil tradition, which is able to create a unity
out of the village religious complex
and the newly arrived Aiyappan cult. The lineage god was the link between the lineage and the
common Aiyanar cult in many cases, perhaps the most
important one, and now it seems
to reconcile tradition and innovation
in Tamil Hinduism as represented
respectively by Aiyanar and
Aiyappan.
The Divine King—The Royal God
Two interesting aspects
of the Aiyappan pilgrimage are the return of the royal god,
Aiyappan, which is accompanied by the temporary resuscitation of the kingdom of Pandalam, on the one hand, and on the other, the
evolving alliance
between the descendants of the
royal family of Pandalam and the
Sathagoparamanuja group. The latter comes about because the Pandalam
family is interested in retaining its mythical, hereditary rights as keepers of Aiyappan’s jewels, and this is then just another example of the numerous
battles in
India between the traditional keepers of the god’s possessions, lands and jewels, and the
secular powers, the modern government, which attempts to usurp these rights, as it has succeeded in many cases
in doing. In this particular instance
of the ongoing struggle
between sacred and profane
powerholders the Sathagoparamanuju group enters as allies of the
royal Pandalam lineage. Together the two allies recreate symbolically—in the magnificent annual
spectacle at Sabari—the political conditions as
they supposedly were during
Aiyappan’s avatar as prince
of Pandalam.
Politics and religion meet and merge to a certain
extent in the Aiyappan myth and in the pilgrimage. This expresses
in yet another way
how the egalitarian
mood of the Aiyappan bhakti cult in the end will have to subject
itself to the predominant hierarchic tendency in Hindu
society. The Aiyappan cult and the role played by
the Pandalam raja is a good demonstration of this, because even when the traditional Hindu kingdoms have been abolished
long ago and replaced by
secular political powers,
the role of the king in this particular cult is not only
rejuvenated, its importance is growing. The
descendants of the royal lineage of Pandalam
still claim the right to keep Aiyappan’s jewels in their
ancestral palace in Padalam.
Sabari is. located in the area which was formerly Pandalam, so the royal family is so to speak the hosts
for all the pilgrims entering the area. The
raja of Pandalam must be present at the temple on this occasion to sanction the proceedings. So
whereas the Aiyanar and Aiyappan
cults formerly served as legitimisation for power, as
writers like Fred Clothey
assume, we now have a
curious reversal of this situation, in which the
phantom of an ancient is temporarily raised from the dead in order to
legitimise a religion.
Tekst og billeder: Lars Kjærholm
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1: Dattereya wants to retire to ascetic life. Leela
is against it, they quarrel! Dattatreya curses leela, she is reborn as a she-buffalo: mahishi daughter of an asura (Karamba) takes the form of a buffalo, Sundara Mahisha, the metamorphosis is due to Mahishi with the help of Brahma.
2: reborn as Mahishi, she-buffalo, daughter of Karamba, an asura. Karamba and his elder brother Ramba, stand in water and fire in order to propitiate Agni, the fire-god. Devendra, the king of heaven, feels that his throne and the position of devas is threatened and kills Karamba. Agni promises Ramba that neither asura nor deva nor man can kill him. Ramba falls in love with a she- buffalo and is killed by a jealous bull. The enamoured she-buffalo throws herself on the funeral pyre of Ramba, and out
of the fire comes their son: Mahishasura.
3: Mahishasura is helped by Brahma, who promises, that no-one of the male sex can kill him. Mahishasura oust the devas from heaven and take power there. The devas seek help from Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva. Their energy is united with that of the devas in the goddess Durga (here: Chandika). She places herself on the summit of the Vindhya mountain. Her laughter infuriates Mahishasura, they fight and Chandika kills him.
4: Mahishi wants to revenge herself on the devas for the killing of her cousin, Mahishasura. Brahma promises her, that only a boy born from a union of Shiva and Vishna can kill her. She now takes power in heaven. Vishnu asks Sundara mahisha to go to heaven and lure Mahishi down to earth. Mahishi falls in love with Sundara Mahisha and follows him to earth.
5: Kalakotha, a poison which can destroy the whole world. Shiva swallows the poison. Parvati strangles him. The poison is now in his throat. This accounts for the blue colour of Shiva’s face.
6: a life-giving nectar. The devas want all of it. Vishnu takes the form of a beautiful woman. Mohini, and lures the asuras away. Of their union comes Hariharaputra (Ayyappa)
7: Hariharaputra is left on the banks of the river Pampa. King Rajasekharan finds him, the childless king and queen adopt him and name him Manikanta. Later the queen has a son of her own. A courtier persuades the queen that Manikanta must be killed, so her own son can become king.
The queen pretends to be ill, her doctor says,
that only milk from a leopard can cure here. It is just before Manikanta’s coronation, but he offers to get the leopard milk. The 12-year old Manikanta departs carrying a coconut [represents Shiva ( Trinetra)].
The devas now ask Manikanta to do what has destined him, and kill Mahishi. Near the river Alasa there is a fight between the two. Manikanta kills Manishi. Leela comes out of Mahishi’s body and wants to marry Manikanta, but he refuses because he is a celibate. She is allowed to sit on his left side as his shakti under the name Panchambika. Riding a tiger Manikanta returns
to his foster parents with the leopard milk. Manikanta informs them that his earthly avatar has ended, and he settles with them how he should be worshipped, and where his maio temple must be build. He shoots an arrow into the air and where it lands, they must build a temple. To the left of it they must build a temple for Malikapurathamma (=Panchambika=Leela). Then Manikanta disappeared.
8. Manikanta kills Mahishi, who is thereby transformed into the human being, Leela. Leela wants to marry Manikanta. He refuses and becomes the god, Ayyappa. She becomes his shakti, Malikapurathamma.
doc : ayappan temple mdu.doc
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