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Honouring the deities of Trichur
The
small Kerala town of Trichur is physically dominated by the
magnificent Vaddakunathan temple. Dedicated to Shiva in his
manifestation as the Lord of the North, it crowns the center of a
sprawling maidan (grounds) originally so thickly wooded that
few dared venture off the beaten track leading to the temple. People
were frightened not only of the dangerous men and wild beasts
sheltering in the forest but of the dark trees and their lurking,
bloodthirsty spirits. Everything changed in the late 18th
century when, against the wishes of religious diehards who revered
the trees as the locks of Shiva’s hair, the dynamic ruler
Shaktan Thampuran ordered them to be felled. With the city safer and
more accessible, the way was prepared for the Trichur Pooram, to
houour Trichur’s deities and become one of India’s most
spectacular festivals.
Thousands
of years ago a mighty goddess resided under a tree that still stands
(it is said) in what is now the compound of the Vaddakunathan temple.
When Shiva’s devotees decided to enlarge his small shrine into
a grand temple they moved the goddess, conceived of as his daughter,
eastwards and down a slope to a temple of her own. She is there
still, the Paramekkavu Devi. Her elder sister, the Thiruvambady
Devi, resides in a temple a few furlongs to a temple now dedicated to
Krishna. These sister goddess are than main participants of the
Trichur Pooram.
The
festival also honours six other goddesses and two gods – both
called Ayyappa. One Ayyappa is said to be such a chronic catarrh
sufferer that he cannot tolerate either the early morning dew or
intense sunlight, making the timings of his processions awkward.
The
day before Pooram – which falls either is late April or early
May – sees the arrival of its stars: the great tusked bull
elephants who will carry the deities. They lumber into town, huge
yet strangely graceful. Although the smaller temples usually
accompany their deity with four or six elephants, both the
Paramekkavu and Thiruvambady goddesses are accompanied by fourteen;
no-one else is permitted so many. Both temples own a few elephants
and, for the Pooram, more are borrowed from the devotees. Others
must be hired and an impartial list is compiled of the
neighbourhood’s best tuskers for each temple to select, by
ballot, one list. The Pooram sets high standards and owners consider
it an honour if their elephants participate.
Every
year the Thiruvambady and Paramekkavu temples send their elephants to
the Pooram with new and costly ornaments. The broad head of each
elephants is covered with a nettipattam, a large, fringed
cloth onto which are sewn around 600 gold plated pieces of varying
three Brahmins. Although one of them can sit to support a long
stemmed silken parasol, the other two must stand precariously to
wave, in time to the music, either a pair of heavy, silver-handled
yak-hair whisks or a pair of circular peacock feather fans.
On
Pooram day people are up and about early and well before dawn temples
are crowded with devotees. Oil lamps flutter and glow and sanctums
blaze with light as priests attend to the gods and goddesses. At six
o’clock in the morning the Thiruambady head priest comes out of
the sanctum carrying a small thidambu, a symbolic image of the
goddess, which he places at the base of the great golden shield-like
kolam resting on the proud neck of a kneeling tusker. As the
elephant rises majestically to his feet, people prostrate, themselves
and it is impossible to imagine that he is unaware of the divinity of
his mount.
During
the next few hours’ similar rituals take place in the other
temples. A strict timetable governs the movements of the various
parties and dictates when they leave their respective temples. The
processions, all terminating at the Vaddakunathan temple, proceed in
stages. The streets are crowded and the elephants move at a snail’s
pace. Families line the routes to make offerings to the passing
deities and throw great handfuls of flowers up at the golden kolams.
The
elephants are preceded by the panchavadyam (five musical
instruments), players whose music is considered both divine and a
must at almost all central Kerala festivals. On Pooram day the
rolling beat of drums and accompanying horns and cymbals can be heard
all over Trichur.
One
day one, according to their timetable, the various deities arrive at
the great peepul tree outside the Vadakunathan temple and then
disperse. The exception is the Thiruvambady party which lines up
with, for the first time, 15 elephants. Their panchavadyam
ebds and a new set of musicians start to play a melam in which
the chief instrument is Kerala’s fantastic drum, the chenda.
More or less simultaneously, down at the Paramekkavu temple,
devotees greet the first appearance of their goddess. She emerges
mounted on a majestic tusker and, accompanied by another fourteen,
receives the obeisances of a vast crowd. The elephants assemble
outside her temple, their might and beauty enhanced by the thundering
music of pandi-melam which, despite the hot, burning sun, is
played by drummers who pound away in, strict and energetic unison.
Eventually,
and very slowly, the Paramekkavu party makes it way up and into the
compound of the Vaddakunathan temple, there to assemble before the
Elanji tree under which it is said the Paramekkavu Devi once lived.
For the next two hours men and gods are treated to a musical feast –
the Elajithara melam. The Thiruvambady’s own melam
ends in the late afternoon, just after the Paramekkavu’s. The
Paramekkavu party moves out into the maidan and down to the
open space road where they turn and face the temple’s southern
gateway, some 400 metres away. The crowd by then has swelled to
mammoth proportions and humanity perches, often precariously,
wherever it can find a toehold.
As
the Paramekkavu tuskers assemble those of the Thiruvambady enter
Vaddakunathan’s western gateway, make a round of the temple and
emerge, one by one, on the southern side. The last one out is the
deity-carrying elephant, the late afternoon sun glinting on his
ornaments as he passes under the great arch. He carries his majesty
lightly as he strides into the center of 14 waiting elephants. It is
time for the koodikazheha, the changing of the umbrellas.
Both parties have, standing behind their elephants, a forest of
richly coloured, folded umbrellas. A set is passed up to the men on
the elephants and unfurled; immediately the other side does the same.
The crowd ‘ohs’ and ‘ahs’ as each silken set
reveals its gleaming, swirling colours. The end of this highly
competitive display is marked by the dying sun bathing the maidan
in a magical, golden light and darkness falls swiftly as the two
parties disperse to their respective temples.
Late
at night the daytime processions are repeated by all parties and all
over Trichur panchavadyam music fills the hot night air as
elephants move regally through the still-crowded streets. Their way
is lit by huge flaming torches, giving the processions a lavish,
fairy-tale like splendour.
Suddenly
the panchavadyam stops and a great hush falls, followed by a
humming ripple of anticipation as a pink flare arches and glows its
way into the dark sky. A tongue of fire snakes an eager path down a
line of crackers and the crowd’s excited cheers are drowned in
blinding explosions. The next 15 minutes are filled with explosions
of such intensity that, for miles around, buildings shake and
tremble. This great night-time spectacle is one of India’s
greatest firework displays. Although, nowdays, the Thiruvambady and
Paramekkavu temples unite to plan and discuss the Pooram, a
traditional sense of rivalry still exists where the fireworks are
concerned, and the details their displays are closely guarded
secrets.
The
last firework fades away as the early light of dawn creeps into the
sky and fatigue that is almost tangible replaces the acrid haze of
gunpowder. Exhaustion falls like rain into Trichur although the
Pooram is not yet over. At eight o’clock the Thiruvambady and
Paramekkavu elephants again assemble outside the Vaddakunathan
temple. Three hours of magnificent drumming follow as the chendas
of both parties play melam; the extraordinary musicians
somehow summoning the necessary stamina to play with vigour and
freshness. A noisy outburst of fireworks drowns the endings of the
melam and signals the last Pooram ritual. The two deity
carrying elephants circle the huge lamp outside the temple and then
link trunks in a gesture of farewell. It is an intimate and touching
end to the long hours of pageantry that so fittingly honour the gods
and goddesses of Trichur.
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