Chakyarkoothu (BH:D221)

March 10, 2012

The loud accompanying music of the temple procession that went around all the lanes and streets in the one kilometer radius of our home kept me awake yesterday till 1am. I wonder when that poor elephant got some sleep. And whatever sleep I managed in that late hour was promptly interupted by the fireworks display that concluded the temple fest at 4am.

All this meant later than usual morning walk. My intention was to check out a recently flowered beautiful tree on the Napier Museum campus which was featured in the Hindu newspaper couple of days ago. But thinking about the Konya video, its criticism about underlying racism drained me before I found the flowered tree. So I sat down under the "Njara" tree that stands near the southern corner of the Museum building. I must have looked really distraught in thought for this gentleman, late 40s probably, who was preparing to do some yoga type stuff nearby struck up a conversation. He turned out to be a deputy superintendent of police in the city. 

Our discussion ranged from occupy Wall Street to the collpase of education system in India. Astrologers, gurus and mother gods and the rapidly falling health awareness in the state also came for the usual middle class disgust sharing. When he lingered on in the health awareness bit, suddenly all my warning senses that had been lying dormant for many months now sprang back to life. Back at A&M, outside the Evans library, soldiers of Christianity and patrons of some other later day saints pounce on unsuspecting Asians with alarming regularity to bring light into their dark lives. The decade spent on campus, mostly in the library, had sharpened my senses about these divine predators. 

The man this morning wasn't after my soul. It was my body....not in that way! He happened to be a volunteer and devotee of some physical well being program that is spearheaded by some vet in the city. I presume it is the usual nutrition, regular exercise and stress free living mantra. I had no intention of hearing more once he kicked into the salesman mode. But I guess it is good to be acquainted with police officers in a society like India. Especially the ones who haven't killed themselves by coming under tractors driven by the mining or some other of the million mafias that operate here.

Read through the first few chapters of Prof. Sreedhara Menon's History of India Vol. 1. He discusses the various theories about the origins of Dravidians. Interesting topic to read on the day all newspapers have run glowing multipage tributes to Rahul Dravid who retired from international cricket after a solid career. 

A couple of weeks ago, a friend had talked about the growing trend of non-secularizing the prayers at the beginning of meetings and events in the city. The good tradition in the past used to be that some Malayalam poem with a spiritual theme would be sung as prayer. But nowadays, gods from specific religions are being increasingly invoked. From Dr. Azhikode's and Prof. Menon's books and my own reading of the Easavaso Upanishad, I have come up with a reasonable set of lines for those who insist prayer should be in Sanskrit. These lines succinctly capture the secular and unity in diversity essence of this country's culture that is now under serious assault from even some educated morons. Here are the lines and their sources

Ekam sath vipraha bahudha vadanthi (Rg Veda)Esavasamedam sarvam (Eso Upanishad)Sathyameva Jayathe (Mundako Upanishad)Sathyam Vada, Dharmam Chara (Tethariya Upanishad)Uthishtatha, Jagratha (Kadho Upanishad)

Basically meaning that it is the all pervading single essence that is worshipped under different names. Truth alone triumphs so mind it and be righteous. Arise, Awake!

Was back at the Vylopilli Samskriti Bhavan in the evening for a Chakyar Koothu performance. It must have been 20 years since I last saw a Koothu. I have written in these notes earlier about this art form, which is pretty much the mother of stand up comedy. Mani Vasudeva Chakyar was smart, improvising and funny as Chakyars are meant to be. The crowd wasn't big, but he got enough opportunities to tease several late comers. The young men with their huge lens cameras were on his sarcastic cross hairs frequently. 

The basic thread for the performance was the story from Ramayana of choosing Angada, Bali's son, to be the final envoy to Lanka to find out what kind of a king Ravana is. Into this story, he worked in several current events and poked fun at plenty of Kerala politicians. 

Much time was also spent on the story of a poor Brahmin and his neighbor washer-man to illustrate the need for having a sensible judge/king. The Brahmin's spinach garden gets destroyed by the washer-man's donkey. Washer-man is warned once, but the donkey comes to eat the spinach again. The angry Brahmin throws a knife at it, injuring it. When the injured donkey reaches its master, he traces the blood trail back to the Brahmin's house. By then, the Brahmin had left the house and only his fully pregnant wife is at home. Without knowing this, the washer-man kicks open the door which falls on the wife causing an abortion. The Brahmin had been longing for a baby for several years. He takes a complaint to the king. The king orders the arrest of the washer-man from whom he then comes to know about the donkey's injury. Then that idiot king orders the Brahmin to restore the donkey to its original condition by treating it and orders the washerman to ensure that the Brahmin's wife is fully pregnant again!!

The performance lasted a little under 90 minutes. Traditionally the Chakyar will branch from story to story like the structure of the epic and can go on for hours. Chankyar koothu is a gloriously encapsulates the social commentary, criticism, sarcasm and self deprecating humor that Kerala society has been capable of for centuries.