Thee thaa, theyy thaa (BH:D 245)

April 5, 2012

'Thee-tha, theyy-tha' with the soft 'th' sound like in 'thanks' is a familiar, apparently meaningless set of syllables used for developing sense of rhythm or beats in traditional Indian dance forms.

I learnt yesterday how deeply meaningful it is in the context of the traditional Kerala folk dance form of 'Padeni' or 'Padayani'. Padayani is primarily the worship of the mother goddess. 'tha' which in common Malayalam means 'to give', also means 'mother' just like the Tamil word thaayi. This is the 'tha' in Thee-tha, theyy-tha. 

'Thee' means fire and 'theyy' is the non-Sanskritized root form of the word Daivam which these days stands for god. 'Theyyam', the popular traditional folk art form has become the signature tourism promo photograph of Kerala alongside coconut trees, decked up elephants and Kathakali. 'Theyyam' is nothing but Daivam meaning god in Malayalam. It derives meaning from the same root for Deepam meaning light. Thus the rhythmic syllables meant to put basic moves on the dancing feet, 'thee-tha, theyy-tha' carries a profound 'Fire is mother, God is mother' message in it.

These and other precious nuggets are contained in a great interview with Kadamanitta Vasudevan Pillai, the authority on Padayani and a gold medalist Mathematics teacher, in this week's Mathrubhumi magazine. Adam Curtis recently published a very interesting BBC Blog that connects the modern (as in 19th-20th century) fascination with contortionist yoga and the nations that the British carved out like Iraq. The desire for a perfect body, as in perfectly controllable, flexible body inspires on a massive scale the attempt to create perfect nations of ethnically pure noble savages. 

Vasudevan Pillai talks about the clash between matriarchal and patriarchal divine systems that is as old as civilization itself. I can't help but wonder if the current fascination with the collision of the East and the West on a global scale is a reverberation of that primordial till-farming, gathering female-dominated settlement economies versus the nomadic male-controlled shepherding, cowherding clans. 

Pillai draws attention to centuries old artistic representations that show the mother-goddess, the feminine power, the Shakti who also goes by the name Durga or Kaali, trampling over the body of Shiva, the macho divinity whose origins can be traced back to 'Pashu-pati', the lord of the animals, in some Indus Valley seals. By the time we reach the Sanskritization of Kalidasa, the "trampling" above becomes an ambivalent erotic toeing of the forehead of Shiva by his consort, Parvati, in the play Kumarasambha, a segment which was deemed 'Satanic verses' by the orthodox Hindu powers-that-be in Kalidasa's time.

Clearly, the half male, half female Ardhanareeshwara representation is a compromise that evolved out of the sexual power struggle in the religious realm. Like Kurtis's, I think a blog linking the ongoing Western capitalist invasion that targets the Eastern women, reducing them to mere greedy consumers lusting after silk, gold and unattainable standards of beauty, to the ancient patriarchal-matriarchal conflict would be fascinating.

The power of the mother goddess continues in folk religious art forms like Padayani and Theyyam. I should mention a couple of etymological gems that Vasudevan Pillai mentions. 'Kura' means mountain. The word 'kurathi' comes from kura and means woman of the mountain, mountain-woman. Over the centuries it has degenerated into a caste name. 'Pulam' means plot, field, cultivated land. The one who works on the field is Pulayan. The one who controls the land, owns it, dances on it is Pula+Aadi=Pulayadi, which unfortunately is the foremost abuse in contemperory, colloquial Malayalam. That last bit of info is for the plenty of folks I know who hobby collecting only the abusive words in as many languages as possible! 

The interview also talks about the origins of the word Yakshi from the Pali Yakki and Rakki which mean the one who saves or protects. Since we had a long discussion about Yakshis in the neighborhood last month which supposedly scared the local boys away from the temple and led to a 'summons' from the local temple priest, I made sure that they read out loud this part of the interview that ends with "..that is the meaning of Yakshi, not the lusty seductress who tricks young men and drinks their blood as is the image popularized these days!" 

I had intended to write a note about wildlife photographer par excellence, NA Naseer, but ended up digressing too much above. Well, that's the nature of life, isn't it? The best laid plans of Jerry and Seinfeld...

The Mathrubhumi magazine that carried the Vasudevan Pillai's interview has the gorgeous cover photograph of an ebullient peacock lounging on a branch with its scintillating luscious tail hanging down. Issues of Mathrubhumi have been carrying such beautiful photos by Naseer as the cover along with his column on the expeditions to the remaining forests in South India. 

Last week, I had gone all teary-eyed gushing about the few moments I had witnessing the supremely free tusker near the road through Thirunelli reserve. In this week's column, Naseer writes about sitting next to a huge tusker snoring away to glory on the dried leaf mattress of the forest floor unable to bear the afternoon heat of the scorching south Indian summer in the Sigur sanctuary. And he had the stunning photograph to prove the encounter. 

Naseer induces in me a sweet jealousy every time I look at his photographs or read his columns. Few weeks back he had written about waiting on a tree patiently in the wee hours of the morning for the magnificent great Indian hornbills. His narration of the tingling anticipation reminded of an article in the New York Times years ago about a hunter. The "tingling" comes from a endogenous secretion of the cannabinoid neurotransmitter interestingly and rightly named 'Anandamide' derived from the Sanskrit word Ananda for bliss. But unlike the American hunter mentioned in that article, Naseer shoots with his camera. 

Repeatedly he writes about giving up on great possible shots because he is afraid alerting about his presence will spoil the feeding and drinking of the animals. Such intimacy with nature is what makes the man a rarity. The same intimacy Jiddu Krishnamurti talks about when he says, "When one loses the deep intimate relationship with nature, then temples, mosques and churches become important."

From the artists of Altamira, Bhimbetka and Edakkal caves to the lensmen like Salim Ali and Naseer, I am grateful to the men and women who have generously shared their visions with the rest of us through various tools. Thanks is due to the tool makers too from the Olduvai Valley to the Silicon Valley. 

It is this gratitude that makes my deep seated, repetitive envy of Naseer and his lifestyle "sweet" for though I can see what they have seen only via the hardened wall of an ancient cave, on the roughly imprinted colors of a magazine page or the luminous screen of a laptop, vicariousness is a gift nature has granted all humanity and channeling it for pleasure is irresponsibly easy!