May 3, 2012
I hope that is the correct English translation. 'Tight Blouse' that is!
Dr. Sreedhara Menon, the renowned historian and professor, in his hugely informative "Kerala Charitrashilpikal" (Makes of Kerala History) has written about the design of "irukiya blouse". I think 'tight' is the apt English word for the 'irukiya' Malayalam.
The blouse with its tightness makes its ironic appearance in the chapter on Unniyadi. Unniyadi is one among the glorified prostitute (Devadasis i.e. maids of the gods) trifecta of 12th and 13rd century Kerala, the other two being Unniyachi and Unnichirutheyi. It is ironic because from the numerous well endowed female sculptures that still adorn the temples of Kerala, we know that blouses weren't in fashion for much of Kerala's history.
The Portuguese followed by the Dutch then the French and the British were shocked or pleasantly surprised that from the king to the slave every mallu, male and female, was topless till as late as late 19th century. The same goes from everyone from the boatmen of Salon to the fleeing Jews, trading Greeks and Romans and the Chinese who came to these shores since 1000 BC.
Prof. Menon comes to the blouse while discussing the evolution of the traditional dance form of Mohiniyattam. Mohiniyattam traces its origins all the way back to the "Koothu" dance performed in the temples by the 'devadasis'. It was to originally denote the dancers of this "koothu" that the currently derogatory term "koothichi" in Malayalam originated.
As late as 1900, T.K. Gopala Paniker wrote rather dimly about the practitioners of Mohiniyattam. In his "Malabar and its folk" available freely at archive.org, we find
"Mohinyattam is an institution much akin to Dasyattam of the east coast. A leader obtains the services of two or three young girls of low birth and trains them in the obscene technicalities of the profession. This leader is called the Nettuvan. He takes these girls from house to house and gets a paltry allowance for each day's performance, and thus they make a living. It is performed usually at nights, when the girls are robbed in the finest attire and dance begins led, of course, by the Nettuvan. All sorts of obscene practices are resorted to during the process. This institution is an extremely abominable one. The females who are thus rented out are looked upon in civilized circles with utmost contempt; and it may be said that they exist as a separate isolated class with little or no social interest with other classes.It is some satisfaction to find that the institution is dying a gradual and natural death."
The man protests a little too much, I think. He would really be dissatisfied to find the international acclaim that Mohiniyattam has attained these days. The total reversal of fortune of the "dying" dance can be attributed to two cultural champions of Kerala...and of course, the tight blouse.
The design of the blouse, the frilled gold-bordered "kasavu" waist cloth and the jewelry that go with Mohiniyattam performances these days comes from none other than Swati Thirunal, the king of Travancore from 1829 to 1846, famous for his magnificent contributions to Carnatic classical music. Though his sartorial accomplishment may not have become as popular in Malabar as his compositions by the time of Gopala Paniker, in today's India, certainly, more women use the blouse than sing his music.
Swati Thirunal's interference wasn't enough for the image makeover of the dance form. It received its mainstream acceptance only after legendary poet, Vallathol, added it as a part of the curriculum at Kerala Kala Mandalam, the foremost arts school of south India in the second half of the 20th century.
Coincidentally, I found an advertisement for a capsule and an oil combo that promises to enhance the bosom of ladies worried about their 'bodaciousness' (or is it bodacity?). The ad appears in one of those numerous film weeklies that pull off the impossible trick of actually reducing the value of the paper they are printed on.
An ample bosom is featured along with the ad. Though the face and legs are not shown, anyone who went to high school during the early 90s in Kerala can easily identify the model. Her name starts with an 'Sh' but it is not Shakeela.
I took one look at that picture and thought "geeta dhuniku taka dhim, tathim kida thom!"
Unexpected floating in of a Swati Thirunal composition. Ah, the side effects of reading history. With my palm automatically tapping the beats of the tune on my thighs, it dawned on me that epic villain Duryodhana could have used a Carnatic music excuse for his unfortunate gesture towards partly undressed Draupadi.
The 'come hither' move ultimately cost him his femur. If only he had claimed that her sight brought Swati Thirunal to his mind...
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