Tiger Tales

Charms and Cures of Kerala

It’s 5am and my father, looking utterly at home in a white, sarong-like mundu and chest cloth, has clearly made the transition from American to Indian. Even in the pre-dawn darkness, the Hindu temple where we’re standing before two ash-marked priests is aglow, lit by a sacrificial fire fed by sticks dipped in ghee (a butter typically used in Indian cooking). I wear my own traditional garb awkwardly, but the opening ceremonies have begun and there’s a long way to go. Apparently, I’ve been cursed and alleviating the effects of karma is a drawn-out process.

Clad in black, the priests – both marked with whorls of colour designating their spiritual lineage – move with practiced efficiency. Nambudiris are an old Brahmanic line particular to Kerala. They are scrupulously orthodox. Their painstaking devotion to Vedic tradition (a religion pre-dating Hinduism) has given them a unique status. Thanks to them, ancient Vedic rituals that are long extinct elsewhere live on in Kerala.

In a place where everyday life is infused with ritual and tradition, priests are both consummate businessmen and repositories of mystical lore. Kerala abounds with shops specialising in the implements of ritual: clarified butter, camphor and incense. And the region’s romance is captured in the green faces of its Kathakali characters whose Indian dance-drama is best known for its colourful make-up and costumes, as well as precise body movements in tune to music.

As omnipresent as Kerala’s priests are its astrologers, seers of the future typically employed by the curious or the concerned. For a price, your future can be foretold in varying degrees of detail. Three days before my ritual cleansing, I had grudgingly agreed to pay a visit to an astrologer in Kadalundi, a nearby village in the Kozhikode district of Kerala. The astrologer was famous for his skill at jyotish, Vedic astrology. He claimed Bollywood stars as clients and was known for his accuracy. I was sceptical, but went anyway.

After climbing the narrow stairs to his waiting hall, I saw another family nervously awaiting divine revelation. When my turn came, the astrologer wasted no time. He consulted charts based on the positions of the constellations at my birth, read the meaning in the casting of seashells and generally channelled the divine. For three hours, seated on the floor of his bare workspace and surreptitiously stretching my cramping legs, I was told of the sources of the problems I had experienced over the past year and of the good fortune ahead. I was left with reason for optimism but there was a catch: I was cursed.

After a great deal of translation, the astrologer informed me that the first curse was from a teacher and was preventing me from using my theoretical knowledge for practical gain. The others were from a woman, cursing me with problems of love and a blockage in my prana, the vital force that affects energy flow. I have long suffered from lower-back pain, a fact the astrologer claimed he knew. He predicted that this pain would move upwards, eventually causing shoulder problems. The cure was a 15-hour ceremony to appease the angry individuals whom I had offended, albeit in a past life.

My family, the Nair clan, has close ties to the priestly caste and we were able to hire two priests I required to be able to complete the ceremony, on short notice.

I’m on the road by mid-afternoon, navigating the bumpy, rubber tree-shaded roads in my uncle’s car. We pause to ceremonially throw a small log and two coconuts – which the priests ritualistically imbued an hour earlier with the negative energy in my life – into a local river. Still in mundu, the traditional sarong banded in gold, we wade into the slowly flowing currents.

Later, we are caught in traffic as a religious parade makes its way across the road. Elephants and parasol-bearing devotees raise dust in the sweltering heat as the sound of trumpets combines with the honking of horns by impatient auto rickshaw drivers. The bright colours of the saffron robes and flowered deities make for a stark contrast to the uniform green and brown of the jungle, an ever-present polarity in Kerala.

This sacred chaos is an outward sign of Kerala’s religious diversity. After the landing of Vasco de Gama in Kozhikode in 1498, the Portuguese were surprised to find a large Christian population here, whose ancestors are believed to have arrived in Kerala in 52 AD with the Apostle Thomas. Buddhism, Jainism and many forms of Hinduism have also flourished in Kerala at various times.

Clan traditions also speak loudly in Kerala. While the Nambudiris are famed for their devotions, my family’s clan – the Nairs – formed the military backbone of local dynasties. The Nairs were known for their martial prowess, best exemplified in the martial art, kalarippayattu, in which acrobatic skills and unique weapons are used. The Nairs were also known for their one-of-a-kind traditions, such as the worship of snakes, and their matrilineal family structure. Feudal lords in medieval Kerala, their power waned with the coming of the priests, and later the British, who outlawed many of the old practices.

Although swords are no longer in style and families now eschew traditional theravadu (communal clan strongholds) in favour of apartments, some traditions remain. Well-kept theravadu, with a central inner courtyard, a sacred grove for serpents and a pond for bathing, give visitors a taste of classical Keralan architecture. Family names are passed on matrilineally and eldest daughters often inherit land. Strong matriarchs are the norm in Kerala, flouting the status quo in this male-dominated country.

Training centres of kalarippayattu, offering stays ranging from a few months to years, can be found in many major cities. One such facility, the Indian School of Martial Arts in Trivandrum, teaches guests what students might have learned ages ago. Overgrown forest greenery surrounds the buildings while the spicy aroma of wild peppercorn plants permeates the air. Behind the ashram’s temple – dedicated to the god Hanuman – and the cottage-style dormitories is a large courtyard. This is the training ground where students learn the series of fighting stances that are the building blocks of kalarippayattu.

The founder of the school, Guru Balachandran, is one of the few surviving masters of kalarippayattu and is also of Nair descent. The school is a way of preserving the ancient art form by passing it on to new generations. Beginners and experts are schooled in both armed and unarmed forms of the martial art. The rigorous training programme demands that students master balance, movement and coordination before tackling weapon-specific techniques.

Among its many delights, Kerala is also known for the practice of Ayurveda, traditional Indian medicine that deploys a number of disciplines including yoga, meditation, exercise and massage. While tourism in the state is modest, many retreats have sprung up where reputable practitioners ply their trade in lavish, spa- like facilities attached to high-end hotels.

One wing of the Indian School of Martial Arts, dense with the scent of aromatic oils and crushed spices, is devoted to the healing arts. The centre offers three- to 21- day healing sessions to help visitors detox, meditate and restore vital energy.

The nearby Rasa Ayurveda is a women’s retreat seeking to bring western and Indian women together through traditional Ayurvedic medicine. A stay at Rasa Ayurveda offers the chance to experience Ayurvedic cuisine, personalised herbal treatments and relax in the sprawling gardens or library.

Temples abound in Kerala and their architecture is distinct from that of temples in Northern India. The Sree Padmanabhaswamy Temple in Trivandrum, dedicated to Vishnu, is among the best-known in the state. Considered to be one of the 108 holiest temples of Vishnu, it houses a statue of the god reclining on a hooded snake. Smaller temples scattered throughout the state bustle with activity.

Visitors should remember that these are holy places, and though all are open to the public, only Hindus are allowed inside the temples. Jostling is common as impatient pilgrims attempt to check off every last auspicious destination on their lists.

Indeed, it’s worth bearing in mind that religion infuses every aspect of daily life here. Trivandrum’s Chalai Bazaar is no exception. A riot of red, green, saffron and black spices in gigantic pots, vibrant displays of floral offerings and burlap sacks stuffed with hot peppers and fresh vegetables make for a memorable experience. The strident shouts of traders in the market fight for attention with the pungent smell of spices, a reminder of what first attracted Europeans to India.

A large red gate marks the entrance to Connemara, another of Trivandrum’s bustling markets. Vendors tout everything from household goods to fabrics, livestock and locally grown bananas. Best of all, the goods found in the narrow aisles of tightly packed stores are easy on the pocketbook.

As my long day of rituals draws to a close, my passion for Kerala is renewed. To enter is to drop all preconceived notions, to occupy a place where dualities fall to the wayside. Kerala is not just stunning views and colourful images, but is a place where mythology and history live on.

Are the curses gone? Did they ever exist? My love life, pragmatic abilities and back pain seem, for now, in good hands. And Kerala, with its mysticism, seers and priests, will always be there in case other curses crop up. The point for me was the journey, to learn more about this narrow state by the sea, with its coconut trees, its gods and its unique traditions.

Back at the temple, the priests have once again lit the fire pit and smoke from the incense hangs heavily in the still air. My father is still dressed in a mundu, and mine, always caught halfway between slipping off and pinching too tight is, at the end of the day, more a part of me.

THE ART OF KATHAKALI

India’s southern state of Kerala is synonymous with the dance drama of Kathakali or “story play”. The ancient art form which dates back to the 17th century relies on elaborate make-up which resembles a mask and colourful costumes, generally worn by men, to portray religious stories. Elaborate hand gestures and classical-style Indian music also accompany each performance.

WHERE TO STAY
Paradise Gardens Beach Resort & Ayurveda With each of its private bungalows overlooking turquoise waters and lush gardens, this resort truly lives up to its name. Well-ventilated rooms are naturally air-conditioned and private terraces offer secluded beach views. The on-site Ayurvedic centre has a wide range of treatments and the resort hosts exclusive music, dance, and martial arts performances. Rates range from S$126 to S$250 per night. Karikathikuzhi Beach, Trivandrum, South of Kovalam, tel: +91 (0)471 226 8304, www.paradise-gardens.de

WHAT TO EAT
Kalavara Family Restaurant With a wonderful rooftop dining area and an easy-to-find location on Press Road, Kalavara Family Restaurant is a great place to sample a local fish curry or biryani, a spiced rice dish. Be sure to ask for a non-spicy version of your order, as southern Indian cuisine is known for its burn. Kalavara Family Restaurant Press Road, Pulimoodu Thiruvananthapuram 695001 +91-471-2333102

WHAT TO DO
Indian School of Martial Arts This martial arts training centre offers classes in both kalarippayattu and Ayurvedic healing. Students enjoy the opportunity to stay in private cottages while learning the healing arts, practising martial arts and experiencing traditional Vedic ceremonies. The centre has played host to many international students and has English-speaking staff members. Contact the school for prices and availability. Parusuvaikal, Thiruvananthapuram, tel: +91 (0)471 223 2686, www.kalari.in