There is this man, forced to sit on a stool with the knots of his upper garment untied, water being poured over his shoulders and naked back. What is so special about him, merely an actor at this point, perspiring and exhausted after the performance, wearing damaged makeup and costumes? Well, not for the pious audience flocking around in reverence, with their palms folded and overhead as if they are on either side of the corridor of a sanctum sanctorum. The scene marks a collective breakdown in sensibility and a transcendental experience like no other. Even when all the vectors of incarnation are absent, what ensnares the spectator in the world of Mudiyettu? What is Mudiyettu, a form with its roots in nineth and tenth CE, performed in the districts of central Kerala?
Dancing gods and dancer men
December is no ordinary month. It initiates the fertile period for ritualistic performances in Kerala. Mudiyettu is a ritual-theatre form, performed during the middle of dhanu (December-end) to mēṭam (mid-May) in the Bhagavati temple courtyards, as an attempt to appease the goddess. Despite being the second art form from Kerala (after Kuttiyattam) to find a spot in the UNESCO list for the preservation of human cultural heritage, the form is confined to its folk/ritual identity, often ignored by the connoisseurs of elite classical-theatrical traditions. Four families, belonging to the caste of temple servants (kuruppu and mārār) are tasked with the performance, in the districts of central Kerala (Ernakulam, Thrissur, and Kottayam). The form exists as a coalition between ritualistic and theatrical elements and builds on the central myth of Dārikavadham (‘The Slaying of Dārikan’) into seven scenes. Seven characters—Nāradan, Śiva, Kōyiṁpaṭanāyar, Kūli, Kāli, Dārikan, and Dānavēndran—appear in the performance that also employs fire, movements, dialogues, Kalamezhuthu (powder drawings made on the floor using natural colours), elaborate costumes and makeup, percussive music, and thelli eriyal (throwing pine resin powder to the torch to inflame it, symbolic of the goddess’s anger).
The story intertwined with fertility and mother cult, follows the infamous demon kings, Dārikan and Dānavēndran, causing mayhem in all the realms under the aegis of Brahma’s boon, that they can only be defeated by a woman. Mudiyettu is the representation of this battle between the demon kings and Kāli, born of Shiva to kill them. The seven scenes are: ‘Śiva-Nārada Samvādam’, ‘Dārika Purappādu’, ‘Kāli Purappādu’, entry of Kōyiṁpaṭanāyar, ‘Kūli Purappādu’, ‘Kuttiyattam’ (also called Yudham), and ‘Dārika Vadham’ (The Killing of Dārikan). Kūli functions like a comic interlude (though not part of the core myth) diluting the tension and mimicking the goddess in actions, absurd jokes and interaction with the audience. While Kāli bestows blessings on children, Kūli imitates this, attempting to feed adults from her artificial breasts. The killing is symbolic— removing the headgear and placing it at the feet of Kāli.
The most interesting part of the performance is the possession, where the actor serves as a receptacle that contains the divine entity. The possession also percolates into the audience, despite the relatively fixed scenography, creating a collective experience. This might also be what demarcates the ritual from the institutional oracle, a difference precisely reasoned by mudiyettukkars, as mentioned by Marianne Pasty-Abdul Wahid as, “the incarnation of the goddess during Muṭiyēttu is of a higher level than that of the veliccappātu (the institutional oracle officiating in the goddess temples), for the reason that the latter only wears attributes of the goddess and speaks for her without seeking to resemble her neither in appearance nor in actions. His personification of Bhadrakāli is, therefore incomplete, so they believe, unlike that of the mudiyettukkars, who turns into the incarnate goddess, who is then ‘really there’, not only because the performer looks like her, but also because he acts in a way as to make the public believe that he is her. For this reason, they believe that the share of caitanyam and śakti that enters his body during performance is higher than that received by the veliccappātu.” They further add that the possession is in fact “a priori spontaneous and super-human transformation”.
Kāli: Not the perfect image of grace and gentleness
The myth of Dārikavadham departs from the conventional portrayal of goddesses in Hindu mythology by depicting Kāli as the demonised goddess in her violent and gruesome self; quashing the traditional poised image and celebrating her wrathful femininity.
The depiction of Kāli’s face covered in small dried lime spikes (indicative of small pox) and the use of metal fangs, aids in dismantling the unanimous beauty standards that persist even at the divine level. The weaponisation of hair is significant as the velya muṭi becomes the component that leads the transition and controls the aggression of the goddess. Hair has always been equated to femininity, a quality that patriarchy deems to be gentle, soft and altruistic. In Mudiyettu, hair becomes the defining feature of Kāli, fuelling her aggression, infusing śakti and caitanyam into the male actor.
The transvestite aspect empowers the male performer to be the centre of veneration by embracing the identity of a woman. On a more metaphorical level, the male actor is exalted when he is able to subsume the female within. Mudiyettu is not an attempt to glorify machismo men and their saviour complex. It celebrates the man in his complete feminine splendour, even though femininity is confined to costumes, makeup, and the character portrayed. Music and dance (choreographed movements) are severed from the usual and ideal purpose and become agents that kindle aggression and heighten the terrifying mood.
Though many of the ritualistic performances exist in vestiges of religion, that does not become restrictive in fostering a community. As Jens Kreinath observes, “Ritual is integral, but not limited to, religion, and is more broadly conceived of as a sequence of obligatory acts that display stylised or formalised patterns of human behaviour.”
T’is the season of jolly red, but let it not deter you from seeking the red of combat and aggression.
