Malasar
This article is an excerpt from Government Press, Madras |
Malasar
The Malasars or Malsars are found in the Coimbatore district, and in the Cochin State. The following account of them was given by Buchanan a century ago. “The forests here are divided into Puddies, each of which has its boundary ascertained, and contains one or more families of a rude tribe, called Malasir. Both the Puddy and its inhabitants are considered as the property of some landlord, who farms out the labour of these poor people, with all they collect, to some trader (Chitty or Manadi). Having sent for some of these poor Malasirs, they informed me that they live in small villages of five or six huts, situated in the skirts of the woods on the hills of Daraporam, Ani-malaya, and Pali-ghat. They speak a mixture of the Tamul and Malayala languages. They are a better looking people than the slaves, but are ill-clothed, nasty, and apparently ill-fed. They collect drugs for the trader, to whom they are let, and receive from him a subsistence, when they can procure for him anything of value. He has the exclusive right of purchasing all that they have for sale, and of supplying them with salt and other necessaries. A great part of their food consists of wild yams (Dioscorea), which they dig when they have nothing to give to the trader for rice. They cultivate some small spots in the woods after the cotu-cadu fashion, both on their own account and on that of the neighbouring farmers, who receive the produce, and give the Malasirs hire. The articles cultivated in this manner are ragi (Eleusine Coracana), avaray (Dolichos Lablab), and tonda (Ricinus communis). They are also hired to cut timber and firewood. The god of their tribe is called Mallung, who is represented by a stone that is encircled by a wall, which serves for a temple. Once a year, in April, a sacrifice of goats, and offerings of rice, honey, and the like, are made by the Malasir to this rude idol. If this be neglected, the god sends elephants and tigers to destroy both them and their houses.”
The Malasars are described, in the Madras Census Report, 1901, as “a forest tribe living by hill cultivation and day labour. They are good at game-tracking, and very handy with their axes, with the help of which they will construct a bamboo house for the wandering sportsman in a few hours. They reside in hamlets known as pathis, each of which has a headman, called Vendari, who exercises the usual authority, with the assistance of a panchāyat (council). One of the punishments inflicted by panchāyats is to make the culprit carry a heavy load of sand for some distance, and then stand with it on his head and beg for forgiveness. They worship Kāli and Māriamman, the small-pox goddess, but their special deity is Manakadātta, to whom they sacrifice fowls and sheep in the Māsi. A man of the tribe acts as priest on these occasions, and keeps the heads of the offerings as his perquisite. An unusual item in their wedding ceremonies is the tying of an iron ring to the bridegroom’s wrist. They will eat and drink almost anything, except vermin and cobras. The Kādans regard themselves as superior to the Malasars.” It is noted, in the Manual of the Coimbatore district, that “the Malasars live at a much lower elevation than the Kādars. They are found almost down on the plains, and along the slopes near the foot of the hills. They are somewhat sturdier in general build, but have not the characteristic features of regular hillmen. They are not to be depended on in any way, but will desert en masse on the smallest excuse. They commit dacoities whenever they see an opportunity, and, in fact, even to this day, the roads near the foot of the hills are rarely traversed by low-country natives except in small bands, from fear of the Malasars. On the other hand, the Malasars are useful as being excellent axemen; and as baggage coolies they can hardly be dispensed with. They carry for the most part on their heads like low-country coolies, but unlike the Kādars and Puliyars, who, when they can be induced to carry at all, carry loads on their backs.”
There may be said to be three grades of Malasars, viz., the Malai (hill) Malasars, who live on the hills (e.g., at Mount Stuart on Ānaimalais), and the Malasars who live on the slopes and the plains. It is said that Kādirs and Eravalars are admitted into the Malasar caste. The Kādirs abstain from eating the flesh of the ‘bison’ and cow, whereas the Malasars will eat the carrion of these animals. The settlements of the Malasars are called padhis or pathis, and their streets sālais. These are Tamil names, denoting villages and rows. The padhis are named after the owners of the land on which they are built, e.g., Sircar (Government) padhi, Karuppa Goundan padhi. On the hills, the dwelling huts are made of bamboo matting thatched with grass and teak leaves, whereas on the plains the walls are made of mud, and are roofed with grass and bamboo. Like the Yānādis and Chenchus, the Malasars seem to have an objection to well-built houses, and a Malasar forester prefers his own rude hut to Government quarters.
Some Malasars work as coolies, while others are employed as agricultural labourers, or in collecting honey. A landlord keeps under him a number of Malasars, to whom he gives land free of rent, on which they raise their food-crops. In return, they are expected to work in the fields, and do other services for their landlord (Mannādi), who exercises absolute control over them. Sometimes, if a landholder has a grievance against another, it is not difficult to induce his Malasars to damage the crops of his enemy. The operations connected with the catching and taming of wild elephants are carried out by Malasars. They are proverbially lazy, and will take a week’s wages in advance, and spend a good portion thereof on drink on the same day. With the remainder provisions are purchased, and they may only put in three or four days’ work in the week. Like other hill tribes, they dig up yams when food is scarce.
Marriage is generally adult, though infant marriage is not prohibited. The Malasars of the plains perform the marriage ceremonies at the home of the bride. Monday is considered an auspicious day for their celebration. On the previous day, the contracting couple stand on a pestle, and are anointed, and bathe. Two balls of cooked rice, coloured red and black, are placed in a tray, and lighted wicks are stuck into them. The flames from the two wicks should be of the same height, or the omens would be considered unfavourable. The lights are waved in front of the bride and bridegroom, to ward off the evil eye. After bathing, the couple are seated on a dais within the marriage pandal (booth), and the bridegroom ties the tāli (marriage badge) on the neck of the bride, and their hands are joined by the Mūppan (headman). The tāli consists of a brass disc, tied to a string dyed with turmeric. The couple eat from the same leaf or plate, and the ceremony is at an end.
The Malai Malasars bring the bride to the home of the bridegroom for the marriage ceremonies. The bridegroom goes on a Wednesday to the bride’s house and takes her to his home on the following day. A pandal, made of Sorghum and bamboo stems, is erected. Towards evening, the tāli is tied, and the fingers of the contracting couple are linked together (kaidharam). They eat together from the same plate. The bridegroom should feed his relations and friends at his own house, as well as at that of the bride. He generally presents his mother-in-law with a female cloth, with an eight anna bit tied in the skirt thereof.
Ancestor worship is important among the Malayans. Before commencing their ceremonies, cooked rice and the flesh of the fowl are offered to the ancestors on seven leaves. On the occasion of a marriage, a little of the food is eaten by the bridegroom on a Wednesday, before he proceeds to the home of the bride.
When a girl reaches maturity, she occupies a separate hut for seven days. On the seventh day, she bathes and goes to the dwelling hut. A measure and a lamp are placed before the hut, and the girl has to go over them with her right foot foremost. She then steps backwards, and again goes over them before entering the hut.
The dead are usually buried, face upward. If the dead person was an elder, his personal effects, such as pillows, walking-stick, and clothes, are buried with him, or his corpse is cremated. Sometimes, the dead are buried in a sitting posture, in a niche excavated on one side of the grave. In the case of the Malasars of the plains, the widow chews betel leaf and areca nuts, and spits the betel over the eyes and neck of the corpse. On the third day after death, cooked rice and meat are offered to the soul of the deceased on seven arka (Calotropis gigantea) leaves. The male members of the family then eat from the same leaf.
The Malasars who live in the plains consider the Ficus glomerata tree sacred, and worship it once a year. At least one branch thereof should be used in the construction of the marriage pandal, and the menstrual hut should be made of it. The Malasars of the plains also avoid the use of the Pongamia glabra tree for any purpose. The hill Malasars worship, among other deities, Ponnālamman (Māriamma), Pullarappachi (Ganēsa), and Kāliamman. To Ponnālamman, pigs and buffaloes are sacrificed once a year. The deity worshipped by the Malasars of the plains is Māriāyi (Māriamma), at whose festival a stake is fixed in the ground, and eventually shaken by the Malasars, and removed by Paraiyans. The Malasar women of the plains wear glass bangles only on the left wrist. If a woman puts such bangles on both wrists, the Paraiyans are said to break them, and report the matter to the Mūppan, who is expected to fine the woman. As Paraiyan women, like the Malasars, only wear glass bangles on one wrist, they take the wearing of bangles on both wrists by Malasar women, who are only their equals, as an insult.
The following graphic account of a Kāma Mystery Play, in which Malasars are represented, has been given by Mr. S. G. Roberts. “The play, as the writer saw it in a little village on the banks of the Amravati river, was at once a mystery or miracle play, a mime, a tragedy that strangely recalled the Greek choral tragedies, and a satyric drama. These various ingredients gave it a quaint nebulous character, the play now crystallising into mere drama, and again dissolving into a religious rite. Just as an understanding of the Greek mythology is necessary for the full grasping of the meaning of a Greek tragedy, so it is necessary to portray the legend which is the basis of this mystery, all the more as the characters are Hindu gods. Kāma, then, is the Hindu Cupid, not a tiny little child like the Roman god of love, but more like Eros. He has beautiful attributes. His bow is of the sugar-cane; his arrows are tipped with flowers; and his bow-string is a chain of bees—a pretty touch that recalls the swallow song of the Homeric bowstring. For all that, the genius of the country has modified the local idea of Eros. He has long ago found his Psyche: in point of fact, this Hindu Eros is a married man.
His wife, Rathi, is the other speaking character, and s he certainly displays a beautiful eloquence not unfitting her position. Moreover, like every married man, Kāma has a father-in-law, and here the tragedy begins to loom out of the playful surroundings of a god of love of whatever nation or clime. Siva, the destroyer, he of the bright blue neck, the dweller, as Kāma tauntingly says, among graves and dead men’s ashes; Siva, mighty in penance, is father of Rathi. In the play itself, he is not even a muta persona; he does not appear at all. What he does is only adumbrated by the action or song of the other characters. The legend strikingly illustrates the Hindu view of penance. Briefly stated, it is that anyone who performs any penance for a sufficiently long time acquires such a store of power and virtue, that the very gods themselves cannot stand against it. Hindu mythology affords many examples of this belief. Siva himself, in one of his incarnations, saved the whole Indian Olympus and the universe at large from a demi-god, who, by years of penance, had become charged, as it were, with power, like a religious electric ‘accumulator.’ The early sages and heroes of Indian story had greater facilities for the acquisition of this reserve of power, in that their lives lasted for centuries or even æons.
It may be imagined that three centuries of penance increased the performer’s strength to a degree not expressible in modern figures! In this case, the gods had viewed with alarm a penance which Siva had begun, and which threatened to make him master of all creation. In spite of a few grotesque attributes, the mythology lends to Siva a character at once terrific and awe-inspiring. When his third eye was closed on one occasion, the universe was involved in darkness, and the legend under discussion presents a solemn picture of the god, sitting with his rosary in sackcloth and ashes, immersed in his unending penance. Kāma was deputed to break the spell. Accompanied by his nymphs, he sported before the recluse, taking all shapes that could ‘shake the saintship of an anchorite,’ till this oriental St. Anthony, but too thoroughly aroused, opened his tremendous frontal eye, and, with a flashing glance of rage, consumed the rash intruder on his solitude. Such is the legend which supplies the closing scene of the life of Kāma, a life that is celebrated, as March begins, with several days’ rejoicing in every town and village of Southern India.
The writer had seen the heap of bricks that support the Kāma pillar in a village which he visited a few months after first landing in India. As March came round, he saw them in whatever village his work brought him, and the legend was impressed on his memory by a case in court, in which the momentous word ‘Kāmadakshinasivalingamedai’ (or the high place of the emblem of Siva who consumed Kāma) was pronounced by the various witnesses. It was not, however, till the spring of 1900 that an opportunity presented itself for witnessing the performance of the Kāma mystery. The time of representation was the night, the playtime for old and young in India. It has this special advantage, from a theatrical point of view, that everything in a village street takes on an adventitious beauty. The heaps of dust, the ragged huts, lose their prominence, the palm trees become beautiful, and the tower of the temple grows in majesty. Everything that is ugly or incongruous seems to disappear, till the façade of a wealthy Hindu’s house wears the dignity of the old Grecian palace proscenium. The rag torches give a soft strong light, that adds effect to the spangled and laced robes of the actors, and leaves the auditory in semi-darkness, quite in accordance with Wagnerian stage tradition.
Kāma was represented in full dress, with a towering, crocketed, gilded mitre or helmet, such as is worn by the images of South Indian gods. He is not like the unadorned Eros of the Greeks, and he shows his Indian blood by the green which paints the upper half of his face. Kāma had the bow of sugar-cane, and Rathi, otherwise dressed like a wealthy Hindu bride, also bore a smaller bow of the same. The buffoon must not be omitted. He figures in every Indian play, and here, besides the distinction of a girdle of massive cow bells gracefully supporting his paunch, he showed his connection with this love drama by a small bow of sugar-cane fastened upright, by one tip, to the peak of a high dunce’s cap. The play began by Kāma boastfully, and at great length, announcing his intention of disturbing Siva’s penance. Rathi did her best to dissuade him, but every argument she could use only stirred up his pride, and made him more determined on the adventure.
The dialogue was sometimes sustained by the characters themselves; sometimes they sang with dreadful harshness; sometimes they but swayed to and fro, as if in a Roman mimus, while the best voice in the company sang their songs for them. Now and then, the musicians would break into a chorus, which strikingly recalled, but for the absence of dancing, the Greek tragic chorus, especially in their idea of inevitable destiny, and in their lamentations over the disastrous end of the undertaking. Meanwhile, the buffoon played his part with more or less success, and backed up the astonishingly skilful and witty acting of the players, who provided the comic relief. In most Tamil dramas the action of the play is now and again suspended, while one or more comedians stroll on to the stage, and amuse the audience by a vēsham, i.e., an impersonation of different well-known street characters representing men (and women) not only of different castes, but of different nations. Needless to say, the parts they play have little or nothing to do with the subject of the drama, but they afford great scope for delineation of character. There is not, of course, in Southern India, the uniformity in dress that we notice in England of the present day.
A man’s trade, profession, religion, and sect are expressed by his dress and ornament—or lack of both. To mention three of the different vēshangal shown on this occasion, there were a Mahrattah tattooing-woman, a north country fakir, and a man and woman of the Malsar caste, each of the parts being dressed to perfection, and admirably sustained. The Malsars are a low caste, and employed in certain parts as bearers of announcements of death (written on palm leaves) from the family of the deceased to relatives at a distance. As they hobbled about, bending over their short crooked crutch sticks, with turbans of twisted straw and bark, and girt with scanty and dirty sackcloth kilts, they would have made a mummy laugh; and they were equally mirth-provoking when they broke into a rough song and dance peculiar to chucklers (leather-workers) when more than usually intoxicated. When Kāma had finally declared his unalterable determination to engage in his contest with Siva—a point which was only reached after discussion almost as interminable as a dialogue of Euripides—the performers, and part of the audience, moved off in a procession, which slowly perambulated the town, and halted for prayer before the village temple. The ‘stage wait’ was filled up by some simple playing and singing by a few local amateurs. This brought on the climax of the tragedy.
The Kāma stake, to give it an appropriate English name, was now ready. This was a slight stake or pole, a little above a man’s height, planted among a few bricks, and made inflammable by a thatching or coating of cholum straw bound round it. The top of this straw pillar was composed of a separate sheaf. When all was ready, and the chorus had sung a strain expressive of grief at Kāma’s doom, a rocket, representing Siva’s fiery glance, shot along a string, and (with some external assistance) lighted the Kāma stake, thus closely following the procedure in an Italian church festival. The player who represented Kāma now retired into the background, as he was supposed to be dead, and the rest, hopping and dancing, circled slowly round the fire wailing for his fate. It seemed to be a matter of special import to the audience that the stake should be completely consumed. This was an omen of prosperity in the coming year. The funeral dance round the fire continued for a long while, and, when it was but a short time to sunrise, the mummers were still beating their breasts round the smouldering ashes. It seemed that, though some of the songs were composed for the occasion, a great part of the play was traditional, and the audience knew what to expect at any given period in the performance. At one stage it was whispered that now the giant would come in, and lift up a sheep with his teeth.
In a few moments he made his appearance, and proved to be a highly comic monster. His arms, legs, and body were tightly swathed in neatly twisted straw ropes, leaving only his feet and hands bare. His head was covered by a huge canvas mask, flat on front and back, so that the actor had the appearance of having introduced his head into the empty shell of some gigantic crab. On the flat front of this mask-dial was painted a terrible giant’s face with portentous tusks. Thus equipped, the giant skipped round the various characters, to the terror of the buffoon, brandishing a quarter-staff, and executing vigorous moulinets. An unwilling sheep was pushed into the ring, and the giant, after much struggling, tossed the animal bodily over his head with a dexterous fling that convinced most of the onlookers that he had really performed the feat with his teeth.”
