A note on Sree Subrahmanya Bhujangam

  “Sree Subrahmanya Bhujangam” composed by Sree Aadisankara


(P.G.Krishnamoorthy, author of commentary In English on the composition)

The place and prominence assigned to Lord Kaartthikeya (Subrahmanya) in Hindu Mythology are unique and great. Ancient literature, both in Sanskrit and Tamil, on this deity is eloquent on this aspect. Skaanda puraanam, Kacchiappa Sivaachaaryar’s rendering of the epic in Tamil, Arunagirinaathar’s Thiruppugazh and a host of compositons (Sthalapuraanams) relating to the Lord who is the main deity in many temples in South exemplify this.

Aadi Sankara, though, he was the proponent of the Advaitha philosophy, and authored many commentaries on Upanishads and works of the highest order of philosophy, also encouraged the Bhakthi cult as the easiest way to approach and be close to the Almighty. He is acclaimed as the “Shanmatha sthaapaka” and has produced a large number of nectar-like sweet verses on various deities and even the rivers considered as sacred by Hindus, for the benefit of the common man. In this, probably he has followed Lord Krishna’s concise and clear advice to Arjuna through verse 55 of chapter 18 of Bhagavathgeetha – “Bhakthya maamanujaanathi yaaavan yaschaasmi thathvathah/ Thatho maam thathvatho gjnaathva visathe thadanantharam”. Appearing at the conclusion of fairly complicated dialogues and discourses on philosophical aspects, this verse is significant.

Sankara has also defined the term Bhakthi and given a classic example in verses 61 (“Ankolam Nijabeejasanthathi …… Sa bhakthirithyuchyathe”) and 63 (“Maargaavarthitha paaduka……Vanacharo Bhakthaavathamsaayathe”) of “Sivaanandalahari”.

“Sree Subrahmanya Bhujangam commands a special status among Sankara’s Bhakthi sthothras. It may be because Sankara himself experienced the power of alleviation of sufferings which this avathara manifested in his case. The legend is that when Sankara’s reputation as a scholar and debator par excellence was soaring, a rival’s black magic caused him unbearable pain and at Lord Gokarneswara’s direction, he worshipped Lord Subrahmanya at the temple at Tiruchendur on the sea shore in Tamil Naadu and got instant relief. Or it may be that Sankara desired to stress the fact that the Lord, taking Avathara as six sparks from Lord Siva’s eyes, represents the gross as well as the finest and most sublime principles and hence He is accessible to all strata of society, showering his benign blessings and protection equally on all those who approach Him, whether casually for removal of specific problems or as staunch devotees for the sole purpose of proximity to Him (verse 27 of Subrahmanya Bhujangam).

The 33 verses are exquisitely structured and flow from theme to theme effortlessly and elegantly, which Sankara attributes to the power of the effulgence that permeates his heart as he contemplates on the Lord. Rarely has Sankara commenced a composition with an invocation to Lord Ganesa as in this case. This itself shows the importance which Sankara attaches to this composition. The very first verse on Lord Subrahmanya (third verse seriatim) highlights the inner significance of Subrahmanya avathaara as the essence of “ Mahaavaakyas” namely “Pragjnaanam Brahma”, “Ayamaathma Brahma, “Thatthvamasi” and ”“Aham Brahmaasmi”, which identify the Aathma or soul with Brahman.

Description of the Lord’s beautiful form “Paadaadikesam” (from his feet to his crown) in verses 8 to 17 and the next verse on Lord Siva embracing Him affectionately, are both emotionally touching and philosophically lofty. Verse 19 gives the 11 names of the Lord, chanting of which takes one close to Him and ensures His unfailing and constant protection and alleviation of the threefold sufferings, namely, Aadhyathmika, Aadhibhouthika and Aadhideivika. This and verse 23 give the clue to control the mind ravaged by earthly sentiments, like anger, lust, greed, ego , while verse 26 spells out the method of concentrating one’s faculties on the Lord, for which one requires support from his family and freedom from disturbing pests and diseases -- again, factors that only the Lord can grant-vide verses 28 and 29. The concluding verses are prayers for forgiveness for all the sins committed, surrender to the Lord and praising His Glory as well as statement of the benefits arising from chanting the verses.

I have experienced the hand of Divinity guiding me while writing the commentary. The appreciation expressed by scholars should therefore legitimately go to the Lord Himself, who made me the instrument to write it.

Subrahmanyogm Subrahmanyogm Subramanyogm!! Om SaanthisSaanthisSaanthih!!!

(P.G.Krishnamoorthy, Retired Dy.Chief Officer, Reserve Bank of India, 8A/12, Brindavan, Thane West-400601, Maharashtara State)

About my learning to play mridangam

ABOUT MY LEARNING TO PLAY MRIDANGAM
“”Raa nithi Raathu, Po nithi Pothu”” (what will not come, will not come –what will not go, will not go) saint Thyagaraja’s Krithi in Raagam Manirangu, Aadi Thaalam
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I had a craving for classical Carnatic music even from my babyhood. As a boy of three, I used to sit on a mat and listen to the music and Harikatha programmes arranged during our village car festival and even at marriage functions. In those days, a music concert was a must at all functions, even minor family level functions like poonal and during all festivals, there used to be two or even three such programmes each day, if the parties were rich enough to afford the expenses.( A marriage or Upanayanam meant minimum four days of celebrations).
Maani Bhagavathar, a disciple of Sri Chembai Vaidyanatha Bhaagavathar, was staying in our village and teaching Carnatic vocal music. My father sent me to him. He heard my voice and said that I would not be good at vocal music and that I should try some instrument.
There was one Menon, teaching Mridangam in our village when I was about four. I used to go there and sit watching the students play. Initial lessons were imparted using a block of wood shaped as a Mridangam with black paint in the place of the choru. I would sometimes try to beat on this and sometimes I used to be allowed to give a few soft strokes on the real Mridangam. Menon used to give me a biscuit or sweet. But Menon moved out of our village within a year or so.
During the festival concerts I would not sleep till the conclusion of the last programme for the day. My father had noticed this. But he was very reluctant to allow me to learn the art, though he was aware of the aesthetic aspect. With very few exceptions, the professional musicians and dramatists known to him, were of bad character and most of them had no formal education and therefore, they were crude in their behaviour. Except those at the top, they had no steady income. When I pestered him a lot, he made some enquiries and came to know that a local goldsmith, was playing Mridangam at some dramas. So father requested him to teach me. The goldsmith told me that he had not learnt the art from anyone and was just playing for their community dramas known as kootthu on the basis of what he had learnt through hearing others. So that did not take off. In the process, we gifted a small Mridangam, made out of palmyrah wood to the goldsmith as he did not have one of his own.
When I was about 11 years old, there was a festival known as Akhandadhaarai at our village temple. The couplet “Hare Raama, Hare Raama, raama Raama Hare Hare” set to different tunes, was chanted nonstop for 24 hours doing pradakshinam around one holding a thambura (symbolising probably Naaradamahaarshi or Aanjaneya). A number of mridangists were also there. At one point, someone, noticing my drumming on a bench, asked me to play the Mridangam. At that point, my father, who was then the mathematics teacher for S.S.L.C., , Srinivasa Iyer, the then headmaster, and Palakkad Mani Iyer’s first Guru Sri Chatthapuram Subba Iyer, entered the pandal (where the function was conducted). Srinivasa Iyer noticed me and he told my father that I had a real talent which should be encouraged. Sri Subbaiyer immediately said that he would gladly take me as a student if I could be sent to Palghat during the vacation. My father’s distant cousin was running a hotel at Olavakkot which is about two miles away from Sri Subbaier’s house by road. But if one crossed kalpathy river diagonally, it is just about half a mile. My master started the lessons and taught a few jadis and mohras within a fortnight. Unfortunately for me, he had a series of kutcheris which kept him away from home. I was also feeling home sick. So I came home more than once. Anyway, not much could be learnt there. With what little I knew, I used to play for the Bhajanai at our place. I had a small Mridangam brought by my cousin sister’s husband. (At Mangalore I gifted it to a boy who showed keen interest in the instrument).
In 1949 June when I was about 14 ½, I joined the Vivekananda College, Mylapore, Madras for my higher studies. I stayed in the hostel. We were four in a room. The college, in the Ramakrishna Mission Group was run on charity. Our furniture consisted of one chair, one table and a bookshelf accommodated on the table, for each student. Students had to sleep on the floor. Someone had donated 40 cots made of wooden frame and plywood top. There were about 130 students in all besides some members of the faculty. So cots were allotted on the basis of lottery. Though one of the junior most in the hostel, I was lucky to get one cot. The sound while drumming on the cot was quite pleasing. I used to involuntarily drum on the cot occasionally. A few of the students were proficient in Carnatic classical music. My drumming attracted their attention. We began to have music sessions off and on. Some other music enthusiasts also joined. At the end of my first year, when I was about to go to my native place for the summer vacation, most of these strongly advised me to have intensive coaching in Mridangam as, in their opinion, I was really very talented. Immediately on reaching my village, I started the search for a good teacher. There was none in our place or in the immediate neighbourhood. The only name which cropped up frequently was that of Sree Kuinisseri Mani Iyer. Kunisseri was about 5 miles away by road. But a short- cut across the Thrippavallur river would reduce it to about four, provided there was no water in the river. Mostly during summer months of March to June, the riverbed was dry. Though some buses plying between Palakkad and southern parts like Alathur, Trichur etc, touched Kunisseri, service was infrequent and even for boarding the bus one had to come to Thrippavallur or Bank Road, almost a mile away from my village. Kunsseri Mani Iyer was one of the three rising stars among mridangists from Palakkad Taluk in those days, the other two being the Great Maestro, Sree Palakkad Mani Iyer and Sree Palakkad Ramachandran. Nature has its own way of choosing the best among equal contenders for the top position. Palakkad Ramachandran became mentally unstable and Kunisseri Mani Iyer contracted the dreaded Leprosy. Both these were eliminated from active participation at concerts. It was not that Sree Mani Iyer got an undue advantage because of this. He was un-paralleled and innovative in every aspect of playing Mridangam, which the other two and the music world all over, accepted and acknowledged. He deserved the topmost position in the field on his own merit and as someone remarked, he commanded respect as one “”Na Bhootho, Na Bhavishyathi”” who had no equal in the past nor would there be one in future.
Well, when I mentioned Sree Kuinisseri Mani Iyer’s name to my father, he was very hesitant. He never wanted me to take chances with a disease of that type. But Sri Padmanabhan Master, who was my teacher and scout master in the school, and hailed from kunisseri, made thorough enquiries and assured my father that Sri Mani Iyer had recovered substantially and there would be no occasion for me to have contact with him or to use the instrument used by him. So it was fixed that I should take lessons from Sri Mani Iyer. I used to get up at 4 ‘’O clock in the morning, have bath in the village tank with my father, have my breakfast comprising previous day’s rice, curd and pickles and then walk 4 to 5 miles to Kunisseri. En route I used to chant at least three rounds of Vishnusahasranaamam. On reaching the village, I would rest for about ten minutes and then my lessons would begin. On the very first day itself, my master said that my fingers had natural tendency to produce the correct Naadam. So he started with the first lessons and immediately put me on to Aadi Thaala Thani Aavartthanam pattern also. Classes were daily and they would last two hours or more. I would return home by about one O’Clock, have my meals and then practice in the evening for about two hours. Within two and a half months, my guru taught me a number of “”Paatakkais”” (positioning of fingers ) and basic Thani Aavartthanams in Aadi, Roopakam, Misra Chappu, Khanda Chappu and Aadi double kalai. Since he could sing, he also gave guidance in accompanying vocal music.
My friends in the hostel, appreciated this very much. During the two weeks michaelmas vacation in September, some more lessons were added. I was to continue to learn during the Christmas vacation. Unfortunately, Fate struck a deathblow to this wish ; my father expired on 27th December 1950. We left my village for good in January 1951 and arrived at Madras.
Meanwhile, at Madras, my two elder brothers and I had set up household in the premises at 31 coral merchant street, which had been vacated by my uncle. This involved travel from one end of the city to the other for my college classes and I also had to assist in cooking and cleaning. Support for my engaging in music, which I received from my hostel friends, stopped. I used to practice whatever I had learnt, whenever circumstances permitted.
In 1958, when Sri T.S.Rajagopalan, my colleague in Reserve Bank who used to organise music and religious programmes at the Perumaal temple in Nungambaakkam in connection with the Hanumathjayanthi, was in need of a mridangist for a concert, my name was mentioned by a friend. I could not accept the programme, but the introduction later brought me in contact with some professional musicians. I played at an informal get- together and the professionals assured me that I had enough talents and urged me to continue to take lessons. I just left it at that as I had many other things to do.
Sri C.V.Ramakrishnan, a cousin’s maternal cousin was employed in Vauhini Studios, Kodambakkam . I visited him once. When I stepped into his place, a friend of his and he were playing Mridangam. He told me that he was taking lessons from Sri K. Subrmanian, a disciple of Sri Palakkad Mani Iyer. Since he had seen me in the days when I was taking lessons from Sri Chatthapuram Subbaier, he asked me also to play. After hearing me he said that he would take me to his Guru and I must continue my lessons. For six months, we tried to find a mutually convenient day for him to take me, but he was too busy and ultimately, he introduced me to his Guru over the phone. His Guru agreed to see me on 11th July, 1959. We met. After preliminaries, he asked me if my palms sweated during exercise. He said if so, there was no point in my learning as the black portion of the right side of the instrument would become wet and this would affect the “”naadam”” (tone). Fortunately, I was free from this. After hearing me play, he agreed to teach me , but he said that I had to start from the first lessons ”Paatakkai” as I had to change the fingering position. He also said that I must find at least two hours a day for practice, for a minimum period of two years. I should not play for any concert or even bhajan and I should not also listen to other programmes and try to copy the playing of anyone else till he gave the clearance. I agreed to all the conditions. Then it was fixed that I should start the lessons from 13th July, a couple of days before the start of the inauspicious month of ‘”Aadi. So, Ramakrishnan’s Guru became my third Guru and counting from the time I set my fingers on Mridangam, he was the fifth. The fee was Rs.10 a month for lessons on three days in a week.. My Guru was a distant relation of Sri Palakkad Mani Iyer. He had had his initial lessons from Chunangaad Appu Iyer, fairly well-known in Kerala. Later he came under the tutelage of Sri Palakkad Mani Iyer. His family was at Ernakulam for a number of years. There he had participated in many concerts even by senior artistes. The family shifted to Madras in the latter half of 1950s. Competition in music field was severe. Except established artistes, the others had practically no chance even for survival unless they had strong patronage and support. Fortunately, he had passed matriculation with good marks and had also learnt type-writing. He got a job in a company and also had a few tuitions. He was only four years older than me and was a bachelor. He was living with his parents and younger brothers.
I presented myself at his residence on 13th July 1959 at 7 pm. My first lessons were started. I had to change my fingering and this meant that until my Guru Okayed the position of fingers while playing the “”chollus””, I could not be given the regular Thani Aavartthanam lessons. At the conclusion of the lesson that day, my Guru told me that he would prefer my going to his house for lessons every day, if I had no other engagements, but no extra fee would be charged. I was not married. I had already passed my C.A.I.I.B. examinations and also two diploma examinations then conducted by the Indian Institute of Bankers. I did not have any assignment after office hours. So this suited me immensely. I would reach home by 5.30 or 5. 45 p.m. after office, have my bath and do my evening prayers and, fortifying myself with good snacks and coffee, I would reach my Guru’s place by 7 p.m. By that time, he would also have finished his evening prayers and visit to temples. Every day, he would ask me to repeat some of the old lessons and then give new ones. He was keen that I should practice the lessons and play to his satisfaction at the commencement of session next day. I used to get up early and after morning ablutions, practice for a couple of hours. Once I could not practice. So that evening I did not go for lessons. He telephoned me next day and enquired as to why I did not go. When I told him that I could not practice, he said, ”What if you could not? You can practice here. But do not cut classes on that count.” His sincerity was exemplary.
Within two months, I got over the paatakkais to his satisfaction and he started the regular Jadis and mohras of Aadi Thaalam. At the end of one year I had gained mastery over seven Thaalams. During the second year of my learning under this master, my mother had to be at my sister’s place for about six months. I was cooking my own food. My Guru and his parents would insist that on Sundays I should be at their place by 9 a.m. I would have regular lessons till noon. Then I would have lunch there and take rest for a couple of hours. Around 3 pm, Mr.D.V.Pathanjaleeswaran, Sri Palakkad Mani Iyer’s sister’s son (Palakkad Raghu’s brother-in-law), living close by, would arrive. He was working for Ashok Leyland. He had learnt music under Palakkad K.V.Narayanaswamy and attended innumerable concerts where Sri Mani Iyer had played Mridangam. One cannot say that he was a full-fledged musician capable of singing pallavis of his own. But what little he had, was good and his style was a copy of Sri Ariyakkudi Ramanuja Iyengar’s “”baani””. His Varnams and keertthanais, which were mostly the ones often sung by Ariyakkudi, were clear and any mridangist would derive pleasure in accompanying him. My guru had also learnt vocal music for a number of years. After tea, these two would sing and give me training in accompanying vocal music for two hours or more.
In December 1960, Pathanjali had a brilliant idea that we should celebrate Saint Thyagarajaswamigals aaraadhana, which fell on 6th January 1961. There was a marriage hall ( used to be called choultry) nearby. Since it was the month of Maargazhi and there were no bookings, the owner offered it free of rent for three days. A number of music enthusiasts in and around the area offered to help financially and physically. In those days, there were many amateur artistes and even some professionals who would gladly participate at such functions without expecting any remuneration. As a matter of courtesy, they would be offered conveyance facility and tea or lunch/ dinner. Programmes for three days, commencing with Unchavritthi on 6th January morning around 8 a.m., followed by rendering of Pancharathna Krithis, Samaaaraadhaana, and a series of kutcheries of two hours’ duration, were charted. Response from the local public was very good.
After Unchavraitthi covering a few streets around a temple of Aanjaneya, and some others in the area known as Komaleswaranpet, the artistes assembled for the rendering of Pancharathna Krithis.
My Guru came to me with a plateful of sugar candy offered as neivedyam for the deity and put a small pinch of it in my mouth saying that I would be playing at two or three concerts during the programme and that would be my Arangetram. Normally, an Arangetram is performed as a public function and the Guru is honoured with a handsome Guru Dakshina ( remuneration in cash and kind like costly dhothies, gold, etc.). So I told him that I did not catch the significance. He smiled and said “”Gurudakshina need not necessarily mean cash and valuables. A student’s dedication, proficiency and sincerity are the main things which a Guru should expect in a disciple. There are many great vidwans who have not taken anything from their disciples. I shall be more than satisfied if you play well and earn a good name as a mridangist.””
The artistes sat for rendering the pancharathna krithis. I presumed that I too should play and I was about to get my Mridangam ready. My Guru stopped me and said I was not ready for accompanying the rendering of Pancharathna krithis. Old timers gave a lot of importance to the aesthetics as well emotional appeal of the krithis . Mridangam accompaniment should closely follow the chittaswaras and sahithyam and the playing should be mellow and sound effect should be good. This meant that the mridangist should also know the krithis well. I was nowhere near this. But immediately after the last krithi, I was asked to play for a couple of songs. The congregation adjourned for lunch. Regular concerts were to start at 4 p.m. My guru was to play for the first concert. About five minutes to 4 pm, my Guru’s brothers rushed to me and asked me to get the Mridangam ready and ascend the platform . I protested that My Guru was to play, but they said that he had suddenly taken ill due to strain of the past several days in organising the events and there was no other mridangist available. So I got on to the stage and played. The opening krithi was “”Raama Bhakthi Saamraajya”” in Suddha Bangala Raagam. Towards the end of the concert My Guru came looking very weak and tired. He had heard part of the concert as he came. He said “”Besh”” meaning “”very good”.
That was my arangetram. Due to local support, what started as celebration of a single event, turned out to be the genesis of a small music sabha styled Sree Thyagabrahma Bhakthajana Sabha, arranging monthly concerts by junior artistes eager to show their talents. They were not novices , though many were amateurs dedicated to the cause of music. I got some opportunities to play at these concerts. This brought me in touch with other artistes and I got offers from other forums including the concerts for various festivals like navarathri, Ramanavami . After this “”arangetram””, my Guru stopped taking fee from me. In the initial stages of my entry as a mridangist my guru gave me a piece of advice. He said “Never attach too much importance to rounds of applause from all and sundry. You should be able to locate the really knowledgeable persons in the audience and watch their reaction from time to time. That will be an index of your performance. Over a period of time, you will develop the capacity for self-assessment and know how you perform. Thereafter, there will be no need for you to look to anyone else for judging your contribution to the success of the concert. What others think or say will not matter. You will know your weak and strong points and shape and refine your performance for better effect. It will be a continuing process.”
In 1962, C.V.Kuppuswamy, a professional Mridangam/kanjeera artiste sent me a post card. Kumbakonam Brothers (Sri Sankaran and Sri Viswanathan) were giving a concert at Thyagabrahma Sabha at Ekambareswarar Agrahaaram . Sri R.S.Gopalakrishnan , was to play on the violin. Kuppuswamy was playing kanjeera and I was to play mrigandam. There is a Thyagraja Vdwath samaajam in Mylapore. They have monthly concerts on Bahula panchami day. Similarly, the sangeetha vidwans on Madras City side had a samaajam which celebrated the annual Thyagaraja Aaraadhana and had concerts on Bahula Panchami day every month. The kutcheri in which I was to participate was on bahula Panchami day. I showed the card to my Guru. He read it and became thoughtful for some time. Then he told me “”Kumbakonam Brothers are quite senior and their performance will be of a high standard. With a little luck, they could have come up like Aalathur Brothers. R.S.Gopalakrishnan is also more or less like them and accompanies senior artistes. You are a novice. Anyway, the offer has come in the name of God and Saint Thyagaraja. They will take care of you. Go and play well. Take my Mridangam which is much better than yours””.
I took my mother’s blessings as usual and went. As we sat for the concert, I could see that practically all the members of the fairly large audience, were professional musicians. Thanjavur Krishnamoorthy Rao, mridangist and Thiruvalloor subramaniam, violinist, who regularly accompanied M.L. Vasanthakumari were also there. There was no formal introduction of the artiste at the beginning of the programme. All except me were already well known to the audience. The concert started with Thygaraja’s “”Raama Nee Poi thanake”” in Kethaaram and within five minutes, the concert got on to a lively note – what in usual parlance is described as “”Kutcheri kalai kattidutthu””. I could guess from the beginning that the main artistes had gauged my standard and were doing their best to encourage me and lead me. The kanjeera artiste also co-operated very well and we were appreciated as a good team. The main krithi was “Daarini thelusu kondi “” in Suddha Saaveri after which we had the thani Aavartthanam. In the vote of thanks which followed, Thanjavur Krishnamoorthy Rao, President of the Sabha, said about me “” the Mridangam artiste is new to us. His performance was pleasing and appropriate. Even many seasoned mridangist are deficient in performance due to lack of proper naadam, clarity of chollu and co-ordination between the left and right hands. The right hand may be moving correctly, while the left will be banging out like one washing a dhothi on a stone (Veshti thokkara maathiri) or the left may be soft and smooth while the right would not move in unison. Today’s mridangist stands out in Naadam, clarity and choice of chollus in accompanying the music.””. It was a tribute from a veteran and we later became quite good friends. But I knew in my heart of hearts that had not Kumbakonam brothers actively encouraged me and led me on, I would not have been able to do much. Within a minute, they could have sung some complicated sangathis or swaras and I would have been floored. They even said that they would like to have me as their accompanist more often and kept up a friendship with me although I was far too junior in age and incomparably small in knowledge and experience.
Soon thereafter, I was teamed with Kalakkad Ramanarayana Iyer, a senior Vidwan and well-known teacher, at a few concerts. In 1963, my Guru asked me to apply for audition to All India Radio. I was selected and placed in the concert grade. My first performance was with Kalakkad Ramanaarayana Iyer for one hour and fifteen minutes and was broadcast on 13th December 1964. T.Kesavalu was on the violin. We started with “”Manasaayadulo”””in malayamaarutham raga. The main piece was in Saveri. Immediately after the recording, Kalpathy Ramanathan ( a senior disciple of Sri Palakkad Mani Iyer) and Madras Kannan, another senior mridangist, who were listening from the announcer’s cabin, came to me and congratulated me on my performance. When I told them that I was an amateur and it was only my hobby, Ramanathan said that he too learnt the art when he was at college, but over a period of time, it became his profession and besides being on the permanent staff of AIR, he was also accompanying Smt.M.S.Subbalakshmi at concerts. Both advised that I should practice as often as possible and at least keep the “”chollu””s and songs rolling in my mind. Aesthetic playing could be achieved only by constantly thinking and trying to provide innovations in the method of playing and accompanying other artistes. Sri N.M.Narayanan, a well-known critic wrote in his review of the programme in the Mail (an evening paper then published in Madras)“P.G.Krishnamoorthy gave pleasing accompaniment on the Mridangam”. My guru was immensely pleased. I took the cheque given by the AIR to him. He was very happy to see it. He asked whether I had shown it to my mother. Then he asked me to place it before the pooja lamp at his house and prostrate. I did so and then told him that he should take at least this amount. He smiled and said,” the remuneration is for the person who played at the concert. For the Guru, the credit for producing such an artiste is more than sufficient”. I wonder how many teachers will have this magnanimity!!!.
In 1965, destiny brought me on to the stage to face larger audiences. Chittibabu, the famous veena artiste was coming up as a rising sun in the music horizon. He was to play at a gathering where a disciple of Sri Sathya Baba was expected. There was a good gathering. In their search for a mridangist, they came to me. I consulted my Guru and he said as usual “”Go ahead””. The Baba had instructed that the concert should start at 5 p.m. whether he was present or not. And it should go on for two to three hours. It was a mike less concert. Veena being a mellow instrument, for me as a percussionist, it was a tough task to control sound, maintain clarity and naadam and produce the required speed and variety in chollus. Chittibabu’s strumming was quite strong and it was a help. In any case, right from the beginning we were able to build a close rapport and do very well. His sankaraabharanam and the composition “”Swararaagasudha””were superb. So was my “Thani aavartthanam””. Thereafter, we gave several concerts together. At our concert in Bangalore Kuchalaambal Kalyana Maahal in June 1967 after the piece nagumomu in Aabheri and my thani aavartthanam, Babu took the mike and said “”it is curse that this excellent artiste has a job in Reserve Bank of India. We are not able to avail of his services as often as we would like to have.” In fact, in April, 1967, he had insisted on my taking part in a recording for Voice of America at the Saraswathi Stores ( HMV studio) and urged me to take a passport so that we could go abroad together..
Unfortunately, there were too many restrictions on my engaging myself in activities other than my duties at the office, even though they were outside my office hours and did not clash with my office work. These restrictions were substantially relaxed in 1977 in respect of literary and artistic pursuits. But by that time, I had risen in official position and I had very little spare time to pursue my art. My performances were confined mainly to taking part in radio programmes which were mostly outside my office hours and other local kutcheries, whenever official work permitted.
Around 1963, Ramakrishna Iyer, a disciple and constant attendant of Sri Palakkad Mani Iyer for over two decades, was introduced to me. He took an instant liking to me and brought me in touch with the Master. I could not grasp most of the complicated calculations and permutations and combinations which Master displayed in abundance in his concerts. But I could, by and large, adopt his style of following while accompanying songs and many of the ”Nadais”” which were always very pleasing to hear. I was complimented on these by many mridangists.
I would like to mention a few lessons on human behaviour, which I learnt in the process of my learning to play Mridangam. In November 1961, I had gone to Tiruchirapally on official duty. I badly needed a Sthayi (high pitch) Mridangam. I thought it would be easy to procure one at Tiruchirapally. My boss knew a person who was close to Sri Tinniyam Krishnan, a well known mridangist. He took me to Sri Krishnan and I conveyed to him my need. Sri Krishnan told me that it would be very difficult to get one Mridangam at short notice, but he promised to try. Then he asked me to play for some time. At that time, I was learning from Sree Subrahmaniam. After hearing me play, Sri Krishnan remarked “ I do not know who your teacher is. But he has taught you exceedingly well. You are working in Reserve Bank of India and you will not grudge paying your fee regularly. There are any number of unscrupulous persons in this field who will find fault with your playing and try to grab you from your present teacher. For Heaven’s sake do not fall a prey to such people’s tricks.”
I realised very soon that this was cent per cent true. An organisation called Sangeetha Vaadyaalaya, sponsored by Tamilnad Government was manufacturing music instruments, mainly to train artisans in the craft. I had bought a Mridangam from this organisation earlier. So I approached this organisation for a stthhayi Mridangam. The official in charge of making Mridangams took the order and promised to give me the instrument in 10 days. I told him that I had already accepted a programme at which this would be needed and wanted an assurance that I would get the instrument in 10 days. He said that he himself was a well known Mridangam teacher and if by chance my Mridangam was not ready in ten days, he was ready to lend me one of his best mridangams suitable for the programme. I cannot say whether it was a coincidence or manipulation, but my Mridangam was not ready on the appointed day. So I went to that gentleman’s residence. He showed me the instrument which he was to lend me and then asked me to play for some time. He did not offer any comment immediately, but asked me to wait. Meantime, he had sent someone to bring one of his students staying nearby. He asked the boy to play and told me to watch closely. When the boy finished, he asked me “” Do you see the difference? The position of your fingers, when you play, is all wrong. Whoever has taught you, has misled you thoroughly. Anyway, you take the Mridangam and after your programme, we should meet. I shall guide you as to how one should handle the instrument.”” I decided that I should have nothing to do with this chap. So I told him that a friend near my place had already promised to give me his Mridangam for the programme. I thanked him for his kindness in offering his Mridangam for my performance and then left. But a month or so after that, he dropped in at my residence and broached the subject. I pleaded inability to think about further lessons in Mridangam due to pressing official work.
In 1965 I had gone to Madurai. I had the good fortune to be introduced to Sree Sankarasivam, the great maestro who had groomed top class musicians. He asked me to play. He was very happy and complimented me and said that my then Guru had taught me very well and the positioning of my fingers was absolutely correct. Coming from Sree Sankarasivam, who was known for his forthright critical comments, it was a very great compliment to me and my Guru. I met Sree Sankarasisvam several times after that and he was genuinely pleased that I was continuing to participate in programmes.
Soon after this, one vocalist told me that I was playing alright, but to be recognised in the music world and sought after, I should have the name of some well-known artiste as my Guru. He suggested that I learn at least for some months, a few lessons from a senior vidwan known to him. This would enable me to tag on the name of the vidwan. I politely declined saying that, for me this was purely a hobby and I was never after money or name.
There were a few more such instances. But all I wanted to emphasise was that there are plenty of snares into which one is prone to fall. For one thing, in this profession, there are many who look to the money angle only. Secondly, more often than not, the way a person has been groomed may not be compatible with the approach of the new Guru and this matters a lot. I have known a number of cases where persons who were coming up well, changed masters and this proved to be the starting point of deterioration.
It is not as though there were no discouraging factors. In fact, on a few occasions, I even thought of giving up the hobby. On one occasion, I was asked to accompany a male artiste who was the disciple of a very great vidwan. This was at the Thyagaraja Sanageetha Vidwath Samajam at Mylapore. Sri Thiruvannamalai Ramamoorthy Iyer was on the violin. Since the artiste was well connected, there was a good crowd. Many of these were trying to boost his image. I was not that well known and nobody really took notice of me. The artiste had a good voice and he started the kutcheri with “”Meru Samaana”” a composition by Saint Thyagraja, in a very slow tempo. Throughout the concert, he was not indicating the thaalam and his own laya level was moving up and down. Somehow I managed to keep the timing and follow the singer. But after a few pieces, he sang a krithi in Roopakam, but his laya was often going from 12 maatharas to 14 maathras. I was fed up. Remembering the Master, Sri Palakkad Mani Iyer, I gave a variety of nadais to support the krithi and bring the layam under control. There was a cheering voice saying “”Bale Krishnamoorthy Sir. Indha paattukku ippadithaan vaasikkanam.”” It was Kumbhakonam Sankara Iyer appreciating my predicament and encouraging me. Thereafter I did not restrain myself and my thani aavartthanam was very much appreciated. However, I overheard one of the joint secretaries, (not a reputed musician himself), whispering to the main artiste that though he had come prepared with a pallavi, he need not sing that and that they would give another opportunity to him with senior accompanists when he could display all his skills. Anyway, I was really put out. After reaching home, I told my mother that when all is said and done, Mridangam is only an accompaniment. If the main artiste fails or does not give opportunity, the mridangist cannot shine, however much he may try. I decided not to pursue the art and did not accept any engagement for about three months and did not even touch the instruments.
But The Almighty had different designs for me. One Friday evening when I was about to commence my Pooja,, my friend Sri V.S.Mani, an amateur vocalist, came very unexpectedly with his cousin, Professor Ramanathan, a Carnatic music professor and said ”My cousin sings very well. I wanted him to sing with your accompaniment. Let us have a session for a couple of hours. “” I told him that I had decided not to play again and narrated the incident. Prof.Ramanathan did something which I never expected. He took the flower garlands which I had kept ready for my pooja and put them nicely on all the pictures of our Gods. Then he said “”In a field like music, disappointments are as common as laurels. Even Palakkad Mani Iyer is not spared. Some persons even create problems to pull down an artiste or push up an undeserving one. You should not be put out by these. Please perform the Aarathi and then we shall begin our session. You have just started your contribution as a mridangist. You will go a long way. Small pinpricks should not stop you.”” Then he started with Viribhoni Varnam and we went on for more than two hours. I resumed participating in Kutcheries.
There were two more occasions when I almost gave up playing.
In 1964-65, I started having a peculiar problem. Normal duration of our kutcheries was three to four hours. Halfway through the programmes, my left upper arm would become stiff and stony hard, with a reddish tinge. It used to be very painful even to lift the hand. I consulted some doctors, and they said that it was thromboflabitis or lyphangitis. They advised me to give up playing Mridangam. I was wondering what to do. How it was miraculously cured is recorded in my letter to the journal “”SRUTI’’. Once, when I met Sri Chembai Vaidyanatha Bhaagavathar, he asked me how I was progressing in my performance on midangam. I told him about my problem. He immediately said “”Don’t worry. At the next Guruavaayoor Ekaadasi festival, we, that is I , on your behalf, shall offer a pair of arms in silver to Guruvaayoorappan. From now onwards, you are rid of the malady.”” The problem never recurred. Though I wished to attend the Guruvaayoor Ekaadasi festival and take part in the music concerts from that time, it was only in 1981 that I was able to do so. Chembai had attained the Lotus feet of the Lord by that time. But it was a coincidence that the vocal artiste whom I accompanied on the Mridangam sang Chembai’s favourite song “”Thaaye yasoda..”” in Thodi raagam emotionally and I was equally overcome and played exceedingly well and got a good name.
The third occasion was in 1967 or 1968. Due to the vigorous process of Reserve Bank and Government weeding out small and weak banks, the section in which I was working had heavy work load. I had also accepted a number of engagements as mridangist at the Navarathri and Skandashashti festivals. It was quite a strain and I developed chest pain. My mother was very much upset. I decided to put a stop to my participation in the kutcheries and I even parted with one of my best mridangams to Kuppuswami, who had encouraged me initially to participate in programmes. But pressure from friends, especially Chitty Babu pulled me back.
By about 1970, my official tours increased both in number and in duration. So practising Mridangam became a casualty as the instrument is inconvenient to transport. A close friend had literally dumped his old violin at my flat. Sri Sundaram Iyer, a professional violinist and frequent visitor to my residence, suggested that I learn to play violin also as this would complement the quality of my performance as a mridangist. I tried this as the instrument was easy to carry and I could practice at my lodge while on tour. I learnt the initial lessons and a few “”varnams””. But, again Chitty Babu cautioned me against the attempt. He said that my forte as a mridangist was the Naadam and clarity of chollu. Handling a string instrument was sure to develop grooves in the fingers and these would probably affect my playing Mridangam. Anyway, I gave up the violin lessons.
I left Madras in August 1976. Thereafter my activity as a mridangist tapered to radio programmes plus just a few public programmes. I never took part in programmes organised by Music sabhas as I would have to take prior permission from my office. If due to exigencies of office and unexpected tours, I could not be present at the concert, it would cause embarrassment to the organisers and eventually affect my good name in the music circles. My stay at Bangalore was only for three years. I was practically unknown in the music circles and pressure of work at the office was also heavy. I had only about twenty programmes over this period. At Mangalore (1979 august to 1983 June), scope was very limited. Hearing my performances broadcast by All India Radio, I was invited to participate at the Saint Thyagaraja festival programmes. I accompanied the then Pontiff of Subrahmanya Mutt who later relinquished his Sanyasa and became a Grihasttha after marriage with a young doctor from Hyderabad.
I shifted to Bombay in June 1983. Between 1983 and 1994, I was asked fairly frequently to play at AIR concerts as there were not many graded artistes and pressure on the staff artiste was too much. I had very few offers other than these. For one thing, I was not well known. Secondly, having shifted from Mangalore, a very small place, I was lost in the big city. Travel was a problem. I took part in one or two kutcheries at the request of some who heard my performance over the radio. As a matter of principle, I never stipulated or expected remuneration for my performance. My service conditions prohibited it. I took part mostly in performances at religious functions and service to God was good enough for me. The income from radio programmes covered my expenses for maintenance of instruments. There were many amateur artistes at Madras in those days, who held the same view. At Bombay, some of the local artistes very guardedly suggested that it was not good on my part to forego remuneration. They said that they had invested in taking tuitions and acquisition and upkeep of instruments. Therefore they had a right to expect reasonable compensation for their performance. Moreover, one would be considered “”very cheap”” if he did not ask for decent remuneration. They also argued that many of the artistes coming from Madras for performances were amateurs, who had income from their employment, but still they were remunerated well. Somehow, I was not very happy to ask for fee for my programmes. The amount I paid to my Gurus was next to nothing and very often I had taken meals at their places. I was almost a member of their families.
A Divine intervention made me take part in five kutcheries during the Navarathri celebrations at the Subrahmanyaswamy temple at Cheddanagar, in 1984. As there was no vacancy in the office quarters in the locality of my choice, I had occupied a flat belonging to a distant relative at Cheddanagar, on arrival at Mumbai in June 1983. Some neighbours noticed my playing Mridangam at home and they asked me to take part in the saint Thyagaraja Aaraadhana that year. Music classes were being conducted at the temple and the teacher became my friend. I told him that the Thyaagaraaja Sangeetha Vidwath Samajam used to have a 24 hours non-stop rendering of the Saint’s krithis at Thiruvayyar on Mahaasivaraathri day. I suggested that they could consider having a programme like that or at least a kutcheri for a few hours. The suggestion appealed to him and some other committee members. So they asked me to find a fairly good vocalist who would not ask for any remuneration, as they were short of funds. One of my colleagues was a good vocalist and he was also eager to sing at the temple. So everything was set for the programme on the Sivarathri day in 1984. But a day prior to the programme, one of the committee members called me and said that there would be abhishekams four times from evening and apart from the naadaswaram, bells would ring, He felt that a kutcheri would not fit in with the scheme of rituals. So the idea was dropped. However, it left me wondering how in temples in the south where similar abhishekams were conducted, managed to have music programmes the same day.
I left it at that. But it in retrospect, it appears that the Gods in the temple did not. That year, during navarathri, the temple could not arrange for the usual Chandi Homam due to paucity of funds. When I visited the temple one day near-about Navarathri, the music teacher and some committee members gave me this information. They were feeling sad that though the temple had a shrine of Devi, there would be no special programme in the evening. They said that if talented musicians would come forward to give performances without expecting remuneration, it would be helpful to fill the void and asked me to suggest some names. I took it seriously and requested my friends. Three or four agreed provided the dates were convenient and I communicated these to the music teacher. When I visited the temple next, the secretary told me that a number of amateur artistes had requested to be given chances to perform during Navarathri and there was no need to trouble my friends. Of course, if I wanted, I could take part in one or two concerts. I said that I would step aside and let others play. Ultimately, it was decided that I should take part in two concerts that is, on the second and fifth day. Due to a play of circumstances, I had to provide accompaniment for five concerts, including those of Smt.Aruna Sayeeram and Matunga sisters. By the Grace of the Almighty, I was able to do justice. After the vote of thanks by the committee member on the third occasion (when I accompanied Smt. Aruna Sayeeram), I took the microphone and said that it was not fair on my part to play for so many concerts in the series, while a number of young artistes were yearning for chances to perform. I would happily give place to those and encourage them. If there was a situation where a programme would have to be cancelled for want of a mridangist, I would gladly take the place and do my best to support the programme. While saying this, I had in mind Sri Paalakkad Mani Iyer’s advice to me which I have narrated in my write up on the Great Master ( my blog link pgkrishnamoorthy.blogspot.com) . I meant what I said. In the music field, I am a small fry - an unknown entity. There was no justification for my trying to appropriate more than what I deserved, so long as I derived pleasure and satisfaction in the few concerts in which I participated.
Even in the radio programmes, I found a lot of difference between the concerts broadcast by stations in the South and Bombay station. For one thing, at Bombay, Carnatic music slots were too few and duration was only half an hour. Many of the main artistes never bothered to give scope to the mridangist to show his mettle. My heart sank even at recording of the first programme. The vocal artiste chose Mariverethi in Shanmukhapriya and she elaborated the raga for over fifteen minutes. The violinist took about seven minutes and hardly 6 minutes were devoted to the song proper. As a mridangist, I had to keep still for twenty-two minutes. Of course, several of the artistes were very good and gave a balanced programme, where all the artistes could effectively contribute and make the concert enjoyable. After a couple of years, a new slot was introduced where the duration was one hour and these concerts offered scope for all artistes and a thani aavarthanam was also provided. However, the thrill and sense of satisfaction arising from my performances, both in radio programmes and outside, which I experienced in the South, had been lost; whether it was due to my mental reservations or otherwise, I cannot say.
In 1992, I shifted residence from Prabhadevi to Thane. This meant travel and transport of mridangams from Thane to AIR studio in back bay reclamation. It was cumbersome. I took part in some programmes up to 1994. By and large, I felt that there was no point in accepting programmes any more. I declined several offers which I received afterwards, over phone.
I never really bothered about up-gradation in the AIR. Early in my association with their programmes, a senior staff member told me that up-gradation would mean frequent calls for programmes – at least once a month. Very often, my official tours were for two to three months at a stretch. If I failed to present myself for scheduled programmes three times, my name would be removed from the list and I would have to seek audition afresh. As matters stood, in the existing grade, being an outside artiste, I would be called only for concerts of one hour or one hour and fifteen minutes duration and I would be teamed with fairly senior artistes. Since I was participating in AIR programmes only for pleasure and not with an eye on remuneration, he advised me not to bother about it. All the same, I was given opportunity to play at full duration concerts, Raagam, Thaanam, pallavi programme and Thaala vaadya Kutcheris. Many of the artistes whom I accompanied were quite senior and well-known in the profession and they were happy at the way I accompanied them .
Ever since I started accompanying musicians in the sixties, many artistes have been visiting my residence ( some at my request and others, on their own) and we have been having sessions of the chamber music type. We derive immense pleasure from these. There is no thought of audience or applause. After all, Saint Thyagaraja and the great composers never had any audience other than their favourite deities in mind or vision when they sang. Saint Thyagaraja refers to Rama as Rasikasiromani in the krithi “Dasarathe “” in Thodi raagam. I recall an occurrence in 1973. I was to accompany Chittibabu at a concert. The venue was near my residence. So he had come to my house before the concert. We had snacks and coffee and we were just leaving for the place. Suddenly Babu turned to me and asked “” Krishnamoorthy Sir, Saint Thyagaraja declined wealth and sang “”nithi saala Sukhama”” Are we not wrong in playing the same songs and demanding money for doing so?”” Well , I was bowled over. But I told him jocularly “” what the Saint had in mind was for the realised souls. If all were to be like him, what would the Gods feel after creating all these glorious things. Don’t you think they will be disappointed that there is no one to enjoy them?””
My little knowledge of this art has brought me in touch with many eminent persons and they have showered affection and love on me . Above all, it has given me peace of mind and many a time, I have buried my troubles in the sweetness of the sounds emanating from this instrument. For all the beating I give it, it responds with a sweetness and soothing effect that elevate my heart and spirit.
Playing Mridangam requires a lot of energy and tuning the instrument itself is a tough task some times. In spite of all these, it has had a tonic effect on my activities both during my student life and later on. The fact that I was able to perform my duties at the office and at home, do justice to the programmes in which I took part, play an active part in the social life of our RBI Staff quarters and also take my Law degree, is proof positive of this statement. That is why I suggest to people who have learnt an art almost up to “”take off level”” and then give up saying they have other work, to somehow find a few hours each week to practice and at least maintain what they learnt, if they cannot develop further.
I had some memorable experiences, some miracles and some funny episodes and two or three unsavoury ones during the last 50 years since my entry as a stage artiste. I shall record them in good time, for whatever they are worth.
Chembai vaidyanatha Bhaagavathar, the divine soul, prophesied when we met first “”Chuppanallava onakku Mridangam thanthaan . Nee chaakaravaraikkum Vaasippai”” He was meaning Sree Chaaatthapuram Subba Iyer, who was my first real Guru. By their Grace, I am still able to handle the instrument fairly well. And I am sure that I shall do so till the Almighty calls me.
One funny aspect which seems relevant in the context of my taking to Mridangam practice is that there was none in my family who could be called a musician. My father used to write stories and dialogues for dramas and even compose music for the school functions, during his tenure as a teacher and as a Headmaster of a high school. But he never had any training in music nor could he sing or play any instrument. It seems, long before my birth, someone who needed money badly, during the heavy rains of July in Kerala, pledged a Mridangam with my paternal grandfather. He could not redeem it. So grandfather started playing whatever he could, by listening to others and accompany at Bhajanai. When he became old, he gave it to somebody.
I went to a music teacher with the intention of learning vocal music. As Sri Selvapullai Iyengar , a veteran musician at Bangalore told me once, a good voice coupled with good grooming in vocal music has tremendous advantages, especially for one taking to music purely for pleasure or as an approach to divine pursuits. One need not depend upon anyone else and one can sing even while doing the daily chores. I was not destined to get it. But God gave me the pleasure of enjoying good music and participating in music programmes through the use of my fingers if one wishes to put it that way (Selvapullai Iyengar used to say “”Kural illai endraal thaan viral””). Not only that, in spite of my deciding to quit on several occasions in frustration, the art stuck to me. In this sense, Saint Thyagaraja’s words quoted in the caption are very much relevant to me. May His Compassionate Grace be always on me and on all those who take to music as an aid to worship of the Almighty.
P.G.Krishnamoorthy , flat No. 12, Building No 8 A, Brindavan, Thane West – 400601, Maharashtra State, India e mail: pgkrishnamoorthy@gmail.com
My letter to “Sruti”” on Sree Chembai Vaidyanatha Bhaagavathar and a photoraph of my Guru Sree Subrahmanian are appended. I have to attach photos of Sri Ramakrishna Iyer and Sree Chaatthappuram Subbaier, my first Guru, which I should be able to locate soon.
Sree Palghat mani Iyer was too well known. It is not necessary for me to attach his photo.

sree Krishna Temple, South Perinkulam, Palakkad district, Kerala

A web site has been created on this ancient temple NEAR ALATHUR in Kerala State's Palakkad district.
The link is http://sites.google.com/site/perinkulamsrikrishna/
At the time of creation of the web site, the main focus was on the performance of a Kumbhaabhishekam. The kumbhaabhishekam was performed on 24th june 2010.
Selected Photos of this event have been loaded on to the web site.

A write up on the annual Bhrahmothsavam of the temple for over ten days, in the month of Kumbham (February 15th to March 15th) has been added. Some of the photos of the events taken during the previous years, are given in the GALLERY in the web site. Sequence and descriptions of the photos are given below:

Festivals and Events - The car Festival

The most important festival celebrated at the temple is the Brahmothsavam. The period of one month from 15th February to 15th March corresponds to the month of Maasi in Tamil calendar It is also known as Kumbha Maasam in Malayalam and Sanskrit. All the four temples of Perinkulam village celebrate their annual Brahmothsavam during this period.. Right from olden days, Siva temple and Krishna temple have been celebrating Brahmothsavam together. Since Lakshmidevi is the consort of Sri Varadaraaja (Vishnu) and will step out of the temple only in His company, those two temples have to be together in all celebrations. Human nature being what it is with ego and possessiveness dominating over reason and cameradarie, there were occasional conflicts among the villagers in the past. About 80 to 90 years back, at a marriage where the bridegroom was from the South village and the bride from the West village, a dispute arose on some issue. It escalated and soon became a dispute between the two villages. A decision was taken that West village would have nothing to do with South Village and since the latter was managing both Sree Krishna temple and Siva temple, West village and Kariot village (having the Lakshmi devi temple) would celebrate their Brahmothsavam during Navaraathri. Their festival would start with the sukla pratthhama in Kanni month corresponding to the period 15th September to 15th October each year and culminate with the Ratthha yaathra (procession in decorated chariots) on vijayadasami day, 10th day of the waxing moon.
This was the practice during my childhood. Late Sri P.N.Ananthanarayana Ayyar, Advocate, one of our villagers, who had a photographic memory and a penchant for history, used to refer to the break, in a humourous way. It seems there were eight families including mine, where the bridegrooms were from the South village and the brides from the West village. He used to refer to these bridegrooms as Ettu Veettu Pillamaar, though the split occurred only during one of the marriages. It is stated that in the history of Travancore, eight families known as Ettu Veettu Pillamaar, dominated the political scenario and made it well neigh impossible for the King to function. The King ultimately surrendered his Crown to Sree Padmanaabhaswaami, the ruling deity of the place, and decided that he would rule over the land as the servant of the Lord, assuming the title Padmanaabhadaasa..
Leaving the humourous aspect aside, this arrangement had its own plus and minus points For us, youngsters, it was fun to have two car festivals in the same year. In the prosperous years we used to have four elephants for the procession on the ninth day although there were only two idols to be carried. We could have a joy ride on the elephants. Sumptuous prasaadams distributed at the temples, were also an attraction to us. But to the ladies, Navaaraatahri had a special significance of its own with the festival of dolls, good dresses and moving about from house to house for Manjal Kumkumam.. Clubbing it with the car festival, meant foregoing the pleasures of one of the festivals Rain was a nuisance as the month of kanni is usually the tail end of the south-west monsoon. Often rain played spoilsport and the decoration on the chariots was soaked and the procession itself made laborious due to drizzle and slush. With the deprivation of lands, dwindling of incomes of the temples and escalation of costs, the burden on the temples became heavy. Some of the youngsters of the villages pioneered a movement for reverting to the earlier system of all the four temples jointly celebrating the car festival during the month of Kumbham.
Only those who have experience in tackling local sentiments and convincing rural public to adopt a course of action can appreciate the magnitude of their task. Around late fifties or early sixties of the last century, they succeeded and re-integrated the four villages for this purpose. This resulted in economy and better use of resources, more aesthetic presentation and a happier atmosphere for the devout public who attended and participated in the festival. Of necessity, this calls for closer rapport and co-ordinated approach which implies a strict adherence to the give and take principle. By the Grace of the Almighty, this is forthcoming in abundant measure.
Certain changes also came to be made in the pattern and schedule of the festival. The chariot procession, which used to be completed in one day, is now extended to two days. Hence the total duration of the festival is extended by one day. Processions common to all the temples like the procession on elephants on ninth day and the Pallakku procession on 11th day, commence from the Siva temple, which is common to all the three villages.
Though daily routine is attended to by the permanent archaka of each temple, an Aazhwaar specially trained in Vaikhsanasa Aagama Sampradaaya takes over the worship during the brahmothsavam in the Sree Krishna temple, Sree Varadarajaswami temple and Sree Lakshmidevi temple. At the Siva temple, a Gurukkal well versed in Saiva sampradaayam does the worship during the period. At the Siva temple, the festival starts two days after the commencement at the other three temples and is observed only for 10 days.
Our main focus is the celebration at the Sree Krishna Temple, but as it is a common event at all the temples, the practices at other temples are also touched upon where relevant.
There is a room in the inner quadrangle of the temple called the Yaagasaalai, where the Aazhwaar does special poojas and homams (offerings through fire) during the festival. On the first day, the Aazhwar starts the rituals by doing punyaaham, (purificatory ritual), Vishwaksena Pooja, Rakshaabandhanam, Kalasastthhapanam, Anguraarpanam, Vaasthu Homam etc. Nine kalsams filled with water and representing the Lord and other devathas, are kept and worshipped both in the morning and evening. Homams are also performed likewise. At night, an effigy of a human being made of straw is lighted from the Vaasthu homam fire and the burning effigy is taken round the village to the chanting of Manthras and sprinkling of holy water. This is known as Vaasthu bali. The intention is to purify and rid the village, of evil forces and ensure the smooth conduct of the processions of the deity during the festival days.
On the second day, the Dhwajaarohanam (hoisting of flag) is done. The temple has a tall flag mast on the outer peripheri. A bamboo frame of about two square feet is covered with white cloth and a picture of Garuda , a large bird resembling an eagle but with a deep brownish body and white patch at the neck, which is believed to be the vehicle of Lord Vishnu and his incarnations, is drawn on it. This constitutes the flag of Lord Krishna. The flag hoisting is done to involve all the divine forces, the Dikpaalakas etc in the festival and also to keep the evil forces under check during the festival. The parivaaradevathas ( the demigods in and around the peripheri) are propitiated twice everyday during the festival by offer of “bali”.
Abhshekams are performed and the deity is decorated in different attires every day. Varieties of naivedyam (food for the deities) are offered. The temple mantapam is also decorated with “Neramaalai and neravilakku””(rows of flower garlands and lamps). Each day’s rituals are referred to in common parlance as “Vilakku” and one or more devotees offer to bear the expenses.
Besides the Moola Vigraham ( main idol sculptured out of granite and installed inside the sanctum), a smaller portable one made out of bronze (or panchadhaathu, which is an alloy of five metals) and known as the Uthsava moorthy, as well as a replica of Sudarsana Chakram ( discuss, the chief weapon of Lord Vishnu), are also kept inside the sanctum. The Uthsava moorthy is the one taken out in procession around the villages on various occasions. The chakram is taken out for daily bali on the outer peripheri as the representative of the Lord. Both these, suitably decorated, are kept on a swing in the mantapam during the festival.
On the fifth day of the festival the deity is mounted on a Garuda Vaahanam (carved out of wood and decorated) and taken in procession around the village. On Ekaadasi day (11th day of the waxing moon), which is specially auspicious for worship of Lord Vishnu and his Avathaaras, the deity is taken round the village in a small chariot. This chariot is known as Thoppa Theru (probably a corruption of the Tamil expression Theppa Theru). It is stated that at one time, there was a theppam (float) festival
There is a huge tank at the northern end of the village. It seems that the deity was taken on a float on this tank once a year. Lotuses were also cultivated in the tank. Anyway, these are old stories of customs prevalent more than a century ago. Now the small chariot
is used on Ekaadasi day during the Brahmothsavam. for the procession of the deity. These processions are confined to the South village. Incidentally, the South village has two rows of houses facing each other known as the Eratta vari (double row) and behind the row on the eastern side there is another row which is known as the Otra vari (single row), which extends beyond the two rows. A row of houses formed at right angles to the Otrai vari brings one back to the double row and passes beyond the temple’s southern compound wall.. This used to be known as the Thalakaani Tharai ( a row formed like a pillow for the double row). The Sree Krishna temple, being located at one end of the cluster of villages, has several advantages, which the other three temples do not have. It has a full compound of its own and people can circumambulate on the outer peripheri without hindrance. The other three temples are on the public roads and hence they have a limited frontage and one side is actually on the roadside.
Ninth, tenth, eleventh and twelfth days are eventful. On the ninth day, deities of all the temples are taken out in procession on caprisoned elephants. The elephants arrive by morning. Now-a-days, they are transported by trucks as per orders of the Kerala Government. By noon, the drummers and pipers of the percussion ensemble which is a speciality of Kerala tradition, also arrive. Side by side, the artistic decoration of the chariots for the procession on the tenth and eleventh days, also commences. Well before the commencement of the festival, the chariots are taken out of their sheds and repairs to woodwork, metal sleeves on the wheels, etc. are attended to and a touch of warnish or oil is also applied to them to make them shining. At this stage it is only the base of the chariot plus wheels. Thereafter a temporary structure or frame is fitted with pre-designed pieces of wood, to make it five tiered. The first tier is about eight feet in height and the rest are smaller. The first tier is covered in front and rear by what is known as Padal, made of pieces of wood covered with gilt paper and glass pieces, which glitter brightly in sunlight and artificial light. At the center of the Padal, there are openings to allow onlookers to have a view of the deity, which will be placed on a pedestal at the center of the deck of the chariot. Bamboo rings are fixed to the higher tiers and bunches of artificial flowers made of bark of a species of trees and dyed in white which pieces of mica at the ends, are hung on these rings. Dummies of horses with riders, bunches of ripe bananas, coconuts and arecanuts are hung from frames on the base chariot while those of five hooded snakes etc are fixed to the bamboo rings on the higher tiers. On top of all these, a five tiered dome made of brass and well polished, is kept. Pictures can be seen in the Gallery of this webpage.
To come back to the ninth day, in the evening, one of the Padals to be kept on the chariot, is placed in the temple front porch with the Uthsavamoorthy, fully decorated, inside the opening in the Padal, as it will look in the chariot.
After the Sandhya Deepaaraadhana, a troupe of drummers (usually a maddalam, a chendai, a beek (which gives a bass note) and a person with a pair of symbols known as Elatthaalams, gives a short performance at the temple porch. This is known as “Kelikkottu”
For those who are not very familiar with Kerala traditions, a word about the percussion instruments, which are a speciality of the land. Rhythm is in-built in everything in this universe and it appeals to all, if properly handled. The most popular instruments used in Kerala festivals can be grouped into two large patterns. One is called the Panchavaadyam. It is an ensemble of five instruments, namely, Maddalam, Thimila, Edakka, Thaalam and Kombu. At the commencement of the session, but rarely thereafter, a conch shell is used to blow a loud and resonant note. The first three are skin instruments, with wooden shells covered by skin at both ends which are held by straps. Maddalam is fixed to the player’s waist with the aid of a waist band. On one side of the instrument, there is a black patch more or less like that on the right side of the mridangam.The other side is covered by skin and is very hard. So the players wear caps made of white cloth on their fingers. The caps are made of layers of cloth fixed with gum and dried, so that they become hard. Thimilai is about two feet long and is made of hollowed -out wood, with a constriction in the middle. The two ends which are about six inches each in diameter, are covered with skin and are held together by strings. While playing, it is suspended from the left shoulder of the player, by a piece of soft cloth. The player uses both his hands while playing, but with chopping motions of the palms. Fingers are not spread out. Edakkai is a smaller instrument, about 12 to15 inches in length, made of hollowed -out wood , wide at both ends and a constriction in the middle. The ends are covered with discs made of skin. The discs are much bigger in circumference than the wooden shell, with the result that the shell can be moved up and down while playing and different sounds can be produced. While playing, the instrument is suspended from the left shoulder of the player with a piece of cloth. He holds the wooden shell with his left hand and plays on the instrument with a round stick in his right hand. The stick is about 12 inches long, has a diameter of about an inch at the base and tapers with a slight bend at the end. Whenever an instrument is played with a stick in Kerala tradition, wrist movements are very important. Edakkai has the advantage of being a percussion instrument and at the same time, as the octaves can be effectively produced in this instrument, even songs can be played, if the player has the required expertise.
Kombu is a wind instrument and comprises three pieces of pipe which when joined together, form a semi -circle. The mouth piece is small while the end of the pipe is wider. At the appropriate stage in the performance of the other instruments, when the tempo increases, this is blown to accentuate the rhythm.
At the commencement of the procession, the conch is blown three times. The Thimilai, Maddalam, Edakkai and Thaalams start playing in unison with such accuracy of timing that one would wonder how such co-ordination is possible. After a few strokes, the pattern changes to two of the individual units (like Thimilai and thimilai, or thimilai and maddalam, or thimilai and edakkai or maddalam and edakkai) getting into a dialogue pattern. Often they swing into different nadais like Thisram, khandam etc. After a few exchanges, all the instruments play together and the tempo is also quickened to a crescendo. Again they go back to the earlier pattern. “”Korvais””or “”Mohras”” and “”Mutthaippu”” which are important in the laya vinyaasam in Carnatic music are practically absent in this pattern. For those who have a grounding in rhythm, panchavaadyam and chenda melam described below, will be a treat to the ears. .
The other pattern of percussion ensemble peculiar to Kerala, is the CHENDA MELAM. This consists of Chendai, Thaalam, Kuzhal and Kombu. Chendai is a cylindrical instrument, about two feet long made of hollow wooden shell with a circumference of about 12 inches at both ends which are covered with skin and joined by straps. One side gives the upper octave and the other gives the lower octave. It is played with round sticks about 12 inches long and slightly tapering and curved at the top. While playing, the instrument is suspended vertically on the left shoulder of the player with a cloth tied to the top and bottom of the instrument. The top portion will normally be the one with the higher pitch. Usually, there will be a supporting set of chendais, where the bass sound alone is produced by single strokes indicating the rhythm or thaalam. In colloquial terms, these are referred to as “”beek”. In an ensemble, if there are about eight or nine chendais, there will be three of these beeks, stationed behind the row of chendais. Behind them will be the thaalams or symbols who mark the rhythm pattern. Facing the chendai, there will be a few pipers playing on short pipes made of wood with brass mouth at one end. The other end, which is the mouth piece while playing, is narrower. A particular weed is fixed at the mouth piece while playing.. The Kombus will be behind these pipers. In chendai melam during processions, all the chendai artistes follow the same pattern and play in unison. There are different patterns called Paandi Melam, Panjaari Melam etc. Chendai also offers tremendous scope for solo performance which goes by the name of “”Thaayambaka”” Intricate rythmic patterns are woven in such solo performances and the sessions last for a few hours some times. Besides all these, chendai is also a percussion accompaniment in some of the visual arts like Katthakali which are special to Kerala and the Yaksha Gaanam of South Karnataka. Maddalam, Edakkai and Thaalam are also part of the percussion troupe in Katthakali,etc
Each of the temples hires an elephant for the procession on the ninth night, and, except for the Siva temple (where the chariot is quite small), for pushing the chariot on the 10th and 11th days.
A brief description of the way elephants are decorated and employed in the procession will not be out of place here. The articles for decoration plus the equipments to be used on each elephant during the procession are collectively called “”Aanakkoppu”. Elephants are bathed before the procession. A piece of cloth embroidered with gold plated bubbles and coloured border is tied on the front to cover the elephant’’s head and trunk up to half of the trunk. Its back is covered with a piece of cloth to enable people to sit comfortably.
Four people sit on each elephant. The first one holds the Uthsavamoorthy (the portable idol of the respective temple, decked in colourful attire and ornaments). The person behind holds a decorative umbrella, the next one behind holds a pair of ven-chaamaram (a bunch of fluffy hair-like strands which are waved by devotees positioned near the idol as a fan) and the last one seated near the rear of the elephant holds a pair of Aalavattams (circular discs in colourful designs with peacock feather on the peripheri of the discs). When the Kombu is blown corresponding to the percussion reaching crescendo each time, the persons holding the Aalavattam and Venchaamaram stand up. The Aalavattam is held , one on each hand by the person, while the person holding the chaamaram waves it skillfully in front and back of the Aalavattam. Of course this is done only when the elephants are stationary at pre-designated points during the procession.
The elephants, with the idols of the respective temples, assemble at the Siva temple around 10 pm. The Conch is blown thrice and then in unison the panchavaadyam ensemble starts its performance. They spend almost half an hour at that spot. Then the procession moves south towards the South village and slowly passes the single street of the village, then stop in front of the Sree Krishna temple. The performance or Melam as it is called in local parlance here is for about 15 minutes. The temple priest does deepaaraadhana and the procession moves on stopping at specified places for short interludes so that the artistes can play standing at one place for a few minutes and the Aalavattam and Venchaamaram can be used effectively. The procession passes the Siva temple and moves on to the other two villages and reaches the northernmost end of Kariot village. There is a short break for rearrangement for return journey.. The panchavaadyam troupe gives place to the chendai ensemble.
En route, some of the householders offer neivedyam to the deities and these as well as drinking water are supplied to the performers and the public. At each of the temples, deepaaraadhana is performed.
The procession returns to the starting point around 4 a.m. the next day. The idols are taken back to the to the respective temples.
Almost within an hour, preparation for the next day’s rituals start.

The Tenth and eleventh days: chariot procession.
At all the four temples there are Ganapathy homams around 5 or 5.30 a.m. on all the days of the festival.
On the tenth day, there will be special abhishekam at all the temples. At the Siva temple, it will be Rudraabhishekam. At the other temples, it will be what is known as Kalabhaabhishekam.
At the Sree Krishna temple, there will be kalabhaabhishekam. Nine Kalasams, filled with water are kept at the temple Mantapam. The Central one is for Lord Krishna and the others for other devathas .
Around 8 a.m. each temple sends people on its elephant, with brass or copper pots for fetching water for the Tirumanjanam (abhishekam). In local dialect, this is called Thirumoonjalam. In olden days, water was fetched from Gaayathri river at Thrippavallur, about a kilometer away. Now this trip has become a symbolic ritual. The procession goes a short distance and comes back. with water, but not from the river, which dries up and gets covered with weeds during summer.
The sankalpam for the abhishekam is done at about 8 – 8.15 a.m. Preliminary rituals like kalasastthaapanam, worship of the devathas and japam for sanctifying the water in the kalasams are done. Then, the alankaaram and attire of the main deity (Moola Vigraham) and Uthsavamoorthy are removed. One by one, abhishekam with different liquids like, Gingelly oil, panchagavyam, panchaamritham, milk, curd, ghee, honey, sugarcane juice, lemon juice, tender coconut water and sandal water, is done to the accompaniment of repeated chanting of Purushasooktham. After these, abhishekam is performed with the water in the sacred kalasams. The central kalasam is taken out last. Then the entrance to the sanctum is covered with a screen and the deity is decorated with sandal paste, flowers, garlands and jewels and all the lamps inside the sanctum are lit.
During the alamkaaram (decoration) of the idol, vedic scholars on the temple mantapam chant the first three Prasnams of Thaitthiriya Upanishad. The screen is taken off and deepaaraadhana is performed. The idol is, by itself fairly tall and beautiful. With all the decorations, it is a breath-taking and sublime sight to behold.
During the abhishekam, the uthsavamoorthy and Chakram are kept near the main idol. Afterwards, they are kept on a swing in the mantapam.
Then the upachaaras like Dhoopam, Deepam and Neivedyam are done.. The neivedyam is about 100 litres of paayasam in a large vessel made of an alloy of brass and lead known as oattucharakku. This alloy has the quality of preserving material kept in it for hours without spoiling. The ingredients of the paayasam are rice, jaggery, coconut milk and powder of dried ginger. Neivedyam is simultaneously offered at the shrine of Ganapathy also. After this the mahaadeepaaraadhana is performed. Then the uthsavamoorthy is taken out for the Ratthaarohanam ( getting into the chariot).
Preparatory to the Ratthaarohanam, the chariot is sanctified by appropriate pooja and punyaaham. After circumambulating the inner peripheri, the Uthsavamoorthy is placed on an elephant at the entrance to the temple. This time, the elephant’s head and trunk, up to the tusks, are covered with a thick gunny (jute) cloth to provide a cushion, as it has to push the chariot with its head. The deity, thus placed on the elephant, takes three rounds of the beautifully decorated chariot and then it is lifted on to the pedestal kept on the deck of the chariot and fixed firmly with nuts and bolts. Karpoora aarathi is performed .All this time, from the commencement of the abhishekam, the music is provided by naadaswaram artistes. Of course, fire works and devotees hailing the Lord, people throwing plantain fruits to the crowd are all part of the jubilation accompanying the Deity being placed on the chariot.
Now chendai takes over. The chariot is provided with Vatam ( long ropes) for devotees to pull. Elephant supports them by pushing the chariot from behind. The movement of the chariot is regulated and turnings managed by experts by manipulating the front wheels with conically shaped wooden blocks with handles. These are called “chennai”.
The chariot is moved a few yards as a token of the commencement of the Ratthha Yaathra and then the devotees adjourn to the temple to take their prasaadam and partake of the food at the mantapam at the rear side of the temple.
The chariot procession is resumed around 5 pm.

A little digression is called for at this stage.
Since the Brahmothsavam of all the four temples in Perinkulam is conducted simultaneously, at every stage co-ordination is called for. We saw that the ninth day procession on caprisoned elephants starts from Siva temple. Lord Siva (Visweswara) and his consort, Devi Visaalaakshi, give the lead for the chariot procession also. The morning rituals at the Siva temple on the tenth day are quite simple and are generally over by about 10 a.m. ( The elaborate abhishekam at the temple during the festival, which is called Poornaabhishekam, is normally done on the eighth day afternoon, coinciding with Pradosham.) The uthsavamoorthies of Lord Visweswara and Devi Visaalaakshi fixed in a single frame, are installed in the chariot around 10 a.m. and the chariot is taken round to the Sree Krishna temple. It is parked just a few meters down the street till the procession is resumed in the evening.
Like the Sree krishnaswamy’s Ratthhaarohanam, (entry into the chariot), the uthsavamoorthies of Lord Varadaraja (with Sreedevi and Bhoodevi in the same frame) and Lakshmidevi, are installed after kalahbaabhishekam, in their respective chariots at the two temples. Certain conventions evolved on the belief that Lakshmidevi is the consort of Lord Varadaraja, are followed whenever the idol of Devi is taken out on processions. For the ninth day procession, the idol of Lord Varadaraja is brought to the Lakshmidevi temple first and then the Devi’s idol is taken out of the temple and placed on the elephant. In the same way, for chariot procession also, the Lord escorts Devi from her sanctum to her chariot and goes back to His temple to mount His own chariot. At these two temples also, the idols are mounted on the chariots on the tenth day following this convention and then the chariots are moved a few meters to mark the start of the procession symbolically.
Around 5 pm, when the fury of the sun is subdued, the chariot procession is resumed to the accompaniment of chendai groups preceding each of the chariots. All the chariots move towards the end of Kariot village which is the North-eastern end of the cluster of villages called Perinkulam. With tar roads, steel rims to the wheels of the chariots and help of elephants for the three chariots (other than that of Siva temple), the journey takes only about two to two and a half hours. En route, there are some tricky bends to negotiate. The persons handling the chennais, those pulling with the vatam and the mahouts of the elephants managing the elephants, act in close co-operation with one another. The idols are then unfastened and re-fixed to face the reverse direction for the return journey next day. The chariots, with the idols inside, are parked there till next evening when the return journey starts.

Whenever possible during the festival, some religious or cultural programme is arranged during the day-time or in the evenings, at the temples.

Around 4 p.m on the next afternoon i.e. 11th day, representatives of the West village and Kariot village arrive at the Sree Krishna Temple. The visit is a formal one and the elephants and the chendai ensemble of the two villages accompany the representatives. Even as they leave their villages, a single shot of kadanai ( a cracker which makes a huge noise) is fired. Representatives of our village formally receive the representatives of the other two villages, offering them the Kalabhaam (sandal paste) applied on the deity the previous day, plantains, betel leaves and betel nuts and sugar candy etc. By this time, the elephant hired by our temple and our chendai troupe are ready. All the elephants, are lined up before our temple and the chendai troupes give a joined performance for about 15 minutes. Then the representatives of the other two temples depart. As soon as they reach their villages, again a Kadanai shot is fired. Our village people and the elephant and chendai troupe move to the Kariot Village, where the chariots are parked, to commence the return journey. The chariot of Sree Krishna will be leading on the return journey. It takes about two hours for the chariots to reach the tank (known as Perumkolam) in front of the Siva temple. The tank bund road forms an arc at this point, its beginning at the Eastern end of the West village and its end at the beginning of the South village. All the four chariots are stationed for some time on this arc, the Sree Krishna temple chariot at the beginning of the South Village, followed by the chariot of Siva temple, that of Varadarajaswami temple in the middle and the chariot of Lakshmidevi at the tail end of the procession, close to the end of the West village. It is a grand sight in the bright moonlight, following the full moon the previous day. This divine sight, with the reflection cast by the chariots on the shimmering waters of the tank and the large crowd of devotees gathered to witness it, will move any devotee to tears.

After a halt for about fifteen to twenty minutes, the idol of Lord Siva is taken out of the chariot and placed inside the temple. The chariot of Siva starts the procession and it is therefore the first one to complete the round and enter the shrine back. Fireworks and jubilant cries of devotees saying “”Hara hara Mahaadeva”” marks the return of the idol to the shrine.
The other three chariots proceed to the Sree Krishna temple. The chariot of Sree Krishna is taken closest to the temple and the idol is taken out and ceremoniously mounted on to the elephant’s back. Then the elephant circumambulates the chariot three times and is brought to the temple portico, to the accompaniment of naadaswaaram. One of the villagers takes over the idol after Aaratthi and Thaalapoli by ladies. Fireworks boom in the background. After a round of the outer peripheri (praakaaram), the Lord enters the shrine. Again after a round of the sanctum sancrotum, the idol is placed on the swing in the temple mantapam. A short archana, neivedyam and aarathi are performed.
The chariots of Lakshmi Devi and Varadarajaswami which remain stationery near the Sree Krishna temple till the Krishna idol enters the temple, now proceed to their respective temples. The rituals connected with the return of the other two idols to their respective temples are more or less similar to what is described above.
One difference is that Lord Varadaraja will escort Devi Lakshmi to her temple, and then enter his own. .
After dinner, there is usually some cultural programme at one or other of the temples.
The Pallakku Yaathra on the 11th night
Mahaadeepaaraadhana at all the temples is generally over by about 10 p,m. on this day.
After a break of about half an hour, the idol of Lord Krishna is mounted on a beautifully decorated palanquin, drawn by bullocks and proceeds to the Siva temple, to the accompaniment of naadaswaram. There the idol of Lord Siva is also placed on the palanquin side by side with the idol of Lord Krishna.
The idols of Devi Lakshmi and Varadarajaswami, similalrly mounted on another palanquin arrive at the Siva temple almost simultaneously.
The two palanquins slowly proceed side by side in a grand procession to the accompaniment of naadaswaram. First they cover the South village where the Sree Krishna temple stands and .then proceed to the other two villages. After reaching the end of the Kariot village, they return to Siva temple around 4 a.m. Then the Siva idol is dismounted and taken inside the temple. The other three idols are taken to the respective temples.
Though at each of the temples, there is a small shrine of Lord Ganapathy (at the Siva temple, Lord subrahmanya as well), these are behind the sanctum sanctorum in the inner quadrangle. Siva temple also has nandikeswara in the mantapam facing the Lingam. These are worshipped daily, but the focus for the festivals is generally on the main deity. Lord Ganapathy, Lord Subrahmanya and Nandikeswara are not taken out of the temples.
The Twelfth day.

The celebrations on the twelfth day mark the culmination of the festival and expression of joy, with a little bit of fun and frolic. As a general practice in our tradition, there is a mangala snaanam (Avabhritha snaanam) after auspicious functions. In the context of our car festival, this is called Manjaneer Aaraattu. Around 10 a.m., the uthsava moorthies of all the four temples, each covered only in a small towel, are taken round the villages. At every house, ladies bring water mixed with turmeric, and pour it over the idols and on the people in the procession. The procession proceeds to the Sooryappan tank, at a distance of about half a kilometer. There the idols and all the people in the procession have a dip. After this, the idols are decorated and taken to the shade of a banyan tree on the tank bund. A small shrine has been built for Naagadevatha at this spot and pooja is being performed on days corresponding to Aayilyam star. A short worship is offered to all the four deities and then the procession returns to the respective temples where the idols are re-installed in their positions.
In the evening the flag hoisted on the 2nd day of the festival, is brought down with ceremonial rituals. Then the Aazhwaar performs the concluding rituals which include a homam, abhishekam to the main deity and uthsava moorthy with water in several pots kept in yaagasaala and sanctified by manathras, alankaaram, deepaaraadhana and Aaseervaadam.

The rituals conclude with a Kshamaayaachanam, where the Aazhwaar, on behalf of the villagers, beseeches the Deity to condone the mistakes of omission and commission in the observance of austerities and worship at the temple and especially during the performance of the Brahmothsavam and prays for the peace, prosperity and happiness of the villagers and all those who contribute to the functioning of the temple and successful conduct of the festivals.
What now remains is only dismantling the superstructure on the chariot and pushing the chariot back into its shed, cleaning the utensils, settling the accounts, etc. which are done over the next few days.
In the olden days, there used to be a Graamakkoottam (meeting of the villagers), before the car festival, to discuss and decide upon various matters like repairs, scale of celebration, budget, and even the cultural programmes during the festival. There would also be a meeting on the twelfth day to review the conduct of the festival, auction the materials used for the superstructure of the chariot and so on. The amounts realized would be credited to the temple fund. Only elders were allowed to participate in the discussions. “Storm –in- the- tea-cup” type of heated exchanges were common. If anyone infringed the code of discipline and showed disrespect to the Deity, the “house” or elders, he would .be asked to prostrate before the assembly and apologise. It was real fun for us, youngsters, to watch the proceedings from a distance. Now there are hardly four or five of the old families in the village. So no such meetings are conducted. Employment opportunities and earning potential outside the village, are plentiful. Persons available for actual work at or in connection with the temple activities are few. By and large, enough funds come in by way of donations. But, most of the people who donate are too busy and are quite far away. They are happy so long as the activities are carried on well. Those who can spare the time, do manage to attend the festival at least on the most important days. By God’s Grace, the functions and festivals are conducted quite well, in spite of these constraints..

Selected pictures of the festival can be viewed in the GALLERY. Sequencing of photos is given below:

Some are likely to feel that the write-up is elaborate and even minor aspects are covered and there are descriptions and digressions at several points. In our experience, many claiming their origin to Perinkulam have not seen the village and for that matter, do not know the practices prevalent in our community temples in Kerala. A background of the temple and rituals will be helpful for them to appreciate the strong faith of the villagers and devotees in our Lord and their sentiments and eagerness to preserve and foster the traditions handed down to us by our elders. I crave pardon from those who feel that I have tested their patience.

May the Lords grant good health, peace and happiness to all!!!



SEQUENCING OF PHOTOS:


9TH DAY OF FESTIVAL

1 The elephant in readiness for the procession at night.
2 The padal (decoration for chariot) and Aanaikoppu or Chamayam (decoration for the elephant, aalavattam and venchaamaram) in the temple portico.
3 Uthsavamoorthy with decoration, on the temple mantapam
4 Lord being taken out to mount the elephant
5 Panachavaadyam in front of Siva temple, the starting point of the procession on elephants at night
6 Procession on elephants
7 ----do----in front of Sree Varadarajaswamy temple
8 ----do—Aalavattam and venchaamaram in action
9 The chandai melam

10TH AND 11TH DAYS ( Procession in chariots)

10TH DAY MORNING

1 Temple portico showing the paintings on the walls
2 Sankalpam for the kalabhaabhishekam
3 Lord Krishna (Moolavar), Uthsavamoorthy and Sudarsana Chakram inside the sanctuam preparatory to abhishekam
4 Thirumanjana kalasams proceeding to fetch water
5 Temple mantapam with all materials and kalasams before the rituals start
6 Japam before the abhishekam (two photos)
7 Thaithireeya paaraayanam during decoration of the Lord after abhishekam
8 The sanctum door opens after alankaaram – deepa jyothi
9 Lord in full Chandanakkaappu
10 Decorated chariot
11 Uthsavar being taken out for Ratthhaarohanam (mounting the chariot)
12 Lord on elephant, doing pradakshinam (circumambulation) of the chariot before entering it. (Two photos)
13 Karpoora aaratthi after the Lord is placed inside the chariot
14 The chariot procession starts
15 Vedic scholars being served food after the Ratthha yaathra starts

10TH DAY EVENING

1.Elephant ready to push the chariot
(the small Theppattheru used now for Ekaadasi procession and the
Aanappandal, are in the background)
2. Elephant pushing the chariot (5 photos)
3. The Chennaikaaran, with the Chennai, for regulating the speed and steering the
chariot


11TH DAY EVENING

1. CHENDAI MELAM in front of Sree Krishna temple, when representatives of the West village and Kariot village formally visit in the afternoon

2. The procession in the fading light of the afternoon (4 photos)

3. All the chariots on Perumkolam Tank bund in front of Siva temple (2 photos)

4. Siva temple illuminated for the festival

12TH DAY FORENOON

1. The Uthsavamoorthy being taken around for Manjalneer Aaraattu
2. The ceremonial MangalaSnaanam in Sooryappan Kulam

3. Uthsavamoorthies of all temples being worshipped after the ceremonial bath, under the banian tree on the Sooryappan kulam bund

MANGALAANI BHAVANTHU - SARVE JANAAH SUKHINO BHAVANTHU
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