Senior journalist A V Sakthidharan’s recent work, Antigod’s Own Country: A Short History of Brahminical Colonisation of Kerala, takes us to the roots of the many non-Aryan deities and myths that dot the coast of Kerala — from Malabar’s Muthappan and Pottan Theyyam to Travancore’s Ayyappan and Malayali’s own Maveli – their very existence, a resistance against invasive Brahminism and Aryanism. Traced through an exploration of the peculiar socio-political contexts that birthed these local gods or “anti-gods”, the book is also a deeply political meditation on issues faced by contemporary Kerala. The work engages with Sabarimala, a religious space from where dalits, adivasis and other marginalised sections are increasingly being pushed out, as the book remarks. The Sangh’s appropriation of Ayyappan – a non-Hindu, hill-top deity – is seen by Sakthidharan as an extremely political move, which seeks to purge this space of its pro-dalit, pro-adivasi, pro-Muslim character. The recent controversy on the entry of women of the menstruating age into Sabarimala is also placed against this context in the work.
Mukulika R of the Indian Cultural Forum spoke to author A V Sakthidharan about his book, Sabarimala, the brahminical appropriation of Onam, and more.
Mukulika R (MR): What prompted you to write on the “antigods” of Kerala?
A V Sakthidharan (AVS): Mahabali, the benevolent ruler who lost his kingdom to the machinations of the gods, has attracted me since childhood. I’ve found Suyodhana, who has a temple in southern Kerala, a noble character. Pottan Theyyam, who challenged Adi Sankaracharya on the caste system, is also a fascinating figure. Maveli and the Onam myth have figured in our school textbooks and, of course, we’ve had our Onam vacation and such. In Delhi, I came across Dalit Visions by sociologist Gail Omvedt, in which there is a chapter on Jotiba Phule, who had made “Bali raja” (Malayali’s Maveli) into an icon in his struggle against the caste system. To Kerala’s Marxist theoretician EMS Namboodiripad, “Mavelinadu” had represented primitive communism.
I could say that it were the several ramifications of the Maveli myth and the worship of the many non-Aryan gods in Kerala convinced me that there was immense scope for such a book.
MR: Would you say that Onam has lately become “Hindu-ised” or “brahminised”, from the symbols it has lately been using — a “poonool” (sacred thread) clad Mahabali being the most discussed. Recently, in protest against such trends, there have been alternate imaginations of this character on social media and such, though not on a wide scale. What’s your take? Secondly, would you agree with the argument that Onam is not to be observed at all, for it appears “savarna”?
AVS: I don’t think there has been “Hinduisation” of Onam. It is still a secular festival. Remember, BJP chief Amit Shah’s “Vamana Jayanthi” greetings had run into widespread criticism in Kerala. Here, the Asura definitely is the hero. Further, in brahmin homes, ritual worship of deities is usually performed exclusively by men, but on the day of Thiruvonam, the most important day of the festival, the job is left to women.
There is, no doubt, opposition from some enlightened dalit groups to the celebration of Onam, which they dub as a “savarna festival”. However, the fact is, it is the upper caste market that has given the “poonool” to Maveli through advertisements, and thereby, in popular culture. The market surely has taken over the festival, which again is inevitable, given the grip of the vicious consumerist culture on the Malayali mind. In fact, I feel if there has been a “Hinduisation” of Onam, it is only a sequel to its marketisation.
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MR: In the book, you mention how the recent controversy regarding women’s entry into Sabarimala is not to be seen a singular incident, but part of a long process of marginalisation of the downtrodden — Dalits and Muslims among others — from the religious space of Sabarimala itself. Could you tell us more about this history?
AVS: The tribal Mala Arayans claim that when the Sabarimala temple was under their control, until a century or so ago, there was no ban on the entry of women from the menstruating age group. It was brahmins, with their patriarchy, who constructed this taboo. Perhaps the location of the shrine in deep dissuaded women from undertaking the arduous Sabarimala pilgrimage, but that was it.
In 1990, one S. Mahendran filed a petition in the Kerala High Court alleging occasional cases of violation of the ban on women’s entry. The court ruled in favour of the ban. In 2014, the Indian Young Lawyers Forum went to court challenging the ban. The rest is recent history. Meanwhile the temple authorities made the tribals and ezhavas give up some of their time-honoured rights—like the abhishekam by an Adivasi chieftain and the lighting of “makaravilakku” by members of an ezhava family. The ban should be seen as part of this patriarchal upper caste package.
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MR: What’s your take on Vedic Brahminism’s appropriation of Kerala’s “little” traditions like Mutthappan, the Malabar deity that receives meat and alcohol as offerings, and why?
AVS: Mutthappan has been Hinduised to a great extent. This appropriation will definitely kill the subaltern character of the deity. The Malayalam newspaper Mathrubhumi’s Delhi edition had recently reported that in the shrine in Mayur Vihar, to which I have referred in my book, there is now a brahmin tantri. Where will all of this lead us to?
MR: Hindutva has been on a homogenisation spree in the country. Be it their desire to impose a single national language or the abrogation of Kashmir’s special rights. How perilous is this for regional identities?
AVS: The Hindutva campaign of homogenisation is unlikely to work in every field. Here is a country where — for all the talk of “Ramarajya” — Rama is still not worshipped in many regions and where his mortal enemy, Ravana, has temples and ardent devotees. We also have sizable minority communities that do this.
Coming to the imposition of Hindi, practically every regional language has its own individuality. Nor is Hindi a homogenous language; for firstly, it has diverse dialects. At the same time, because of the disunity in the ranks of the opposition, the Left in particular, we have no choice but to keep our fingers crossed.
