In the South, its Divali
sans divas
By T.K.
Ramasamy
To write about Divali in South India
is to invite intense fire from saffron troops. For, Ram
stands delinked from the festivities. Nor, for that
matter, does Lakshmi figure in anything that goes on that
day. What kind of a Divali is it then?
In much of North, Divali
marks the day when Ram returned to Ayodhya after his
hard-fought victory over Ravana. And in Gujarat and
Rajasthan, in particular, it is new year day when the
first auspicious deal is struck, the first credit entry
is made in accounts books and the goddess of wealth is
formally ensconced in the cash box area. In Nagpur, I
have seen gold coins being used for the worship of
Lakshmi and silver coins were the most commonly offered
substitutes for flower.
The South has to be
different for two reasons. One, Ayodhya is in the North
and Ram returned there from the South. Obviously, the
people in the South are loathe to "celebrate"
the departure of ram! This explains why Rams name
is missing from the list of principal reasons for the
festival of lamps.
The second reason is more
prosaic. The South never had a pronounced and well
defined trading tradition or a community famed for that
profession. Of course, there are the Chettiars of Tamil
Nadu, but they have been shopkeepers and not big time
traders. The Chettiars was a no-risk business; and
it promised no windfall either. Hence the need to worship
god or goddess and ensure that luck was on ones
side was not so pressing.
Also, Divali is not native
to the South. The practice and the practitioners prove in
a stark form that the idea is an import from the North,
and over the years has acquired a hue startlingly
different from the Ganga and Narmada basins.
The start with, Divali
does not commemorate anything that Ram did, but
commemorates something that Krishna did. The folk belief
in the North is that Krishna was a brilliant strategist
but a reluctant fighter. True, he destroyed Kalia (the
snake) and Kamsa (his uncle) but that was before he
ascended the throne in Dwarka.
In the belief pattern of
the Tamils, however, Krishna defeated and killed a
ferocious foe (of humanity) called Naraksura when night
merged into day on Divali a day prior to new moon
day (amavasya). It is the well-deserved death of
Narakasura that the Brahmins of Tamil Nadu a mere
2 per cent of the population celebrate with sweets
and fireworks.
But before that they go
through an oil bath as a mark of respect to the slain
asura. It may appear like playing on both sides of the
net, but actually, it is neutrality and fairplay most
delicately balanced.
That is how the Brahmins
observe the day. They also take a second bath in a river,
firm in the belief that on Divali day, a ceremonial bath
in any river is equivalent to a holy dip in the Ganga.
You see, the Ganga water may never reach the South, but
the true believer can always bring the water for a few
blissful minutes, Bhagirath-like!
The use of the word
Brahmins is deliberate. For, the vast majority of those
who are not Brahmins in all the four southern states have
no notion of the Krishna part in the day; nor do they go
in for an early morning ritual bath. Even in the matter
of sweets and the elaborate lunch, there are very sharp
differences and as a Brahmin this writer is unabashedly,
partisan to the goodies available in plenty in a
Brahmins house!
Divali was a non-festival
for non-Brahmins until the early forties. This was
because Divali is still a non-festival in temples in the
South. Two factors contributed to carrying the message of
Divali to all homes, even if in a truncated or distorted
form.
One, the early decades of
this century saw a particularly vigorous phase of
sanskritisation. It is how the academics describe the way
Brahmin belief and practice supplanted those of others.
Names changes; new rituals found adherents; horoscopes
came to command wider acceptance; bridegroom price and
marriage at the brides home became the norm,
replacing the earlier practice of bride price and wedding
at the boys place; the last thing was the elevation
of Divali as a statewide festival.
Until the forties, Divali
was important for non-religious reasons. Three of the
widely circulated and respected Tamil weeklies Ananda
Vikatan, Kalki and Kalaimagal brought
out sumptuous special numbers called Divali Malar.
Each one carried gorgeous colour pictures of temples,
gods and goddesses, apart from short stories fit for the
entire family and such stuff. To possess a Malar
was to assert your cultural and literary status.
Then, it was on Divali
that blockbusters were released. No youngster thought his
life worth living unless he elbowed his way to the
matinee the premiere show of one of the new films.
People used to travel by bus for an hour or so to reach
the towns where they could have their tryst with a new
release.
For the boys and girls who
got married in a year, the first or thalai Divali
held special attraction. There is no thalai Pongal,
even though that is of the South the festival. Often the
entire village would treat the thalai Divali boy
as an honoured guest and, perhaps, that was what made the
day special!
The legends and the
concepts of Divali are as different as those of the
Navaratri festival. In the South, the nine days are
festival days only in temples where the goddess is done
up in nine varying poses of penance that Parvati
undertook to win over Shiva.
The all-important day is
the ninth, devoted to Saraswati, the goddess of learning.
On that day, it is also Ayudha puja, or the
worship of implements, or the Souths version of
Vishwakarma Day. Not only is Durga missing from the
scheme of things; even Rams triumph over Ravana is
not there. Ravana does not burn in the vast stretch of
southern India.
Come to think of it, each
region splashes a local flavour to each festival often
delightfully different from other areas. So is the case
with core religious beliefs. India is a cultural mosaic,
a put-together of differing and divergent legacies and
legends. Hinduism is a confederation of beliefs. To say
this is to provoke the new-found Hindutva forces. But not
to say it is to delude oneself into disbelief.
Look at it
this way. Divali in the South is a festival without divas,
or lamps. Firecrackers at the crack of dawn is the only
source of light. But it is more than enough to dispel the
darkness of the new moon day (amavasya). What
about the other darkness that has come to envelop our
society? The light from a hundred Divalis may not
suffice; for, it is a man-made.
This is an article taken from the archives.
It was published in 1993.
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