When Gods Walk at Dawn: A traveller’s guide to experiencing Theyyam in North Kerala

An hour before sunrise Vinu Peruvannan is finally ready to play the role of God.

Dressed in red and black, wearing a heavy hat decorated with wild geranium flowers, his torso covered with ashes, he holds a mirror. His transformation from a ferocious Thiyya warrior turned deity is complete in Kathivanur Veeran Theyyam.

This view alone made my 488 km journey from Thiruvananthapuram to Kannur worth it to experience my first Theyyam at Sri Kathivanur Veeran Temple in Kavvayi, after a 40 km bus journey from the city centre. Kaliyatta Maholasavam, the final stage of a grand, multi-day, often triennial ritualistic Theyyam festival, is underway and luckily I have reached there early enough to find myself a seat.

Thalikaran Tharavadu’s assistants are considered to be vacation time (Heirs) of the temple, lighting palm leaf torches outside the room. Amidst the beat of the chenda, the artist moves backwards across the field at breakneck speed, preparing to perform his story of heroism, grief and rebellion. The stories of Kathivanur Veeran sung by two assistants, which used to echo in the grounds all night long, have now been replaced by the loud beats of the drum.

Kathivanur Veeran is one of the 456 Theyykolams (variants of Theyyam) in Kerala, each steeped in a local myth. Theyyam of northern Kerala falls between the 10th day of the Malayalam month Thulam (mid-October) and Edavappathy (mid-June). “There are more than 1,000 Theyyam festivals in a season in northern Kerala,” says Santosh Vengara, a tour guide who has specialized in Theyyam tourism since 2010. “They attract more and more tourists every year.

Each of these Theyyam performances involve rituals that celebrate local lore – from fasting to the return of the performer to his or her “human self”, the preparation and presentation vary. Although the art form is rooted in the caste system, it brings a temporary reversal of the hierarchy, with artists from historically marginalized communities, including the Vannan, Malayan, Velan, Maavilan, Panan, Pulaya and Anjuttan, playing the roles of the deities. Children from Theyyam-performing families begin preparation at the age of seven and move towards playing the main Theyyam.

Vinu, a famous artist, is a member of the Vannan caste. He is known for his performances as Kathivanur Veeran, Kandanar Kellan, Thottumkara Bhagavathi and Nedubaliyan Theyyams. As his transformation begins, he is surrounded by six chenda-playing artists, and an entire village waiting for his warrior act.

Mandhappan’s story

Theyyam ritual begins ThottamA sung song that narrates the life of the rebel Mandhappan, who becomes a skilled Kalaripayattu warrior. He marries Chemmarathi, who curses him in anger before the battle. Although he wins the combat, he is ultimately betrayed and killed. Senior Theyyam artiste and member of Thalikaran Tharavadu, Balan Peruvannan, narrated the story to me, adding that “His body is said to have been cut into 64 pieces; in grief, Chemmarathi jumped into his pyre. And through death, Mandhappan became Kathivanur Veeran, the deity.”

Watching Theyyam requires preparation – understanding the characters and their stories from a human perspective rather than from a devotional perspective. The art form blends together the physical and the spiritual, uniting man and God, played out in a tremendous multi-sensory experience.

next Thottamritual is called Vellattam And Payattu occurs, which may not be present for all Theyyams. This phase represents the youth of the deity.

Gurukkal Theyyam

After the end of Kathivanur Veeran PayattuAnother Theyyam enters the arena – Gurukkal Theyyam.

Gurukkal Theyyam is believed to be the spirit of Kunhiraman, a skilled tantric minister, who was summoned to cure the illness of a Veeryakolatha king of Koodali. Legend says that Kunhiraman Gurukkal was rewarded by the king for saving him and sent home with two bodyguards, who murdered him out of jealousy. “It is said that Gurukkal’s books went back to the king and told him what had happened,” says Balan.

Kaliyattam, climax

The time is a few minutes past 1 in the night. “Sleep as early as possible Kaliyattam (Main performance),” says Balan, reminding me that Kathivanur Veeran will soon enter the performance arena. I decide to sleep on the temple floor, determined not to miss anything, only to wake up next to a few other people – some of whom I recognize as chenda players and helpers from the previous evening.

There is silence as Vinu transforms from warrior to god inside a covered dressing room during his Mukhathejhuttu (makeup and transformation). This happens for four to six hours.

During Kaliyattam or the conclusion of the performance, the transformation of the artiste into God is considered complete.

Also, in a jaw-dropping scene, devotees move towards the lamps to pour more oil into the torches as an offering to the Lord. As the freshly lit fire flares up, men and women (even carrying children) walk towards the fire as a sign of devotion. Parents carry their babies on one hand to the funeral pyre.

With sword and shield in his hand, Kathivanur dances around the raging fire in Veeran Kavvai until the sun rises. As the Theyyam softens and blesses its devotees, aggressive activities subside.

The rhythm of the ritual slows down, but not for long. Two chickens are brought to Theyyam for sacrifice. He breaks their necks – there is silence in the courtyard.

a ritual performance

After the sacrifice, Kathivanur Veeran stands on a wooden stool and faces the consecration. And for the last time he is told her story of love, bravery, heartbreak and betrayal. Only a few assistants from the previous night, including Balan, remain in the courtyard, cleaning ash from the arena. “Visitors often do not stay throughout the festival, missing out on rituals such as Vellattam And other rituals before and after the main performance, for a lot of them it is just about capturing the scene,” says Santosh.

As the rite progresses, the performer will soon return to his human form until his next divine calling. “For us, the performance ends with apologizing to God for any mistakes we may have made while acting,” says Balan. He explains that these “gods” work in professions such as carpentry, painting and umbrella repair during the off-season. “At the end of the day we are human beings,” he says, loading headgear and other items into an auto for the next performance.