RITUALS - INAUGURATIONS !!!

The housing programme of Reaching the Unreached (RTU - where I worked for 4 1/2 years in the Southern Indian state of Tamil Nadu) was very popular. A specialist team of masons and carpenters had, over a period of time, been trained from among the local population. Every year, about 300 houses were built for people from the economically weaker sections. There was an elaborate process of selection of families to ensure that the programme was well targeted. Women headed households (who were either widows or deserted women), old aged and those with disabilities got preference. Most of the houses were constructed on plots of land that had been allocated to the landless, while some were on lands that had been bought or previously owned by these families. A community meeting preceded the process of identifying individual families. Once this process was over, there was a meeting to plan the layout of the village so that the houses were constructed in neat rows, which meant of course that some families had to let go a portion of their land to make way for a small path in between rows of houses. Once the construction was over, it had almost become mandatory for them to plant a coconut tree. “A coconut tree is as dear to us as a son”, some of them would say.

What marked any housing programme in a village was the inauguration of the construction work and then, the inauguration of the newly built settlement. These rituals could compete with any of the local festivities (that were numerous, anyway !) in terms of the enthusiasm of the people, the colour, the gaiety and fervour. Costs for hosting these functions was through community contribution. The inauguration of the construction work was a quieter occasion though. Calenders were pored through to identify the ‘auspicious’ time, which was critical for such occasions. ‘Rahu kaalam’ (the inauspicious periods in a day as per the Hindu calender) was consciously avoided. The village would have an air of expectation. Walking through haphazard rows of thatched hutments with ‘kolam’ (floral patterns in white commonly laid in front of homes on the ground) decorations as signs of welcome all along, we would be escorted to one of the spots where, in a matter of four weeks, a brand new house would stand ! That place, the chosen place, would be cleaned up. All the required implements and materials would be there – a spade, a bucket of water, kumkum (vermillion), chandan (sandal), a traditional brass lamp, agarbatti (incense sticks), coconuts, lemon, camphor, matchbox…….No inauguration would be complete without Bro. Kimpton being there (who would then negotiate to ensure that there are not blaring loudspeakers to which he was truly allergic).

The inauguration would start with the lighting of the lamp and the agarbattis, lighting the camphor on top of a coconut which then would be held by a senior member of the construction team (and someone who was comfortable with the sequence and performance of the ritual) and swayed in a clockwise direction, facing the east, as was appropriate. That done, it was time to break the coconut on the spade, sprinkle its water around, moist the hard earth with some more sprinkling of water and then calling upon one of the senior members from the community (which normally would mean an able bodied elder or ‘thalaivar’) to take the spade, invoke the blessings of the gods who may then confer upon this community peace and joy in the new settlement. There would normally be a spontaneous round of applause once the spade comes hitting the earth making a deep dent depending upon how softened the earth was and how hard the blow was, the applause mostly being sustained by a crowd of excited children, who would by then have realized that the time for them to attack the packs of boiled candies that Bro. Kimpton would religiously bring with him on such occasions, was drawing excitingly near ! The women meanwhile would simultaneously go into ululating. In some cases though, in case of those communities not used to applauding, it would require a clarion call by one of the elders (Enna, kaiyye thattunguda .......c'mon guys, applaud !) who would call out loudly and exhort his ilk to follow suit. Ofcourse, it was entirely another matter that the applause would continue till such time the same elder called it to a halt ! By then, the kids would have got dangerously near to the tray in which lay the packets of colourful boiled candies, looking very inviting in the morning sun. Barely would the first candy have dropped out of the now torn packet, than the kids would pounce as if on cue to grab their share of the goodie. What then came were the tiny glasses of sugary tea or tender coconuts, depending upon what was available and the biscuits, which would most likely find its way back to the bunch of excited children !

The construction work for a village would take roughly four weeks. The programme was so well orchestrated through experience that the five teams of masons and five teams of carpenters moved around from house to house in a predetermined sequence, before which, the community would have sorted out tricky issues of alignment of houses, laying out the common path and digging the foundation. Bricks, tiles, cement, sand, wood, lime, nails and the rest all seem to come in right in time when they are required, which often made me wonder why such things don’t happen in the big cities where these and many other resources can be accessed so much faster and better ! And that too without sophisticated management tools like PERT charts or GANNT charts !!! All the men and women at work were from the local villages. About 1,500 people benefited directly from these works every year(which also included those from the brick kilns, owning bullock carts, the whitewashers etc).

One of the masonary contractor teams was headed by a woman, who got into the job when her husband who managed one such team died suddenly. She had, in a very short period, very skillfully slipped into her husband’s role, establishing her command over the rough and tough bunch of masons and carpenters, all men and thus felling a male bastion. Rajamma was her name. Not once did the fact that she was a woman, came in the way of her effectiveness and her ability to deliver quality work on time ! That probably prompted some other women to come forth and be trained as masons, which was yet again, a male bastion !

Coming back to the work, the neat row of white houses measuring about 200 square feet each with the beautiful earth coloured Managalore tiles and blue doors and window seemed to spring up as if from nowhere and would become the envy of the passers by who would stop, turn around, to look at this beautiful settlement that came up to replace the barely livable huts. And, there was also a community hall and a threshing floor. The community hall was normally open from all sides with neat little pillars holding up the Mangalore tiled roof. That would become the venue of several meetings, functions, marriages, games and be the centre of the community’s life. The threshing floor was basically a raised platform that would cater to the needs of the families to dry their paddy.

The inauguration of the housing settlement, that is, once the entire work was over, was a time of great rejoicing. It was popularly referred to as ‘paal kaachal’ (boiling the milk), a ritual considered auspicious and mandatory in many parts of south India before one moves into a new house. Communities would try to be as creative as possible in putting up a ‘good show’. Invariably, the loudspeaker on this instance, could not be ignored. It was a very important part of the ceremonies to enable the ‘VIPs’ make their two-bit speeches (which Bro. Kimpton was averse to…I mean, even the speeches. Many a time, it used to be a straight and simple ‘vanakkam’ which meant ‘greetings’, the Tamil equivalent of ‘namaskar’, followed by a ‘nandri’ which meant 'thank you'). Almost all the houses would have the welcoming kolam in front of their houses, sometimes colourful, but mostly in intricate patterns of white. The lanes would be decorated with rows of leaves strung to strings or with banana leaves bunches together. Banana leaves were an important of the function. These too were considered as auspicious.

The communities took these functions, especially the one to mark the completion of the construction work, very seriously. Though nothing was specifically designated, there was a pattern in the way responsibilities were designated. The men did the collection of money, buying of gifts (yes, there would be small gifts too....more about it later), and generally deciding the sequence of events including the spot where the function would be held and in some cases, the house where a ‘symbolic’ paal kaachal would be held. (It was not because the women couldn’t do it or were not interested in. It’s just that they didn’t have the time. The men had the time a little more liberally allotted to them for reasons that are well known !). The women would ensure that the ‘content’ part of the ritual was taken care of. Kolams had to be organized. A check had to be kept on all the puja materials – the kumkum, chandan, flowers, coconuts, bananas, coconut leaves, coconuts etc. And yes ! They had to ensure that their best sari was well in shape to be worn on that special occasion which would mark their entry into their new home !

The youth’s activities were generally centred around logistics. The mike set guy had to be co-ordinated. They had to ensure that this guy brings with him the cassettes of the latest film songs that were a rage at that point in time. There had to ensure that there were a few songs which were picturised on specific rituals in the Tamil films, to get in that very special flavour of the occasion. And then, when the guests had come and were seated, they had to break open the soda bottles by pushing the marble that was stuck to the neck of the soda bottle to keep the gas intact, resulting in a conspicuous ‘whoooossh’ sound of the escaping gas. Or had to ensure that there were enough bottles of ‘colour’ (the local term used for a range of spurious soft drinks available aplenty in the country side at extremely affordable rates, packaged on the lines of Mirinda and Pepsi, sometimes, in the same Mirinda and Pepsi bottles that were surreptitiously bought over by these mini bottling plants) were available. The popular choice among the ‘guests’ (which was more to politely avoid being treated to sodas and ‘colours’ of suspect quality) was tender coconuts – in which case those from the village, who loved these sodas and bottles of ‘colours’, would generously treat them to these fizzy drinks. There would be some snacky items too. Glucose biscuits which could easily pass off as ‘Parle Glucose Biscuits’ but which, on closer scrutiny, would actually be something as close as ‘Parel’ biscuits or some such name to build in a brand identity were pretty common. And so was some local 'mixture' (a tasty, savoury snack), which was usually very tasty.

Identification of the guests to be invited was also an elaborate process that required a series of community level discussions. There would be usual suspects from RTU. Bro. Kimpton was a must. Many inaugurations were put off by a few days, or even a few weeks, to ensure that he was around (which he normally was, except in May when he would spend a couple of weeks in Kodaikanal on his retreat). Bro. Kimpton, the ‘Berther’ or the ‘ayya’ for the communities, was an absolute must, for they also had a strong conviction in the power of his blessings which would, from their perspective, enable them to live happily ever after. I would normally slip in by default as the assistant director of RTU. And then there were those from the housing department led by Lourduswamy, the dynamic and efficient person who excelled in high quality and timely completion of activities. And then, there were heads of many other departments. Ilango and James who looked after education and health programmes would normally be invited to all such functions since they were an integral part of the team. And so would Rani and Manoba whose mobile clinics had endeared them to those in the surrounding villages.

This was the easier part. The more difficult part was the other invitees, which normally depended on who could potentially contribute to the village development. These were the days preceding the panchayati raj system. So, the other invitees would or could include the local Member of the Legislative Assembly, MLA (if the village tended to support the part s/he represented – they barely thought of inviting the MP as s/he was too distanced from their daily lives). If the MLA was from a party that the village was not supportive of, they would call the local, usually the block level, president of the concerned political party. And then there would be those from the block – the Block Development Officer and his entourage. Getting someone from the district level did not figure high in the priority, though RTU, on a few occasions, did use its contacts to get the District Collector or his/her deputy when requested by the hosting community.

These functions were usually held in the mornings. The arrival of the guests was greeting with the beating of the drums by traditional drummers. As if on cue, some of the more enthusiastic youth would get into an impromptu dance (tappankoothu, as they would locally refer to, meaning a casual, joyful way of dancing) and soon, they would be joined by some of their seniors who may have prepared themselves well (a little too well, at times) in advance by gulping in a couple of glasses of the local brew so that they could drop their inhibitions and get into a swinging mood, literally ! The drummers and the dancers would then escort the guests to the place where the function would be held, in some cases, under a small ‘pandal’ or shamiana. As the guests approached the venue of the function, the mike-set-guy ( a critical technocrat on such occasions) would get active by first blowing into the mike or snapping in front of it, with the mandatory ‘1-2-3 mike testing’ repeated usually 3 times, just to ensure that the mike is up and functioning to amplify the greetings of the guests. The women, in their bright sarees, would have collected as a group nearer to the venue and would ululate excitedly with a great deal of merriment, heightened by the fragrance of the fresh jasmine and ‘kanakambaram’ flowers. With their long tresses well oiled and tied in a knot and their bright stone studded nose rings shining brightly in the morning sun, they contrasted in colour to their less soberly dressed male counterparts who normally wore white shirts and dhotis, except for the youth who would be in brighter coloured shirts and lungis. The men’s dhotis were not all white though. A close look would reveal the ‘karai’ or the coloured lines that ran along the horizontal length of the dhoti, and a closer look could reveal their party preferences. The Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam supporters would prefer wearing dhotis with the party’s red and black lines along the borders of their dhotis. Those supporting the Anna Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (that broke away from the DMK) would have the same red and black coloured lines on the borders of their dhotis, but with a line of white separating the two. The Congress supporters would wear dhotis with the Indian tricolour along their dhoti borders – saffron, white and green. Some men would make their party affiliations more obvious by draping themselves in a shawl that reflected their party colours or casually placing a small cotton towel on their shoulders which had their party colours.

Coming back to the women, they would now get ready to perform an important function, that of performing the ‘arati’ the traditional form of welcome. It normally was done with a plate of water in which vermillion was mixed with a bit of raw rice, leaves and other auspicious items . Holding it in front of their guests, they would moved it in around in a clockwise action, take a bit of the solution and apply it on the guests’ forehead, and then pour it horizontally in front of the guests for them to step over it. This symbolized protection from evil spirits. I noticed that this was quite different from the north Indian form of arti which required a lighted lamp and which then would continue to be held by the women escorting the guests.

Once the guests were seated at the assigned places (in most cases, the chairs and tables were thanks to the local school !), small plates of kumkum and chandan would be passed around for the guests to apply on their foreheads. Small garlands of welcome would usually follow. And then, one of the village elders would make his way to the mike to formally announce the commencement of ceremonies.

Usually, it started with a prayer song, again, usually sung by children. A bunch of excited kids would make their way to the mike, wearing their best clothes and with neatly combed hair, most of them with a bit of holy ash on their forehead. With wide grins, they would take their position in front of the mike, wave to their parents and friends in the crowd. And then, they would get dead serious. Eyes closed and their faces a picture of concentration, they would start singing the prayers. Suddenly, everything around would be quiet except for the prayer singing. As soon as this was over, the hustle and bustle would begin. People wanting to sit closer to the dais, young chaps running around organizing the eats, and kids pushing through the spaces to make their presence felt among the adults. The first speech by the village elder would normally have a long salutation process which would start something like ‘The respectful and honourable Bro. Kimpton who has devoted his lives to working for the poor and bringing hope to many, many poor people for over several years........’, if translated literally and followed by similar adulatory references to the block officials (some of whom may be visiting the village for the first time in their current tenure). This was followed by the guests being welcomed, one by one, with that gift that I was referring to. In most cases, it was a light shawl or a bath towel. As the names of the guests were announced, someone would come up with the shawl or the towel, open it up and wrap it respectively around the shoulders of the guest. In most cases, most of these shawls or towels were returned to the village once the function was over. But shawl or towel, the compere would invariably refer to this piece of cloth as ‘ponnadai’ which roughly meant the ‘golden shawl’. Next, the guests would be invited to cut the ribbon and perform the related functions which would signify the actual inauguration of the housing settlement. And then, the speeches of the guests which mercifully would be short, except when one of the invited block officials with a great love for his voice would seize the opportunity to publicise his achievements and that of the block he worked in !

Finally, there would be a vote of thanks. But what would mark some of these inaugurations as special was women with new born children running up to Bro. Kimpton (and rarely the other guests !) with a request to bless the child and name him or her. Inspite of being a Britisher, Bro. Kimpton had a vast repository of names that would seem appropriate. A beautiful girl child, for instance, would be named ‘Alageshwari’ or the goddess of beauty. A first born male child would normally be named as ‘Murugan’ or ‘Arumugam’, the other names of Lord Karthikeya, the son of Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvati, who rode on a peacock and whose most popular abode, the Palani Hill, was close to where we worked.

Much more celebration would follow, especially after we and other guests left. The mike sets would continue blaring, more loudly then. There would be meat distributed. Alcohol would flow freely. The frenzied celebrations would continue late into the night after the 'formal inauguration' - and why not ? It was celebrating their move into a more dignified surroundings that they were truly proud of !