Laughing Gas

Laughing Gas will appear every weekend.

Oppana to Mappilappattu: The Rainbow Colours of Muslim Life in Malabar

A perunnal festival celebration at Nadapuram, a town colourfully described in the northern ballads, the Vadakkan Pattu.

AS THE summer sets in, Kerala enters its festival season, and every temple and every village gets ready for its celebrations. In these poorams and festivals we come across the best aspects of Malayalee culture and the richness of our traditions.

The classical art-forms and percussions like Kathakali, Koodiyattom, Mohiniyattom and Thayambaka are well known. There has also been a conscious effort on the part of the Malayalee elite in the last century, like poet Vallathol who set up Kerala Kalamandalam, to preserve and promote these art-forms and unique traditions. The temple festivals and poorams, like the world renowned Trissur Pooram, helped popularize such forms like panchavadyam, a wonderful combination of percussion and wind instruments.

But the epicenter of these art-forms is mainly central Kerala, the mainstay of Kerala’s feudal elite, while the more traditional and folk art-forms like Thira and Theyyam in deep north and the Muslim cultural forms like Oppana, Kolkali, Paricamuttukali, Duff muttu, etc, in Malabar are not much known outside even today. In the case of northern folk art-forms there has been, recently, a sudden excitement as many foreign scholars have shown interest in them and have conducted studies trying to link them with Kerala’s history and anthropology, with some serious academic works done by scholars like Dr K K N Kurup of Calicut University.

But in the case of art-forms like Oppana, Kolkali, Paricamuttukali, etc, which are mainly practiced among the Muslims of Malabar such serious academic studies are yet to take place. Nor are there any effort to preserve these forms or promote them with training facilities for younger academics and art enthusiasts. Recently the Government of Kerala set up the Moyinkutty Vaidyar Memorial centre at Kondotty, in memory of the great Mappilappattu poet, but its main focus is on Mappilappattu and other art-forms linked to these romantic, lyrical songs.

There seems to be a variety of streams in these Mappila art-forms, with south Malabar mainly the former taluks of Valluvanadu and Ernadu accounting for one tradition, and the north Malabar where the areas that came under the rule of Arakkal Beevi and dominated by Muslim elite families in Koyilandi, Vadakara, Thalassery, Nadapuram, etc, following a definitely different tradition.

Even in the folk songs this difference is discernible. In north the Vadakkan Pattu or northern ballads, which describe the life of folk heroes and the people are more popular, while in south there is a more vibrant Mappilappattu tradition, which focuses more on romance, daily life and religious topics, with an unusually high dose of Arab words and idioms.

Some of the poems and songs hugely popular in the southern parts of Malabar seem to have been influential in a different way, as a series of Mappila rebellions took place in this region in the 19th and early 20th centuries. It was during this period that Mr. Conolly, Malabar Collector, was murdered by a gang of four Mappila convicts. A recent account of the developments based on contemporary British records make it clear that the conspirators had during their preparations for the for assassination, had taken pledge at a shrine at Mambram near Kondotty and also recited Moideen Mala, an Arab-Malayalam poem written by Quasi Muhammed, some 400 years ago. Moideen Mala, or Muhiyudheen Mala, is a long poem hailing the life of a Sufi saint, Mujahedeen Geelani, and belongs to a rich Sufi-Bhakti tradition:

Here is the account of the assassination of Conolly:

Mr. Conolly, the District Magistrate and Provisional Member of the Council for the Presidency, was murdered by a gang of Mappilas.

Mr. G. B. Tod, Assistant Collector in Malabar, wrote to the Chief Secretary at 1 a.m. on the 12th of September 1885:

“It is my melancholy duty to inform you, for the information of the Right Honorable the Governor in Council, that Mr. Conolly, the Collector of this district, was most barbarously murdered this evening, between eight and nine o’clock, in the presence of his wife. He received seven wounds, one of which at least was mortal.

So far as the details at present are ascertained, the perpetrators were three Mappilas, who rushed into the veranda and completed their deadly work before assistance could be called. In the present state of Mrs. Conolly, it is impossible to gather further particulars of the tragedy of which she was the sole witness; but immediately that I am able to do so, I will furnish more complete information.”

The Mappilas were escaped convicts from Calicut Jail called Valasseri Emalu, Puliyakunat Tenu, Chemban Moidin Kutti and Vellattadayatta Parambil Moidin. They had escaped from a prison working party on the 4th of August 1855, spent the following month on the run in various houses in the foothills of the Ghats. At a place called Mambram, they prayed at a shrine of a Tangal, known as a fanatic and insurgent leader. They had then hidden in a house three-quarters of a mile away, for several days, before taking vows at a ceremony where they sang a song called Moidin Mala Pattu. Their war knives were passed through incense smoke…


This description gives a clear account of how deeply influential some of these songs were, as the simple folk were nurtured on such a tradition. The strong Sunni tradition helped spread such cultural practices. There are occasions like nerchas in various mosques belonging to the Sunni Muslim tradition and other festivals like Kuttichira’s famous Appa Vanibham (sale of bread) festival where these art-forms and traditions come to life. On major occasions like perunnal (Eid-ul-Fitr or Bakrid) one could see the colours of traditional Muslim life come alive, in the streets of Kuttichira in Kozhikode or at Nadapuram or Koyilandy, some of the greatest Muslim centres in Malabar.

(Illustration courtesy:Sudheernath, New Delhi.)

Pazhassi Raja and the Missing Palanquin, or How History Leaves Our Shores

KERALA RECENTLY observed the 200th anniversary of the martyrdom of Kerala Varma Pazhassi Raja, a native prince of North Kerala who fought the British East India Company's forces in the thick forests of Wayanad and fell dead on November 30, 1805. T H Babar, the British collector of Malabar who led the colonial forces against the local hero, had carried the body of the dead fighter in his own palanquin to Mananthavady and had cremated him there with full honours. His remains are kept in a mausoleum on a hillock there.

Babar had recorded in his note to the then Madras Governor that he was a great hero who fell at the British bullets, after a series of guerrilla battles that continued for many years. The Raja was one of the pioneers in South India, who, after Tipu Sultan of Mysore, fought and resisted British efforts to annexe the country in the late 18th century.

Ironically, even as the people of the region were celebrating the memories of their folk hero, the authorities at Calicut University, the premier centre for higher education in the region, were busy inquiring into the mysterious circumstances in which a historic artefact, intimately connected with the history of Pazhassi Raja, has been missing from its museum. A beautifully carved palanquin, donated by the East India Company to one of its officers who helped hunt the Pazhassi Raja, kept in the museum of the University's history department, was later recovered from a nearby bush.

"The palanquin is of great historical value as it dates back to the early days of colonial conquest in Malabar," says Dr MGS Narayanan, eminent historian who had collected it from an ancient family in Ramanattukara for the University's history museum back in the '80s. He said the palanquin was donated to Pulapre Karunakara Menon by the Company in recognition for his services. Menon had joined the company as a sepoy in the 1790's and according to the notes left by T H Babar, it was he who identified the body of Pazhassi Raja after the decisive battle in the forests near Mananthavady when the Company forces killed the Raja and a few of his loyal followers and tribal warriors. It was Babar who had arranged for the cremation of the Raja and the mausoleum of the late prince still remains in the hillock, attracting thousands of visitors every year.

Scholars at the University's history department said that it was not only the palanquin that was taken out of the museum where the University had collected and stored a large number of historical articles over the past many decades. Even as a controversy over the missing palanquin raged, the University found that three ancient copper plates, valued in thousands of dollars in the international art market, have also disappeared from its coffers. These copper plates, which are historical documents recorded on thin copper sheets, date back to the 12th and 13th centuries and are of immense value to the history of the region. They are also valuable as ancient artefacts, highly sought after in the western market.

University sources said that one of the copper plates, dating back to the 12th century has been traced to the London Museum recently. Dr Kesavan Veluthat, a scholar on ancient Kerala history, has said that the copper plate is now with the London Museum. The museum authorities have confirmed to him that they had acquired it from an antique dealer in London in 1979. The two other copper plates are still missing and have left no trace so far.

Dr MGS Narayanan who has done an extensive study on the ancient copper plates as part of his studies on Kerala history, said that the one that has surfaced in London is of great value to Kerala studies. The plate was of 12th century origin and it describes in detail the proceedings of the ancient Brahmin sabha at a village called Chellur, now Talipparamba in North Kerala. Chellur and Payyannur were among the 64 original villages set up by Brahmins in Kerala over 1,000 years ago and their history is the story of medieval Kerala and its relations with other parts of India. The copper plate which was part of the huge collection of books and documents in the North Kerala royal family of Kolathiris was donated to the Calicut University by the eminent scholar, Chirakkal T Balakrishnan Nair, who belonged to the royal family. The copper plates were kept in a secure box in the university museum for almost three decades after it acquired them in the early Seventies.

The plate was traced to London when the British Library sought the service of a famous South Indian scholar from Tanjore to decipher the writings which were in ancient Tamil/ Malayalam. It was Dr Subbarayaulu of Tanjore University who informed the scholars in Calicut University about the copper plate in London, triggering alarm bells in the Calicut University who found much of its treasures were gone.

Following a furore, the University instituted and inquiry with Dr MGS Narayanan and Dr S M Mohammed Koya, both historians who served the university as members. Dr MGS Narayanan, who headed the probe panel, said that they had submitted the report to the Vice Chancellor, but no action had been taken to recover the missing artefacts or find the culprits.

The scholars in the university are agitated and express the suspicion that a powerful clique is operating within the university, helping antique dealers get away with such booty. Senior scholars say that only a CBI inquiry with the help of Interpol could help locate the missing valuables now safely hidden away in the western museums and retrieve these historical artefacts back to their original owners, the people of the state.

Laughing Gas

Laughing Gas will appear every weekend.

Prakash Karat: A Leader with a Difference

I WAS at the Talkathora Stadium in Delhi three years ago when Prakash Karat took over as the youngest-ever general secretary of the Communist Party of India (Marxist). It was an historic occasion because in fact what I was witnessing was a moment in history when a generation that saw the immense struggles for political emancipation of this country, was handing over the baton to a new generation to continue the struggle, for social and economic emancipation of millions and millions who were denied the fruits of this freedom.

It was a highly emotional, extremely meaningful moment: On the stage were those frail, battle-scarred veterans Harkishen Singh Surjeet and Jyoti Basu, both into their nineties. Their speeches told everyone that these two, the last of the original politburo members of the CPM –the party called them navaratnas as there were nine of them-- when it was formed after the split in 1964, were making their swan-songs.

And Prakash Karat in his first speech as the new general secretary made a direct reference to this rich history of the Communist Party in India: It was the inheritor of the tradition of a great and relentless struggle, carried through many generations, accepting immense difficulties and making great sacrifices.

Then during the next two days Prakash Karat gave interviews to scores of newspapers, television channels and news agencies from all parts of India and the world, and I was the last person to meet him on day two. I was one of the few Malayalee journalists representing a Kerala newspaper, who got the interview and as I walked up to his room he was already getting up thinking the gruelling ordeal was over. He was the person primarily responsible for organizing the party congress in Delhi, as the senior PB member in charge of organization, he was based in Delhi and he had completed extremely hard work in the run up to the party congress travelling to all states, and then the six-day-long congress itself and after that he had, during the past 48 hours, answered the same, monotonous and often moronic questions from hacks from all over country, repeating his party’s positions ad nauseam…

But he still looked fresh and quite affable. He sat there across the table and as I introduced myself, he said yes, I know...

That was indeed quite gratifying. Ever since I came to Delhi I was covering the CPM beat but I never made any attempt to meet him or any other PB members personally, except S Ramachandran Pillai. It was more than three years since I had met Prakash Karat, at the Kerala state conference of the party at Kannur that took place some time in late 2000. He was staying with other PB members like Surjeet and Sitaram Yechuri in a bungalow outside the town and I went there with a camera crew as chief of the news division of Kairali Television, which the CPM state leadership had launched only a few months earlier. I had joined the television channel in a fit of recklessness (which I regretted later as I found myself jobless…) and the conference had come for us as an occasion to show our significance as the only left-of-centre television channel communicating to Malayalees all over the world.

Before that, during the days of organizing the channel and training our staff, I had occasion to contact him a few times. We were hoping to get some support from NDTV, launched by Pronnoy Roy, a close relative of his, and I got hold of Prakash in the Chennai office of CPM on the phone and he promised me that he would try to get in touch with Pronnoy…Perhaps he could not get him, because I never heard anything from him on it.

Those were the few personal contacts but I had on many occasion interviewed him and had attended his press conferences both in Delhi and Kerala and was impressed by the deft way in which he handled even the toughest media guys and the trickiest questions. But it appears that just as he gave answers to questions -- always sharp, straight and to the point -- he often took his own lessons from them. I remember one occasion: During the Delhi party congress news came that for the first time the Sri Lankan Janata Vimukti Peramuna, once known as a left extremist Sinhala group, was being invited to the 18th party congress as honored foreign delegates. I was surprised about this decision and when I rang up SRP for his clarification, he told me the party viewed them as a genuine leftist organization and that they had eschewed their parochial, violent ways. But later in a press conference announcing the details of the party congress, some journalists from Tamil Nadu exploded, questioning the correctness of the party decision. It was clear even the Tamil Nadu comrades were none too happy about it. But the invitation had already been sent and there was no way backtracking…

But this time in Coimbatore, I saw that there was no representative from JVP.

Well, Karat is a politician who has now emerged as one of the most important in the post-Independence generation in Indian politics, and he has come to stay, because he is just past sixty. Too young by Communist standards.

Now about that interview I had with him three years ago at AKG Bhavan: He gave me 20 minutes, and then he got up and I asked him the final question:

Comrade, what was your role in that decision of the party which was later described by Jyoti Basu as a historic blunder?

He was unruffled.

“What is my role? It was a collective decision,” he said as he left the room.

But it was clear Jyoti Basu did not think so. In his last speech at the party congress, at the Talkathora Stadium, he spoke lovingly and proudly about a new generation of party leaders and he specifically mentioned the name of Sitaram Yechuri and not Prakash…

(Illustration courtesy: A Hameed.)

The Census Revelations

AS CENSUS Commissioner Jayant Kumar Banthia released data on religious communities in the country, the first to react were BJP’s president and RSS spokesman who found a “demographic time bomb” ticking around. The imagery of time bomb was deliberate, and they warned the sharp increase in Muslim population growth rate, as reported by the
census data, was quite dangerous for the country’s future.

Only, they were a bit premature in their reactions because Banthia, who was elevated to this critical job by the NDA Government, was pulling a fast one on them as well as the country. He was playing with figures and now the Home Ministry is inquiring about
how the faux paus on Census data release on religions came to be despite serious
differences within the Government on the advisability of such a move.

What made Naidu and Madhav see red was the statement in the first page of the analysis on Religion Data, which said that among the six major religious communities, the decadal growth of the Muslims was the highest (36.0 percent) at the 2001 Census. The analysis also said the growth rate of the Hindu population had come down from 25.1 per cent in 1981-1991 to 20.4 per cent in 1991-2001.

But the problem with this analysis was the fact that the data for the Muslim growth rate did not take into consideration the fact that the population of Jammu & Kashmir, a state with 67 per cent Muslim population, was not included in the 1991 Census as the census operations could not be carried out there owing to extremist violence. This critical information is revealed as a footnote on a later page which says that no census was conducted in Assam in 1981 and in Jammu & Kashmir in 1991.

Still, the Census Commissioner made this observation about the decadal growth in Muslim population, which was carried by the government’s own media organizations as the I&B Ministry’s Press Information Bureau highlighted this point in its press release on the census findings.

It was the vigilant press in the capital who saw through this game and exposed it the next day, and then the Census Commissioner’s Office announced that they were withdrawing the controversial analysis. Since then, the Commissioner has released adjusted figures and it says that the Muslim population growth fell from 32.9 per cent in 1981-91 to 29.3 per cent in 1991-2001. In the same period Hindu population growth fell from 22.8 per cent to 20.0 per cent. Overall, the picture is that while the Muslim population growth fell by 3.6 per cent, the Hindu population growth fell by 2.8 per cent; and the growth rate for the Muslim population has remained several points higher than the rates for others'.

It must be noted here that though data on religions were not being published by the Census Commissioner in the post Independence period, collection and tabulation was ongoing. The Commissioner, in his introductory note, says that he was taking the bold step of releasing data on religions as the National Minority Commission and Central Statistical Organization asked for such data; alongside the Commissioner acknowledged that some experts had expressed reservations on the release of such sensitive data.
* * *
Minus the numbers on religion, Census data was released a month ago, on the eve of the World Population Day. The data gives disturbing evidence on the demographic changes taking place in the country. India is now a country of more than 102.8 crore people, the second largest populated in the world after China, and what is more, we will cross the Chinese record within another 30 years. Surely this will be an unenviable achievement.

It is not that India totally failed in its population control programmes in the past decades. There have been immense efforts to bring the population growth rates down, and there is a clear indication that the efforts did bear fruit too. However, China with its one-child policy and repressive government machinery has been more successful and its rate of growth of population is much smaller compared to that in India. Hence by 2035, India is all set to replace China as the most populous country on the earth. It will be a severe test for policy makers and planners as the pressures on resources with a teeming population clamouring for basic necessities may become a nightmare.

But the numbers also tell us that in the past decade, that is 1991-2001, India had had the best results in population control measures since Independence. The growth rate in the past decade was lower by 2.3 percentage points compared to the previous decade. The growth rate, which had been 23.9 in 1981-91 fell to 21.5 in the period from 1991 to 2001.

The worst performer in the mater of population control is Bihar and this brings us to the problem of poverty and demographic patterns. Bihar remains one of the most economically backward states and its literacy figures too remain abysmally low. But in the matter of population growth, it tops the chart. The saddest part of the story is that its performance has been declining as its population growth rate which was 23.4 percent in the decade from 1981-91 actually registered a rise to 28.6 per cent in the period 1991-2001.

Bihar is proving to be a classic case of misrule and wrong priorities in social sector, going by every indicator of human development index available in the census data. Its performance in literacy status also gives the same dismal picture, as the state recorded the lowest literacy rate in the country. Its literacy rate of 47 per cent is much below the national average of 64.8 per cent. In the matter of female literacy too, it lags behind all other states.

In contrast, the impressive performance of Kerala and some other South Indian states in the matter of population control and literacy levels takes us to the question of public policy on vital issues of social life. It appears that while most of the Indian states were taking some conscious steps in the direction of improving their human development indicators, Bihar and some other northern states like Jharkhand (part of Bihar during most the past decade) were unconcerned about such matters.
Kerala’s population growth rate is the lowest at just 9.43 per cent. Its neighbours, Tamilnadu and Andhra Pradesh follow, with 11.72 and 14.59 percents respectively. In fact Andhra had the record fall in population growth rate, registering a fall of about ten percentage points in the decade.

Sex ratio is another clear indicator of an enlightened social life. On the national level, there has been an improvement, albeit a barely satisfactory improvement. India had 933 females for every 1000 males in the 2001 census; a slight improvement from the ratio of 927 in the 1991 census. But in Kerala, which has the highest sex ratio, there were 1058 females for every 1000 males. Pondicherry which holds the second position has 1001 females.

In literacy, Kerala is leading the pack with 90.9 per cent literacy maintaining its 1991 ranking. The national performance too was encouraging, recording a jump of 14.6 percentage points from 1991’s 52.2 percent to 64.8 in 2001. Most of the states recorded good growth in literacy levels, leaving Bihar the only spectacular failure. Today, Bihar is the only state in the country whose literacy level remains below 50 percent. In female literacy too, Bihar is at the bottom. It has replaced Rajasthan.
Kerala’s good show ends with its social sector achievements. When it comes to economic performance as reflected in the census data, the state is the real laggard. Take employment: the percentage of working people in the total population (or the work participation rate, WPR) was just 32.3%, at the bottom of the scale.

At the national level, the WPR did show an increase indicating that more people were able to find employment, either part time or full time, in the past decade. The WPR was 37.5% in 1991 and it grew marginally to 39.1% after a decade, showing a sluggish economy and poor growth in the past decade.

Another deeply disturbing trend in Kerala is that the female participation in work force is still poorer, while this number has registered an increase in the country as a whole. At the national level, the female WPR is 25.6, which means every fourth woman is economically active in the country. But in Kerala, the female WPR is as low as 15.4 percent.

The greatest revelation (some would say confirmation) of the census data is about the missing girl child. The document itself describes this as the most alarming fact emerging out of the Census 2001. It found that the child sex ratio in the 0-6 age group has been steadily declining in the country and the greatest culprits are states like Punjab, Haryana, Gujarat and Himachal Pradesh who fell below the less-than-800 girls for 1000 boys mark. The number of girls per 1000 boys in this age group fell from 945 in 91 to 927 at the national level, showing an alarming decrease of 18 points in just one decade.

It is a clear case of unchecked female infanticide, despite legal restrictions. This situation is cause for concern for our entire society. But economic causes are at the root of this phenomenon and with a poor economy and the burdens of dowry on the parents, more and more Indian girls are simply going missing from the womb.

N P Chekkutty
September 2004
Courtesy:www.indiatogether.org)

Kadammanitta and the Poetry of Revolution

In memory of poet Kadammanitta Ramakrishnan who died on Monday, March 31, 2008.



I FIRST met Kadammanitta Ramakrishnan in 1977 or early 1978 when I was a student at the Malabar Christian College, in Kozhikode. I was a first-year degree student and in the first college union election after the Emergency, I was elected a university union councillor.

Those were unforgettable days. The nation had been coming to grips with the terrible experiences of the Emergency through the investigations conducted by the Shah Commission at the national level and in the State, the Rajan case was unfolding which later resulted in the resignation of K Karunakaran as chief minister. Indira Gandhi had been defeated in the election and the country was under the rule of the first non-Congress government.

We were young and committed to a romantic revolutionary politics, and the Students Federation of India had been making waves in campuses across the state. The established left parties were not known for their resistance to the Emergency, and the CPI openly supported Indira Gandhi throughout the 19 months of internal emergency, but the SFI was active in campaigning against the semi-fascist rule during the Emergency. Many of the senior leaders were in jail or were underground and at the national level leaders like Prakash Karat were active in the students’ movement.

I remember the day when Emergency was declared, on June 26, 1975. We had already completed our SSLC examinations and as the news spread the students in our school at Koduvally took out a demonstration in the town and soon the police jeep came rushing in, giving us the first lessons of the Emergency rule, and all the demonstrators ran helter-skelter, most of us running home through the vast paddy fields…

Those two years were suffocating. Then in March 1977 Indira Gandhi called for elections and I remember that I was in a small town called Omassery near our village, coming home after a students meeting somewhere in the hills, when the news came through the All India Radio.

It was evening and suddenly a crowd collected in the town and in no time there took place an impromptu demonstration, people shouting slogans condemning Emergency and Indira Gandhi, in an expression of defiance after so many months of frustration. I forgot about going home and I was there in the demonstration, shouting slogans lustily as I never had had an occasion to shout slogans as we used to in all those 19 months...

It was then Kadammanitta came to our college one day. He was an imposing figure, a dark and stout man, with a coarse khadi jubba and dhothi, some books or magazines tucked in his shoulder bag…There was a lean young chap who came along with him and they said it was a poet called Balachandran Chullikkadu. I had never heard of this Chullikkadu and I didn’t care either, because I was so excited about this dark and stout man whose fiery lines had been etched into my mind.

In the two or three hours they were in the college, Kadammanitta and Balachandran recited many poems and I still remember the booming voice that hit our hearts directly, stirring something within us, telling us how revolutionary a weapon indeed was this poetry…

Since then I had heard Kadammanitta many times and at many stages, but all my memories of the man and his poetry of power take me to the first occasion as a young boy of 17 or 18, I saw him recite his poems in a thunderous voice. Kadammanitta was a symbol of defiant energy, a raw humanism that inspired all our activity and his poems brought something refreshingly original, something quite lofty and elevating to us who were small beings living through the most extraordinary times.