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Metro Plus
Vanishing tribes
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The gypsies and tribes who were so much part of the cityscape are rarely seen today. Glimpses of their unique and colourful culture....
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THE METROPOLIS is growing day by day. The big, spacious bungalows of Mylapore, Alwarpet and T. Nagar have given way to bland, tasteless structures called flats. The winds of modernity have indeed wrought sweeping changes in lifestyles. People who were so much part of our childhood and lent colour to our lives are no longer to be seen and we have to content ourselves with just memories.
The `boom boom mattukaran,' accompanied by his bull, was a common sight those days. The animal, with colourful clothes adorning its hump, would respond to the commands of his master, but generally it would move its head sideways or up and down making you wonder whether it was replying in the affirmative or negative.
But what provided a comic effect was the loud music played by the `mattukaran' on his pipe. And invariably one would try to identify the tune he was playing because it would be a popular film song. After receiving old clothes or money he would move to the next house.
The `kudu kudu pandi' generally visited households for alms early in the morning. He would be distinct because of his colourful attire. But his hallmark was the udukku, a small drum that one usually sees Lord Nataraja holding in his hand. The kudu kudu pandi would announce his arrival with the udukku. He would shout out his predictions as he went from door to door. People generally believed that his tribe practised black magic in the graveyards and his utterances would turn out to be true. The kudu kudu pandi was feared and people ensured that he uttered only good predictions. My mother, therefore, always gave him a generous donation of cash and old clothes so that he would go away fast.
Like the kudu kudu pandi one often saw groups of `narikoravas' going about the streets. Sometimes, one of the men would bring a monkey and make it literally dance to his tunes. The animal would be made to jump over a stick representing Hanuman's crossing of the ocean in the Epic. He would also sell exotic animal skins or wares like narikombu. The narikoravas carried catapults (undikavvu) with which they targeted squirrels and birds. The womenfolk wore short skirts and danced to the tunes of popular cine songs, the tempo set by the beating of an empty `Dalda' tin. One could choose from a wide range of wares... anything from needles to glass beads, in exchange for money or clothes.
The `whip man', with his assistant beating a drum to announce their arrival, was another common sight. He would lash himself mercilessly with a long whip. Perhaps it was a way of attracting public attention. But as kids, we used to shudder at the impact of each lash. Sometimes his wife would accompany him with a basket on her head containing the face of a fierce-looking god. She would beat the drum in a rather monotonous fashion.
Then there used to be those awe-inspiring snake charmers. They would slowly open the baskets they carried and the deadly snakes lying within would begin to uncoil themselves and supposedly dance to tune of the magudi that they played. The cobras were a special attraction. Perhaps my mother gave alms to the snake charmer whenever he visited either out of pity or sheer fright. I recall that some snake charmers would walk about with a python draped like a huge garland around their necks. But I do not think they evoked the same awe as the ones who could charm the cobras!
There were also the josiakaris who at once aroused our interest because of the huge rings that decorated their ears. We would get worried whether the dangling pambadam (as the rings were called) would fall off because of their sheer weight. The josiakaris wandered about with a small stick, which they used while reading palms and predicting people's fortunes. I recall an experience I had when I was a chemical engineering student.
A josiakari predicted that I would never work in a factory but might end up in a bank. I laughed at her predictions but today there are moments when I wonder at their accuracy for I have been a banker all my life. In spite of my best efforts I never came across the woman again.
The years have rolled by and due to rapid urbanisation and a fast pace of life, we seem to have no time for the kudu kudu pandis, the boom boom mattukarans and the josiakaris. They too have become a rare sight on the city roads.
Perhaps the various poverty alleviation schemes being implemented by the Government have paved the way for the integration of these marginalised sections into the mainstream of society.
But one feels a tinge of sadness that these tribal people and gypsies who bring us glimpses of a vibrant culture are not seen any more at our doorsteps.
S. BALAKRISHNAN
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