The Servant of God - Through Padma Shri Muthukannammal's Eyes

Every story has two sides to it. But sometimes, one voice gets lost in the clamour for change. 

Change is inevitable. Change can be good. But for some, the change means losing their very livelihood.

Srikant and I with Muthukannammal

This can be the story of any individual, industry, or profession.

Today, I write about the Devadasis.

I am not the first to write about it, but this may be the first time you hear of it. So, I write. 

Not the whole story, for who can know what the whole story was? But I write of one woman, and only as she narrated it to me.

Her world turned topsy-turvy seventy years ago, but now, as if coming a full circle, she is being recalled for a craft that may die with her in the form she knew it.

Breaking Myths

When working on an article on the Sabha Culture in Chennai during the month of Margazhi (Dec 15-Jan 15), I read up on some parts of the history of Bharatanatyam. Despite having learnt the art for several years before that, my focus was confined to learning the performing aspects only. I always assumed that Bharatanatyam existed from the times of Sage Bharata who wrote the Natya Shastra as Bharatanatyam. 

When doing the article, I came to know that Bharatanatyam itself is of recent origin and that it was called Sadir in its earlier avatar, when it was performed in the temples. The performers were called Devadasis, the servants of Devas or Gods. 

In fact, Raja Raja Chola brought 400 devadasis from different places and provided them with housing around the Brihadeshwara or Big Temple. Their houses had nameplates bearing their names. 

With the invasion by the Vijayanagara dynasty, things did change and the dancers and others who served in the temple suffered. But not everyone had a fall in status. Though they were married to the deity, movies represented them as ladies with a dubious reputation. 

Married to the Lord

Maybe there was some truth to it, though it was not the complete truth. The system had survived for several centuries till the British came. They looked down on the system without understanding the context or the history. These were women who were employed by the temple to take care of a variety of temple-related tasks. They had to live by certain rules, but there are always exceptions. The colonial government viewed the exception as the rule and set about abolishing it.

Then a girl belonging to one such family came with fire in her eyes to lend voice to the British view and reform and uplift the women working in the temple. She strove hard, broke away from her roots, and, with the support of another revolutionary man, backed the law that banned the Devadasi system. Overnight, these women were banned from entering the temples and some had to resort to the very thing they were accused of doing. For others, it was a life of difficulties and challenges.

Rising like the Phoenix

You may put rocks in the path of water but you can never stop it. If Sadir seemed to be losing its foothold, it was taken up by another revolutionary woman who reshaped and re-presented it as Bharatanatyam. Other gurus belonging to the tradition kept the spirit of this divine art alive by taking on students wishing to learn this art. Over the years, having been evicted from the temples, it has reached almost every household, not only in the state of its origin, but even in far-flung countries such as America, Russia, and even Japan! While many belonging to the Devadasi tradition chose to dissociate themselves from this art, in the secular world, this has many more takers.

Meeting a Relic

The Nattuvangam her
father used

One such Devadasi or Devar Adiyal - servant of God - is Muthukannammal. She was born in the family of a Nattuvanar, the dance guru who wielded the cymbal-like instrument called Nattuvangam. Her father Sri Ramachandran was a well-respected guru in Virali Malai where the presiding deity is Lord Subrahmanyan, a form of Muruga, seated on a peacock with Valli and Devayanai. The temple is atop a small hill with 200 steps. 

The dancers and others associated with the temple had duties such as maintaining the temple premises, looking after the deity's comforts, and other responsibilities associated with temple rituals. They would go up and down at least twice a day to be part of the temple rituals without fail. They had to perform during the festival. Their whole life revolved around the temple and they received a minimum salary plus rice, lands and other benefits. They had to sign an attendance, and on the days they were absent, they had to make alternate arrangements and forfeit the rice they received from the temple.

The ladies wore saris to perform and the jewellery was always made of gold and precious stones. Easily they danced wearing 10kgs worth of jewellery on them! They performed on the temple premises, and during processions, on the streets. They had no mics and were expected to sing and dance. There would be pin-drop silence as people watched them perform. They would also perform on special occasions in other temples and for the Pudukottai Maharaja who was the patron of the temple. As they walked to those far-off places or went in bullock carts, they would learn new compositions on the way. 

As the dancers were always accompanied by their entourage of musicians, they were never really alone

The bells were sturdy, made of brass

or vulnerable. They were well taken care of and respected. They were educated and spiritual. Their mornings were dedicated to learning the art, and the afternoon, going to the school. According to Muthukannammal, her grandaunt had taken Siva Deeksha and attained samadhi.

When the law prohibiting the devadasi system was implemented, they were not allowed time to transition out of it. They were, what we understand today as, laid off with no warning. This was a hard blow for them for they had specialized in one area and could not adapt quickly. Muthukannammal's family had to pay taxes suddenly and they sold their property to do that. Reduced to penury overnight, they sold her jewels one by one to survive.

In These Times

She still lives close to the temple. One of her sons-in-law raised her situation a little and the next generation is trying to find a footing through modern education and jobs. She herself came back into the limelight when a documentary was made on her. She received the Padma Shri in 2022 and was recognized as the seventh-generation Sadir dancer. But, there is no one from her family to carry her legacy forward.

Recognition finds her in her old age

That must hurt. For, even as we were speaking, despite her 87 years, she would burst out into the songs she performed for back then with ease, with appropriate hand gestures to go with the lyrics. She told me how the compositions would pan out.

Virali Malai had thirty-two dancers. The rest of them are no more and their families are lost in the sands of time. Though she spoke with quiet pride about her legacy, I wondered how her children felt about it. For them, growing up in penury, it must have felt like a curse.

I am reminded of the Shakespearean imagery - throwing the baby with the bath water... In trying to eradicate a system that was viewed with Western sensibilities, the plight of the people dependent on that system was neglected.

One of Sri Madeswaran's
artworks

I am grateful to Sri Madeshwaran, my children's Tamil teacher who is managing a school down south, for insisting that I meet this lady. He himself is on a mission to bring to light their true history, restore dignity to the Devadasis and identify the tasks they performed, depicting them as drawings of exceptional quality. 

We may stand from afar and judge whether the change was for the best or not. But for those who experienced it, it is a pain that even the subsequent generations are facing.

I can only think that we still had the last laugh as a nation. What someone couldn't accept as art is now making deep inroads into their own civilization and being sought after for its classicity. In this land, temples conduct events where dancers are invited to perform. It may not look and feel the same, but it is here, for sure, to stay.