A still further classification of divisions and sub-divisions is given

by Mr. F. S. Mullaly. [203] I am informed by Mr. C. Hayavadana Rao

that, in the Vizagapatam district, the Yerukalas are divided into

Pattapu or Odde, and Thurpu (eastern). Of these, the former, when

they are prosperous, live in tiled houses, while the latter live in

huts. Pattapu women wear brass bangles on both wrists, and Thurpu

women brass bangles on the right wrist, and glass bangles on the

left. The former throw the end of their cloth over the left shoulder,

and the latter over the right.

It is recorded, in the Gazetteer of the Trichinopoly district, that

"the Kuravans are divided into a number of endogamous sections,

of which the Ina Kuravans and the Kavalkaran Kuravans are the most

criminal, especially the latter. The latter are also called the Marasa,

Mondu, and Kadukutti Kuravans. In dress and appearance the Namakkal

Kuravans are said to be superior to those of Karur, and to look like

well-dressed Vellalans or Pallis. They are peculiar in wearing long

ear-rings. They are also said to be much better thieves than the

others, and to dislike having a Karur Kuravan when breaking into a

house, for fear he might wake the household by his clumsiness."

As examples of intiperu, or exogamous septs, the following, which

were given by Uppu Yerukalas, may be cited:--

Dasari, Vaishnavite mendicant.

Sukka, star.

Kampa, bush of thorns.

Avula, cows.

Thoka, tail.

Kanaga (Pongamia glabra).

Bandi, cart.

Gajjala, small bell.

Mogili (Pandanus fascicularis)

Uyyala, swing.

Ragala, ragi grain.

Pula, flowers.

Katari, dagger.

Ambojala, lotus.

Samudrala, sea.

Venkatagiri, a town.

"A knowledge," Mr. Fawcett writes, "of these house or sept names may

be useful in order to establish a man's identity, as a Koravar, who

is generally untruthful as to his own name, is seldom if ever so as

regards his house or sept name, and his father's name. He considers

it shameful to lie about his parentage, 'to be born to one, and yet to

give out the name of another.' Totemism of some kind evidently exists,

but it is rather odd that it has not always any apparent connection

with the sept or house name. Thus, the totem of persons of the Koneti

sept is horse-gram (kollu in Tamil), which they hold in veneration,

and will not touch, eat, or use in any way. The totem of the Samudrala

sept is the conch shell, which likewise will not be used by those of

the sept in any manner. It may be noted that persons of the Rameswari

sept will not eat tortoises, while those of the Koneti sept are in

some manner obliged to do so on certain occasions."

As regards names for specific occupations among the Koravas,

the Bidar or nomad Koravas originally carried merchandise in the

form of salt, tamarinds, jaggery (crude sugar or molasses), leaves

of the curry leaf plant (Murraya Koenigii) from place to place on

pack-bullocks or donkeys. The leaves were in great demand, and those

who brought them round for sale were called in Tamil Karuvaipillai,

and in Telugu Karepaku, after the commodity which they carried. This

is a common custom in India, and when driving through the bazar,

one may hear, for example, an old woman carrying a bundle of wood

addressed as firewood. "Kavadi" will be screamed at a man carrying

a pole (kavadi) with baskets, etc., suspended from it, who got in

the way of another. The section of Koravas who carried salt inland

from the coast became known as Uppu (salt) Koravas. Another large

class are the Thubba, Dhubbai, or Dhabbai (split bamboo) Koravas, who

restrict their wanderings to the foot of hill ranges, where bamboos are

obtainable. With these they make baskets for the storage of grain, for

carrying manure at the bottom of carts, and various fancy articles. In

the Kurnool district, the Yerukalas will only cut bamboos at the time

of the new moon, as they are then supposed to be free from attacks

by boring weevils, and they do certain puja (worship) to the goddess

Malalamma, who presides over the bamboos. In the Nallamalai forests,

the Yerukalas do not split the bamboo into pieces and remove the

whole, but take off only a very thin strip consisting of the outer

rind. The strips are made up into long bundles, which can be removed by

donkeys. There is extreme danger of fire, because the inner portions

of the bamboos, left all over the forest, are most inflammable. [204]

Instead of splitting the bamboos in the forest, and leaving behind a

lot of combustible material, the Yerukalas now have to purchase whole

bamboos, and take them outside the forest to split them. The members

of a gang of these Yerukalas, who came before me at Nandyal, were

each carrying a long split bamboo wand as an occupational insigne. A

further important section is that of the Kunchu or Kunchil Koravas, who

gather roots in the jungle, and make them into long brushes which are

used by weavers. The Koravas have a monopoly in their manufacture, and

take pride in making good brushes. These Kunchu Koravas are excellent

shikaris (hunters), and snare antelope, partridges, duck, quail, and

other game with great skill. For the purpose of shooting antelopes,

or of getting close enough to the young ones to catch them after a

short run, they use a kind of shield made of dried twigs ragged at the

edges, which looks like an enormous wind-blown bundle of grass. When

they come in sight of a herd of antelopes, they rest one edge of the

shield on the ground, and, sitting on their heels behind it, move it

slowly forward towards the herd until they get sufficiently close to

dash at the young ones, or shoot the grown-up animals. The antelopes

are supposed to mistake the shield for a bush, and to fail to notice

its gradual approach. They capture duck and teal largely at night,

and go to the rice fields below a tank (pond or lake), in which the

crop is young, and the ground consequently not entirely obscured. This

would be a likely feeding-ground, or traces of duck having fed there

on the previous night might be noticed. They peg a creeper from

one bund (mud embankment) to another, parallel to the tank bund,

four inches above the water in the field. From this they suspend a

number of running loops made of sinews drawn from the legs of sheep

or goats or from the hind-legs of hares, the lower ends of the loops

touching the mud under water. If the duck or teal come to feed, they

are sure to be caught, and fall victims to the slip noose. "The Kuntsu

(Kunchu) Korachas," Mr. Francis tells us, [205] "catch small birds

by liming twigs or an arrangement of bits of bamboo with a worm hung

inside it, or by setting horse-hair nooses round the nests. Quails

they capture by freely snaring a piece of ground, and then putting

a quail in a cage in the middle of it, to lure the birds towards the

snare. They also catch them, and partridges too, by driving the bevy

towards a collapsible net. To do this, they cover themselves with a

dark blanket, conceal their heads in a kind of big hat made of hair,

feathers and grass, and stalk the birds from a bullock trained to the

work, very gradually driving them into the net. They also occasionally

capture black-buck (antelope) by sending a tame buck with nooses

on his horns to fight with a wild one. The latter speedily gets his

horns entangled in the nooses, and is easily secured." Sometimes the

Kunchu Korava begs in villages, dragging about with him a monkey,

while the females earn a livelihood by tattooing, which occupation,

known as pricking with green, has gained for them the name of Pacchai

(green) Kutti. The patterns used in tattooing by a Korava woman, whom

I interviewed, were drawn in a note-book, and consisted of fishes,

scorpions, a fortress, five-storeyed house, conventional designs,

etc. The patterns were drawn on the skin, with great dexterity and

skill in freehand drawing, by means of a blunt stick dipped in a

mixture of a lamp-black, lamp-oil, and turmeric contained in a half

cocoanut shell. The pattern is pricked in with a bundle of four

or five needles tied together. The needles and drawing-stick were

kept in a hollow bamboo, and the tattooing mixture in the scooped

out fruits of the bael (Ægle Marmelos) and palmyra palm (Borassus

flabellifer). For tattooing an entire upper extremity, at several

sittings, the Korava woman would be paid from eight to twelve annas,

or receive food-grains in lieu of money. The hot weather is said

to be more favourable for the operation than the cold season, as

the swelling after it is less. To check this, lamp-oil, turmeric,

and leaves of the avarai plant (Dolichos Lablab) are applied.

Concerning the Pacchaikuttis, or, as they are also called, Gadde

(soothsayers), Mr. Paupa Rao Naidu writes that "the women start with

a basket and a winnowing basket or tray into a village, proclaiming

their ostensible profession of tattooing and soothsaying, which they

do for grain or money. When unfortunate village women, who always lose

children or who often fall ill, see these Gadde women moving about,

they call them into their houses, make them sit, and, pouring some

grain into their baskets, ask them about their past misery and future

lot. These women, who are sufficiently trained to speak in suitable

language, are clever enough to give out some yarns in equivocal terms,

so that the anxious women, who hope for better futurity, understand

them in the light uppermost in their own minds. The Korava women will

be rewarded duly, and doubly too, for they never fail to study the

nature of the house all the time, to see if it offers a fair field

for booty to their men."

At Srungavarapukota in the Vizagapatam district "the local goddess,

Yerakamma, is a deification of a woman who committed sati. Ballads are

sung about her, which say that she was the child of Dasari parents, and

that her birth was foretold by a Yerukala woman (whence her name) who

prophesied that she would have the gift of second sight. She eventually

married, and one day she begged her husband not to go to his field,

as she was sure he would be killed by a tiger if he did. Her husband

went notwithstanding, and was slain as she had foreseen. She committed

sati on the spot where her shrine still stands." [206]

The Ur or village Koravas have given up their nomad life, and settled

in villages of their own, or together with other communities. Many

of them have attended pial schools, and can read and write to some

extent. Some of them are employed in the police and salt departments,

as jail warders, etc. The Ur Korava is fast losing his individuality,

and assimilating, in dress, manners and customs, the ryots among whom

he dwells. In the Salem district there is a village called Koravur,

which is inhabited entirely by Koravas, who say that they were

originally Uppu Koravas, but now cultivate their own lands, or work

as agricultural labourers for the land-owners. They say further that

they pay an occasional visit to Madras for the purpose of replenishing

their stock of coral and beads, which they sell at local shandis

(markets). Some Koravas are said to buy gilded beads at Madura,

and cheat unsuspecting villagers by selling them as gold. Though

the Ur Koravas are becoming civilised, they have not yet lost their

desire for other men's goods, and are reported to be the curse of

the Anantapur, Cuddapah, and Bellary districts, where they commit

robbery, house-breaking, and theft, especially of sheep and cattle. A

particularly bold sheep theft by them a few years ago is worthy of

mention. The village of Singanamalla in the Anantapur district lies a

few miles off the railway. It is bordered on two sides by Government

forest reserves, into which the villagers regularly drove their sheep

and goats to graze, in charge of small boys, in the frequent absences

of the forest watcher, or when the watcher was well disposed towards

them. An arrangement was made between the Koravas and a meat-supplier

at Bangalore to deliver on his behalf a large number of sheep at a

wayside station near Dharmavaram, to receive which trucks had to

be ready, and the transaction was purely cash. One morning, when

more than a hundred sheep had been driven far into the reserve by

their youthful charges, who kept more or less close together for

the sake of company, a number of Koravas turned up, and represented

themselves as forest watchers, captured the small boys, gagged them

and tied them to trees, and drove off all the available sheep. The

boys were not discovered till late at night, and the police did not

get to work till the following morning, by which time the sheep were

safely entrained for Bangalore.

It is noted, in the Madras Police Report, 1905-1906, that "a large

number of members of the notorious Rudrapad Koracha gangs have recently

been released from His Highness the Nizam's prisons, and their return

will add appreciably to the difficulties of the Bellary Police."

A small class of Koravas is named Pamula (snake), as they follow the

calling of snake-charmers. In the Census Report, 1901, Pusalavadu

(seller of glass beads) and Utlavadu (makers of utlams) are given as

sub-castes of Yerukala. An utlam is a hanging receptacle for pots,

etc., made of palmyra fibre. In the same report, Kadukuttukiravar

(those who bore a hole in the ear) and Valli Ammai Kuttam (followers

of the goddess Valli Ammai) are returned as synonyms of Koravas. They

claim that Valli Ammai, the wife of the god Subrahmanya, was a Korava

woman. Old Tamil books refer to the Koravas as fortune-tellers to

kings and queens, and priests to Subrahmanya. Some Koravas have, at

times of census, returned themselves as Kudaikatti (basket-making)

Vanniyans. Balfour refers to Walaja Koravas, and states that they are

musicians. They are probably identical with the Wooyaloo Koravas,

[207] whose duty it is to swing incense, and sing before the god

during a religious celebration. The same writer speaks of Bajantri

or Sonai Kolawaru and Kolla and Soli Korawars, and states that they

inhabit the Southern Maratha country. These names, like Thogamallai

for Koravas who come from the village of that name in the Trichinopoly

district, are probably purely local. Further, the Abbé Dubois states

that "the third species of Kuravers is generally known under the name

of Kalla Bantru, or robbers. The last Muhammadan prince who reigned

over Mysore is said to have employed a regular battalion of these

men in time of war, not for the purpose of fighting, but to infest

the enemy's camp in the night, stealing away the horses and other

necessaries of the officers, and acting as spies. They were awarded

in proportion to the dexterity they displayed in these achievements,

and, in time of peace, they were despatched into the various States

of neighbouring princes, to rob for the benefit of their masters." It

is possible that the Kaikadis of the Central Provinces are identical

with Koravas, who have migrated thither.

A section of Koravas, called Koot (dancing) or Kothee (monkey)

Kaikaries, is referred to by Mr. Paupa Rao Naidu as "obtaining their

living by prostitution. They also kidnap or sell children for this

purpose. Some of the women of this class are thriving well in the

Madras Presidency as experts in dancing. They are kept by rich people,

and are called in the Telugu country Erukala Bogamvaru, in Tamil

Korava Thevidia. They also train monkeys, and show them to the public."

The household god of the Korava, which is as a rule very rudely carved,

may be a representation of either Vishnu or Siva. As already noted,

it is stated in the Census Report, 1901, that the Koravas worship

Subrahmanya, the son of Siva, while the Yerukalas worship Vishnu in the

form of Venkateswara and his wife Lakshmi. They worship, in addition

to these, Kolapuriamma, Perumalaswami, and other appropriate deities,

prior to proceeding on a depredatory expedition. Kolapuriamma is the

goddess of Kolhapur, the chief town of the Native State of that name in

the Bombay Presidency, who is famous in Southern India. Perumalswami,

or Venkateswara, is the god of Tirupati, the great place of pilgrimage

in the North Arcot district. The signs of a recent performance of

worship by Koravas may prove an indication to the Police that they

have been concerned in a dacoity, and act as a clue to detection

thereof. They sacrifice sheep or goats once a year to their particular

god on a Sunday or Tuesday, while those who worship Venkateswara honour

him on a Saturday, and break cocoanuts as an offering. All offerings

presented to the gods are divided among those present, after the

ceremonies have been completed. Venkateswara is said to be sometimes

represented, for the purpose of worship, by a brass vessel (kalasam)

decorated with flowers, and bearing on it the Vaishnavite namam (sect

mark). Its mouth is closed by a cocoanut, beneath which mango or betel

leaves are placed. On the day appointed for the religious service,

everything within the hut is thrown outside, and the floor is purified

with cow-dung, and devices are drawn thereon. The brass vessel is set

up, and offerings of large quantities of food are made to it. Some of

this dedicated food (prasadam) must be given to all the inhabitants of

the settlement. A lump of clay, squeezed into a conical shape, with a

tuft of margosa (Melia Azadirachta) leaves does duty for Poleramma. In

front thereof, three stones are placed. Poleramma may be worshipped

close to, but not within, the hut. To her offerings of boiled rice

(pongal) are made by fasting women. The manner in which the boiling

food bubbles over from the cooking-pot is eagerly watched, and accepted

as an omen for good or evil. In a note on the Coorroo, Balfour states

[208] that "they told me that, when they pray, they construct a small

pyramid of clay, which they term Mariamma, and worship it. The women

had small gold and silver ornaments suspended from cords round their

necks, which they said had been supplied to them by a goldsmith,

from whom they had ordered figures of Mariamma. The form represented

is that of the goddess Kali. They mentioned that they had been told

by their forefathers that, when a good man dies, his spirit enters

the body of some of the better animals, as that of a horse or cow,

and that a bad man's spirit gives life to the form of a dog or jackal,

but they did not seem to believe in it. They believe firmly, however,

in the existence and constant presence of a principle of evil, who,

they say, frequently appears, my informant having himself often seen

it in the dusk of the evening assuming various forms, at times a cat,

anon a goat, and then a dog, taking these shapes that it might approach

to injure him."

The domestic god of the Koravas, in the southern districts, is said to

be Sathavu, for whom a day of worship is set apart once in three or

four years. The Koravas assemble, and, in an open place to the west

of the village, a mud platform is erected, on which small bricks are

spread. In front of the platform are placed a sickle, sticks, and

arrack (liquor). Cocoanuts, plantain fruits, and rice are offered,

and sheep sacrificed. Sandal and turmeric are poured over the bricks,

and camphor is burnt. The proceedings terminate with a feast.

The presiding goddess of the criminal profession of the Koravas is

stated by Mr. M. Paupa Rao Naidu [209] to be Moothevi, the goddess

of sleep, whom they dread and worship more than any other god or

goddess of the Hindu Pantheon. The object of this worship is twofold,

one being to keep themselves vigilant, and the other to throw their

victims off their guard. Moothevi is invoked in their prayers to keep

them sleepless while on their nefarious purpose bent, but withal to

make their victims sufficiently sleepy over their property. This

goddess is worshipped especially by females, who perform strange

orgies periodically, to propitiate her. A secluded spot is preferred

for performing these orgies, at which animal sacrifices are made,

and there is distribution of liquor in honour of the goddess. The

Edayapatti gang worship in addition the deity Ratnasabhapathy at

Ayyamala. When prosecuted for a crime, the Koravan invokes his

favourite deity to let him off with a whipping in the words 'If the

punishment of whipping be inflicted I shall adore the goddess.'

The following account of a peculiar form of human sacrifice by the

Koravas in former days was given to Mr. C. Hayavadana Rao by an old

inhabitant of the village of Asur near Walajabad in the Chingleput

district. A big gang settled at the meeting point of the three villages

of Asur, Melputtur, and Avalur, on an elevated spot commanding the

surrounding country. They had with them their pack-bullocks, each

headman of the gang owning about two hundred head. The cow-dung which

accumulated daily attracted a good many of the villagers, on one of

whom the headmen fixed as their intended victim. They made themselves

intimate with him, plied him with drink and tobacco, and gave him

the monopoly of the cow-dung. Thus a week or ten days passed away,

and the Koravas then fixed a day for the sacrifice. They invited the

victim to visit them at dusk, and witness a great festival in honour

of their caste goddess. At the appointed hour, the man went to the

settlement, and was induced to drink freely. Meanwhile, a pit, large

enough for a man to stand upright in it, had been prepared. At about

midnight, the victim was seized, and forced to stand in the pit, which

was filled in up to his neck. This done, the women and children of the

gang made off with their belongings. As soon as the last of them had

quitted the settlement, the headmen brought a large quantity of fresh

cow-dung, and placed a ball of it on the head of the victim. The ball

served as a support for an earthen lamp, which was lighted. The man

was by this time nearly dead, and the cattle were made to pass over

his head. The headmen then made off, and, by daybreak, the whole gang

had disappeared. The murdered man was found by the villagers, who have,

since that time, scrupulously avoided the Koravas. The victim is said

to have turned into a Munisvara, and for a long time troubled those

who happened to go near the spot at noon or midnight. The Koravas

are said to have performed the sacrifice so as to insure their cattle

against death from disease. The ground, on which they encamped, and on

which they offered the human sacrifice, is stated to have been barren

prior thereto, and, as the result thereof, to have become very fertile.

It is said that Korava women invoke the village goddesses when they

are telling fortunes. They use a winnowing fan and grains of rice in

doing this, and prophesy good or evil, according to the number of

grains found on the fan. [210] They carry a basket, winnow, stick,

and a wicker tray in which cowry shells are imbedded in a mixture of

cow-dung, and turmeric. The basket represents Kolapuriamma and the

cowries Poleramma. When telling fortunes, the Korava woman places on

the basket the winnow, rice, betel leaves and areca nuts, and the

wicker tray. Holding her client's hand over the winnow, and moving

it about, she commences to chant, and name all sorts of deities. From

time to time she touches the hand of the person whose fortune is being

told with the stick. The Korava women are very clever in extracting

information concerning the affairs of a client before they proceed

to tell her fortune.

Brahmans fix the auspicious hour for marriage, and Chettis

are invited to act as priests at the purification ceremony for

re-admission into caste of a man or woman who has cohabited with

a Paraiyan or Muhammadan, or been beaten with a shoe, etc. For the

purpose of re-admission, a panchayat (council) assembles, at which

the headman presides. Enquiries are made into the conduct of the

accused, and a fine of two rupees levied. Of this sum the Chetti

receives eight annas, with some betel and tobacco. The balance is

spent in liquor for those who are assembled. After the Chetti has

received his fee, he smears the foreheads of the guilty person and

the company with sacred ashes. The impure person goes to a stream

or well, and bathes. He then again comes before the council, and is

purified by the Chetti again marking his forehead. The proceedings

wind up with a feast. In former days, at a trial before a council,

the legs of the complainant and accused were tied together. In 1907,

a Koracha was excommunicated for having illicit intercourse with a

widow. The ceremony of excommunication usually consists of shaving

the head and moustache of the guilty person, and making him ride a

donkey, wearing a necklace of bones. In the case under reference, a

donkey could not be procured, so a temporary shed was made of sajja

(Setaria italica) stalks, which were set on fire after the man had

passed through it. He was to be re-admitted into the caste by standing

a feast to all the members of five gangs of Korachas.

It is said [211] that "a curious custom of the Kuravans prohibits them

from committing crime on new-moon or full-moon days. Once started on an

expedition, they are very determined and persistent. There is a case on

record where one of a band of Kuravans out on an expedition was drowned

in crossing the Cauvery. Nothing daunted by the loss or the omen,

they attempted a burglary, and failed. They then tried another house,

where they also failed; and it was not till they had met with these

three mishaps that their determination weakened, and they went home."

The Koravas are extremely superstitious, and take careful notice of

good or bad omens before they start on a criminal expedition. They

hold a feast, at which the assistance of the goddess Kolapuriamma or

Perumal is sought. A young goat, with coloured thread attached to its

horns, and a garland of margosa leaves with a piece of turmeric round

its neck, is taken to an out-of-the-way shrine. Here it is placed

before the deity, and cocoanuts are broken. The god is asked whether

the expedition will be successful. If the body of the animal quivers,

it is regarded as an answer in the affirmative; if it does not, the

expedition will be abandoned. If in addition to quivering, the animal

urinates, no better sign could be hoped for. The Koravas make it a

point of honour to pay for the goat used for this religious purpose. It

was information of this ceremony having been performed which led to the

detection of a torchlight dacoity in the Cuddapah district in 1896. The

expedition was in the first instance successful, for the Koravas

broke into a Komati's house in the middle of a village, and carried

off a quantity of jewels. The Komati's arm was broken, and he and

other inmates of the house were badly burnt by lighted torches thrust

against their faces and bodies. Among other methods of consulting the

omens is to sacrifice a fowl at a shrine, and sit in front thereof

listening for the direction whence the chirping of lizards issues. If

the omens are auspicious, the members of the expedition start off,

armed as a rule with latis (sticks) and axes. If they attack a cart,

they commence by throwing stones at it, to ascertain if the occupant

has fire-arms with him. Houses are generally broken into by means of

a hole made in the wall near the door-latch. In the Ceded Districts,

where the houses are as a rule substantially built of rough stone,

and have flat roofs of salt earth, an opening is frequently effected

through the roof. The Koravas are often extremely cruel in the methods

which they adopt to extort information from inhabitants of houses as

to where their valuables are concealed. In common with other Hindus,

they avoid the shadow of the thandra tree (Terminalia belerica),

in which the spirit of Saneswaradu is believed to reside. In this

connection the following legend is recited. [212] In the city of

Bimanapuram there ruled a king named Bimaraju, who had a beautiful

daughter named Damayanti, with whom the gods, including Nalamaharaju,

fell in love. Damayanti had never seen Nalamaharaju, but loved him on

account of the stories which reached her of the justice with which he

governed his kingdom, and his chastity. To avoid being charged with

partiality in disposing of his daughter's hand, Bimaraju determined to

invite all the gods to his house, and the one to whom Damayanti should

throw a garland of flowers should claim her as his wife. The day fixed

on arrived, and all the gods assembled, except Saneswaradu, who appears

to have been unavoidably detained. The gods were seated in a circle,

and a fly guided Damayanti to Nalamaharaju, on whose neck she threw the

garland. Nalamaharaju at once claimed her as his wife, and started off

with her to his kingdom. On the way they met Saneswaradu, who demanded

an explanation of their being in each other's company. He was told,

and was very angry because the matter had been settled in his absence,

and swore a mighty oath that they should be separated. To this end,

he caused all sorts of difficulties to come in their way. Under his

spell, Nalamaharaju took to gambling, and lost all his property. He was

separated from Damayanti, and lived in poverty for years. The spell of

Saneswaradu could, however, only last for a certain number of years,

and, when the time expired Nalamaharaju set out for Bimanapuram,

to find Damayanti who had returned to her father's house. On the

way, under a thandra tree, he met Saneswaradu, who confessed that he

was the cause of all the troubles that had befallen him, and begged

that he would look leniently on his fault. Nalamaharaju would not

forgive him, but, after cursing him, ordained that he should live

for ever in the thandra tree, so that the area over which he could

do wrong should be limited. It is for this reason that all wandering

tribes avoid pitching a camp within the shadow of this tree. A tree

(Terminalia Catappa) belonging to the same genus as the thandra is

regarded as a lucky one to camp beneath, as it was under one of these

trees that Rama made a bower when he lived with Sita and Lakshmana

after his banishment to the forest of Dandaka.

In connection with omens and superstitions, Mr. Fawcett writes as

follows. "Koravas, being highly superstitious, are constantly on the

look-out for omens, especially before starting out on an excursion

when the objective is dacoity or housebreaking. The household deity,

represented by a brick picked up at random, is worshipped, and a sheep

or fowl is sacrificed. Water is first poured over the animal, and, if

it shakes its body, the omen is good, while, if it stands perfectly

still, there is misfortune ahead. It is unfortunate, when starting,

to see widows, pots of milk, dogs urinating, a man leading a bull,

or a bull bellowing. On the other hand, it is downright lucky when

a bull bellows at the scene of the criminal operation. To see a man

goading a bull is a good omen when starting, and a bad one at the

scene. Sprinkling urine over doors and walls of a house facilitates

breaking into it. The failure of an expedition is generally attributed

to the evil eye, or the evil tongue, whose bad effects are evinced

in many ways. If the excursion has been for housebreaking, the

housebreaking implement is often soldered at its sharp end with

panchalokam (five metals), to counteract the effect of the evil

eye. The evil tongue is a frequent cause of failure. It consists in

talking evil of others, or harping on probable misfortunes. There are

various ways of removing its unhappy effects. A mud figure of a man

is made on the ground, and thorns are placed over the mouth. This is

the man with the evil tongue. Those who have suffered walk round it,

crying out and beating their mouths; the greater the noise, the better

the effect. Cutting the neck of a fowl half through and allowing

it to flutter about, or inserting a red hot splinter in its anus to

madden it with pain, are considered to be effective, while, if a cock

should crow after its neck has been cut, calamities are averted. The

fowl is a sort of adjunct to the Koravar's life. In early childhood,

the first experiments in his career consist in stealing fowls; in

manhood he feasts on them when he is well off, and he uses them,

as we have seen, with abominable cruelty for divination or averting

misfortune. The number seven is considered ominous, and an expedition

never consists of seven men. The word for the number seven in Telugu

resembles the word for weeping, and is considered to be unlucky. A

man who has returned from jail, or who has been newly married, is not

as a rule taken on an expedition. In the case of the former, the rule

may be set aside by bringing a lamb from a neighbouring flock. A man

who forgets to bring his stick, or to equip or arm himself properly,

is always left behind. As in the case of dacoities, seven is an

unlucky number to start out for housebreaking, but, should it be

unavoidable, a fiction is indulged in of making the housebreaking

implement the eighth member of the gang. When there are dogs about a

house, they are soon kept quiet with powdered gajjakai or ganja leaves

mixed with cooked rice, which they eat greedily. Detached parties in

the jungle or elsewhere are able to unite by making sounds like the

howling of jackals or hooting of owls. The direction taken on a road,

or in the forest, is indicated by throwing the leaves of the tangedu

(Cassia auriculata) along the road. At crossroads, the road taken

is indicated by the thick end of a twig of the tangedu placed under

a stone. Rows of stones, one piled over the other, are also used to

point out the route taken when crossing hills. The women resort to

divination, but not accompanied by cruelty, when their husbands are

long enough absent to arouse apprehension of danger. A long piece is

pulled out of a broom, and to one end of it are tied several small

pieces dipped in oil. If the stick floats in water, all is well;

but, should it sink, two of the women start out at once to find the

men. They generally know as a matter of pre-arrangement whereabouts

to find them, and proceed thither, pretending to sell karipak (curry

leaves). The eighteenth day of the Tamil month Avani is the luckiest

day of all for committing crimes. A successful criminal exploit

on this day ensures good luck throughout the year. Sundays, which

are auspicious for weddings, are inauspicious for crimes. Mondays,

Wednesdays and Saturdays are unlucky until noon for starting out

from home. So, too, is the day after new moon. Fridays are unsuitable

for breaking into the houses of Brahmans or Komatis, as they may be

engaged in worshipping Ankalamma, to whom the day is sacred."

Many Koravas examined by Mr. Mainwaring were injured in one way or

another. One man had his left nostril split, and explained that it

was the result of a bite by another Korava in the course of a drunken

brawl at a toddy-shop. Another had lost some of his teeth in a similar

quarrel, and a third was minus the lobe of his right ear.

A characteristic of the Koravas, which is well marked, is their

hairlessness. They have plenty of straight hair on the head, but their

bodies are particularly smooth. Even the pubic hairs are scanty, and

the abdominal hairs are abundant only in a few instances. The Korava

is not, in appearance, the typical criminal of one's imagination, of

the Bill Sykes type. That even the innocent looking individuals are

criminal by nature, the following figures establish. In 1902, there

were 739 Koravas, or Korchas as they are called in the Anantapur

district, on the police registers as members of wandering gangs

or ordinary suspects. Of these, no less than 215, or 29 per cent.,

had at least one conviction recorded against them. In the Nellore

district, in 1903, there were 54 adult males on the register, of whom

no less than 24, or 44 per cent., had convictions against them. In

the Salem district, in the same year, there were 118 adult male

Koravas registered, against 38, or 32.2 per cent. of whom convictions

stood. There are, of course, hundreds who escape active surveillance

by assuming an ostensible means of livelihood, and allowances must be

made for the possibility of numbers escaping conviction for offences

they may have committed. The women are equally criminal with the men,

but are less frequently caught. They have no hesitation in concealing

small articles by passing them into the vagina. The best way of

ascertaining whether this has been done is said to be to make them

jump. In this way, at a certain feast, a gold jewel was recovered

from a woman, and she was convicted. [213] This expedient is,

however, not always effectual. A case came under notice, in 1901,

at the Kolar gold fields, in which a woman had a small packet of

stolen gold amalgam passed to her during the search of the house by

her husband, who was suspected. She begged permission to leave the

house to urinate. The request was granted, and a constable who went

with her on her return reported her conduct as suspicious. A female

searcher was procured, and the parcel found jammed transversely in

the vagina, and required manipulation to dislodge it. Small jewels,

which the Koravas manage to steal, are at once concealed in the

mouth, and even swallowed. When swallowed, the jewel is next day

recovered with the help of a purgative. In this way a half sovereign

was recovered a few years ago. [214] Male Koravas sometimes conceal

stolen articles in the rectum. In the Tanjore district a Korava

Kepmari, who was suspected of having resorted to this dodge, was

examined by a medical officer, and two thin gold chains, each about

14 inches long, were extracted. The females take an important part

in resisting an attempt to arrest the males. I am informed that,

"when a raid is made on an encampment, the males make off, while the

females, stripping themselves, dance in a state of nudity, hoping

thereby to attract the constables to them, while the males get clear

away. Should, however, these manoeuvres fail to attain their object,

the females proceed to lacerate the pudenda, from which blood flows

profusely. They then lie down as if dead. The unfortunate constables,

though proof against amorous advances, must perforce assist them in

their distress. If it comes to searching Korava huts, the females take

a leading part in attacking the intruders, and will not hesitate to

stone them, or break chatties (earthen pots) on their heads."

It is recorded, in the Cuddapah Manual, that "a Yerukala came to a

village, and, under the pretence of begging, ascertained which women

wore jewels, and whether the husbands of any such were employed at

night in the fields. In the night he returned, and, going to the

house he had previously marked, suddenly snatched up the sleeping

woman by the massive kamma (gold ear-ring) she wore, sometimes with

such violence as to lift up the woman, and always in such a way as

to wrench off the lobe of the ear. This trick he repeated in three

different hamlets of the same village on one night, and in one house

on two women. In one case, the woman had been lifted so high that,

when the ear gave way, she fell to the ground, and severely injured

her head." A new form of house robbery is said to have been started by

the Koravas in recent years. They mark down the residence of a woman,

whose jewels are worth stealing, and lurk outside the house before

dawn. Then, when the woman comes out, as is the custom, before the men

are stirring, they snatch her ear-rings and other ornaments, and are

gone before an alarm can be raised. [215] Another favourite method

of securing jewelry is for the Korava to beg for rice, from door to

door, on a dark night, crying "Sandi bichcham, Amma, Sandi bichcham"

(night alms, mother, night alms). Arrived at the house of his victim,

he cries out, and the lady of the house brings out a handful of rice,

and puts it in his pot. As she does so, he makes a grab at her tali

or other neck ornament, and makes off with the spoil.

"Stolen property", Mr. Mullaly writes, [216] "is disposed of, as soon

as they can get a suitable remuneration. The general bargain is Re. I

for a rupee's weight of gold. They do not, however, as a rule, lose

much over their transactions, and invariably convert their surplus

into sovereigns. In searching a Koravar encampment on one occasion,

the writer had the good fortune to discover a number of sovereigns

which, for safe keeping, were stitched in the folds of their pack

saddles. Undisposed of property, which had been buried, is brought

to the encampment at nightfall, and taken back and re-buried before

dawn. The ground round the pegs, to which their asses are tethered,

in heaps of ashes or filth, are favourite places for burying plunder."

The Koravas disguise themselves as Kepmaris, Alagiris or pujaris. The

terms Kepmari, Alagiri, Kathirivandlu, etc., are applied to certain

persons who adopt particular methods in committing crime, all of

which are adopted by the Koravas. The Tamil equivalent of Kepmari is

Talapa Mathi, or one who changes his head-dress. Alagiris are thieves

who worship at the temple of Kalla Alagar near Madura, and vow that

a percentage of their ill-gotten gains will be given as an offering

to his temple. Kathirivandlu (scissors people) are those who operate

with knives or scissors, snipping off chains, cutting the strings of

purses, and ripping open bags or pockets.

The Koravas are not nice as regards the selection of some of their

food. Cats, fowls, fish, pigs, the black-faced monkey known in

Telugu as kondamuchu, jackals, field rats, deer, antelope, goats

and sheep serve as articles of dietary. There is a Tamil proverb

"Give an elephant to a pandit, and a cat to a Kuravan." They will

not eat cattle or buffaloes, and will not take food in company with

Muhammadans, barbers, washermen, carpenters, goldsmiths, blacksmiths,

Paraiyans or Chakkiliyans. The Boyas seem to be the lowest class with

whom they will eat. They drink heavily when funds are available, or

at social gatherings, when free drinks are forthcoming. At council

meetings liquor must be supplied by the disputants, and there is a

proverb, "With dry mouths nothing can be uttered."

Most Koravas possess knives, and a kind of billhook, called koduval,

which is a sort of compromise between a sword and a sickle. The back

of the blade is heavy, and renders it capable of dealing a very severe

blow. With this implement animals are slaughtered, murders committed,

and bamboos split.

For the purpose of committing burglaries, the Koravas are said by

Mr. Mullaly to use an iron instrument pointed at either end, called

gadi kolu or sillu kolu, which is offered, before a gang sets out,

to Perumal, whose aid in the success of the undertaking is invoked.

The Koravas as a class are industrious, and generally doing

something. One may see the men on the march twisting threads into

stout cord. Others will be making fine nets for fishing, or coarse

ones, in which to suspend household pots or utensils; straw pads,

on which the round-bottomed chatties invariably stand; or a design

with red thread and cowry shells, wherewith to decorate the head of

a bull or a money-bag. It is when hawking these articles from door

to door that the Koravas are said to gain information as to property

which may be worth stealing. The following is a free translation

of a song representing Koracha characteristics, in a play by

Mr. D. Krishnamacharlu, a well-known amateur dramatist of Bellary:--

Hurrah! Our Koracha caste is a very fine caste,

The best of castes, Hurrah!

When a temple feast is proceeding,

We beg, and commit thefts surprising.

Don't we? Care we for aught?

Don't we slip off uncaught?

(Chorus.)

Cutting trinkets off,

From the necks of babes in their mothers' arms.

Who could suspect us? Cannot we hoodwink them all?

Cannot we get away?

(Chorus.)

When those eternal watchmen catch us,

After endless search take life out of us.

Do we blurt out? Do we confess?

Don't we enquire what is our offence?

(Chorus.)

In the south, the Koravas are frequently employed by villagers as

watchmen (kavalgars) on the principle of setting a thief to keep

other thieves off. They are paid in grain. The villagers are more than

half afraid of them, and, if the remuneration stipulated upon is not

promptly paid to the watchmen, a house-breaking will certainly occur

in the village. If a crime happens to take place in a village where

a Korava has been appointed watchman, he frequently manages to get

back the stolen property if the theft is the work of another Korava,

but only on condition that the police are not called in to investigate

the offence.

The dwellings in which the Koravas live are made with low mud walls and

thatched. The wanderers erect a temporary hut called gudise, with mats

or cocoanut or palmyra palm leaves, not more than 4 feet high. It is

constructed of crossed bamboos tied together, and connected by another

bamboo, which serves as a ridge, over which they fasten the mats.

Marriages are arranged by the elders. The father of a youth who is of

a marriageable age calls together some of the elders of his division,

and proceeds in quest of a suitable bride. If the family visited

consents to the match, the headman is sent for, and a move is made

to the toddy-shop. Here the father of the future bridegroom fills

a small earthen vessel, called in Telugu muntha, and offers it to

the father of the bride-elect, asking him, Do you know why I give

you this toddy? The recipient replies, It is because I have given

you my daughter, and I drink to her health. The vessel is refilled

and offered to the headman, who takes it, and enquires of the father

of the girl why he is to drink. The reply is, Because I have given

my daughter to ----'s son; drink to her health. The questions and

answers are repeated while every one present, according to rank,

has a drink. Those who have so drunk at this betrothal ceremony

are looked upon as witnesses to the contract. After the drinking

ceremony, an adjournment is made to the girl's house, where a feast

is partaken of. At the conclusion thereof, the future bridegroom's

people enquire if the girl has a maternal uncle, to whom the purchase

money should be paid. The purchase money is 101 madas (a mada = two

rupees), and is always the same for both well-to-do and poor. But,

as a matter of fact, the whole of it is never paid. A few instalments

are sometimes handed over, but generally the money is the cause of

endless quarrels. When, however, the families, are on good terms,

and the husband enjoys the hospitality of his wife's maternal uncle,

or vice versâ, it is a common thing for one to say to the other after

a drink, See, brother-in-law, I have paid you two madas to-day,

so deduct this from the voli (purchase money). After the marriage

has been arranged, and the maternal uncle has paid four annas as

an earnest of the transaction, the party disperses until such time

as the principals are in a position to perform the wedding. They

might be infants, or the girl immature, or the intended husband be

away. After the betrothal ceremony, the parents of the girl should on

no account break off the match. If this were done, the party of the

husband-elect would summon those who were present at the drinking

ceremony to a meeting, and he who partook of the second drink (the

headman) would demand from the father of the girl an explanation of

the breach of contract. No explanation is likely to be satisfactory,

and the father is fined three hundred varahas. [217] This sum, like

the purchase money, is seldom paid, but the award of it places the

party from whom it is due in a somewhat inferior position to the

party to whom it is payable. They occupy thenceforth the position of

creditor to debtor. On the occasion of quarrels, no delicate sense

of refinement restrains the former from alluding to the debt, and

the position would be retained through several generations. There is

a Tamil proverb that the quarrels of a Korava and an Idaiyan are not

easily settled. If the contracting parties are ready to fulfil their

engagement, the maternal uncle of the girl is paid five varahas as

the first instalment of the purchase money, and a Brahman purohit

is asked to fix an auspicious time for the marriage ceremony. At

the appointed time, the wedding party assembles at the home of the

bride, and the first day is spent in eating and drinking, the bride

and bridegroom being arrayed in new clothes purchased at the expense

of the bride's father. On the following day, they again feast. The

contracting couple are seated on a kambli (blanket), on which some

grains of rice have been previously sprinkled. The guests form a

circle round them, and, at the auspicious moment, the bridegroom ties

a string of black beads round the bride's neck. When the string has

been tied, the married women present, with hands crossed, throw rice

over the heads of the pair. This rice has been previously prepared,

and consists of five seers of rice with five pieces of turmeric, dried

cocoanut, dried date fruit and jaggery (crude sugar), and five silver

or copper coins. While the rice-throwing is proceeding, a monotonous

song is crooned, of which the following is a free translation:--

Procure five white bulls.

Get five white goats.

Obtain a seer [218] of silver.

Get a seer of gold.

Always love your father

And live happy for ever.

Look after your mother always,

Your father and mother-in-law.

Do not heed what folk say.

Look after your relations,

And the God above will keep you happy.

Five sons and four daughters

Shall compose your family.

A predominance of sons is always considered desirable, and, with five

sons and four daughters, the mystic number nine is reached.

No widows, women who have remarried, or girls dedicated as prostitutes,

are allowed to join the wedding circle, as they would be of evil omen

to the bride. Widows and remarried women must have lost a husband,

and the prostitute never knows the God to whose service she is

dedicated. On the third day, the rice-throwing ceremony is repeated,

but on this occasion the bride and bridegroom pour some of the rice

over each other's heads before the women officiate. This ends the

marriage ceremony, but, as among some other classes, consummation is

prohibited for at least three months, as a very strong superstition

exists that three heads should not enter a door within one year. The

bride and bridegroom are the first two heads to enter the new home, and

the birth of a child within the year would constitute the third. This

undesirable event is rendered less likely by a postponement of

consummation. After the prescribed time has lapsed, the bride,

with feigned reluctance, is escorted by her female relations to

her husband's hut. On the way obscene pleasantries, which evoke

much merriment, are indulged in. The bride's pretended reluctance

necessitates a certain amount of compulsion, and she is given an

occasional shove. Finally, she is thrust into the door of the hut,

and the attendant women take their departure.

The following details in another form of the marriage rites may be

noted. The bridegroom proceeds on a Saturday to the settlement of

the bride, where a hut has been set up for him close to that of the

bride. Both the huts should face the east. On the following day,

the headman, or an elder, brings a tray containing betel, flowers

and kankanams (wrist-threads). He ties the threads round the wrists

of the bride and bridegroom, and also round a pestle and mortar and

a crowbar. A distribution of rice to all present, including infants,

follows, and pork and mutton are also distributed. Towards evening,

married women go, with music produced by beating on a brass tray, to

a well or tank, with three pots beneath a canopy (ulladam). The pots

are filled with water, and placed near the marriage milk-post. The

bride takes her seat on a plank, and the bridegroom is carried on the

shoulders of his brother-in-law, and conducted to another plank. Three

married women, and some old men, then pour rice over the heads of the

pair, while the following formula is repeated: "Try to secure four

pairs of donkeys, a few pigs and cattle; live well and amicably; feed

your guests well; grow wise and live." The couple are then taken to

the bride's hut, the entrance to which is guarded by several married

women, who will not allow them to enter till the bridegroom has given

out the name of the bride. Within the hut, the pair exchange food three

times, and what remains after they have eaten is finished off by some

married men and women. That night the pair sleep in the bride's hut,

together with the best man and bridesmaid. On the following day,

a feast is held, at which every house must be represented by at

least one married woman. Towards evening, the bridegroom takes the

bride to his hut, and, just before they start, her mother ties up

some rice in her cloth. At the entrance to the hut, a basket, called

Kolapuriamma's basket, is placed. Depositing a winnowing tray thereon,

the bride pours the rice which has been given to her on it. The rice

is then transferred by the bridegroom to the mortar, and he and the

bride pound it with the pestle and crowbar. The tali is then tied by

the bridegroom round the bride's neck.

In connection with marriage, Mr. Fawcett writes as follows. "A

girl's mother's brother's son has the right to have her to wife,

and, if his right is abrogated by giving her to another, he (or his

father?) receives a penalty from the man to whom she is given. The

girl's maternal uncle disposes of the girl. In the Coimbatore district,

however, it is the father who is said to do so; indeed it is said

that the father can even take a girl away from her husband, and give

her to another for a higher bride-price. Prior to marriage proper,

there is the betrothal, accompanied by presentation of betel leaves

and draughts of toddy, when the maternal uncle or father repeats a

regular formula which is answered word for word by the girl's party,

in which he agrees to hand over the girl for such a price, at the

same time requiring that she shall receive no bodily injury or have

her hair cut, and, if she is returned damaged physically, payment

shall be made according to a fixed rate. It should be said that the

betrothal sometimes takes place at a tavern, the favourite haunt of

the Koravas, where the bridegroom's party offers a pail of toddy to

the father of the girl and his party. The emptying of this pail seals

the marriage contract, and involves the father of the girl into payment

of the bride-price as a fine, together with a fine of Rs. 2 for every

male child, and Rs. 4 for every female child that may be born. This

penalty, which is known as ranku, is not, as a rule, pressed at once,

but only after some children have been born. The day of marriage,

generally a Sunday, is fixed by a Brahman, who receives betel nuts,

cocoanuts, one rupee, or even less. He selects an auspicious day and

hour for the event. The hour selected is rather early in the evening,

so that the marriage may be consummated the same night. A few days

before the appointed day, two unmarried lads cut a branch of the naval

tree (Eugenia Jambolana), and throw it into a tank (pond) or river,

where it is left until the wedding day, when the same two lads bring

it back, and plant it in the ground near the dwelling of the bride,

and on either side of it is placed a pot of water (brought from the

tank or river where the branch had been left to soak) carried thither

by two married women under a canopy. The mouth of each pot is closed

by placing on top an earthen vessel on which is a lamp. The bride and

bridegroom sit on donkey saddles spread on the ground, and undergo the

nalugu ceremony, in which their hands and feet are rubbed nine times

with saffron (turmeric) coloured red with chunam (lime). The elders

bless the couple, throwing rice over their heads with crossed hands,

and all the while the women chant monotonously a song such as this:--

Galianame Baipokame Sobaname,

Oh, Marriage giver of happiness and prosperity!

The best oil of Madanapalle is this nalugu;

The best soap seed of Silakat is for this nalugu;

Paint yourselves, Oh sisters, with the best of colours;

Stain your cloth, Oh brother, with the best of dyes;

Bring, Oh brother, the greenest of snakes;

Adorn with it our Basavayya's neck;

Bring, Oh brother, the flowers without leaves;

Adorn with them the hair of the bride.

Then the bridegroom ties the bride's tali, a string coloured yellow

with saffron (turmeric), or a string of small black beads. Every

married woman must wear a necklet of black beads, and glass bangles

on her wrists; when she becomes a widow, she must remove them. A

feature of the ceremony not to be overlooked is the wedding meal

(pendlikudu). After undergoing the nalugu, the bridegroom marks

with a crowbar the spot where this meal, consisting of rice, milk,

green gram, and jaggery (sugar), is to be cooked in a pot called

bhupalakunda. A trench is dug at the spot, and over it the cooking

is done. When the food is ready, the bride and bridegroom take of it

each three handfuls, and then the boys and girls snatch the pot away

from them. After this, the couple proceed to the bridegroom's hut,

where they find a light burning. The elders sprinkle them with water

coloured yellow with saffron (turmeric) as they enter."

For the following note on marriage among the Yerukalas of the

Vizagapatam district, I am indebted to Mr. Hayavadana Rao. A man

may marry the daughter of his paternal aunt or maternal uncle. The

father of the would-be husband of a girl goes with ten rupees,

called sullaponnu, to her home, and pays the money to one of several

elders who are brought together. Towards evening, the ground in

front of the girl's hut is swept, and a wooden plank and stone

are set side by side. The bridegroom sits on the former, and the

bride on the latter. Two pots of water are placed before them, and

connected together by a thread tied round their necks. The pots are

lifted up, and the water is poured over them. Contrary to the custom

prevailing among many castes, new cloths are not given to them after

this bath. Resuming their seats, the couple sprinkle each other with

rice. An intelligent member of the caste then personates a Brahman

priest, mutters sundry mantrams (prayers), and shows a string (karugu)

with a piece of turmeric tied to it to those assembled. It is touched

by them in token of a blessing, and tied by the bridegroom on the neck

of the bride. A feast, with a liberal supply of liquor, is held, the

expenses of which are met from the ten rupees already referred to. The

younger brother may marry the widow of an elder brother, and vice

versâ. A widow is married in front of her mother's hut. The marriage

string is tied round her neck, but without the ceremonial observed

at the marriage of a maid. If a husband wishes to secure a divorce,

he asks his wife to break a twig in two before a caste council. If a

woman wishes for a divorce, she elopes with a man, who pays a small

fine, called ponnu, to the husband, and asks him to break a twig.

The following story is current among the Koramas, to account for the

tali or bottu being replaced by a string of black beads. Once upon a

time, a bridegroom forgot to bring the tali, and he was told off to

procure the necessary piece of gold from a goldsmith. The parties

waited and waited, but the young man did not return. Since then,

the string of beads has been used as a marriage badge. According to

another story, the tali was prepared, and kept on the bank of a river,

but disappeared when it was going to be picked up. A man was sent to

procure another, but did not come back.

I am informed that the Yerukalas of the Kistna district are divided

into two classes--sheep and goats practically. Of these, the latter

are the bastard offspring of the former. Illegitimate must, in the

first instance, marry illegitimate. The offspring thereof is ipso

facto whitewashed, and becomes legitimate, and must marry a legitimate.

A custom is stated by Dr. Shortt [219] to prevail among the Yerukalas,

by which the first two daughters of a family may be claimed by

the maternal uncle as wives for his sons. "The value of a wife is

fixed at twenty pagodas. The maternal uncle's right to the first two

daughters is valued at eight out of twenty pagodas, and is carried out

thus. If he urges his preferential claim, and marries his own sons

to his nieces, he pays for each only twelve pagodas; and similarly

if he, from not having sons, or any other cause, foregoes his claim,

he receives eight pagodas of the twenty paid to the girl's parents

by anybody else who may marry them." The price of a wife apparently

differs in different localities. For example, it is noted, in the

Census report, 1901, that, among the Kongu sub-division of the Koravas,

a man can marry his sister's daughter, and, when he gives his sister

in marriage, he expects her to produce a bride for him. His sister's

husband accordingly pays Rs. 7-8-0 out of the Rs. 60 of which the

bride price consists, at the wedding itself, and Rs. 2-8-0 more each

year until the woman bears a daughter. Some Koravas seem to be even

more previous than fathers who enter their infant sons for a popular

house at a public school. For their children are said to be espoused

even before they are born. Two men, who wish their children to marry,

say to one another: "If your wife should have a girl and mine a boy

(or vice versâ), they must marry." And, to bind themselves to this,

they exchange tobacco, and the potential bridegroom's father stands

a drink to the future bride's relations. But if, after the children

are grown up, a Brahman should pronounce the omens unpropitious,

the marriage does not take place, and the bride's father pays back

the cost of the liquor consumed at the betrothal. If the marriage

is arranged, a pot of water is placed before the couple, and a grass

(Cynodon Dactylon) put into the water. This is equal to a binding oath

between them. [220] Of this grass it is said in the Atharwana Veda:

"May this grass, which rose from the water of life, which has a

hundred roots and a hundred stems, efface a hundred of my sins, and

prolong my existence on earth for a hundred years." It is noted by

the Rev. J. Cain [221] that "at the birth of a daughter, the father

of an unmarried little boy often brings a rupee, and ties it in the

cloth of the father of the newly born girl. When the girl is grown

up, he can claim her for his son. For twenty-five rupees he can claim

her much earlier."

In North Arcot, the Koravas are said [222] to "mortgage their unmarried

daughters, who become the absolute property of the mortgagee till

the debt is discharged. The same practice exists in Chingleput and

Tanjore. In Madras, the Koravars sell their wives outright when they

want money, for a sum equal to fifty rupees. In Nellore and other

districts, they all purchase their wives, the price varying from

thirty to seventy rupees, but money rarely passes on such occasions,

the consideration being paid in asses or cattle." In a recent case

in the Madras High Court, a Korava stated that he had sold one of

his wives for twenty-one rupees. [223] It is stated by Dr. Pope that

the Koravas do not "scruple to pawn their wives for debt. If the wife

who is in pledge dies a natural death, the debt is discharged. If she

should die from hard usage, the creditor must not only cancel the debt,

but must defray the expenses of a second marriage for his debtor. If

the woman lives till the debt is discharged, and if she has children

by the creditor, the boys remain with him, the girls go back with

her to her husband." The conditions of the country suggest a reason

for the pawning of wives. A wife would be pawned in times of stress,

and redeemed after seasons of plenty. The man who can afford to accept

her in pledge in a time of famine would, in periods of plenty, require

men for agricultural purposes. He, therefore, retains the male issue,

who in time will be useful to him. Some years ago, some Koravas were

convicted of stealing the despatch-box of the Collector of a certain

district from his tent. It came out, in the course of the trial,

that the head of the gang had taken the money contained therein as

his share, and with it acquired a wife. The Collector humorously

claimed that the woman, having been obtained with his money, was,

according to a section of the Criminal Procedure Code, his property.

A woman who marries seven men successively one after the other,

either after the death of her husbands or after divorce, is said

by Mr. Paupa Rao Naidu to be considered to be a respectable lady,

and is called Pedda Boyisani. She takes the lead in marriages and

other religious ceremonies.

It is noted, in the Census Report, 1891, that "if a man is sent to

jail, his wife will form a connection with some other man of the

gang, but on the release of her husband, she will return to him

with any children born to her in the interval. The Korava women are

accustomed to honour their lords and husbands with the dignified title

of cocks." On one occasion, a Korava got into trouble in company with

a friend, and was sentenced to three years imprisonment, while his

friend got two years. The latter, at the termination of his period of

enforced seclusion, proceeded to live with the wife of the former,

settling down in his friend's abode. The former escaped from jail,

and, turning up at his home, claimed his wife. His friend journeyed to

the place where the jail was located, and reported to the authorities

his ability to find the escaped convict, who was recaptured, while

his friend regained possession of his wife, and pocketed twenty-five

rupees for giving the information which led to his rearrest.

The remarriage of widows is permitted. The man who wishes to marry a

widow purchases new cloths for himself and his bride. He invites a

number of friends, and, in their presence, presents his bride with

the cloths. The simple ceremony is known as chirakattu-koradam,

or desiring the cloth-tying ceremony.

As a general rule, the Korava wife is faithful to her husband, but,

in the event of incompatibility, man and wife will announce their

intention of separating to their gang. This is considered equivalent

to a divorce, and the husband can demand back the four annas, which

were paid as earnest money to his wife's maternal uncle. This is said

to be done, whether the separation is due to the fault either of the

husband or the wife. Among other castes, the woman has to return the

money only if she is divorced owing to her own fault. Divorce is said

to be rare, and, even after it has taken place, the divorced parties

may make up their differences, and continue to keep house together. In

cases of abduction, the father of the girl summons a council meeting,

at which the offender is fined. A girl who has been abducted cannot

be married as a spinster, even if she was recovered before sexual

connection had taken place. The man who carried her off should marry

her, and the ceremony of widow marriage is performed. In the event

of his refusing to marry her, he is fined in the same amount as the

parents of a girl who fail to keep the contract to marry her to a

particular person. The fact of a man who abducts a girl having a wife

already would be no bar to his marrying her, as polygamy is freely

permitted. In former days, an adulterer who was unable to pay the

fine imposed was tied to a tree, and shaved by a barber, who used

the urine of the guilty woman in lieu of water.

In connection with birth ceremonies, Mr. Fawcett writes as

follows. "Difficulty in parturition is thought to be due to an

ungratified desire of the woman before she is confined. This is

generally something to eat, but it is sometimes ungratified lust. In

cases of the latter kind, the Koravar midwife induces the woman

to mention her paramour's name, and, as the name is mentioned, the

midwife puts a pinch of earth into the woman's mouth with the idea

of accelerating delivery. The woman is confined in an outlying hut,

where she is tabu to all, with the exception of the midwife, for about

ten days. As soon as the child is born, incense is burnt in front of

this hut, and there is an offering of jaggery (crude sugar) to the

spirits of the departed elders, who are invoked in the following words

in the Korava dialect:--'Ye spirits of our elders! Descend on us, give

us help, and increase our cattle and wealth. Save us from the Sircar

(Government), and shut the mouth of the police. We shall worship you

for ever and ever.' The jaggery is then distributed to all present,

and the new-born infant is cleaned with cow-dung and washed. A Brahman

is sometimes consulted, but it is the maternal uncle upon whom the

responsibility falls of naming the child. This he does on the ninth day

after confinement, when the mother and child are bathed. Having named

the child, he ties a string of thread or cotton round its waist. This

string signifies the entry of the child into the Koravar community,

and it, or its substitute, is worn until the termination of married

life. The name given on this occasion is not usually the name by

which an individual is known by his fellows, as persons are generally

called after some physical trait or characteristic thus:--Nallavadu,

black man; Pottigadu, short man; Nettakaladu, long-legged man;

Kuntadu, lame man; Boggagadu, fat man; Juttuvadu, man with a large

tuft of hair; Gunadu, hunch-backed man; Mugadu, dumb man; and so

on. In a few cases, children are genuinely named after the household

deities. Those so named are called Ramudu, Lachigadu, Venkatigadu,

Gengadu, Chengadu, Subbadu, Ankaligadu, and so on. An old custom

was to brand the children on the shoulders with a piece of red-hot

iron. Marks of such branding are called the cattle mark, for it seems

that children should be branded on the shoulders before undertaking

the 'sacred duty' of tending cattle. They explain the custom by saying

that Krishna, the God of the shepherds, allowed boys of his own caste,

and of no other, to perform the sacred duty, after the boy dedicated

thereto had undergone the branding ceremony. This ceremony is seldom

observed nowadays, as it leads to identification. Birth of a child on

a new-moon night, when the weather is strong, is believed to augur a

notorious thieving future for the infant. Such children are commonly

named Venkatigadu after the God at Tirupati. The birth of a child

having the umbilical cord twisted round its neck portends the death of

the father or maternal uncle. This unpleasant effect is warded off by

the uncle or the father killing a fowl, and wearing its entrails round

his neck, and afterwards burying them along with the umbilical cord."

The practice of the couvade, or custom in accordance with which

the father takes to bed, and is doctored when a baby is born, is

referred to by Alberuni [224] (about A.D. 1030), who says that, when

a child is born, people show particular attention to the man, not

to the woman. There is a Tamil proverb that, if a Korati is brought

to bed, her husband takes the prescribed stimulant. Writing about

the Yerukalas, [225] the Rev. J. Cain tells us that "directly the

woman feels the birth pains, she informs her husband, who immediately

takes some of her clothes, puts them on, places on his forehead the

mark which the women usually place on theirs, retires into a dark room

where there is only a very dim lamp, and lies down on the bed, covering

himself up with a long cloth. When the child is born, it is washed,

and placed on the cot beside the father. Asafoetida, jaggery, and other

articles are then given, not to the mother, but to the father. He is

not allowed to leave his bed, but has everything needful brought to

him." Among the Kuravars, or basket-makers of Malabar, "as soon as

the pains of delivery come upon a pregnant woman, she is taken to an

outlying shed, and left alone to live or die as the event may turn

out. No help is given her for twenty-eight days. Even medicines are

thrown to her from a distance; and the only assistance rendered is

to place a jar of warm water close by her just before the child is

born. Pollution from birth is held as worse than that from death. At

the end of the twenty-eight days, the hut in which she was confined

is burnt down. The father, too, is polluted for fourteen days, and,

at the end of that time, he is purified, not like other castes by

the barber, but by holy water obtained from Brahmans at temples or

elsewhere." To Mr. G. Krishna Rao, Superintendent of Police in the

Shimoga district of Mysore, I am indebted for the following note on

the couvade as practiced among the Koramas. "Mr. Rice, in the Mysore

Gazetteer, says that among the Koravars it is said that, when a woman

is confined, her husband takes medicine for her. At the instance of

the British Resident I made enquiries, and learned that the Kukke

(basket-making) Koramas, living at Gopala village near Shimoga,

had this custom among them. The husband learns from his wife the

probable time of her confinement, and keeps at home awaiting the

delivery. As soon as she is confined, he goes to bed for three days,

and takes medicine consisting of chicken and mutton broth spiced with

ginger, pepper, onions, garlic, etc. He drinks arrack, and eats as

good food as he can afford, while his wife is given boiled rice with

a very small quantity of salt, for fear that a larger quantity may

induce thirst. There is generally a Korama midwife to help the wife,

and the husband does nothing but eat, drink, and sleep. The clothes

of the husband, the wife, and the midwife are given to a washerman

to be washed on the fourth day, and the persons themselves have

a wash. After this purification, the family gives a dinner to the

caste people. One of the men examined by me explained that the man's

life was more valuable than that of the woman, and that the husband,

being a more important factor in the birth than the wife, deserves

to be better looked after." The following legend is current among

the Koramas, to explain the practice of the couvade among them. One

day a donkey, belonging to a Korama camp, pitched outside a village,

wandered into a Brahman's field, and did considerable damage to the

crop. The Brahman was naturally angry, and ordered his coolies to

pull down the hut of the owner of the donkey. The Korama, casting

himself at the feet of the Brahman, for want of a better excuse,

said that he was not aware of what his animal was doing, as at the

time he was taking medicine for his wife, and could not look after

it. According to another version of the story, the Brahman ordered

his servants to remove the hut from his land or beat the Korava,

so that Koravas have since that time taken to bed and shared the

pollution of their wives, to escape being beaten.

In connection with the couvade, Mr. Fawcett writes that "it has

been observed in the bird-catching Koravars, and the custom has

been admitted by others. Directly a woman is brought to bed, she is

given asafoetida rolled in betel leaf. She is then given a stimulant

composed of asafoetida and other drugs. The husband partakes of

a portion of this before it is given to the woman. This custom is

one of those which the Koravar is generally at pains to conceal,

denying its existence absolutely. The proverb 'When the Koravar

woman is confined, the Koravar man takes asafoetida' is, however,

well known. Very soon after a woman is confined, attention is paid

exclusively to her husband, who wraps himself in his wife's cloth,

and lies down in his wife's place beside the new-born infant. He stays

there for at least some minutes, and then makes room for his wife. The

writer of this note was informed by Koravars that any one who refused

to go through this ceremony would undergo the severest penalties,

indeed, he would be turned out of the community. Nothing annoys a

Koravar so much as to mention the word asafoetida in his presence,

for he takes it to be an insulting reference to the couvade. The

worst insult to a Koravar woman lies in the words 'Will you give

asafoetida?' which are understood by her to mean an improper overture."

Some Koravas are said to believe that the pangs of labour are largely

allayed by drinking small doses of a mixture of the dung of a male

donkey and water. A few years ago, when a camp of Koravas was visited

in the Salem district by the Superintendent of Police, two men of

the gang, who had petitioned for the removal of the constables who

were escorting the gang, dragged a woman in the throes of childbirth

by the armpits from the hut. This was done to show that they could

not move their camp, with a woman in such a condition. Nevertheless,

long before daylight on the following day, the camp had been moved,

and they were found at a spot fifteen miles distant. When they were

asked about the woman, a hut slightly apart from the rest was pointed

out, in front of which she was suckling the newly-born infant. She

had done the journey immediately after delivery partly on foot,

and partly on a donkey.

The Korava child's technical education commences early. From infancy,

the Koravas teach their children to answer "I do not know" to questions

put to them. They are taught the different methods of stealing,

and the easiest way of getting into various kinds of houses. One

must be entered through the roof, another by a hole in the wall,

a third by making a hole near the bolt of the door. Before letting

himself down from a roof, the Korava must make sure that he does

not alight on brass vessels or crockery. He generally sprinkles fine

sand in small quantities, so that the noise made thereby may give him

an idea of the situation. The methods to be adopted during the day,

when hawking wares, must be learnt. When a child is caught red-handed,

he will never reveal his identity by giving the name of his parents,

or of the gang to which he belongs. A girl about twelve or thirteen

years old was captured a few years ago in the Mysore State at the

Oregam weekly market, and, on being searched, was found to have a small

knife in her cheek. She declared that she was an orphan with neither

friends nor relations, but was identified by the police. The Koravas

are adepts at assuming aliases. But the system of finger-print records,

which has been introduced in recent years, renders the concealment

of their identity more difficult than it used to be. "Both men and

women," Mr. Paupa Rao writes, "have tattoo marks on their foreheads

and forearms. When they are once convicted, they enlarge or alter in

some way the tattoo marks on their forearms, so that they might differ

from the previous descriptive marks of identification entered by the

police in their search books and other records. During festivals,

they put red stuff (kunkuma) over the tattoo marks on their foreheads."

Their conduct is regulated by certain well-defined rules. They should

not enter a house by the front door, unless this is unavoidable, and,

if they must so enter it, they must not leave by the same way. If

they enter by the back door, they depart by the front door, which

they leave wide open. They should not commit robbery in a house, in

which they have partaken of rice and curds. Curds always require salt,

and eating salt is equivalent to taking the oath of fealty according

to their code of honour. They ease themselves in the house in which

they have committed a theft, in order, it is said, to render the

pursuit of them unsuccessful.

In a note on the initiation of Yerukala girls into the profession

of fortune-telling in Vizagapatam, Mr. Hayavadana Rao writes that it

is carried out on a Sunday succeeding the first puberty ceremony. A

caste feast, with plenty of strong drink, is held, but the girl

herself fasts. The feast over, she is taken to a spot at a little

distance from the settlement called Yerukonda. This is said to be the

name of a place on the trunk road between Vizianagram and Chicacole,

to which girls were taken in former times to be initiated. The girl

is blindfolded with a cloth. Boiled rice and green gram are mixed

with the blood of a black fowl, black pig, and black goat, which are

killed. Of this mixture she must take at least three morsels, and,

if she does not vomit, it is taken as a sign that she will become a

good Yeruka or fortune-teller. Vomiting would indicate that she would

be a false prophetess.

When a wandering Korava dies, he is buried as quickly as possible,

with head to the north, and feet to the south. If possible, a new

cloth is obtained to wrap the corpse in. The grave is covered with the

last hut which the deceased occupied. The Koravas immediately leave

a camp, in which a death has occurred. The nomad Koravas are said

by Dr. Pope to bury their dead at night, no one knows where. Thence

originates the common saying in regard to anything which has vanished,

leaving no trace behind, that it has gone to the dancing-room of the

wandering actors. Another proverb runs to the effect that no one has

seen a dead monkey, or the burning-ground of a Korava.

In Vizagapatam, the Yerukala dead are stated by Mr. Hayavadana Rao

to be burnt in a state of nudity. A tulsi plant (Ocimum sanctum) is

usually planted on the spot where the corpse was burnt. The relations

cannot follow their regular occupation until a caste feast has been

held, and some cooked food thrown on the spot where cremation took

place.

In a note on the death rites of the Koravas of the southern districts,

Mr. F. A. Hamilton writes that, when one of the community dies,

the news of the death is conveyed by a Paraiyan or Chakkiliyan. At

the burning-ground, whither the corpse is accompanied with music, it

is laid on dried cow-dung, which has been spread on the ground. The

son of the deceased goes thrice round the corpse, and breaks a new

water-pot which he has brought with him near the head. He also hands

over a piece of burning sandalwood for lighting the pyre, and goes

straight home without seeing the corpse again. On the third day, the

son and other relations go to the burning-ground, heap up the ashes,

plant either tulsi (Ocimum sanctum), perandai (Vitis quadrangularis),

or kathalai (Agave Americana), and pour milk. On the sixteenth day,

or at some later time, a ceremony called karumathi is performed. The

relatives assemble at the burning-ground, and a stone is set up,

and washed with water, honey, milk, etc. On the following day, all

the relatives take an oil-bath, and new cloths are presented to the

host. Sheep are killed, and a feast, with a liberal supply of liquor,

is held. Till this ceremony is performed, the son remains in mourning.

Concerning death ceremonies, Mr. Fawcett writes as follows. "A Tamil

proverb likens the death of a Koravar to that of a monkey, for no

one ever sees the dead body of either. Just as the monkey is thought

to be immortal, the other monkeys removing the carcass instantly, so

the corpse of the Koravar is made away with and disposed of with all

possible speed. There is very little wailing, and preparations are

made at once. If the deceased was married, the bier on which he is

carried is practically a ladder; if unmarried, it is a single bamboo

with pieces of stick placed transversely. The winding-sheet is always

a piece of new cloth, in one corner of which is tied a half anna-piece

(which is afterwards taken by one of the corpse-bearers). Only two of

these are under pollution, which lasts the whole of the day, during

which they must remain in their huts. Next day, after bathing, they

give the crows food and milk. A line is drawn on the body from head

to foot with milk, the thick end of a piece of grass being used as

a brush; then they bathe. Pollution of the chief mourner lasts for

five days. Half-yearly and annual ceremonies to the deceased are

compulsory. A figure of the deceased is drawn with charcoal on a

piece of new cloth spread on the floor of the hut. On either side

of the figure is placed cooked rice and vegetables served on castor

leaves. After some time, the food is placed on a new winnow, which is

hung suspended from the roof of the hut the whole night. Next morning,

the relations assemble, and partake of the food."

From a note on the Yerukalas of the Nellore district, I gather

that, as a rule, the dead are buried, though respected elders of the

community are cremated. Married individuals are carried to the grave

on a bier, those who die unmarried wrapped in a mat. On the second

day, some cooked food, and a fowl, are placed near the grave, to be

eaten by crows. A pot of water is carried thrice round the grave,

and then thrown down. On the ninth day, food is once more offered for

the crows. The final death ceremonies are generally performed after

two or three months. Cooked food, onions, brinjals (fruits of Solanum

Melongena), Phaseolus pulse, squash gourd (Cucurbita maxima), pork, and

mutton are placed on a number of castor (Ricinus) leaves spread on the

floor, and offered to the soul of the deceased, which is represented by

a human figure drawn on a new cloth. At the conclusion of the worship,

the food is placed on new winnowing trays provided for the purpose,

and given to the relations, who place the winnows on the roof of the

house till the following day, when the food is eaten.

By some Koravas, a ceremony in honour of the departed ancestors is

performed at the time of the November new moon. A well-polished brass

vessel, with red and white marks on it, is placed in the corner of a

room, which has previously been swept, and purified with cow-dung. In

front of the pot is placed a leaf plate, on which cooked rice and

other edibles are set. Incense is burned, and the eldest son of the

house partakes of the food in the hope that he, in due course, will

be honoured by his offspring.

The Koramas of Mysore are said to experience considerable difficulty

in finding men to undertake the work of carrying the corpse to the

grave. Should the dead Korama be a man who has left a young widow, it

is customary for some one to propose to marry her the same day, and,

by so doing, to engage to carry out the principal part of the work

connected with the burial. A shallow grave, barely two feet deep, is

dug, and the corpse laid therein. When the soil has been loosely piled

in, a pot of fire, carried by the chief mourner in a split bamboo,

is broken, and a pot of water placed on the raised mound. Should the

spot be visited during the night by a pack of jackals, and the water

drunk by them to slake their thirst after feasting on the dead Korama,

the omen is accepted as proof that the liberated spirit has fled away

to the realms of the dead, and will never trouble man, woman, child,

or cattle. On the sixth day, the chief mourner must kill a fowl,

and mix its blood with rice. This he places, with some betel leaves

and nuts, near the grave. If it is carried off by crows, everything

is considered to have been settled satisfactorily.

As regards the dress of the Koravas, Mr. Mullaly writes as

follows. "The women wear necklaces of shells and cowries interspersed

with beads of all colours in several rows, hanging low down on

the bosom; brass bangles from the wrist to the elbow; brass, lead,

and silver rings, very roughly made, on all their fingers except the

middle one. The cloth peculiar to Koravar women is a coarse black one;

but they are, as a rule, not particular as to this, and wear stolen

cloths after removing the borders and all marks of identification. They

also wear the chola, which is fastened across the bosom, and not,

like the Lambadis, at the back. The men are dirty, unkempt-looking

objects, wear their hair long, and usually tied in a knot on the top

of the head, and indulge in little finery. A joochi (gochi), or cloth

round the loins, and a bag called vadi sanchi, made of striped cloth,

complete their toilet."

In 1884, Mr. Stevenson, who was then the District Superintendent

of Police, North Arcot, devised a scheme for the regeneration of

the Koravas of that district. He obtained for the tribe a tract of

Government land near Gudiyattam, free of assessment for ten years, and

also a grant of Rs. 200 for sinking wells. Licenses were also issued

to the settlers to cut firewood at specially favourable rates. He also

prevailed upon the Zemindar of Karvetnegar to grant twenty-five cawnies

of land in Tiruttani for ten years for another settlement, as well

as some building materials. Unfortunately the impecunious condition

of the Zemindar precluded the Tiruttani settlement from deriving any

further privileges which were necessary to keep the colony going,

and its existence was, therefore, cut short. The Gudiyattam colony,

on the other hand, exhibited some vitality for two or three years,

but, in 1887, it, too, went the way of the Tiruttani colony." [226]

I gather, from the Police Administration Report, 1906, that a scheme

is being worked out, the object of which is to give a well-known

wandering criminal gang some cultivable land, and so enable the

members of it to settle down to an honest livelihood.

At the census, 1891, Korava was returned as a sub-division of

Paraiyans, and the name is also applied to Jogis employed as

scavengers. [227]

The following note on the Koravas of the west coast is interesting as

showing that Malabar is one of the homes of the now popular game of

Diavolo, which has become epidemic in some European countries. "In

Malabar, there is a class of people called Koravas, who have, from

time immemorial, played this game almost in the same manner as its

Western devotees do at the present time. These people are met with

mostly in the southern parts of Malabar, Cochin and Travancore, and

they speak the Malayalam language with a sing-song accent, which easily

distinguishes them from other people. They are of wandering habits. The

men are clever acrobats and rope-dancers, but those of more settled

habits are engaged in agriculture and other industries. The beautiful

grass mats, known as Palghat mats, are woven by these people. Their

women are fortune-tellers and ballad singers. Their services are

also in demand for boring the ears of girls. The ropedancers perform

many wonderful feats while balancing themselves on the rope, among

them being the playing of diabolo while walking to and fro on a

tight rope. The Korava acrobat spins the wooden spool on a string,

attached to the ends of two bamboo sticks, and throws it up to the

height of a cocoanut tree, and, when it comes down, he receives

it on the string, to be again thrown up. There are experts among

them who can receive the spool on the string without even looking

at it. There is no noteworthy difference in the structure and shape

of the spool used by the Koravas, and those of Europe, except that

the Malabar apparatus is a solid wooden thing a little larger and

heavier than the Western toy. It has not yet emerged from the crude

stage of the village carpenter's skill, and cannot boast of rubber

tyres and other embellishments which adorn the imported article;

but it is heavy enough to cause a nasty injury should it hit the

performer while falling. The Koravas are a very primitive people,

but as acrobats and ropedancers they have continued their profession

for generations past, and there is no doubt that they have been expert

diabolo players for many years." [228] It may be noted that Lieutenant

Cameron, when journeying from Zanzibar to Benguela, was detained near

Lake Tanganyika by a native chief. He relates as follows. "Sometimes

a slave of Djonmah would amuse us by his dexterity. With two sticks

about a foot long connected by a string of a certain length, he spun

a piece of wood cut in the shape of an hour-glass, throwing it before

and behind him, pitching it up into the air like a cricket-ball,

and catching it again, while it continued to spin."