It has been said [338] that "men not only attempt to act directly
upon nature, but they usually exhibit a keen desire to be guided
as to the best course to take when in doubt, difficulty, or danger,
and to be forewarned of the future. The practice of divination is by
no means confined to professional magicians, or even to soothsayers,
but any one may employ the accessory means."
Of professional diviners in Southern India, perhaps the best example
is afforded by the Kaniyans [339] or Kanisans of Malabar, whose caste
name is said to be a Malayalam corruption of the Sanskrit Ganika,
meaning astrologer. Duarte Barbosa, [340] at the beginning of the
sixteenth century, has a detailed reference to the Kaniyans, of whom
he writes that "they learn letters and astronomy, and some of them are
great astrologers, and foretell many future things, and form judgements
upon the births of men. Kings and great persons send to call them, and
come out of their palaces to gardens and pleasure-houses to see them,
and ask them what they desire to know; and these people form judgement
upon these things in a few days, and return to those that asked them,
but they may not enter the palaces; nor may they approach the king's
person on account of being low people. And the king is then alone
with him. They are great diviners, and pay great attention to times
and places of good and bad luck, which they cause to be observed by
those kings and great men, and by the merchants also; and they take
care to do their business at the time which these astrologers advise
them, and they do the same in their voyages and marriages. And by
these means these men gain a great deal."
Buchanan, [341] three centuries later, notes that the Kaniyans
"possess almanacks, by which they inform people as to the proper time
for performing ceremonies or sowing their seeds, and the hours which
are fortunate or unfortunate for any undertaking. When persons are
sick or in trouble, the Cunishun, by performing certain ceremonies
in a magical square of 12 places, discovers what spirit is the cause
of the evil, and also how it may be appeased."
The Kaniyans are practically the guiding spirits in all the social
and domestic concerns in Malabar, and even Christians and Muhammadans
resort to them for advice. From the moment of the birth of an infant,
which is noted by the Kaniyan for the purpose of casting its horoscope,
to the moment of death, the services of the village astrologer
are constantly in requisition. He is consulted as to the cause of
all calamities, and the cautious answers that he gives satisfy the
people. "Putro na putri," which may either mean no son but a daughter,
or no daughter but a son, is referred to as the type of a Kaniyan's
answer, when questioned about the sex of an unborn child.
"It would be difficult," Mr Logan writes, [342] "to describe
a single important occasion in everyday life when the Kanisan
is not at hand, foretelling lucky days and hours, casting
horoscopes, explaining the cause of calamities, prescribing
remedies for untoward events, and physicians (not physic) for
sick persons. Seed cannot be sown, or trees planted, unless the
Kanisan has been consulted beforehand. He is even asked to consult
his shastras to find lucky days and moments for setting out on
a journey, commencing an enterprise, giving a loan, executing
a deed, or shaving the head. For such important occasions
as births, marriages, tonsure, investiture with the sacred
thread, and beginning the A, B, C, the Kanisan is, of course,
indispensable. His work, in short, mixes him up with the gravest
as well as the most trivial of the domestic events of the people,
and his influence and position are correspondingly great. The
astrologer's finding, as one will assert with all due reverence,
is the oracle of God himself, with the justice of which every one
ought to be satisfied, and the poorer classes follow his dictates
unhesitatingly. The astrologer's most busy time is from January
to July, the period of harvest and marriages, but in the other
six months of the year he is far from leading an idle life. His
most lucrative business lies in casting horoscopes, recording
the events of a man's life from birth to death, pointing out
dangerous periods of life, and prescribing rules and ceremonies
to be observed by individuals for the purpose of propitiating the
gods and planets, and so averting the calamities of dangerous
times. He also shows favourable junctures for the commencement
of undertakings, and the grantham or book, written on palm leaf,
sets forth in considerable detail the person's disposition and
mental qualities, as affected by the position of the planets in
the zodiac at the moment of birth. All this is a work of labour,
and of time. There are few members of respectable families who
are not thus provided, and nobody grudges the five to twenty-five
rupees usually paid for a horoscope, according to the position
and reputation of the astrologer. Two things are essential to the
astrologer, namely, a bag of cowry shells (Cypraea moneta), and
an almanac. When any one comes to consult him, [343] he quietly
sits down, facing the sun, on a plank seat or mat, murmuring some
mantrams or sacred verses, opens his bag of cowries, and pours
them on the floor. With his right hand he moves them slowly round
and round, solemnly reciting meanwhile a stanza or two in praise
of his guru or teacher, and of his deity, invoking their help. He
then stops, and explains what he has been doing, at the same time
taking a handful of cowries from the heap, and placing them on
one side. In front is a diagram drawn with chalk (or soapstone)
on the floor, and consisting of twelve compartments (rasis), one
for each month in the year. Before commencing operations with the
diagram, he selects three or five of the cowries highest up in
the heap, and places them in a line on the right-hand side. [In
an account before me, three cowries and two glass bottle-stoppers
are mentioned as being placed on this side]. These represent
Ganapati (the belly god, the remover of difficulties), the sun,
the planet Jupiter, Sarasvati (the goddess of speech), and his
own guru or preceptor. To all of these the astrologer gives due
obeisance, touching his ears and the ground three times with both
hands. The cowries are next arranged in the compartments of the
diagram, and are moved about from compartment to compartment by
the astrologer, who quotes meanwhile the authority on which he
makes the moves. Finally he explains the result, and ends with
again worshipping the deified cowries, who were witnessing the
operation as spectators."
According to another account, [344] the Kaniyan "pours his cowries
on the ground, and, after rolling them in the palm of his right hand,
while repeating mantrams, he selects the largest, and places them in a
row outside the diagram at its right-hand top corner. They represent
the first seven planets, and he does obeisance to them, touching his
forehead and the ground three times with both hands. The relative
position of the nine planets is then worked out, and illustrated with
cowries in the diagram."
The Mulla Kurumbas (jungle tribe) of Malabar are said [345] to "have a
gift of prophecy, some being initiated in the art known as Kotiveykal,
literally planting betel vine. The professor, when consulted about
any future event, husks a small quantity of rice by hand, places it
inside a scooped shell of a dried kuvvalam fruit (AEgle Marmelos), and
asks one of his men to plant the betel vine. The man understands the
meaning, takes out the rice, and spreads it on a plank. The professor
invokes the Puthadi deity, makes a calculation, and gives his reply,
which is generally found correct."
Concerning a class of people called Velichchapad, who are regarded
as oracles in Malabar, Mr F. Fawcett writes as follows [346]:--
"Far away in rural Malabar, I witnessed the ceremony in which the
Velichchapad exhibited his quality. It was in the neighbourhood
of a Nayar house, to which thronged all the neighbours (Nayar),
men and women, boys and girls. The ceremony lasts about an
hour. The Nayar said it was the custom in his family to have it
done once a year, but could give no account of how it originated;
most probably in a vow, some ancestor having vowed that, if such
or such benefit be received, he would for ever after have an
annual performance of this ceremony in his house. It involved
some expenditure, as the Velichchapad had to be paid, and the
neighbours had to be fed. Somewhere about the middle of the little
courtyard, the Velichchapad placed a lamp (of the Malabar pattern)
having a lighted wick, a kalasam (brass vessel), some flowers,
camphor, saffron (turmeric), and other paraphernalia. Bhagavati
was the deity invoked, and the business involved offering flowers,
and waving a lighted wick round the kalasam. The Velichchapad's
movements became quicker, and, suddenly seizing his sword,
he ran round the courtyard (against the sun, as sailors say),
shouting wildly. He is under the influence of the deity who has
been introduced into him, and gives oracular utterances to the
deity's commands. What he said I know not, and no one else seemed
to know, or care in the least, much interested though they were in
the performance. As he ran, every now and then he cut his forehead
with the sword, pressing it against the skin and sawing vertically
up and down. The blood streamed all over his face. Presently he
became wilder, and whizzed round the lamp, bending forward towards
the kalasam. Evidently some deity, some spirit was present here,
and spoke through the mouth of the Velichchapad. This, I think,
undoubtedly represents the belief of all who were present. When
he had done whizzing round the kalasam, he soon became a normal
being, and stood before my camera. The fee for the self-inflicted
laceration is one rupee, some rice, etc. I saw the Velichchapad
about three days afterwards, going to perform elsewhere. The
wound on his forehead had healed. The careful observer can always
identify a Velichchapad by the triangular patch over the forehead,
where the hair will not grow, and where the skin is somewhat
indurated."
The Kotas of the Nilgiris worship Magali, to whose influence outbreaks
of cholera are attributed. When the dread disease breaks out among
them, special sacrifices are performed with a view to propitiating
the goddess, who is represented by an upright stone in a rude temple
near Kotagiri. An annual ceremony takes place there, at which some man
becomes possessed, and announces to the people that Magali has come. At
the seed-sowing ceremony, a Kota priest sometimes becomes inspired,
and gives expression to oracular utterances. At a Toda funeral,
the men, congregating on the summit of a neighbouring hill, invoked
the gods. Four of them, seized, apparently in imitation of the Kota
devadi (priest), with divine frenzy, began to shiver and gesticulate
wildly while running to and fro with closed eyes. They then began
to talk in Malayalam, and offer an explanation of an extraordinary
phenomenon, which had appeared in the form of a gigantic figure,
which disappeared as suddenly as it appeared. The possession by some
Todas of a smattering of Malayalam is explained by the fact that, when
grazing their buffaloes on the western slopes of the Nilgiris, they
come in contact with Malayalam-speaking people from the neighbouring
Malabar country.
For the following note on the Sakuna Pakshi (prophetic bird) mendicant
caste, I am indebted to Mr C. Hayavadana Rao. The name of the caste is
due to the fact that the members thereof wear on their heads a plume
composed of the feathers of the Indian roller (Coracias indica) or
blue jay of Europeans. This is one of the birds called sakuna pakshi,
because they are supposed to possess the power of foretelling events,
and on their movements many omens depend. Concerning the roller,
Jerdon writes [347] that
"it is sacred to Siva, who assumed its form, and, at the feast of
the Dasserah at Nagpore, one or more used to be liberated by the
Rajah, amidst the firing of cannon and musketry, at a grand parade
attended by all the officers of the station. Buchanan Hamilton
also states that, before the Durga Puja, the Hindus of Calcutta
purchase one of these birds, and, at the time when they throw the
image of Durga into the river, set it at liberty. It is considered
propitious to see it on this day, and those who cannot afford to
buy one discharge their matchlocks to put it on the wing."
A Sakuna Pakshi, before starting on a begging expedition, rises
early, and has a cold meal. He then puts on the Vaishnava namam mark
on his forehead, slings on his left shoulder a deer-skin pouch for
the reception of the rice and other grain which will be given to him
as alms, and takes up his little drum (gilaka or damaraka) made of
frog's skin.
Closely allied to the Sakuna Pakshis are the Budubudikes or
Budubudukalas, a class of beggars and fortune-tellers, whose name
is derived from the drum (budbuki) which they use when engaged in
predicting future events.
"A huge parti-coloured turban, surmounted by a bunch of feathers,
a pair of ragged trousers, a loose long coat, which is very often
out at elbows, and a capacious wallet, ordinarily constitute
the Budubudukala's dress. Occasionally, if he can afford it,
he indulges in the luxury of a tiger or cheetah (leopard) skin,
which hangs down his back, and contributes to the dignity of his
calling. Add to this an odd assortment of clothes suspended on
his left arm, and the picture is as grotesque as it can be. He
is regarded as able to predict the future of human beings by
the flight and notes of birds. His predictions are couched in
the chant which he recites. The burden of the chant is always
stereotyped, and purports to have been gleaned from the warble of
the feathered songsters of the forest. It prognosticates peace,
plenty and prosperity to the house, the birth of a son to the
fair, lotus-eyed housewife, and worldly advancement to the master,
whose virtues are as countless as the stars, and have the power
to annihilate his enemies. It also holds out a tempting prospect
of coming joy in an unknown shape from an unknown quarter, and
concludes with an appeal for a cloth. If the appeal is successful,
well and good. If not, the Budubudukala has the patience and
perseverance to repeat his visit the next day, and so on until,
in sheer disgust, the householder parts with a cloth. The drum,
which has been referred to as giving the Budubudukala his name,
is not devoid of interest. In appearance it is an instrument of
diminutive size, and is shaped like an hour-glass, to the middle
of which is attached a string with a knot at the end, which serves
as the percutient. Its origin is enveloped in a myth of which the
Budubudukala is very proud, for it tells of his divine descent,
and invests his vocation with the halo of sanctity. According to
the legend, the primitive Budubudukala who first adorned the face
of the earth was a belated product of the world's creation. When
he was born or rather evolved, the rest of mankind was already
in the field, struggling for existence. Practically the whole
scheme was complete, and, in the economy of the universe, the
Budubudukala found himself one too many. In this quandary, he
appealed to his goddess mother Amba Bhavani, who took pity on
him, and presented him with her husband the god Parameswara's
drum with the blessing 'My son, there is nothing else for you
but this. Take it and beg, and you will prosper.' Among beggars,
the Budubudukala has constituted himself a superior mendicant, to
whom the handful of rice usually doled out is not acceptable. His
demand is for clothes of any description, good, bad or indifferent,
new or old, torn or whole. For, in the plenitude of his wisdom,
he has realised that a cloth is a marketable commodity, which,
when exchanged for money, fetches more than the handful of
rice. The Budubudukala is continually on the tramp, and regulates
his movements according to the seasons of the year. As a rule, he
pays his visit to the rural parts after the harvest is gathered,
for it is then that the villagers are at their best, and in a
position to handsomely remunerate him for his pains. But, in
whatever corner of the province he may be, as the Dusserah [348]
approaches, he turns his face towards Vellore in North Arcot, where
the annual festival in honour of Amba Bhavani is celebrated." [349]
The principal tribal deity of the Kuruvikkaran beggars is Kali or
Durga, and each sept possesses a small metal plate with a figure of
the goddess engraved on it, which is usually kept in the custody of
the headman. It is, however, sometimes pledged, and money-lenders give
considerable sums on the security of the idol, as the Kuruvikkarans
would on no account fail to redeem it. At the annual festival of the
goddess, while some cakes are being cooked in oil, a member of the
tribe prays that the goddess will descend on him. Taking some of the
cakes out of the boiling oil, he rubs the oil on his head with his
palm. He is then questioned by those assembled, to whom he gives
oracular replies, after sucking the blood from the cut throat of
a goat.
The nomad Koravas or Yerukalas earn a livelihood partly by telling
fortunes. The Telugu name Yerukala is said to mean fortune-teller,
and, as the women go on their rounds through the streets, they call
out "Yeruko, amma, yeruku" i.e., prophecies, mother, prophecies.
Concerning the Pachaikutti (tattooer) or Gadde (soothsayer) section of
these people, Mr Paupa Rao Naidu writes [350] that "the woman proceeds
with a basket and a winnowing tray to a village, proclaiming their
ostensible profession of tattooing and soothsaying, which they do
for grain or money. When unfortunate village women, who always lose
their children or 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 duly rewarded, and doubly too, for they never fail to study the
nature of the house, to see if it offers a fair field for booty for
their men." [351]
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 prophecy good or evil according to the number of grains
on the fan. [352] They carry a basket, winnow, stick, and a wicker
tray in which cowry shells are embedded in a mixture of cow-dung and
turmeric. The basket represents the goddess Kolapuriamma, and the
cowries Poleramma. When telling fortunes, the 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 at extracting
information concerning the affairs of a client, before they proceed to
tell her fortune. 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 days to be initiated. The girl is
blindfolded with a cloth. Boiled rice and green gram (grain) 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 fortune-teller. Vomiting would indicate that she would be a
false prophetess.
The Irulas of the Tamil country, like the Yerukalas, are professional
fortune-tellers. The Yerukala will carry out the work connected with
her profession anywhere, at any time, and any number of times in a
day. The Irula, on the contrary, remains at his home, and will only
tell fortunes close to his hut, or near the hut where his gods are
kept. In case of sickness, people of all classes come to consult
the Irula fortune-teller, whose occupation is known as Kannimar
varnithal. Taking up his drum, he warms it over the fire, or exposes
it to the heat of the sun. When it is sufficiently dry to vibrate
to his satisfaction, Kannimar is worshipped by breaking a cocoanut,
and burning camphor and incense. Closing his eyes, the Irula beats the
drum, and shakes his head about, while his wife, who stands near him,
sprinkles turmeric water over him. After a few minutes, bells are
tied to his right wrist. In about a quarter of an hour he begins to
shiver, and breaks out in a profuse perspiration. This is a sure sign
that he is inspired by the goddess. The shaking of his body becomes
more violent, he breathes rapidly, and hisses like a snake. Gradually
he becomes calmer, and addresses those around him as if he were the
goddess, saying: "Oh! children, I have come down on my car, which is
decorated with mango flowers, margosa, and jasmine. You need fear
nothing so long as I exist, and you worship me. This country will
be prosperous, and the people will continue to be happy. Ere long my
precious car, immersed in the tank (pond) on the hill, will be taken
out, and after that the country will become more prosperous," and so
on. Questions are generally put to the inspired man, not directly,
but through his wife. Occasionally, even when no client has come
to consult him, the Irula will take up his drum towards dusk, and
chant the praises of Kannimar, sometimes for hours at a stretch,
with a crowd of Irulas collected round him.
I gather, from a note by Mr. T. Ranga Rao, that the jungle Yanadis of
the Telugu country pose as prophets of human destinies, and pretend to
hold intercourse with gods and goddesses, and to intercede between god
and man. Every village or circle has one or more soothsayers, who learn
their art from experts under a rigid routine. The period of pupilage
is a fortnight spent in retreat, on a dietary of milk and fruits. The
god or goddess Venkateswaralu, Subbaroyadu, Malakondroyadu, Ankamma, or
Poleramma, appears like a shadow, and inspires the pupil, who, directly
the period of probation has ceased, burns camphor and frankincense. He
then sings in praise of the deity, takes a sea-bath with his master,
gives a sumptuous feast, and becomes an independent soothsayer. The
story runs that the ardent soothsayers of old wrought miracles by
stirring boiling rice with his hand, which was proof against burn or
hurt. His modern brother invokes the gods with burning charcoal in
his folded hands, to the beat of a drum. People flock in large numbers
to learn the truth. The soothsayer arranges the tribal deity Chenchu
Devudu, and various local gods, in a god-house, which is always kept
scrupulously clean, and where worship is regularly carried on. The
auspicious days for soothsaying are Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. The
chief soothsayer is a male. The applicant presents him with areca nuts,
fruit, flowers, and money. The soothsayer bathes, and sits in front
of his house smeared with black, white, red, and other colours. His
wife, or some other female, kindles a fire, and throws frankincense
into it. He beats his drum and sings, while a woman within repeats the
chant in a shrill voice. The songs are in praise of the deity, at whose
and the soothsayer's feet the applicant prostrates himself, and invokes
their aid. The soothsayer feels inspired, and addresses the suppliant
thus:--"You have neglected me. You do not worship me. Propitiate
me adequately, or ruin is yours." The future is predicted in song,
and the rural folk place great faith in the predictions.
As an example of devil worship and divination, the practice thereof by
the Tamil Valaiyans and Kallans of Orattanadu in the Tanjore district
is described as follows by Mr F. R. Hemingway. [353]
"Valaiyan houses generally have an odiyan (Odina Wodier) tree
in the backyard, wherein the devils are believed to live,
and, among the Kallans, every street has a tree for their
accommodation. They are propitiated at least once a year, the
more virulent under the tree itself, and the rest in the house,
generally on a Friday or Monday. Kallans attach importance to
Friday in Adi (July and August), the cattle Pongal day in Tai
(January and February), and Kartigai day in the month Kartigai
(November and December). A man, with his mouth covered with a
cloth to indicate silence and purity, cooks rice in the backyard,
and pours it out in front of the tree, mixed with milk and jaggery
(crude sugar). Cocoanuts and toddy are also placed there. These
are offered to the devils, represented in the form of bricks or
mud images placed at the foot of the tree, and camphor is set
alight. A sheep is then brought and slaughtered, and the devils
are supposed to spring one after another from the tree into one
of the bystanders. This man then becomes filled with the divine
afflatus, works himself up into a kind of frenzy, becomes the
mouthpiece of the spirits, pronounces their satisfaction or the
reverse at the offerings, and gives utterance to cryptic phrases,
which are held to foretell good or evil fortune to those in answer
to whom they are made. When all the devils in turn have spoken and
vanished, the man recovers his senses. The devils are worshipped
in the same way in the house, except that no blood is shed."
The following example of the conviction of a thief by a diviner is
recorded by Mrs Murray-Aynsley. [354]
"A friend's ayah had her blanket stolen. The native woman rejected
the interference of the police, which her mistress proposed,
but said she would send for one of her own diviners. He came,
caused a fire to be lighted in an earthen vessel, then took a
small basket-work grain-sifter used for winnowing rice. Having
repeated certain prayers or incantations, the diviner stuck a
pair of scissors into the deepest part of this tray, and, having
done this, required the two assistants he brought with him each to
put a finger beneath the holes in the scissors, and then hold the
sifter suspended over the fire. The servants of the house were then
all required, each in turn, to take a small quantity of uncooked
rice in their hands, and drop it into the flame, between the
fork formed by the scissors, the diviner all the time repeating
some formula. All went very smoothly till the woman-servant,
whom my friend had all along suspected of the theft, performed
this ceremony, on which the grain-sifter commenced turning round
rapidly. The culprit was convicted, and confessed the theft."
The following method of discovering theft by chewing rice is described
by Daniel Johnson. [355]
"A Brahmin is sent for, who writes down all the names of the people
in the house, who are suspected. Next day he consecrates a piece
of ground by covering it with cow-dung and water, over which he
says a long prayer. The people then assemble on this spot in a
line facing the Brahmin, who has with him some dry rice, of which
he delivers to each person the weight of a four-cornered rupee,
or that quantity weighed with the sacred stone called Salagram,
which is deposited in a leaf of the pippal or banyan tree. At the
time of delivering it, the Brahmin puts his right hand on each
person's head, and repeats a short prayer; and, when finished,
he directs them all to chew the rice, which at a given time must
be produced on the leaves masticated. The person or persons, whose
rice is not thoroughly masticated, or exhibits any blood on it,
is considered guilty. The faith they all have of the power of
the Brahmin, and a guilty conscience operating at the same time,
suppresses the natural flow of saliva to the mouth, without
which the hard particles of the rice bruise and cut the gums,
causing them to bleed, which they themselves are sensible of,
and in most instances confess the crime."