Just a couple weeks ago, the harvest and the coming of spring was celebrated across the country in a number of different ways. From Pongal in Tamil Nadu with a pot that boils over, to Sankranti with its colourful festival of kites, it was a time of joy, laughter, and people coming together. One of the fascinating customs in these celebrations is actually the game of Uri Adi.
The traditional game, also known as Uriyadi in Tamil, is where players attempt to smash a suspended earthen pot with a stick. The game’s name comes from the Tamil words uri (a hanging pot or rope sling) and adi (to hit or strike). The pot is typically filled with goodies or prize items, and participants are often blindfolded to make the challenge harder.
Some believe that the game re-enacts the playful exploits of Lord Krishna as a child, when he was notorious for stealing butter, curd, and ghee stored in pots hung from the ceilings of village homes by breaking them. By attempting to break a hanging pot, players symbolically relive Krishna’s mischievous act.
Others view this game as a metaphor for spiritual striving — the blindfolded seeker aiming for the hidden prize of enlightenment. To take the metaphor further, the blind fold symbolises our inability to understand the divine power. By breaking the pot, reaching the prize, and removing the blindfold, the player metaphorically reaches an understanding or enlightenment. On a social level, Uri Adi has long been associated with Pongal, the harvest festival. The game is organised in communities, drawing laughter and cheers as the blindfolded contestant tries to locate and smash a decorated pot hung high, while the crowd shouts directions (or mis directions).
Similar games are played across India such as the Dahi Handi tradition, which is part of Janmashtami celebrations. Instead of blindfolded players with sticks, teams form human pyramids to reach and break a handi (pot) filled with curd or butter hung high above. While the method differs, the underlying legend — Krishna’s butter theft — and the joyous spirit are the same.
In another variant, the prize (often a pot or flag) is tied atop a tall wooden pole that has been liberally greased with oil. Instead of hitting the pot, contestants must climb the slippery pole and seize the prize.
The fun and skill required of the players is similar to many such comparable games and practices worldwide such as Mexico’s famous piñatas to Europe’s barrel-smashing and beyond. As early as the 13th century, Chinese New Year celebrations included papier-mâché figures of oxen filled with seeds, which were broken with sticks to assure a good harvest. The Aztecs had a similar ritual where priests hung a clay pot decorated with feathers and filled with offerings, which people struck and broke to let the treasures fall at the deity’s feet.
Did these customs spring up all over the world independently or did ideas travel and get integrated like many other games into local culture? It is hard to say. But the more I research games, the more I am convinced that our language, foods, and Gods may be different, but somewhere along the way, we are united by our games.