When filmmaker Shaji A John first heard the songs of Thiruvarangar, he knew their voices deserved to travel far beyond the Valluvanadan region.
The Thiruvananthapuram-based filmmaker had been shooting a feature film near Ottapalam when he came across the hereditary folk singers. Though that project was shelved, his interaction with the traditional artists stayed with him.
“Their range and style of singing were really impressive. And I felt people in Kerala and beyond needed to know about these artists,” he says.
That chance encounter eventually became Thiruvarangar - The Deity Singers, a 25-minute documentary that follows Vasu Chami and his brothers — the last of their generation keeping alive a centuries-old tradition.
Known locally as Paannan or Paati, the Thiruvarangar have long been assigned the task of announcing the beginning of temple festivals across the Valluvanadan region.
In Chingam, from Uthradam to Thiruvonam, they travel from house to house singing ritual ballads. Their ‘performances’ are devotional proclamations, believed to carry the presence of the deity. They also carry with them elements of local history and the identity of the community.
In the documentary, Vasu Chami recounts one of the many stories surrounding their origin. According to him, their ancestors received the gift of song as a boon from Lord Shiva after waking him from deep meditation when the world needed the god’s help.
Historians point out that there is no single origin story of the Thiruvarangar, though many trace their roots to the Srirangam Temple in Tamil Nadu.
Across all the narratives, however, one thread remains constant — they are the Paannans who sing.
The work is deeply sacred, but hardly sustainable. They perform only during the temple festival season. Once it ends, they disperse to take up odd jobs until the following year. That also meant the documentary had to be filmed within a narrow window.
One thing that really made a mark on the director was their unwavering commitment to the art form.
“They continue their singing because they believe it is ingrained in their identity. Their sense of duty towards the tradition is much stronger than the need to earn a stable livelihood from it,” he says.
Yet, despite their role in temple festivals, the Thiruvarangar remain excluded from temple stages.
“Unlike many other devotional singers, they are not allowed to sing inside temples. Caste politics plays a role here. Other groups perform on temple stages and receive recognition. These hereditary singers perform original compositions passed down within their own community, yet they remain outside those spaces. It makes you wonder why,” says Shaji.
That contradiction became one of the motivations behind the documentary.
Rather than relying on interviews to explain the tradition, Thiruvarangar – The Deity Singers lets the songs lead the narrative. The camera follows the singers as they move through villages, as the rhythm of their ballads and their camaraderie tell the story.
Ironically, the film has travelled much farther than its subjects ever have. It has been screened at film festivals across the world, including in Brazil and Ukraine. It was recently selected to be featured at the Ahmedabad International Film Festival later this year.
The future of the tradition remains uncertain. Vasu Chami is among the last of his generation to continue the practice. His daughter is a teacher, while his son occasionally accompanies him during festival rounds. No clear heir is waiting to inherit the songs.
For the director, the documentary is more than a record of the fading art form. Shaji hopes it encourages people to invite the Thiruvarangar to perform and create spaces where the tradition can evolve, rather than disappear.