KOCHI: The quest to understand the art of Tholpaavakuthu took me to one of the more prominent temples that still practise it today, Vazhalikaavu Bhagavathi Kshethram, located in Vazhalipadam in Painkulam, Thrissur. This small, but storied village lies 10km from the Shornur railway station, and about 50km from Thrissur town.
Situated along the banks of the Bharathapuzha, the village is one of the lesser-known cultural gems in the Thrissur district. Surrounded by picturesque paddy fields, an old Koothumedam with a wealth of fascinating tales to tell, and friendly locals — the temple is decked up for the annual festival.
The festivities consist of various dance performances by the villagers followed by the Tholpavakoothu. The artists are members of the temple committee who take pride in the ritualistic practices and follow them without fail. The prep for the ritual begins as a Velichapad (oracle) performs, marking the beginning of the shadow puppetry.
Temple secretary Krishna Kumar explains that the stories from the Ramayana are performed in Tholpavakoothu. “Events in the Ramayana took place around the same time when goddess Kali killed Darika. Tholpaavakuthu is a way of narrating the story of Ramayana to Kali, which is why the ritual is only held in Bhadrakali temples,” he says.
According to Vishwanathan Pulavar, 50, one of the veteran Tholpavakoothu artists in Kerala, the performance goes on till dawn. “The art form narrates the events of the Ramayana to Devi. This art form is over 2,000 years old. In the beginning, the story was narrated in Sanskrit,” he explains.
“This ritual takes place over a period of 21 days, each day, a different story is told – from Sri Rama’s birth to his coronation. Aryankavu is the only temple presenting the ceremonial plays on all 21 days, while in other temples it goes on for 14 days.”
The cutout dolls used for the puppetry used to be made of deerskin earlier, but now the skin of either buffalos or goats is used. “The dolls made of deerskin lasted longer,” Pulavar adds. When the clock strikes 12, the performance begins. Behind the scenes are three artists, two to narrate the story and one for the ‘chendakottu’ (chenda percussion).
Pulavar and his assistant move the deer-skin dolls against the light of a lamp. To those who watch, the story unfolds as shadows. It is saddening to note that, besides the photographer and myself, there is not a single soul to watch the performance.
Pulavar, however, is not disheartened. “This performance is for the Devi. So I give my heart and soul to it, whether people watch or not,” he says. “It takes years to master this tradition, to make the doll movements appear seamless, to keep at it all night. You must acquire the mastery through immense practice and piety to the Devi.” Thanks to artists like Pulavar, the spellbinding tradition continues.