His was an odyssey that ended as a divine tragedy. He played god on earth, but ace Theyyam exponent Kunharan Peruvannan died in acute pain, frustration and poverty on 24 June 2022. He suffered burns during a performance, resulting in complications, and was forced to chop off his left big toe by himself as he had no money to go to the hospital. Later, his leg had to be amputated above the knee at the peak of his artistic life. Kunharan's life underscores the struggles of India's folk artists.
Theyyam, the intangible cultural heritage of northern Kerala, is an egalitarian living tradition that enables you to reach out to the gods. The gods, in turn, engage in a direct "dialogue" with mortals to settle issues. Intertwined in this theatre form are spiritual and material spheres that bring together all religions and castes.
In this cult worship that attracts people from far and wide, the pantheistic deity or its spirit enters the body and mind of performers who come from humble backgrounds. The individual's existence becomes irrelevant, and devotees see them as gods and nothing less. A Theyyam performance is thus more than a mere ritual, highlighting the cultural heritage of local inhabitants and the symbiosis between various communities. While assuring protection to believers, the Theyyam rhetoric goes thus: Kannukaali kunnukutti paitannalkkum gunaṃ varuttuṃ rakshippin (Let domestic animals such as calves, cows, babies and kids be blessed and protected.)
Kunharan Peruvannan, 74, who passed away in June this year, was one of the prominent Theyyam performers. His life story was stranger than fiction. As the son of Theyyam artist Ambu Peruvannan and Ammini, he was initiated into Theyyam, the hereditary profession of the Vannan community, when he had hardly reached his teens. After class four, his father sent him to learn Kalaripayattu -- the martial art that essentially supports a Theyyam practitioner. He was a prodigy who assisted his father but became a mature artist at age 14 when he was assigned the role of the vibrant Kathivannoor Veeran. Till 2008, he remained a dedicated Theyyam performer despite acute poverty. Since Theyyam is seasonal, he would work in a beedi unit or on a farm during the off-season.
His art took a toll on Kunharan's health. The extended performance that can last 12 to 24 hours and often without toilet breaks, lack of sleep, the elaborate costumes, and the synthetic colours of the facial make-up, all leave many performers weak and ill. Many of them suffer from hypertension in their forties and early fifties, and the tight knots on their costume often cause joint and blood circulation issues. The ritual and its demands of performative theatre also lead to a parapsychological transformation in artists and devotees.
In 2008, out of pain and frustration, Kunharan chopped off his left big toe with the knife used to hack palm leaves for Theyyam! He dressed the wound with a cotton cloth to stop the profuse bleeding. Why did he do this? "Because I desperately wanted relief from the acute pain and infection. Unfortunately, I had no money to go to a hospital for treatment," he told me. The injury occurred in 1982 during the performance of Ottakkolamwhile leaping into the 'meleri'--a heap of glowing embers. The main attraction of an Ottakkolam, also hailed as 'Theechchaamunti', is diving into the meleri, an act supposed to depict Lord Vishnu searching for Hiranyakasipu in a fire. Often it is done 108 times, ignoring injuries until others nearby completely stop the performer!
The devotees return home thrilled at watching Vishnu's agni-pravesam, but the human who plays god returns with his partly burned body dressed in tender coconut leaves. Usually, Ottakkolam is the Malayan community's forte and rarely do the Vannas perform it; Kunharan was an exception.
Kunharan managed to perform for two and a half decades with a burnt and infected toe. But the crude "surgery" he performed on himself caused gangrene to set in, and soon he had to get his leg amputated above the knee. It ended his 46 years of the illustrious odyssey as a god on earth.
Since then, Kunharan was compelled to work 'in camera', stitching Theyyam costumes and helping other performers as a green room assistant, earning a pittance to sustain a living. "The transformation from Ottakkolam to 'ottakkalan'(one-legged) was painful, but I never let others see this because I had to overcome poverty," he said. Was he challenging the gods he personified in his life? Did the gods fail him? This question should haunt us all.
After a long wait, the state government sanctioned him with monthly financial assistance of 750 rupees. It then raised it to 1500 rupees, under the category of "disabled artists", which was insufficient even for his regular medicines. His wife Lakshmi worked as a domestic helper in homes to make both ends meet. He has a daughter and two sons, of whom Nandan Manakkatan is a Theyyam performer.
K.K. GOPALAKRISHNAN
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