A village near a coffee estate, which I inspected, was, at the time of my visit, in the possession of pariah dogs and nude children, the elder children and adults being away at work. The village was protected against nocturnal feline and other feral marauders by a rude fence, and consisted of rows of single-storied huts, with verandah in front, made of split bamboo and thatched, detached huts, an abundance of fowl-houses, and cucurbitaceous plants twining up rough stages. Surrounding the village were a dense grove of plantain trees, castor-oil bushes, and cattle pens.
When not engaged at work on estates or in the forest, the Irulas cultivate, for their own consumption, rāgi (Eleusine Coracana), sāmai (Panicum miliare), tenai (Setaria italica), tovarai (Cajanus indicus), maize, plantains, etc. They also cultivate limes, oranges, jak fruit (Artocarpus integrifolia), etc. They, like the Kotas, will not attend to cultivation on Saturday or Monday. At the season of sowing, Badagas bring cocoanuts, plantains, milk and ghī (clarified butter), and give them to the Irulas, who, after offering them before their deity, return them to the Badagas.
“The Irulas,” a recent writer observes, “generally possess a small plot of ground near their villages, which they assiduously cultivate with grain, although they depend more upon the wages earned by working on estates. Some of them are splendid cattle-men, that is, in looking after the cattle possessed by some enterprising planter, who would add the sale of dairy produce to the nowadays pitiable profit of coffee planting. The Irula women are as useful as the men in weeding, and all estate work. In fact, planters find both men and women far more industrious and reliable than the Tamil coolies.”
“By the sale of the produce of the forests,” Harkness writes, “such as honey and bees wax, or the fruit of their gardens, the Irulas are enabled to buy grain for their immediate sustenance, and for seed. But, as they never pay any attention to the land after it is sown, or indeed to its preparation further than by partially clearing it of the jungle, and turning it up with the hoe; or, what is more common, scratching it into furrows with a stick, and scattering the grain indiscriminately, their crops are, of course, stunted and meagre. When the corn is ripe, if at any distance from the village, the family to whom the patch or field belongs will remove to it, and, constructing temporary dwellings, remain there so long as the grain lasts. Each morning they pluck as much as they think they may require for the use of that day, kindle a fire upon the nearest large stone or fragment of rock, and, when it is well heated, brush away the embers, and scatter the grain upon it, which, soon becoming parched and dry, is readily reduced to meal, which is made into cakes. The stone is now heated a second time, and the cakes are put on it to bake. Or, where they have met with a stone which has a little concavity, they will, after heating it, fill the hollow with water, and, with the meal, form a sort of porridge. In this way the whole family, their friends, and neighbours, will live till the grain has been consumed. The whole period is one of merry-making. They celebrate Mahri, and invite all who may be passing by to join in the festivities. These families will, in return, be invited to live on the fields of their neighbours. Many of them live for the remainder of the year on a kind of yam, which grows wild, and is called Erula root. To the use of this they accustom their children from infancy.”
Some Irulas now work for the Forest Department, which allows them to live on the borders of the forest, granting them sites free, and other concessions. Among the minor forest produce, which they collect, are myrabolams, bees-wax, honey, vembadam bark (Ventilago Madraspatana), avaram bark (Cassia auriculata), deer’s horns, tamarinds, gum, soapnuts, and sheekoy (Acacia concinna). The forests have been divided into blocks, and a certain place within each block has been selected for the forest depot. To this place the collecting agents—mostly Shōlagars and Irulas—bring the produce, and then it is sorted, and paid for by special supervisors.[15] The collection of honey is a dangerous occupation. A man, with a torch in his hand, and a number of bamboo tubes suspended from his shoulders, descends by means of ropes or creepers to the vicinity of the comb. The sight of the torch drives away the bees, and he proceeds to fill the bamboos with the comb, and then ascends to the top of the rock.[16]
The Irulas will not (so they say) eat the flesh of buffaloes or cattle, but will eat sheep and goat, field-rats, fowls, deer, pig (which they shoot), hares (which they snare with skilfully made nets), jungle-fowl, pigeons, and quail (which they knock over with stones).
They informed Mr. Harkness that, “they have no marriage contract, the sexes cohabiting almost indiscriminately; the option of remaining in union, or of separating, resting principally with the female. Some among them, the favourites of fortune, who can afford to spend four or five rupees on festivities, will celebrate their union by giving a feast to all their friends and neighbours; and, inviting the Kurumbars to attend with their pipe and tabor, spend the night in dance and merriment. This, however, is a rare occurrence.” The marriage ceremony, as described to me, is a very simple affair. A feast is held, at which a sheep is killed, and the guests make a present of a few annas to the bridegroom, who ties up the money in a cloth, and, going to the bride’s hut, conducts her to her future home. Widows are permitted to marry again.
When an Irula dies, two Kurumbas come to the village, and one shaves the head of the other. The shorn man is fed, and presented with a cloth, which he wraps round his head. This quaint ceremonial is supposed, in some way, to bring good luck to the departed. Outside the house of the deceased, in which the corpse is kept till the time of the funeral, men and women dance to the music of the Irula band. The dead are buried in a sitting posture, with the legs crossed tailorwise. Each village has its own burial-ground. A circular pit is dug, from the lower end of which a chamber is excavated, in which the corpse, clad in its own clothes, jewelry, and a new cloth, is placed with a lamp and grain. The pit is then filled in, and the position of the grave marked by a stone. On the third day a sheep is said to be killed, and a feast held. The following description of an annual ceremony was given to me. A lamp and oil are purchased, and rice is cooked in the village. They are then taken to the shrine at the burial-ground, offered up on stones, on which some of the oil is poured, and pūja is done. At the shrine, a pūjāri, with three white marks on the forehead, officiates. Like the Badaga Dēvadāri, the Irula pūjāri at times becomes inspired by the god.
Writing concerning the Kurumbas and Irulas, Mr. Walhouse says[17] that “after every death among them, they bring a long water-worn stone (devva kotta kallu), and put it into one of the old cromlechs sprinkled over the Nilgiri plateau. Some of the larger of these have been found piled up to the cap-stone with such pebbles, which must have been the work of generations. Occasionally, too, the tribes mentioned make small cromlechs for burial purposes, and place the long water-worn pebbles in them.”
The following sub-divisions of the tribe have been described to me:—Poongkaru, Kudagar (people of Coorg), Kalkatti (those who tie stone), Vellaka, Devāla, and Koppilingam. Of these, the first five are considered to be in the relation of brothers, so far as marriage is concerned, and do not intermarry. Members of these five classes must marry into the Koppilingam sub-division. At the census, 1901, Kasuva or Kasuba was returned as a sub-caste. The word means workmen, in allusion to the abandonment of jungle life in favour of working on planters’ estates, and elsewhere.