Castes and Tribes of Southern India. Vol. 3 of 7

by Edgar Thurston

The domestic god of the Koravas, in the southern districts, is said to be Sathavu, for whom a day of worship is set apart once in three or four years. The Koravas assemble, and, in an open place to the west of the village, a mud platform is erected, on which small bricks are spread. In front of the platform are placed a sickle, sticks, and arrack (liquor). Cocoanuts, plantain fruits, and rice are offered, and sheep sacrificed. Sandal and turmeric are poured over the bricks, and camphor is burnt. The proceedings terminate with a feast.

The presiding goddess of the criminal profession of the Koravas is stated by Mr. M. Paupa Rao Naidu[209] to be Moothēvi, the goddess of sleep, whom they dread and worship more than any other god or goddess of the Hindu Pantheon. The object of this worship is twofold, one being to keep themselves vigilant, and the other to throw their victims off their guard. Moothēvi is invoked in their prayers to keep them sleepless while on their nefarious purpose bent, but withal to make their victims sufficiently sleepy over their property. This goddess is worshipped especially by females, who perform strange orgies periodically, to propitiate her. A secluded spot is preferred for performing these orgies, at which animal sacrifices are made, and there is distribution of liquor in honour of the goddess. The Edayapatti gang worship in addition the deity Ratnasabhapathy at Ayyamala. When prosecuted for a crime, the Koravan invokes his favourite deity to let him off with a whipping in the words ‘If the punishment of whipping be inflicted I shall adore the goddess.’

The following account of a peculiar form of human sacrifice by the Koravas in former days was given to Mr. C. Hayavadana Rao by an old inhabitant of the village of Āsūr near Walajabad in the Chingleput district. A big gang settled at the meeting point of the three villages of Āsūr, Mēlputtūr, and Avalūr, on an elevated spot commanding the surrounding country. They had with them their pack-bullocks, each headman of the gang owning about two hundred head. The cow-dung which accumulated daily attracted a good many of the villagers, on one of whom the headmen fixed as their intended victim. They made themselves intimate with him, plied him with drink and tobacco, and gave him the monopoly of the cow-dung. Thus a week or ten days passed away, and the Koravas then fixed a day for the sacrifice. They invited the victim to visit them at dusk, and witness a great festival in honour of their caste goddess. At the appointed hour, the man went to the settlement, and was induced to drink freely. Meanwhile, a pit, large enough for a man to stand upright in it, had been prepared. At about midnight, the victim was seized, and forced to stand in the pit, which was filled in up to his neck. This done, the women and children of the gang made off with their belongings. As soon as the last of them had quitted the settlement, the headmen brought a large quantity of fresh cow-dung, and placed a ball of it on the head of the victim. The ball served as a support for an earthen lamp, which was lighted. The man was by this time nearly dead, and the cattle were made to pass over his head. The headmen then made off, and, by daybreak, the whole gang had disappeared. The murdered man was found by the villagers, who have, since that time, scrupulously avoided the Koravas. The victim is said to have turned into a Munisvara, and for a long time troubled those who happened to go near the spot at noon or midnight. The Koravas are said to have performed the sacrifice so as to insure their cattle against death from disease. The ground, on which they encamped, and on which they offered the human sacrifice, is stated to have been barren prior thereto, and, as the result thereof, to have become very fertile.

It is said that Korava women invoke the village goddesses when they are telling fortunes. They use a winnowing fan and grains of rice in doing this, and prophesy good or evil, according to the number of grains found on the fan.[210] They carry a basket, winnow, stick, and a wicker tray in which cowry shells are imbedded in a mixture of cow-dung, and turmeric. The basket represents Kolāpuriamma and the cowries Pōlēramma. When telling fortunes, the Korava woman places on the basket the winnow, rice, betel leaves and areca nuts, and the wicker tray. Holding her client’s hand over the winnow, and moving it about, she commences to chant, and name all sorts of deities. From time to time she touches the hand of the person whose fortune is being told with the stick. The Korava women are very clever in extracting information concerning the affairs of a client before they proceed to tell her fortune.

Korava Woman Telling Fortune.

Brāhmans fix the auspicious hour for marriage, and Chettis are invited to act as priests at the purification ceremony for re-admission into caste of a man or woman who has cohabited with a Paraiyan or Muhammadan, or been beaten with a shoe, etc. For the purpose of re-admission, a panchāyat (council) assembles, at which the headman presides. Enquiries are made into the conduct of the accused, and a fine of two rupees levied. Of this sum the Chetti receives eight annas, with some betel and tobacco. The balance is spent in liquor for those who are assembled. After the Chetti has received his fee, he smears the foreheads of the guilty person and the company with sacred ashes. The impure person goes to a stream or well, and bathes. He then again comes before the council, and is purified by the Chetti again marking his forehead. The proceedings wind up with a feast. In former days, at a trial before a council, the legs of the complainant and accused were tied together. In 1907, a Koracha was excommunicated for having illicit intercourse with a widow. The ceremony of excommunication usually consists of shaving the head and moustache of the guilty person, and making him ride a donkey, wearing a necklace of bones. In the case under reference, a donkey could not be procured, so a temporary shed was made of sajja (Setaria italica) stalks, which were set on fire after the man had passed through it. He was to be re-admitted into the caste by standing a feast to all the members of five gangs of Korachas.

It is said[211] that “a curious custom of the Kuravans prohibits them from committing crime on new-moon or full-moon days. Once started on an expedition, they are very determined and persistent. There is a case on record where one of a band of Kuravans out on an expedition was drowned in crossing the Cauvery. Nothing daunted by the loss or the omen, they attempted a burglary, and failed. They then tried another house, where they also failed; and it was not till they had met with these three mishaps that their determination weakened, and they went home.”

The Koravas are extremely superstitious, and take careful notice of good or bad omens before they start on a criminal expedition. They hold a feast, at which the assistance of the goddess Kolāpuriamma or Perumāl is sought. A young goat, with coloured thread attached to its horns, and a garland of margosa leaves with a piece of turmeric round its neck, is taken to an out-of-the-way shrine. Here it is placed before the deity, and cocoanuts are broken. The god is asked whether the expedition will be successful. If the body of the animal quivers, it is regarded as an answer in the affirmative; if it does not, the expedition will be abandoned. If in addition to quivering, the animal urinates, no better sign could be hoped for. The Koravas make it a point of honour to pay for the goat used for this religious purpose. It was information of this ceremony having been performed which led to the detection of a torchlight dacoity in the Cuddapah district in 1896. The expedition was in the first instance successful, for the Koravas broke into a Kōmati’s house in the middle of a village, and carried off a quantity of jewels. The Kōmati’s arm was broken, and he and other inmates of the house were badly burnt by lighted torches thrust against their faces and bodies. Among other methods of consulting the omens is to sacrifice a fowl at a shrine, and sit in front thereof listening for the direction whence the chirping of lizards issues. If the omens are auspicious, the members of the expedition start off, armed as a rule with lātis (sticks) and axes. If they attack a cart, they commence by throwing stones at it, to ascertain if the occupant has fire-arms with him. Houses are generally broken into by means of a hole made in the wall near the door-latch. In the Ceded Districts, where the houses are as a rule substantially built of rough stone, and have flat roofs of salt earth, an opening is frequently effected through the roof. The Koravas are often extremely cruel in the methods which they adopt to extort information from inhabitants of houses as to where their valuables are concealed. In common with other Hindus, they avoid the shadow of the thandra tree (Terminalia belerica), in which the spirit of Sanēswaradu is believed to reside. In this connection the following legend is recited.[212] In the city of Bīmanapuram there ruled a king named Bīmarāju, who had a beautiful daughter named Damayanti, with whom the gods, including Nalamahārāju, fell in love. Damayanti had never seen Nalamahārāju, but loved him on account of the stories which reached her of the justice with which he governed his kingdom, and his chastity. To avoid being charged with partiality in disposing of his daughter’s hand, Bīmarāju determined to invite all the gods to his house, and the one to whom Damayanti should throw a garland of flowers should claim her as his wife. The day fixed on arrived, and all the gods assembled, except Sanēswaradu, who appears to have been unavoidably detained. The gods were seated in a circle, and a fly guided Damayanti to Nalamahārāju, on whose neck she threw the garland. Nalamahārāju at once claimed her as his wife, and started off with her to his kingdom. On the way they met Sanēswaradu, who demanded an explanation of their being in each other’s company. He was told, and was very angry because the matter had been settled in his absence, and swore a mighty oath that they should be separated. To this end, he caused all sorts of difficulties to come in their way. Under his spell, Nalamahārāju took to gambling, and lost all his property. He was separated from Damayanti, and lived in poverty for years. The spell of Sanēswaradu could, however, only last for a certain number of years, and, when the time expired Nalamahārāju set out for Bīmanapuram, to find Damayanti who had returned to her father’s house. On the way, under a thandra tree, he met Sanēswaradu, who confessed that he was the cause of all the troubles that had befallen him, and begged that he would look leniently on his fault. Nalamahārāju would not forgive him, but, after cursing him, ordained that he should live for ever in the thandra tree, so that the area over which he could do wrong should be limited. It is for this reason that all wandering tribes avoid pitching a camp within the shadow of this tree. A tree (Terminalia Catappa) belonging to the same genus as the thandra is regarded as a lucky one to camp beneath, as it was under one of these trees that Rāma made a bower when he lived with Sīta and Lakshmana after his banishment to the forest of Dandaka.

In connection with omens and superstitions, Mr. Fawcett writes as follows. “Koravas, being highly superstitious, are constantly on the look-out for omens, especially before starting out on an excursion when the objective is dacoity or housebreaking. The household deity, represented by a brick picked up at random, is worshipped, and a sheep or fowl is sacrificed. Water is first poured over the animal, and, if it shakes its body, the omen is good, while, if it stands perfectly still, there is misfortune ahead. It is unfortunate, when starting, to see widows, pots of milk, dogs urinating, a man leading a bull, or a bull bellowing. On the other hand, it is downright lucky when a bull bellows at the scene of the criminal operation. To see a man goading a bull is a good omen when starting, and a bad one at the scene. Sprinkling urine over doors and walls of a house facilitates breaking into it. The failure of an expedition is generally attributed to the evil eye, or the evil tongue, whose bad effects are evinced in many ways. If the excursion has been for housebreaking, the housebreaking implement is often soldered at its sharp end with panchalokam (five metals), to counteract the effect of the evil eye. The evil tongue is a frequent cause of failure. It consists in talking evil of others, or harping on probable misfortunes. There are various ways of removing its unhappy effects. A mud figure of a man is made on the ground, and thorns are placed over the mouth. This is the man with the evil tongue. Those who have suffered walk round it, crying out and beating their mouths; the greater the noise, the better the effect. Cutting the neck of a fowl half through and allowing it to flutter about, or inserting a red hot splinter in its anus to madden it with pain, are considered to be effective, while, if a cock should crow after its neck has been cut, calamities are averted. The fowl is a sort of adjunct to the Koravar’s life. In early childhood, the first experiments in his career consist in stealing fowls; in manhood he feasts on them when he is well off, and he uses them, as we have seen, with abominable cruelty for divination or averting misfortune. The number seven is considered ominous, and an expedition never consists of seven men. The word for the number seven in Telugu resembles the word for weeping, and is considered to be unlucky. A man who has returned from jail, or who has been newly married, is not as a rule taken on an expedition. In the case of the former, the rule may be set aside by bringing a lamb from a neighbouring flock. A man who forgets to bring his stick, or to equip or arm himself properly, is always left behind. As in the case of dacoities, seven is an unlucky number to start out for housebreaking, but, should it be unavoidable, a fiction is indulged in of making the housebreaking implement the eighth member of the gang. When there are dogs about a house, they are soon kept quiet with powdered gajjakai or ganja leaves mixed with cooked rice, which they eat greedily. Detached parties in the jungle or elsewhere are able to unite by making sounds like the howling of jackals or hooting of owls. The direction taken on a road, or in the forest, is indicated by throwing the leaves of the tangēdu (Cassia auriculata) along the road. At crossroads, the road taken is indicated by the thick end of a twig of the tangēdu placed under a stone. Rows of stones, one piled over the other, are also used to point out the route taken when crossing hills. The women resort to divination, but not accompanied by cruelty, when their husbands are long enough absent to arouse apprehension of danger. A long piece is pulled out of a broom, and to one end of it are tied several small pieces dipped in oil. If the stick floats in water, all is well; but, should it sink, two of the women start out at once to find the men. They generally know as a matter of pre-arrangement whereabouts to find them, and proceed thither, pretending to sell karipak (curry leaves). The eighteenth day of the Tamil month Avani is the luckiest day of all for committing crimes. A successful criminal exploit on this day ensures good luck throughout the year. Sundays, which are auspicious for weddings, are inauspicious for crimes. Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays are unlucky until noon for starting out from home. So, too, is the day after new moon. Fridays are unsuitable for breaking into the houses of Brāhmans or Kōmatis, as they may be engaged in worshipping Ankalamma, to whom the day is sacred.”