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

by Edgar Thurston

Whatever the causes of their emigration, we find them in the Chingleput district ordinarily reckoning the Mysore, Salem and Bellary Lingāyats as of their own stock. They freely mix with each other, and I hear contract marital alliances with one another. They speak the Kannada (Kanarese) language—the language of Mysore and Bellary. They call themselves by the name of Kannadiyans or Kannadiyars, after the language they speak, and the part of the village they inhabit—Kannadipauliem, or village of the Kannadiyars. In parts of Madras they are known as Kavadi and Kavadiga (=bearers of head-loads).

Both men and women are possessed of great stamina. Almost every other day they walk to and fro, in all seasons, more than twenty miles by road to sell their butter and curds in Madras. While so journeying, they carry on their heads a curd pot in a rattan basket containing three or four Madras measures of curds, besides another pot containing a measure or so of butter. Some of the men are good acrobats and gymnasts, and I have seen a very old man successively break in two four cocoanuts, each placed on three or four crystals of common salt, leaving the crystals almost intact. And I have heard that there are men who can so break fifty cocoanuts—perhaps an exaggeration for a considerable number. In general the women may be termed beautiful, and, in Mysore, the Lingāyat women are, by common consent, regarded as models of feminine beauty.

These Lingāyats are divided into two classes, viz., Gauliyars of Dāmara village, and Kadapēri or Kannadiyars proper, of Chembrambākam and other places. The Gauliyars carry their curd pots in rattan baskets; the Kannadiyars in bamboo baskets. Each class has its own beat in the city of Madras, and, while the majority of the rattan basket men traffic mainly in Triplicane, the bamboo basket men carry on their business in Georgetown and other localities. The two classes worship the same gods, feed together, but do not intermarry. The rattan is considered superior to the bamboo section. Both sections are sub-divided into a large number of exogamous septs or bēdagagulu, of which the meaning, with a few exceptions, e.g., split cane, bear, and fruit of Eugenia Jambolana, is not clear.

Monogamy appears to be the general rule among them, but polygamy to the extent of having two wives, the second to counteract the sterility of the first, is not rare. Marriage before puberty is the rule, which must not be transgressed. And it is a common thing to see small boys grazing the cattle, who are married to babies hardly more than a year old. Marriages are arranged by the parents, or through intermediaries, with the tacit approval of the community as a whole. The marriage ceremony generally lasts about nine or ten days, and, to lessen the expenses for the individual, several families club together and celebrate their marriages simultaneously. All the preliminaries such as inviting the wedding guests, etc., are attended to by the agent of the community, who is called Chaudri. The appointment of agent is hereditary.

The first day of the marriage ceremony is employed in the erection of the booth or pandal. On the following day, the bodice-wearing ceremony is performed. The bride and bridegroom are presented with new clothes, which they put on amid general merriment. In connection with this ceremony, the following Mysore story may not be out of place. When Tipu Sultan once saw a Lingāyat woman selling curds in the street without a body cloth, he ordered the cutting off of her breasts. Since then the wearing of long garments has come into use among the whole female population of Mysore.

The third day is the most important, as it is on that day that the Muhūrtham, or tāli-tying ceremony, takes place, and an incident of quite an exceptional character comes off amid general laughter. A Brāhman (generally a Saivite) is formally invited to attend, and pretends that he is unable to do so. But he is, with mock gravity, pressed hard to do so, and, after repeated guarantees of good faith, he finally consents with great reluctance and misgivings. On his arrival at the marriage booth, the headman of the family in which the marriage is taking place seizes him roughly by the head, and ties as tightly as possible five cocoanuts to the kudumi, or lock of hair at the back of the head, amidst the loud, though not real, protestations of the victim. All those present, with all seriousness, pacify him, and he is cheered by the sight of five rupees, which are presented to him. This gift he readily accepts, together with a pair of new cloths and pān-supāri (betel leaves and areca nuts). Meanwhile the young folk have been making sport of him by throwing at his new and old clothes big empty brinjal fruits (Solanum Melongena) filled with turmeric powder and chunām (lime). He goes for the boys, who dodge him, and at last the elders beat off the youngsters with the remark that “after all he is a Brāhman, and ought not to be trifled with in this way.” The Brāhman then takes leave, and is heard of no more in connection with the wedding rites. The whole ceremony has a decided ring of mockery about it, and leads one to the conclusion that it is celebrated more in derision than in honour of the Brāhmans. It is a notorious fact that the Lingāyats will not even accept water from a Brāhman’s hands, and do not, like many other castes, require his services in connection with marriage or funeral ceremonies. The practice of tying cocoanuts to the hair of the Brāhman seems to be confined to the bamboo section. But an equally curious custom is observed by the rattan section. The village barber is invited to the wedding, and the infant bride and bridegroom are seated naked before him. He is provided with some ghī(clarified butter) in a cocoanut shell, and has to sprinkle some of it on the head of the couple with a grass or reed. He is, however, prevented from doing so by a somewhat cruel contrivance. A big stone (representing the linga) is suspended from his neck by a rope, and he is kept nodding to and fro by another rope which is pulled by young lads behind him. Eventually they leave off, and he sprinkles the ghī, and is dismissed with a few annas, pān-supāri, and the remains of the ghī. By means of the stone the barber is for the moment turned into a Lingāyat.

The officiating priest at the marriage ceremony is a man of their own sect, and is known as the Gurukkal. They address him as Ayyanavaru, a title generally reserved for Brāhmans in Kannada-speaking districts. The main items of expenditure at a wedding are the musician, presents of clothes, and pān-supāri, especially the areca nuts. One man, who was not rich, told me that it cost him, for a marriage, three maunds of nuts, and that guests come more for them than for the meals, which he characterised as not fit for dogs.

Kannadiyan.

Widow remarriage is permitted. But it is essential that the contracting parties should be widower and widow. For such a marriage no pandal is erected, but all the elders countenance it by their presence. Such a marriage is known as naduvīttu tāli, because the tāli is tied in the mid-house. It is usually a simple affair, and finished in a short time after sunset instead of in the day time. The offspring of such marriages are considered as legitimate, and can inherit. But remarried couples are disqualified from performing certain acts, e.g., the distribution of pān-supāri at weddings, partaking in the hārathi ceremony, etc. The disqualifications attaching to remarried people are, by a curious analogy, extended to deformed persons, who are, in some cases, considered to be widowers and widows.