Divorce may, I was told, be obtained for incompatibility of temper, drunkenness, or immorality; and a man can get rid of his wife ‘if she is of no use to him’, i.e., if she does not feed him well, or assist him in the cultivation of his land. Divorce is decided by a panchāyat (council) of representative villagers, and judgment given, after the evidence has been taken, by an elder of the community. Cases of theft, assault, or other mild offence, are also settled by a panchāyat, and, in the event of a case arising which cannot be settled by the members of council representing a single village, delegates from all the Kota villages meet together. If then a decision cannot be arrived at, recourse is had to the district court, of which the Kotas steer clear if possible. At a big panchāyat the headman (Pittakar) of the Kotas gives the decision, referring, if necessary, to some ‘sensible member’ of the council for a second opinion.

When a married woman is known to be pregnant with her first child, her husband allows the hair on the head and face to grow long, and leaves the finger nails uncut. On the birth of the child, he is under pollution until he sees the next crescent moon, and should cook his own food and remain at home. At the time of delivery a woman is removed to a hut (a permanent structure), which is divided into two rooms called dodda (big) telullu and eda (the other) telullu, which serve as a lying-in chamber and as a retreat for women at their menstrual periods. The dodda telullu is exclusively used for confinements. Menstruating women may occupy either room, if the dodda telullu is not occupied for the former purpose. They remain in seclusion for three days, and then pass another day in the raised verandah of the house, or two days if the husband is a Pūjāri. A woman, after her first confinement, lives for three months in the dodda telullu, and, on subsequent occasions, until the appearance of the crescent moon. She is attended during her confinement and stay in the hut by an elderly Kota woman. The actual confinement takes place outside the hut, and, after the child is born, the woman is bathed, and taken inside. Her husband brings five leafy twigs of five different thorny plants, and places them separately in a row in front of the telullu. With each twig a stick of Dodonæa viscosa, set alight with fire made by friction, must be placed. The woman, carrying the baby, has to enter the hut by walking backwards between the thorny twigs.

A common name for females at Kotagiri is Mādi, one of the synonyms of the goddess Kālikai, and, at that village, the first male child is always called Komuttan (Kāmatarāya). At Shōlūr and Gudalūr this name is scrupulously avoided, as the name of the god should not be taken by mortal man. As examples of nicknames, the following may be cited.

Small mouth. Head. Slit nose. Burnt-legged. Monkey. Dung or rubbish. Deaf. Tobacco. Hunchback. Crooked-bodied. Long-striding. Dwarf. Opium eater. Irritable. Bad-eyed. Curly-haired. Cat-eyed. Left-handed. Stone. Stammerer. Short. Knee. Chank-blower. Chinaman.

The nickname Chinaman was due to the resemblance of a Kota to the Chinese, of whom a small colony has squatted on the slopes of the hills between Naduvatam and Gudalūr.

A few days after my arrival at Kotagiri, the dismal sound of mourning, to the weird strains of the Kota band, announced that death reigned in the Kota village. The dead man was a venerable carpenter, of high position in the community. Soon after daybreak, a detachment of villagers hastened to convey the tidings of the death to the Kotas of the neighbouring villages, who arrived on the scene later in the day in Indian file, men in front and women in the rear. As they drew near the place of mourning, they all, of one accord, commenced the orthodox manifestations of grief, and were met by a deputation of villagers accompanied by the band. Meanwhile a red flag, tied to the top of a bamboo pole, was hoisted as a signal of death in the village, and a party had gone off to a glade, some two miles distant, to obtain wood for the construction of the funeral car (tēru). The car, when completed, was an elaborate structure, about eighteen feet in height, made of wood and bamboo, in four tiers, each with a canopy of turkey red and yellow cloth, and an upper canopy of white cloth trimmed with red, surmounted by a black umbrella of European manufacture, decorated with red ribbands. The car was profusely adorned with red flags and long white streamers, and with young plantain trees at the base. Tied to the car were a calabash and a bell. During the construction of the car the corpse remained within the house of the deceased man, outside which the villagers continued mourning to the dirge-like music of the band, which plays so prominent a part at the death ceremonies of both Todas and Kotas. On the completion of the car, late in the afternoon, it was deposited in front of the house. The corpse, dressed up in a coloured turban and gaudy coat, with a garland of flowers round the neck, and two rupees, a half-rupee, and sovereign gummed on to the forehead, was brought from within the house, lying face upwards on a cot, and placed beneath the lowest canopy of the car. Near the head were placed iron implements and a bag of rice, at the feet a bag of tobacco, and beneath the cot baskets of grain, rice, cakes, etc. The corpse was covered with cloths offered to it as presents, and before it those Kotas who were younger than the dead man prostrated themselves, while those who were older touched the head of the corpse and bowed to it. Around the car the male members of the community executed a wild step-dance, keeping time with the music in the execution of various fantastic movements of the arms and legs. During the long hours of the night mourning was kept up to the almost incessant music of the band, and the early morn discovered many of the villagers in an advanced stage of intoxication. Throughout the morning, dancing round the car was continued by men, sober and inebriated, with brief intervals of rest, and a young buffalo was slaughtered as a matter of routine form, with no special ceremonial, in a pen outside the village, by blows on the back and neck administered with the keen edge of an adze. Towards midday presents of rice from the relatives of the dead man arrived on the back of a pony, which was paraded round the car. From a vessel containing rice and rice water, water was crammed into the mouths of the near relatives, some of the water poured over their heads, and the remainder offered to the corpse. At intervals a musket, charged with gunpowder, which proved later on a dangerous weapon in the hands of an intoxicated Kota, was let off, and the bell on the car rung. About 2 P.M., the time announced for the funeral, the cot bearing the corpse, from the forehead of which the coins had been removed, was carried to a spot outside the village called the thāvāchivadam, followed by the widow and a throng of Kotas of both sexes, young and old. The cot was then set down, and, seated at some distance from it, the women continued to mourn until the funeral procession was out of sight, those who could not cry spontaneously mimicking the expression of woe by contortion of the grief muscles. The most poignant sorrow was displayed by a man in a state of extreme intoxication, who sat apart by himself, howling and sobbing, and wound up by creating considerable disturbance at the burning-ground. Three young bulls were brought from the village, and led round the corpse. Of these, two were permitted to escape for the time being, while a vain attempt, which would have excited the derision of the expert Toda buffalo-catchers, was made by three men, hanging on to the head and tail, to steer the third bull up to the head of the corpse. The animal, however, proving refractory, it was deemed discreet to put an end to its existence by a blow on the poll with the butt-end of an adze, at some distance from the corpse, which was carried up to it, and made to salute the dead beast’s head with the right hand, in feeble imitation of the impressive Toda ceremonial. The carcase of the bull was saluted by a few of the Kota men, and subsequently carried off by Pariahs. Supported by females, the exhausted widow of the dead man was dragged up to the corpse, and, lying back beside it, had to submit to the ordeal of removal of all her jewellery, the heavy brass bangle being hammered off the wrist, supported on a wooden roller, by oft-repeated blows with mallet and chisel delivered by a village blacksmith assisted by a besotten individual noted as a consumer of twelve grains of opium daily. The ornaments, as removed, were collected in a basket, to be worn again by the widow after several months. This revolting ceremony concluded, and a last salutation given by the widow to her dead husband, arches of bamboo were attached to the cot, which was covered over with a coloured table-cloth hiding the corpse from sight. A procession was then formed, composed of the corpse on the cot, preceded by the car and musicians, and followed by male Kotas and Badagas, Kota women carrying the baskets of grain, cakes, etc., a vessel containing fire, and burning camphor. Quickly the procession marched to the burning-ground beyond the bazar, situated in a valley by the side of a stream running through a glade in a dense undergrowth of bracken fern and trailing passion-flower. On arrival at the selected spot, a number of agile Kotas swarmed up the sides of the car, and stripped it of its adornments including the umbrella, and a free fight for the possession of the cloths and flags ensued. The denuded car was then placed over the corpse, which, deprived of all valuable ornaments and still lying on the cot, had been meanwhile placed, amid a noisy scene of brawling, on the rapidly constructed funeral pyre. Around the car faggots of wood, supplied in lieu of wreaths by different families in the dead man’s village as a tribute of respect, were piled up, and the pyre was lighted with torches kindled at a fire which was burning on the ground close by. As soon as the pyre was in a blaze, tobacco, cigars, cloths, and grain were distributed among those present, and the funeral party dispersed, leaving a few men behind in charge of the burning corpse, and peace reigned once more in the Kota village. A few days later, the funeral of an elderly woman took place with a very similar ceremonial. But, suspended from the handle of the umbrella on the top of the car, was a rag doll, which in appearance resembled an Aunt Sally. I was told that, on the day following the funeral, the smouldering ashes are extinguished with water, and the ashes, collected together, and buried in a pit, the situation of which is marked by a heap of stones. A piece of the skull, wrapped in bracken fronds, is placed between two fragments of an earthen pot, and deposited in the crevice of a rock or in a chink in a stone wall.

The Kotas celebrate annually a second funeral ceremony in imitation of the Todas. For eight days before the day appointed for its observance, a dance takes place in front of the houses of those Kotas whose memorial rites are to be celebrated, and three days before they are performed invitations are issued to the different Kota villages. On a Sunday night, fire is lighted by friction, and the time is spent in dancing. On the following day, the relatives of the departed who have to perform the ceremony purify the open space in front of their houses with cow-dung. They bring three basketfuls of paddy (unhusked rice), which are saluted and set down on the cleansed space. The Pūjāri and the rest of the community, in like manner, salute the paddy, which is taken inside the house. On the Monday, cots corresponding in number to that of the deceased whose dry funeral is being held, are taken to the thāvachivadam, and the fragments of skulls are laid thereon. Buffaloes (one or more for each skull) are killed, and a cow is brought near the cots, and, after a piece of skull has been placed on its horns, sacrificed. A dance takes place around the cots, which are removed to the burning-ground, and set on fire. The Kotas spend the night near the thāvachivadam. On the following day a feast is held, and they return to their homes towards evening, those who have performed the ceremony breaking a small pot full of water in front of their houses.

Like the Todas, the Kotas indulge in trials of strength with heavy spherical stones, which they raise, or attempt to raise, from the ground to the shoulders, and in a game resembling tip-cat. In another game, sides are chosen, of about ten on each side. One side takes shots with a ball made of cloth at a brick propped up against a wall, near which the other side stands. Each man is allowed three shots at the brick. If it is hit and falls over, one of the ‘out-side’ picks up the ball, and throws it at the other side, who run away, and try to avoid being hit. If the ball touches one of them, the side is put out, and the other side goes in. A game, called hulikotē, which bears a resemblance to the English child’s game of fox and geese, is played on a stone chiselled with lines, which forms a rude game-board. In one form of the game, two tigers and twenty-five bulls, and in another three tigers and fifteen bulls engage, and the object is for the tigers to take, or, as the Kotas express it, kill all the bulls. In a further game, called kotē, a labyrinthiform pattern, or maze, is chiselled on a stone, to get to the centre of which is the problem.