Tiyans.Tiyans.It will not be worth while to attempt a description of the marriage ceremony of the Tiyans of North Malabar, because there is none, or next to none. There the Tiyans and all classes, including even the Muhammadan Māppillas, follow the rule of marumakkatāyam, or inheritance through females from uncle to nephew. The children have no right to their father’s property. Eitherparty may annul the marital union at will, without awarding any compensation; and, as its infraction is easy and simple, so is its institution. Nor is there any rigid inquiry as to the antecedents of either party. It is an affair of mutual arrangement, attended with little formality. Proceeding to the girl’s house, accompanied by a few friends, the intending husband takes with him a couple of cloths, one for the girl, and the other for her mother. In parts of North Malabar, the Tiyan women wear an ornament called chittu (ring) in a hole bored in the top of the helix of each ear. The holes are bored in childhood, but the chittu is not worn until the girl forms a marital union with a man. The chittus are made on the spot at the time, in the marriage pandal erected for the occasion, the girl’s uncle providing the gold. They are never removed during life, except in cases of dire distress. “To sell chittu” is equivalent to having become a pauper. It is supposed that, in olden days, the marriage ceremonies lasted over seven days, and were subsequently reduced to seven meals, or three and a half days, and then to one day. Now the bridegroom remains the first night at the bride’s house, and then takes her to his home. Before they leave, a cocoanut, the outer husk of which has been removed, is placed on a stool of pala wood, and one of the bridegroom’s party must smash it with his fist. Some of the more orthodox in North Malabar observe the formality of examining horoscopes, and a ceremony equivalent to the conjee-drinking ceremony which has been described, called achāra kaliāna, and the payment of kanam in the shape of forty-one fanams, instead of forty-two as in South Malabar. In connection with fanams it may be noted that the old gold fanam is reckoned as worth four annas, whereas five silver or velli fanams make a rupee. Everywherein rural Malabar, calculations are made in terms of velli fanams thus:—10 pice (1/12 of an anna) = 1 velli.5 vellis = 1 rupee.Bazaar men, and those who sell their small stock at the weekly markets all about the country, arrange their prices in vellis.When the death of a Tiyan is expected, all the relations draw near, and await the fateful moment. The person who is about to die is laid on the floor of the middle room, for it is inauspicious to die on a cot. We will suppose that the dying man is a parent and a landlord. Each of the sons and daughters gives him a little conjee water, just before he passes away. At the moment of death, all the women bawl out in lamentations, giving the alarm of death. The Cheruman serfs in the fields join in the chorus, and yell out an unintelligible formula of their own. Absent relations are all formally invited. From the houses of the son’s wife and daughter’s husband are sent quantities of jāk fruits, unripe plantains, and cocoanuts, as death gifts. One half of the husks of the cocoanuts is removed, and the other half left on the shell. After the cremation or burial, these articles are distributed among those present by the Tandān, who receives an extra share for his trouble. When life is extinct, the body is placed with the head to the south, and the thumbs and big toes are tied together. It is then taken out into the yard, washed, bathed in oil, dressed in a new cloth, and brought back to the middle room. A cocoanut is cut in two, and the two halves, with a lighted wick on each, are placed at the head and foot. The house-owner spreads a cotton cloth over the corpse, and all the relations, and friends, do the same. Any one who wishes to place a silk cloth on the corpse maydo so, but he must cover it with a cotton cloth. The body is then removed for burial or cremation, and placed near the grave or funeral pyre. It is the rural rule that elderly persons and karnavans of tarwads are cremated, and others buried. The barber, whose function it is to perform the purificatory rites, now removes, and retains as his perquisite, all the cloths, except the last three covering the corpse. As it is being borne away to the place of burial or cremation, water mixed with cow-dung is sprinkled behind it in the yard. The eldest son, who succeeds to the property and is responsible for the funeral ceremonies, then tears crosswise a piece of the cloth which has been placed over the corpse by the people of the house, and ties it round his forehead. He holds one end of the cloth while the barber holds the other, and tears off the piece. The barber then cuts three holes in the remainder of this cloth covering the body, over the mouth, navel, and pubes. A little water and rice are poured over a gold fanam through the slit over the mouth. All who observe the death pollution,i.e., sons, grandsons, nephews, younger brothers and cousins, offer water and rice in the same manner, and walk three times round the grave or pyre. The barber then breaks a pot of water over the grave. No other ceremonial is observed on this day, on which, and during the night, rice must not be eaten. If the body has been cremated, a watch is kept at the burning ground for five days by Pānans, who beat drums all night to scare away the evil spirits which haunt such spots. Early on the second day, all who are under pollution are shaved. The operation is attended with some ceremonial, and, before it is commenced, a lighted lamp, a measure of rice and paddy on a plantain leaf must be at hand. The paddy and rice are a perquisite of the barber. Those who have been shavedbathe, and then follows the crow-feeding ceremony. Rice is boiled in a bell-metal vessel over a hearth prepared with three young cocoanuts. The eldest son, who tore the cloth of succession from the corpse, makes the rice into two little balls, places them on a plantain leaf, and offers them to the spirit of the departed by pouring libations of water on them over a blade of karuka grass. Men and women who are under pollution then do the same. The rice balls are eaten by crows. This little ceremony is performed daily until the eleventh or thirteenth day, when the period of death pollution comes to an end. If the eleventh day happens to fall on a Tuesday or Friday, or on any inauspicious day, the period is extended to the thirteenth day. When the period of death pollution is partly in one month, and partly in another, another death in the house within the year is expected. Preceding the sanchayanam, which occupies the fifth day, there is the lamp-watching on the previous night. In the south-east corner of the middle room, a little paddy is heaped up, and on it is placed a bell-metal plate with an iron lamp having five or seven lighted wicks on it. Under the lamp is a little cow-dung, and close to it is a bunch of cocoanut flowers. The lamp must be kept burning until it is extinguished on the following day. In the case of the death of a male, his niece watches the lamp, and in that of a female her daughter, lying near it on a grass mat. The sanchayanam is the first stage in the removal of death pollution, and, until it is over, all who come to the house suffer from pollution, and cannot enter their own house or partake of any food without bathing previously. When the body has been cremated, the fragments of calcined bones are collected from the ashes, and carried in procession to the sea, or, if this is far away, into a river. The members ofthe family under pollution then rub their bodies all over with oil, and the barber sprinkles a mixture of cow’s milk over their heads, using a blade of karuka grass as a spout. They then bathe, and the eldest son alone observe māttu. The crow-feeding ceremony follows, and, when this is over, the three cocoanuts which were used as a hearth are thrown away. A large bell-metal vessel filled with water is now placed in the front yard before the door of the house. The barber carries the still burning lamp from the middle room, and sets it on the ground near the pot of water. The women who are under pollution come from the middle room, each carrying a lighted wick, walk thrice round the pot, and throw the wicks into the water. The woman who has watched the lamp puts four annas into the pot, and the others deposit a few pies therein. The eldest son now lights a wick from the iron lamp which is about to be extinguished, and with it lights a lamp in the middle room. The barber then dips the iron lamp in the water, and picks out the money as his perquisite. The water is poured on the roots of a cocoanut tree. The bell-metal vessel becomes the property of the woman who watched the lamp, but she cannot take it away until she leaves the house after the pula-kuli ceremony. When the lamp has been extinguished, a woman, hired for the occasion, is seated on a cocoanut leaf in the front yard. The Tandān pours oil on her head three times, and she receives a little betel and two annas. She rises, and leaves the place without turning back, taking the pollution with her. Betel is then distributed. Those who provided the death gifts on the day of the death must on this day bring with them a bag of rice, and about four rupees in money. They have also to give eight annas to the barber. A folded handkerchief is firstpresented to the barber, who formally returns it, and receives instead of it the eight annas. Before the people disperse, the day of the pula-kuli is settled. Pula-kuli, or washing away the pollution, is the final ceremony for putting off the unpleasant consequences of a death in a family. First of all, the members thereof rub themselves all over with oil, and are sprinkled by the barber with cow’s milk and gingelly oil. They then bathe. The barber outlines the figure of a man or woman, according to the sex of the deceased, with rice flour and turmeric powder, the head to the south, in the middle room of the house. The figure is covered with two plantain leaves, on each of which a little rice and paddy are heaped. Over all is spread a new cloth, with a basket containing three measures of paddy upon it. The eldest son (the heir) sits facing the south, and with a nāzhi measures out the paddy, which he casts to the south, east, and west—not the north. He repeats the performance, using the fingers of the left hand closed so as to form a cup as a measure. Then, closing the first and fourth fingers firmly with the thumb, using the left hand, he measures some paddy in the same manner with the two extended fingers. Rice is treated in the same way. A nāzhi of paddy, with a lighted wick over it, is then placed in a basket. The eldest son takes the nāzhi in his left hand, passes it behind his body, and, receiving it with his right hand, replaces it in the basket. The wick is extinguished by sprinkling it with water three times. At the head of the figure on the floor is placed a clean cloth—the washerman’s māttu. It is folded, and within the folds are three nāzhis of rice. On the top of it a cocoanut is placed. In the four corners a piece of charcoal, a little salt, a few chillies, and a gold fanam are tied. The eldest son, who is always theprotagonist in all the ceremonies after death, lifts the cloth with all its contents, places it on his head, and touches with it his forehead, ears, each side and loins, knees and toes. He does this three times. The plantain leaves are then removed from the figure. A little turmeric powder is taken from the outline, and rubbed on the forehead of the eldest son. He then bows thrice to the figure, crossing his legs and arms so that the right hand holds the left ear, and the left the right ear, and touches the ground with the elbow-joints. It is no joke to do this. All this time, the eldest son wears round his forehead the strip torn from the cloth which covered the corpse. There is nothing more to be done in the middle room for the present, and the eldest son goes out into the yard, and cooks the rice for the final feed to the crows. Three nāzhis of this rice must be pounded and prepared for cooking by the woman who watched the lamp on the fourth night after death. Having cooked the rice, the eldest son brings it into the middle room, and mixes it with some unrefined sugar, plantains and pappadams, making two balls, one large and one small. Each of these he places on a plantain leaf. Then some pūja is done to them, and offerings of rice are made over a gold fanam. The balls are given to the crows in the yard, or, in some cases, taken to the sea or a river, and cast into the water. When this course is adopted, various articles must be kept ready ere the return of the party. These comprise a new pot containing water, a branch of areca blossoms, mango leaves, a kindi containing a gold fanam or gold ring, a little salt and rice, each tied up in a piece of cloth, and a few chillies. The mouth of the pot is covered with a plantain leaf, and secured. There are also two stools, made of pala and mango wood. The eldest son sits on one of these, and placeshis feet on the other, so that he does not touch the ground. The water in the pot is sprinkled with mango leaves by the barber to the north, south, east and west, and on the head of the son. The remainder of the water is then poured over his head. The barber then sprinkles him with cocoanut water, this time using areca blossoms, and makes him sip a little thereof. The barber makes a hole in the plantain leaf, and picks out the contents. The eldest son bathes, and after the bath there is a presentation of gifts. The barber, sitting in the verandah beside the son, first gives to each person under pollution a little salt and raw rice, which they eat. He then gives them a little betel leaf and a small piece of areca nut, and receives in return a quarter of an anna. The eldest son chews the betel which he has received, and spits into a spittoon held by the barber, whose property it becomes. Then to the barber, who has been presented with a new mat to sit on and new cloth to wear before he seats himself in the verandah, are given an ear-ring such as is worn by Tiyan women, a silk cloth, a white cotton cloth, and a few annas. If the deceased has been cremated he is given six fanams, and, if buried, five fanams as the fee for his priestly offices. On an occasion of this kind, several barbers, male and female, turn up in the hope of receiving presents. All who help during the various stages of the ceremonial are treated in much the same way, but the senior barber alone receives the officiating fee. It is odd that the barbers of the four surrounding villages are entitled to receive gifts of new cloths and money. Those under death pollution are forbidden to eat fish or flesh, chew betel, or partake of jaggery. The restriction is removed on the pula-kuli day. The last act for their removal is as follows. The barber isrequired to eat some jaggery, and drink some conjee. After this, the eldest son, the Tandān, and a neighbour, sit on a mat spread in the middle of the house, and formally partake of conjee and jaggery. The pula-kuli is then over.It is a sacred duty to a deceased person who was one of importance, for example the head of a family, to have a silver image of him made, and arrange for it being deposited in some temple, where it will receive its share of pūja (worship), and offerings of food and water. The new-moon day of the months Karkitakam (July-August), Tulam (October-November), and Kumbham (February-March) is generally selected for doing this. The temples at Tirunelli in Wynād and Tirunavayi, which are among the oldest in Malabar, were generally the resting-places of these images, but now some of the well-to-do deposit them much further afield, even at Benares and Rāmēsvaram. A silver image is presented to the local Siva temple, where, for a consideration, pūja is done every new-moon day. On each of these days, mantrams are supposed to be repeated a thousand times. When the image has been the object of these mantrams sixteen thousand times, it is supposed to have become eligible for final deposit in a temple. It is this image which rests in the temple at Tirunavayi, or elsewhere.An annual srādh ceremony is performed for the sake of the spirit of the deceased, at which crows are fed in the manner already described, and relations are fed. On the night of this day, some sweetmeats or cakes, such as the deceased was fond of during life, are offered to the spirit. A lamp is placed on a stool, and lighted in the middle room of the house, with a kindi of water and a young cocoanut near it. The cakes or sweetmeatsare placed in front of the stool. Children sprinkle rice over it, and the door is shut for a quarter of an hour. The individual who feeds the crows should partake of only one meal, without fish or flesh, on the previous day. Another ceremony, which is necessary for the repose of the dead, is called badha-velichatu-variethal, or bringing out the spirit. It cannot be performed until at least a year after death, for during that period the spirit is in a sort of purgatory. After that, it may be invoked, and it will answer questions. The ceremony resembles the nelikala pregnancy ceremony. The performers are Pānans or washermen. Some little girls are seated in front of a booth in the yard. The celebrant of the rite sings, invoking the spirit of the deceased. Late at night, one of the girls becomes possessed by the spirit, and, it is said, talks and acts just like the deceased, calling the children, relations and friends by name, talking of the past, and giving commands for the future conduct of the living members of the family. After this, the spirit is severed from earthly trammels, and attains heavenly bliss.The wood used for the purpose of cremation is that of a mango tree, which must be cut down after the death. A little sandalwood and cuscus (grass) roots are sometimes added to the pyre. In these days, when the important and interesting features of ceremonial are fast disappearing, it is not surprising that dried cakes of cow-dung are superseding the mango wood.Among other ceremonies, there is one called kutti pūja, which is performed when a newly built house is taken charge of. Vastu Purusha is the name of the supreme being which, lying on its back with its head to the north-east and legs to the south-west, supports the earth. Or rather the earth is but a small portion of thisvast body. Forests are its tiny hairs, oceans its blood-vessels, and the wind its breath. In this body are fifty-three deities, who are liable to disturbance when the surface of the earth is dug, when trees are felled, foundations laid, and a house built. These angry beings must be propitiated, or there will be untimely deaths, poverty, and sickness among the inmates. The ceremony is performed in the following manner. A square with fifty-three columns is made with rice flour in the middle room of the house, and each column is filled with yellow, red, and black powder. A plantain leaf is placed over it, and a few measures of paddy are set on the top of the leaf. On this is placed another leaf, with various kinds of grain, plantains, cocoanuts, and jaggery on it. The carpenter, who is the architect and builder of the house, then performs pūja with flowers, incense and lights, and the troublesome imp-spirit Gulikan is propitiated with toddy and arrack, and a fowl which is decapitated for him. Then all the workmen—carpenters, masons, and coolies—walk thrice round the house, breaking cocoanuts on the walls and doors, and howling in order to drive away all evil spirits which may by chance be lurking about the place. After this, they are all fed until they cry out “We are satisfied, and want no more.” They are given cloths and other presents, and the chief feature of the ceremony takes place. This is the formal handing over of the house by the carpenter. He hands it over to a third person, and never directly to the owner. It is not always easy to find a third person who is willing to undertake the responsibility, and who is at the same time suitable for the Gulikan who is dispossessed of the house, and pursues him henceforth, following him who first receives charge of the house. He should be a man who brings luck, cheerful and contented, having afamily, and not labouring under any disorder or sickness of body. There is, or was a few years ago, an old Nāyar living not far from Calicut, who was much sought after to fulfil the functions of third person on these occasions, and all the houses he received prospered. The third person is generally a poor man, who is bribed with presents of cloths, money and rice, to undertake the job. He wears one of the new cloths during the ceremony. When the carpenter’s ceremonies have been completed, this man is taken to the middle room of the house, and made to stand facing the door, with each foot on a plantain leaf. Pieces of the thatch are tied to the four corners of his cloth. He shuts the door, opens it, and shuts it again. The carpenter calls from without, asking him whether he has taken charge of the house. He replies evasively “Have the carpenters and workmen received all their wages? If they have, I take charge of the house.” The carpenter does not answer the question, for, if he did so, the mischief would be transferred to him through the house-owner. So he says “I did not ask you about my wages. Have you taken charge of the house?” The man inside answers as before, adding “otherwise not.” The carpenter again says “I did not ask you about my wages. Answer me straight. Have you, or have you not taken charge of the house?” The man inside replies “I have taken charge of the house,” and opens the door. Taking in his hands the plantain leaves on which he stood, he runs away as fast as he can without looking back. This he must not do on any account. The people pelt him with plantains, and hoot at him as he runs, and water mingled with cow-dung is sprinkled in his path. After all this, cow’s milk is boiled with a little rice in the house, of which every one partakes, and the owner assumes charge of his house.In the pre-British days, a few of the well-to-do families of Tiyans lived in houses of the kind called nalapura (four houses), having an open quadrangle in the centre. But, for the most part, the Tiyans—slaves of the Nāyars and Nambūtiris—lived in a one-roomed thatched hut. Nowadays, the kala pura usually consists of two rooms, east and west.Toddy-drawing, and every thing connected with the manufacture and sale of arrack (country liquor) and unrefined sugar, form the orthodox occupation of the Tiyan. But members of the community are to be found in all classes of society, and in practically all professions and walks of life. It is interesting to find that the head of a Tiyan family in North Malabar bears the title Cherayi Panikar, conferred on the family in the old days by a former Zamorin. A title of this kind was given only to one specially proficient in arms. Even in those days there were Tiyan physicians, bone-setters, astrologers, diviners, and sorcerers.It is easy to identify the toddy-tapper by the indurated skin of the palms, fingers, inner side of the forearms, and the instep. The business of toddy-tapping involves expert climbing, while carrying a considerable paraphernalia, with no adventitious aid other than can be got out of a soft grummet of coir to keep the feet near together, while the hands, with the arms extended, grasp the palm tree. The profession is rarely adopted before the age of eighteen, but I have seen a man who said he began when he was twelve years old. It is very hard work. A tapper can work about fifteen trees, each of which he has to climb three times a day. In the northern districts of the Madras Presidency, among the Telugu population, the toddy-drawers use a ladder about eight or nine feet in length, which is placed against the tree,to avoid climbing a third or a fourth of it. While in the act of climbing up or down, they make use of a wide band, which is passed round the body at the small of the back, and round the tree. This band is easily fastened with a toggle and eye. The back is protected by a piece of thick soft leather. It gives great assistance in climbing, which it makes easy. All over the southernmost portion of the peninsula, among the Shānāns and Tiyans, the ladder and waist-band are unknown. They climb up and down with their hands and arms, using only the grummet on the feet. The Tiyan toddy-tapper’s equipment consists of a short-handled hatchet, about seven inches square, of thin iron, sheathed in a wooden case, and fastened to a waist-belt composed of several strings of coir yarn, to which is hung a small pot of gummy substance obtained by bruising the leaves of the aichil plant. A vessel holding a couple of gallons, made out of the spathe of the areca palm, is used for bringing down the toddy. Tucked into the waist-belt is a bone loaded with lead at either end, which is used for tapping the palm to bring out the juice. A man once refused to sell at any price one of these bones—the femur of a sāmbar (Cervus unicolor), which had such virtue that, according to its owner, it would fetch palm juice out of any tree. The garb of the tapper at work consists of a short cloth round the loins, and (always during the rains, and often at other times) a head-covering somewhat pointed in shape, made of the leaves of the cocoanut palm placed together as in a clinker-built boat, or of a rounded shape, made out of the spathe of the areca palm. The toddy-tapper should go through the show of reverence by touching the cocoanut tree with the right hand, and then applying his hand to the forehead, every time he prepares to climb a tree.In connection with toddy-drawing, the following note occurs in the Gazetteer of Malabar. “The tapper and the toddy shopkeeper are generally partners, the former renting the trees, paying the tree-tax, and selling the toddy at fixed prices to the latter. Sometimes the shopkeeper pays both rent and tax, and the tapper is his servant paid by the bottle. The trees are rented half yearly, and the rent varies between Re. 1 and Re. 1–8–0 per tree. They are fit for tapping as soon as they come into bearing, but four years later and in the succeeding decade are most productive. They are seldom tapped for more than six months in the year, and the process, though it shortens the life of the tree, improves the yield of nuts in the rest of the year. The tapper’s outfit is neither costly nor elaborate. A knife in a wooden case, a bone weighted with lead (the leg bone of a sambhur for choice), a few pots, and two small rings of rope with which to climb complete the tale. Operations begin when the spathe is still enclosed by its sheath. Once a day the spathe is gently bruised on either side with the bone, and on the third and following days a thin slice is cut off the end twice a day. On the fifteenth day drawing begins, and the bruising ceases. Sheath and spathe are swathed for the greater part of their length in a thick covering of leaves or fibre; the ends are still cut off twice or three times a day, but, after each operation, are smeared with a paste made of leaves and water with the object, it is said, of keeping the sap from oozing through the wound and rotting the spathe. The leaves used for this purpose are those of the éechal or vetti tree, which are said to be one and the same (Aporosa Lindleyana); but in British Cochin, where the tree does not grow, backwater mud is utilised. Round the space between the end of the sheath and thethick covering of leaves a single leaf is bound, and through this the sap bleeds into a pot fastened below. The pot is emptied once a day in the morning. The yield of sap varies with the quality of the tree and the season of the year. In the hot months the trees give on an average about a bottle a day, in the monsoon and succeeding months as much as three bottles. In the gardens along the backwaters, south of Chēttuvāyi, Messrs. Parry & Co. consider that in a good year they should get a daily average of three bottles or half a gallon of toddy per tree. A bottle of toddy sells for three or four pies.”Tiya females at a coir factory.Tiya females at a coir factory.In connection with the coir industry, it is noted, in the Gazetteer of Malabar, that “the husks of the cocoanuts are buried in pits as near as possible to the waterline of rivers, backwaters and creeks, and are left to soak for six months, a year, or even eighteen months—the longer the better. The colour of the yarn, and thereby the quality, depends very much on the water in which the husks are steeped. It should be running water, and, if possible, fresh water. If the water be salt, the yarn may at first be almost white, but in a damp climate it soon becomes discoloured and blotchy. As soon as the husks are taken out of the pits, the fibre is beaten out with short sticks by Tiyattis (Tiyan females) and women of the Vēttuvan caste. It is dried in the sun for twelve hours, and is then ready for sale to native merchants at Calicut and Cochin, who in their turn deal with the European firms. The fibre is twisted into yarn by Tiyattis and other women, and in that form the greater part of the coir made in Malabar is exported from Cochin to all parts of the world, but chiefly to the United Kingdom and Germany.”It has been said that “in North Malabar the preparation of coir is a regular cottage industry of the mosttypical kind. Throughout the year, wherever one goes, one hears the noise of the women hammering out the fibre, and sees them taking, in the evening, that part of it which they have rolled into yarn to the nearest little wayside shop, to be exchanged for salt, chillies, paddy, etc. But, in the north of the district, nothing of the kind goes on, and the coir is commonly used as fuel.”It has been already stated that marumakkatāyam, or inheritance through nephews, is the invariable rule in North Malabar, being followed even by the Muhammadan Māppillas. In South Malabar, where the Tiyans do not observe marumakkatāyam, the property devolves through the sons. All sons share alike. Daughters have no share. The practice of polyandry, which still exists in Malabar among the Tiyans (and other classes), and which was probably once general, tends to prevent dispersion of the family property. Although theoretically all sons share the property of their father, it is the eldest son who succeeds to possession and management of the tarwad property. The others are entitled to maintenance only, so long as they remain in the same tarwad house. It is the same among the Izhuvans.Beef, as in the case of all Hindus, is forbidden as an article of diet. The staple food is rice with fish curry. The common beverage is conjee, but this is being supplanted by tea, coffee, lemonade, and soda-water.A loin-cloth, which should not reach to the knees, with a Madras handkerchief on the shoulders, is the orthodox dress of the males, and a double loin-cloth that of females. Women were not allowed to wear anything above the waist, except when under death pollution. Any colour might be worn, but white and blue are most common. A ring, composed of hollow gold beads, calledmani-kathila, is the proper ornament for a Tiyan woman’s ear. Twenty or thirty, with a pendant in the middle, might be worn. Gold or silver bracelets could be worn. Hollow silver bracelets were worn by girls until the birth of their first child. But times have changed, and nowadays Tiyan women wear the ornaments which, strictly speaking, appertain to Nāyar and Brāhman women. Their mode of tying the hair, and even their dress, which is inclined to follow the fashion of the Christians, has changed. In olden days, a Tiyan woman could wear an ornament appropriate for a Nāyar on a special occasion, but only with the permission of the Nāyar landlord, obtained through the Tandān, on payment of a fee.In North Malabar a good round oath is upon Perumāl Iswaran, the God of the shrine at Kōtiyūr. In South Malabar it is common to swear by Kodungallūr Bhagavati, or by Guruvayūr Appan, local deities.The Tandān is the principal person in the tara, to decide all caste disputes. In South Malabar, he is, as a rule, appointed by the senior Rāni of the Zamorin. A fee of anything up to 101 fanams (Rs. 25–4–0) must be paid to this lady, when she appoints a Tandān. When there is a problem of any special difficulty, it is referred to her for decision. In territories other than those within the power of the Zamorin, the local Rāja appoints the Tandān, and gives the final decision in special cases. As we have seen, the Tiyan is always to some extent subordinate to a Nāyar overlord, but he is not bound to any particular one. He can go where he likes, and reside anywhere, and is not bound to any particular chief, as is the Nāyar. It is noted by General E. F. Burton,26in connection with bygone days, that“such was the insolent pride of caste that the next (and very respectable) class of Hindus, the Teers, were not allowed to come near the Nairs, under penalty of being cut down by the sword, always naked and ready.”In connection with the religion of the Tiyans, I may commence with an old tradition, which is no doubt from a Brāhmanic source. Once upon a time there were seven heavenly damsels, who used to bathe every day before dawn in a lake situated in a forest. Siva found this out, and appeared as a fire on the bank, at which the girls warmed themselves. Having thus lured them, the God made all of them mothers. Seven beautiful boys were born, and Siva presented them to Parvati, who treated them as if they were her own sons. They were taken to mount Kailāsa, and employed in preparing toddy for the mysterious and wonderful Sakti worship. Daily they brought the toddy at the moment when it was required for the golden pot. Parvati embraced the boys all at once, and they became one. On a certain day, this boy sent the sacred toddy in charge of a Brāhman, who became curious to know the virtues of the mysterious liquid. As he rested on a river bank thinking about it, he drank a little, and filled the vessel up with water. Then he reached Kailāsa too late for the daily worship. Siva was angry, and ordered the Saunika boy (Parvati’s name for him) to be brought before him. But the boy had been told what had happened, and cut off the head of the Brāhman, who had confessed to him. Seeing the boy coming along carrying a Brāhman’s head, Siva was astonished, and commanded him to approach nearer. The boy explained that it was not a heinous crime to cut off the head of one who had prevented the Sakti worship. Siva said that the killing of a Brāhman was the worst of crimes, and put the perpetrator out of caste. He wouldnot listen to the boy, who replied that whoever prevented Sakti worship was a Chandāla, and condemned him. The boy asked for death at Siva’s hands. The request pleased the God, who forgave him. The boy had to remain out of caste, but was initiated into the mysteries of Sakti worship as the surest means of salvation, and to him was given the exclusive privilege of performing Sakti worship with liquor. He was commanded to follow, and imitate the Brāhmans in everything, except in the matter of repeating the sacred mantrams. By tantrams (signs with the hands) he eventually obtained the merit of making pūja with mantrams. He was the first Tiyan.It is pretty safe to say that all the ideas of the Tiyans connected with pure Hinduism—the Hinduism of the Vēdas—and of tradition, of which we see very little in Southern India, and which in Malabar is more perverted in confused ideas than perhaps elsewhere, those relating to re-birth, karma, pilgrimages to Benares and distant temples are borrowed from the Brāhmans. In the ceremonies which have been described, notably in those connected with marriage and death, we have seen the expression of many Hindu ideas. Not so is all that relates to offerings to the dead. That is the common property of all the children of men.A main feature in the religion of the Tiyan is that it is largely connected with Sakti worship. Some Brāhmans indulge therein, but they are unable, like the Tiyans, to use arrack in connection with it, and are obliged to use, instead of this requisite, milk or honey. Siva, not exactly a Vēdic entity, and Sakti, are supposed to be the two primordial and eternal principles in nature. Sakti is, perhaps, more properly the vital energy, and Sakti worship the worship of the life principle in nature. We are not considering the abstract meaning of the termSakti; nor are we now thinking of the Siva of Monier Williams or Max Müller. We are in Malabar, where the Hinduism of the Vēdas is in almost hopeless confusion, and mingled with animism and nearly every other kind of primitive religious idea. It is not therefore at all an easy task to represent in words anything like a rational conception of what the religion of the Tiyan really is. The poor and ignorant follow, in a blind ignorant way, Hinduism as they know it and feel it. Their Hinduism is very largely imbued with the lower cult, which, with a tinge of Hinduism, varied in extent here and there, is really the religion of the people at large all over Southern India. The Tiyans have a large share of it. To the actions of evil and other spirits are attributable most, if not all of the ills and joys of life. The higher Hinduism is far above them. Nevertheless, we find among them the worship of the obscure and mysterious Sakti, which, unfortunately, is practiced in secret. Nobody seems to be in the least proud of having anything to do with it. In fact, they are rather ashamed to say anything about it. Those who, so to speak, go in for it are obliged to undergo preliminary purificatory ceremonies, before the great mystery can be communicated to them. The mantram, which is whispered by the guru (religious preceptor) in the ear of the devotee is said to be “Brahma aham, Vishnu aham, Bhairavu aham” (I am Brahma, I am Vishnu, I am Bhairavan). It is believed that each individual is a spark of the divinity. Having in him the potentiality of the Supreme Being, he can develop, and attain godhood. There is no distinction of caste in Sakti worship. The devotees may belong to the highest or to the lowest castes, though I doubt very much whether the Nambūtiri Brāhmans indulge in it.The novices, of whatever caste, eat and drink together during the period of pūja. Men and women participate in the secret rites. A solemn oath is taken that the mystery of Sakti will not be revealed, except with the permission of the guru, or on the death-bed. The spirit of the goddess (for Sakti is thought of as the female principle) must be withdrawn from the body of the Sakti worshipper when he is at the point of death. A lamp is lighted beside him. A few leaves of the tulsi plant (Ocimum sanctum), a little rice, and a lighted wick are given to the dying man. Holding these things, he makes three passes over his body from head to foot, and, as it were, transfers the spirit to the next man, at the same time communicating his wishes about continuing the worship, and so on. When a man dies before this separation or transfer has been accomplished, a Brāhman must be called in, who, with a silver image representing the deceased, makes symbolic transference of the Sakti spirit. It must be done somehow, or the soul of the deceased cannot attain salvation. It is said that, like many other things in this land, Sakti worship has undergone degeneration, that such lofty ideas and feelings as may have once pervaded it have more or less disappeared, and that the residue is not very edifying. Be this as it may, in every tara there is a Bhagavati temple for Tiyans, where Tiyans officiate as priests. The Komaram (oracle) of the Bhagavati temple is clothed in red, and embellished with red sandal paste mixed with turmeric. Bhagavati is always associated with various jungle spirits or gods, whose Komarams always wear black. There is no daily worship in Tiyan temples, with the exception of a few in the neighbourhood of Cannanore. But there is an annual celebration of pūja during the mannalam (forty day) period, commencing on the first of the monthVrischikam (15th November). Lamps are lighted, and worship is begun on this day, and continued for forty days. At its conclusion, the jungle gods retire to the jungle until the next year. A death in the family of a Komaram involves, I believe, some postponement of the rites. The period is supposed to be first part of the functional activity of the earth, which ends somewhere about the 21st of June. It is during this period that Sakti worship is carried on.The temple of Subramania at Palni in the Madura district is a favourite objective for Tiyan pilgrims. The subject of pilgrimages to this temple has been touched on in my note on the Nāyars (seeNāyar). The Bhagavati temple at Kodungallūr in Cochin territory on the coast is another favourite place of pilgrimage among the Tiyans. All classes of people, with the exception of Brāhmans, undertake this pilgrimage. Everyone under a vow, proceeding to the festival, which takes place in February or March, carries with him a cock, which is beheaded at the shrine. Under the Perumāls, pilgrimage to Kodungallūr was somewhat compulsory. This temple was a fruitful source of revenue to the State, for not only the Tiyans, but the fisherman and artisan castes had their own temple in every tara in the land, and the Mūppan—the Komaram—of each temple was under an obligation to contribute yearly gifts to the temple at Kodungallūr. Rent for the temple lands was set at a nominal figure—a mere pepper-corn rent as acknowledgment of sovereign right. Rent might not be paid in times of trouble, but the gifts eked out of superstition were unfailing. It is not surprising, therefore, that learning and advancement among the inferior castes did not receive much encouragement from the rulers of those days.The temple of Kotiyūr in North Malabar is also a shrine to which Tiyans make pilgrimage. Indeed, it may be said that they follow Hinduism generally in rather a low form, and that Sakti worship is perhaps more peculiarly theirs than others’, owing to their being able to use arrack, a product of the palm, and therefore of their own particular métier. The highest merit in Sakti can be reached only through arrack. The Sakti goddess, Bhagavati, the Tiyans look upon as their own guardian spirit.As instancing the mixture and confusion of religious ideas in Malabar, it may be mentioned that Māppillas have been known to indulge in Sakti worship, and Tiyans to have made vows, and given offerings at Māppilla mosques and Christian churches. Vows to the well-known mosque at Mambram are made by people of almost every caste. It is not uncommon to present the first fruit of a jāk tree, or the milk of a cow when it brings forth its first calf, to the local Tangal or Māppilla priest.In many, perhaps in most Tiyan houses, offerings are made annually to a bygone personage named Kunnath Nāyar, and to his friend and disciple Kunhi Rāyan, a Māppilla. It is probable that they excelled in witchcraft and magic, but, according to the story, the Nāyar worshipped the kite until he obtained command and control over all the snakes in the land. The offerings are made in order to prevent accidents from snakes. The snake god will also give children to the family, and promote domestic prosperity. Men without offspring worship him. Leprosy and the death of a child are believed to be the consequence of killing a snake. There are Māppilla devotees of Kunnath Nāyar and Kunhi Rāyan, who exhibit snakes in a box, and collect alms. There is a snake mosque near Manarghāt,at the foot of the Nīlgiri hills, which has its annual festival. The alms are collected ostensibly for this mosque.An interesting story, which is the legendary account of the exodus of the artisans from Malabar, and their return with the Tiyans, is narrated by the Pānans. There were, in olden times, five recognised classes, which includes the Āsāris (carpenters), Musāris (workers in bell-metal), Thattāns (goldsmiths), and Perin-Kollans (blacksmiths). The fifth class is unknown. When an individual of the artisan classes dies, the Pānan of the tara must bring a death gift to the house, which consists of cocoanuts and jāk fruits or plantains. The Pānan places the gift in the yard and repeats a long formula, which he has learnt by heart. It is very likely that he knows little or nothing of its meaning. But he reels it off, and at its conclusion the gifts are accepted. The same formula is also always repeated among the carpenters, goldsmiths, and blacksmiths during wedding and tāli-tying ceremonies. It relates how the artisans deserted the land of Chēraman Perumāl, and sought an asylum in the country of the Izhuvans with the island king, and how the Perumāl sent the Pānan to bring them back. Every one knows this old story, and believes it firmly. It must be learnt by heart, and the Pānan gives it in the yard when a member of the artisan classes dies. The story is to the following effect. During the four Yugams, Kreta, Treta, Dwapara, and Kāli, many kings reigned over the earth. Parasu Rāman destroyed the Kshatriya kings on twenty-one occasions, and was obliged to make atonement in expiatory ceremonies. He worshipped Varuna, the ocean god, and recovered from the sea a hundred and sixty kāthams of land, consisting of Kōlanād (?), Vēnād (Travancore), Kanya Kumāri (Cape Comorin), Chēranād,and Malayālam up to Changala Vazhi beyond the Anaimalai hills. Chēraman Perūmāl was the ruler of this land, in which were the four castes. His capital was at Tiruvanja Kolam. One day, Veluthēdan27Chiraman was washing the Perumāl’s cloths in a tank. He beat the cloths on a stone which was flat on the ground, and held one of the cloths in his hand. A girl of the carpenter caste, Ayyesvari by name, was just then going to the tank to bathe after her monthly period. She called out “Ho! Kammal.28That is not the way to wash cloths. Put a small stone under one end of your washing stone, so as to make it slope a little. Then hold both ends of the cloth in your hand, and beat the middle of the cloth on the stone.” The Veluthēdan did so, and found that he washed better, and the cloths were whiter. The Perumāl asked him “Were you not washing the cloths before? Who washed them to-day?”To which the Veluthēdan replied “Oh! Tamburān (chief or lord), a carpenter girl instructed your slave to-day how to wash cloths properly. May Perumāl be pleased to order the girl to be given to your slave as his wife.” Perumāl then said “To whatever caste she may belong, you may take her by force, and will not lose your caste.” Having received the king’s permission, Veluthēdan Chiraman concealed himself near the carpenter’s house, and, when the girl opened the door to sweep the yard at dawn, he seized her, and carried her off to his house. Carpenter Sankaran of Tiruvanja Kalam went to the Perumāl, and complained that Veluthēdan Kammal had carried away his daughter, and disgraced him. He asked the Perumāl whether he would give him an armed guard to rescue her. To which the Perumāl replied “Iwill not help either party with armed men. You must fight it out among yourselves.” Then the five classes of artisans consulted one another, and made common cause. The Pānans, Perin Malayans, and Chēn (red) Koravans joined the artisans. The Ven Thachāns, Vēlans, Paravans, Vēttuvans, Kanisan Panikars, and the Pāndi Pulluvans of Vellālanād joined the other side. There was war for twelve years. In the end, the artisans were defeated. They said among themselves “We have been defeated by the fourteenth caste of Veluthēdan Nāyar, who carried away our daughter. Let us leave this country.” So 7,764 families, with the women and children, tied up their mats, and left Chēramān Perumāl’s country, and went to Izhuva land, which was beyond it. They went before the Izhuva king (island king), and told him their story. Now Chēramān Perumāl used to be shaved every fifteen days. When the barber (Velakathalavan) was sent for, he came without his knife (razor), as his wife had buried it. He said “Oh! Tamburan, have mercy on your slave. Your slave’s knife was given to the blacksmith to be mended, and he took it away with him. He gave me this piece of iron, saying “If you want the knife made ready for use, you must come to the Izhuva land for it, and we will mend it on our return.” So Perumāl had to go without shaving, and his hair grew like a Rishi’s. As there were neither carpenters nor smiths to make implements, agriculture was almost at a standstill; and, as there were no goldsmiths, the tāli-tying ceremonies could not be performed. Nor could the rice-giving ceremony be done, for want of the “neck-rings.” Then Chēramān Perumāl obtained advice, and resolved to send the Mannān (washerman of the Tiyans), who was included in the fourteenth caste, and the Pānan, who belonged to theeleventh caste. The Perumāl gave to each of them a thousand fanams, and told them to go to the Izhuva country, and bring back the Kammālans (artisans). They wandered over various countries, stopping wherever they found a house. The Pānan, being clever, was able to live by his wits, and spent no money of his own. The Mannān, on the contrary, spent all his money. They passed Ramapūri, and reached Trichivampūri. Then the Mannān asked the Pānan for a loan, which was refused. On Friday at noon, the Mannān left the Pānan, saying “The Pānan is no companion for the Mannān.” He returned to the Perumāl and reported his failure, and the Pānan’s refusal to lend him money. The Pānan went on, crossing rivers, canals, and ferries, and at last reached the Izhuva king’s country. He entered the reception hall. At that moment, the king’s goldsmith, who had just finished making a golden crown for him, had put it on his own head, to test its suitability for wearing. The Pānan thought he was the king, and made obeisance to him. The Kammālans recognised him. He discovered his mistake too late, for he had addressed the goldsmith as Tamburan. So, to this day, the Pānans, when addressing goldsmiths, say Tamburan. The Pānan told the Kammālans of his mission, but they refused to return unless full reparation was made for the abduction of the carpenter girl, and certain social disabilities were removed. The 7,764 families of Kammālans asked the Izhuva king his advice, and he said that they should not go away. So the Kammālans sent the Pānan back, and gave him the following presents, in order to demonstrate to the Perumāl that they were in comfortable circumstances:—Gold valam-piri (a sort of string worn over the right shoulder);Silver edam-piri (a similar sort of string worn on the left shoulder);Gold netti-pattam (to be tied on the forehead);Gold bracelet;Gold ornament for the hair.The Kammālans sent word to the Perumāl that they would not return, unless they were given a girl in place of the carpenter’s daughter, who had been abducted, and certain privileges were granted to them. At the same time, they promised the Pānan that they would share their privileges with him, if he was successful. So the Pānan returned, and appeared before the Perumāl, who asked him where the Kammālans were. The Pānan removed his gold cap, and put it under his arm, and replied that they were prosperous, and not anxious to return. Saying so, he placed before the Perumāl the rich presents given by the Kammālans, and told the king that they would not return, unless they were given a girl and certain concessions. The Perumāl told the Pānan to go back, and invite the Kammālans to return on their own terms. He said they would catch the first girl they met on the way to his palace, and all their demands were granted. The Pānan arrived again in the Izhuva country, and told the Kammālans what the Perumāl had said. They went to the Izhuva king, and obtained his permission to return to their own country. Then they caught an Izhuva boy, and confined him. The king asked them why they did so. They replied that they had lived for twelve years29as his subjects, and would never recognise any other king, so they wanted the Izhuva boy to represent him. The king consented. When they started, the boy began to cry.A Nasrāni,30by name Thomma (Thomas), was taken to accompany and protect the boy. The Kammālans travelled to their own country, and appeared before Chēramān Perumāl. On the way, they found a girl of the Variar caste plucking flowers, and caught her by the hand. All the five classes claimed her. At last it was resolved to unite her with the Izhuva boy, their Tandān, who represented their king, and treat her as their sister. Chēramān Perumāl confirmed his promise, and granted the following privileges to the Kammālans:—1. To make ceilings for their houses.2. To make upstairs houses to live in.3. To put up single staircases, consisting of one pole, in which notches are cut, or pegs are stuck alternately, for the feet.4. To have a gate-house.5. To perform the tāli-tying ceremonies of their girls in a booth having four posts or supports; to place within it, on a stool, a looking-glass with a handle, and the Rāmayana; and to place a silk cloth on the girl’s head.6. To do arpu at the conclusion of the tāli-tying ceremony (Vel! Arpu! is yelled out by the boys).7. To cook rice in copper vessels on occasions of marriage and other ceremonies, and to serve sugar and pappadams at their feasts.8. To hold the umbrella and taza (a sort of umbrella), which are carried in front of processions.9. To clap hands, and dance.10. To keep milch-cows for their own use.Permission was further granted for the Kammālans to wear the following ornaments.1. Netti-pattam, worn on the forehead during the tāli-tying ceremony.2. Ananthovi, a ear ornament named after Anandan, the endless, the serpent on which Vishnu reposes. The serpent is sometimes represented with its tail in its mouth, forming a circle, an endless figure. Ananthovi is the central pendant of the ear-ring worn by Tiyan women among their kathila (ordinary gold ear-rings). It resembles a serpent in form. It is worn by men of the Tiyan and artisan castes on special occasions.3. Waist zone or girdle.4. Bracelets.5. Anklet with two knobs, formed of two pieces screwed together.6. Puli-mothiram, or tiger’s claws mounted in gold, worn by children.7. Podippu, a knot of cotton-thread at the end of the string on which coins are hung as ornaments.8. Kalanchi, a gold knob above the podippu, which represents a flower.9. Necklace.10. Edakam and madkam-tāli, neck ornaments, in one of which are set twenty-one stones.11. Cotton thread above the gold thread on the neck.The Perumāl conferred like privileges upon the family (Tiruvarankath) of the Pānan who brought back the Kammālans. He wore all his ornaments, and made his obeisance to the Perumāl. He had, however, taken off his gold cap. The Perumāl said “What you have removed, let it be removed.” So he lost the privilege of wearing a gold cap. The Perumāl blessed the Kammālans, and they returned to their villages. They made a separate house for the Izhuva boy and the Variargirl, and maintained them. The Izhuva boy, who was the first Tiyan to come to Malabar, brought with him the cocoanut, and retained the right to cultivate and use it. To this day, the people of the serf castes—Cherumans, Kanakans, and the like—use the word Varian when addressing Tiyans, in reference to their descent from the Variar girl.The orthodox number of classes of Kammālans is five. But the artisans do not admit the workers in leather as of their guild, and say there are only four classes. According to them, the fifth class was composed of the copper-smiths, who did not return to Malabar with the others, but remained in Izhuva land. Nevertheless, they always speak of themselves as the Aiyen kudi or five-house Kammālans.There is a variant of the legend of the exodus, told by the Āsāris (carpenters), which is worth narrating. Their version of the story is repeated among themselves, and not by the Pānan, at every marriage and tāli-tying ceremony. They identify the village of the Perumāl’s washerman as Kanipayyūr. This is the name of a Nambūtiri’s illam in the Ponāni tāluk of Malabar. The Nambūtiri is, it may be mentioned, considered to be the highest extant authority in architecture. Disputed points relating to this subject are referred to him, and his decision is final, and accepted by all carpenters and house-builders. The washerman’s stone is said to have been lying flat in the water. The girl Ayyesvari was also of Kanipayyūr, and was carried off as in the former story. But there was no request for an armed guard to rescue her. The Perumāl was, instead, asked to make the washerman marry her, and thus avoid disgrace. He consented to do so, and all the 7,764 families of the five classes of Kammālans assembled for the wedding. Animmense booth, supported on granite pillars, was erected. The washerman and his party were fed sumptuously. But the booth had been so constructed that it could be made to collapse instantaneously. So the Kammālans went quietly outside, and, at a given signal, the booth collapsed, and crushed to death the washerman and his friends. After this, the Kammālans fled, and remained one year, eight months and eleven days in the Izhuva country. Negotiations were carried on through the Izhuva king, and the Kammālans returned under his guarantee that their demands would be complied with. The Izhuva king sent his own men and the Nasrāni to the capital of the Perumāl. The story of the exodus and the return was inscribed on granite stone with solemn rites, and in the presence of witnesses. This was buried at the northern gate of the Tiruvanchakulam temple on Friday, the eighth of the month of Kanni. It was resolved that, in any case of doubt, the stone should be unearthed. And it was only after all this had been done that the Izhuva king’s envoy returned to him. Then the Kammālans came back to Malabar. According to the carpenters, the copper-smiths did not return. They say that eighteen families of Āsāris remained behind. Some of these returned long afterwards, but they were not allowed to rejoin the caste. They are known as Puzhi Tachan, or sand carpenters, and Patinettanmar, or the eighteen people. There are four families of this class now living at or near Parpangadi. They are carpenters, but the Āsāris treat them as outcastes.There is yet another variant of the story of the exodus, which is obviously of recent manufacture, for a Pattar Brāhman is brought in, and gives cunning advice. We know that the Pattars are comparatively new comers in Malabar.The Tiyans have recently been summed up as follows.31“The Tiyas have always been characterised by their persevering and enterprising habits. A large percentage of them are engaged in various agricultural pursuits, and some of the most profitable industries of Malabar have from time out of mind been in their hands. They are exclusively engaged in making toddy and distilling arrack. Many of them are professional weavers, the Malabar mundu being a common kind of cloth made by them. The various industries connected with cocoanut cultivation are also successfully carried on by the Tiyas. For example, the manufacture of jaggery (crude sugar) is an industry in which a considerable number of the Tiyas are profitably engaged. The preparation of coir from cocoanut fibre is one of their hereditary occupations, and this is done almost wholly by their women at home. They are very skilful in the manufacture of coir matting and allied industries. Commercial pursuits are also common among them. Apart from their agricultural and industrial inclinations, the Tiyas give evidence of a literary taste, which is commendable in a people who are living under conditions which are anything but conducive to literary life. They have among them good Sanskrit scholars, whose contributions have enriched the Malayālam literature; physicians well versed in Hindu systems of medicine; and well-known astrologers, who are also clever mathematicians. In British Malabar, they have made considerable progress in education. In recent years, there has been gaining ground among the Tiyas a movement, which has for its object the social and material improvement of the community. Their leaders have very rightlygiven a prominent place to industry in their schemes of progress and reform. Organisations for the purpose of educating the members of the community on the importance of increased industrial efforts have been formed. The success which has attended the Industrial Exhibition conducted by the members of the community at Quilon, in 1905, has induced them to make it a permanent annual event. Some of their young men have been sent to Japan to study certain industries, and, on their return, they hope to resuscitate the dying local industries, and to enter into fresh fields of industry awaiting development. Factories for the manufacture of coir matting and allied articles have been established by the Tiyas in some parts of Travancore and Cochin.”In 1906, the foundation stone of a Tiya temple at Tellicherry was laid with great ceremony. In the following year, a very successful Industrial Exhibition was held at Cannanore under the auspices of the Sri Narayan Dharma Paripalana Yogam. Still more recently, it was resolved to collect subscriptions for the establishment of a hostel for the use of Tiya youths who come from other places to Tellicherry for educational purposes.Tiyōro.—The Tiyōros are described, in the Madras Census Report, 1901, as “Oriya fishermen, who also make lotus-leaf platters. They have four endogamous sections, viz., Torai, Ghodai, Artia, and Kulodondia.” It has been suggested that the caste name is a corruption of the Sanskrit tivara, a hunter. (SeeRisley, Tribes and Castes of Bengal, Tiyar.)Toda.—Quite recently, my friend Dr. W. H. Rivers, as the result of a prolonged stay on the Nīlgiris, has published32an exhaustive account of the sociology andreligion of this exceptionally interesting tribe, numbering, according to the latest census returns, 807 individuals, which inhabits the Nīlgiri plateau. I shall, therefore, content myself with recording the rambling notes made by myself during occasional visits to Ootacamund and Paikāra, supplemented by extracts from the book just referred to, and the writings of Harkness and other pioneers of the Nīlgiris.
Tiyans.Tiyans.It will not be worth while to attempt a description of the marriage ceremony of the Tiyans of North Malabar, because there is none, or next to none. There the Tiyans and all classes, including even the Muhammadan Māppillas, follow the rule of marumakkatāyam, or inheritance through females from uncle to nephew. The children have no right to their father’s property. Eitherparty may annul the marital union at will, without awarding any compensation; and, as its infraction is easy and simple, so is its institution. Nor is there any rigid inquiry as to the antecedents of either party. It is an affair of mutual arrangement, attended with little formality. Proceeding to the girl’s house, accompanied by a few friends, the intending husband takes with him a couple of cloths, one for the girl, and the other for her mother. In parts of North Malabar, the Tiyan women wear an ornament called chittu (ring) in a hole bored in the top of the helix of each ear. The holes are bored in childhood, but the chittu is not worn until the girl forms a marital union with a man. The chittus are made on the spot at the time, in the marriage pandal erected for the occasion, the girl’s uncle providing the gold. They are never removed during life, except in cases of dire distress. “To sell chittu” is equivalent to having become a pauper. It is supposed that, in olden days, the marriage ceremonies lasted over seven days, and were subsequently reduced to seven meals, or three and a half days, and then to one day. Now the bridegroom remains the first night at the bride’s house, and then takes her to his home. Before they leave, a cocoanut, the outer husk of which has been removed, is placed on a stool of pala wood, and one of the bridegroom’s party must smash it with his fist. Some of the more orthodox in North Malabar observe the formality of examining horoscopes, and a ceremony equivalent to the conjee-drinking ceremony which has been described, called achāra kaliāna, and the payment of kanam in the shape of forty-one fanams, instead of forty-two as in South Malabar. In connection with fanams it may be noted that the old gold fanam is reckoned as worth four annas, whereas five silver or velli fanams make a rupee. Everywherein rural Malabar, calculations are made in terms of velli fanams thus:—10 pice (1/12 of an anna) = 1 velli.5 vellis = 1 rupee.Bazaar men, and those who sell their small stock at the weekly markets all about the country, arrange their prices in vellis.When the death of a Tiyan is expected, all the relations draw near, and await the fateful moment. The person who is about to die is laid on the floor of the middle room, for it is inauspicious to die on a cot. We will suppose that the dying man is a parent and a landlord. Each of the sons and daughters gives him a little conjee water, just before he passes away. At the moment of death, all the women bawl out in lamentations, giving the alarm of death. The Cheruman serfs in the fields join in the chorus, and yell out an unintelligible formula of their own. Absent relations are all formally invited. From the houses of the son’s wife and daughter’s husband are sent quantities of jāk fruits, unripe plantains, and cocoanuts, as death gifts. One half of the husks of the cocoanuts is removed, and the other half left on the shell. After the cremation or burial, these articles are distributed among those present by the Tandān, who receives an extra share for his trouble. When life is extinct, the body is placed with the head to the south, and the thumbs and big toes are tied together. It is then taken out into the yard, washed, bathed in oil, dressed in a new cloth, and brought back to the middle room. A cocoanut is cut in two, and the two halves, with a lighted wick on each, are placed at the head and foot. The house-owner spreads a cotton cloth over the corpse, and all the relations, and friends, do the same. Any one who wishes to place a silk cloth on the corpse maydo so, but he must cover it with a cotton cloth. The body is then removed for burial or cremation, and placed near the grave or funeral pyre. It is the rural rule that elderly persons and karnavans of tarwads are cremated, and others buried. The barber, whose function it is to perform the purificatory rites, now removes, and retains as his perquisite, all the cloths, except the last three covering the corpse. As it is being borne away to the place of burial or cremation, water mixed with cow-dung is sprinkled behind it in the yard. The eldest son, who succeeds to the property and is responsible for the funeral ceremonies, then tears crosswise a piece of the cloth which has been placed over the corpse by the people of the house, and ties it round his forehead. He holds one end of the cloth while the barber holds the other, and tears off the piece. The barber then cuts three holes in the remainder of this cloth covering the body, over the mouth, navel, and pubes. A little water and rice are poured over a gold fanam through the slit over the mouth. All who observe the death pollution,i.e., sons, grandsons, nephews, younger brothers and cousins, offer water and rice in the same manner, and walk three times round the grave or pyre. The barber then breaks a pot of water over the grave. No other ceremonial is observed on this day, on which, and during the night, rice must not be eaten. If the body has been cremated, a watch is kept at the burning ground for five days by Pānans, who beat drums all night to scare away the evil spirits which haunt such spots. Early on the second day, all who are under pollution are shaved. The operation is attended with some ceremonial, and, before it is commenced, a lighted lamp, a measure of rice and paddy on a plantain leaf must be at hand. The paddy and rice are a perquisite of the barber. Those who have been shavedbathe, and then follows the crow-feeding ceremony. Rice is boiled in a bell-metal vessel over a hearth prepared with three young cocoanuts. The eldest son, who tore the cloth of succession from the corpse, makes the rice into two little balls, places them on a plantain leaf, and offers them to the spirit of the departed by pouring libations of water on them over a blade of karuka grass. Men and women who are under pollution then do the same. The rice balls are eaten by crows. This little ceremony is performed daily until the eleventh or thirteenth day, when the period of death pollution comes to an end. If the eleventh day happens to fall on a Tuesday or Friday, or on any inauspicious day, the period is extended to the thirteenth day. When the period of death pollution is partly in one month, and partly in another, another death in the house within the year is expected. Preceding the sanchayanam, which occupies the fifth day, there is the lamp-watching on the previous night. In the south-east corner of the middle room, a little paddy is heaped up, and on it is placed a bell-metal plate with an iron lamp having five or seven lighted wicks on it. Under the lamp is a little cow-dung, and close to it is a bunch of cocoanut flowers. The lamp must be kept burning until it is extinguished on the following day. In the case of the death of a male, his niece watches the lamp, and in that of a female her daughter, lying near it on a grass mat. The sanchayanam is the first stage in the removal of death pollution, and, until it is over, all who come to the house suffer from pollution, and cannot enter their own house or partake of any food without bathing previously. When the body has been cremated, the fragments of calcined bones are collected from the ashes, and carried in procession to the sea, or, if this is far away, into a river. The members ofthe family under pollution then rub their bodies all over with oil, and the barber sprinkles a mixture of cow’s milk over their heads, using a blade of karuka grass as a spout. They then bathe, and the eldest son alone observe māttu. The crow-feeding ceremony follows, and, when this is over, the three cocoanuts which were used as a hearth are thrown away. A large bell-metal vessel filled with water is now placed in the front yard before the door of the house. The barber carries the still burning lamp from the middle room, and sets it on the ground near the pot of water. The women who are under pollution come from the middle room, each carrying a lighted wick, walk thrice round the pot, and throw the wicks into the water. The woman who has watched the lamp puts four annas into the pot, and the others deposit a few pies therein. The eldest son now lights a wick from the iron lamp which is about to be extinguished, and with it lights a lamp in the middle room. The barber then dips the iron lamp in the water, and picks out the money as his perquisite. The water is poured on the roots of a cocoanut tree. The bell-metal vessel becomes the property of the woman who watched the lamp, but she cannot take it away until she leaves the house after the pula-kuli ceremony. When the lamp has been extinguished, a woman, hired for the occasion, is seated on a cocoanut leaf in the front yard. The Tandān pours oil on her head three times, and she receives a little betel and two annas. She rises, and leaves the place without turning back, taking the pollution with her. Betel is then distributed. Those who provided the death gifts on the day of the death must on this day bring with them a bag of rice, and about four rupees in money. They have also to give eight annas to the barber. A folded handkerchief is firstpresented to the barber, who formally returns it, and receives instead of it the eight annas. Before the people disperse, the day of the pula-kuli is settled. Pula-kuli, or washing away the pollution, is the final ceremony for putting off the unpleasant consequences of a death in a family. First of all, the members thereof rub themselves all over with oil, and are sprinkled by the barber with cow’s milk and gingelly oil. They then bathe. The barber outlines the figure of a man or woman, according to the sex of the deceased, with rice flour and turmeric powder, the head to the south, in the middle room of the house. The figure is covered with two plantain leaves, on each of which a little rice and paddy are heaped. Over all is spread a new cloth, with a basket containing three measures of paddy upon it. The eldest son (the heir) sits facing the south, and with a nāzhi measures out the paddy, which he casts to the south, east, and west—not the north. He repeats the performance, using the fingers of the left hand closed so as to form a cup as a measure. Then, closing the first and fourth fingers firmly with the thumb, using the left hand, he measures some paddy in the same manner with the two extended fingers. Rice is treated in the same way. A nāzhi of paddy, with a lighted wick over it, is then placed in a basket. The eldest son takes the nāzhi in his left hand, passes it behind his body, and, receiving it with his right hand, replaces it in the basket. The wick is extinguished by sprinkling it with water three times. At the head of the figure on the floor is placed a clean cloth—the washerman’s māttu. It is folded, and within the folds are three nāzhis of rice. On the top of it a cocoanut is placed. In the four corners a piece of charcoal, a little salt, a few chillies, and a gold fanam are tied. The eldest son, who is always theprotagonist in all the ceremonies after death, lifts the cloth with all its contents, places it on his head, and touches with it his forehead, ears, each side and loins, knees and toes. He does this three times. The plantain leaves are then removed from the figure. A little turmeric powder is taken from the outline, and rubbed on the forehead of the eldest son. He then bows thrice to the figure, crossing his legs and arms so that the right hand holds the left ear, and the left the right ear, and touches the ground with the elbow-joints. It is no joke to do this. All this time, the eldest son wears round his forehead the strip torn from the cloth which covered the corpse. There is nothing more to be done in the middle room for the present, and the eldest son goes out into the yard, and cooks the rice for the final feed to the crows. Three nāzhis of this rice must be pounded and prepared for cooking by the woman who watched the lamp on the fourth night after death. Having cooked the rice, the eldest son brings it into the middle room, and mixes it with some unrefined sugar, plantains and pappadams, making two balls, one large and one small. Each of these he places on a plantain leaf. Then some pūja is done to them, and offerings of rice are made over a gold fanam. The balls are given to the crows in the yard, or, in some cases, taken to the sea or a river, and cast into the water. When this course is adopted, various articles must be kept ready ere the return of the party. These comprise a new pot containing water, a branch of areca blossoms, mango leaves, a kindi containing a gold fanam or gold ring, a little salt and rice, each tied up in a piece of cloth, and a few chillies. The mouth of the pot is covered with a plantain leaf, and secured. There are also two stools, made of pala and mango wood. The eldest son sits on one of these, and placeshis feet on the other, so that he does not touch the ground. The water in the pot is sprinkled with mango leaves by the barber to the north, south, east and west, and on the head of the son. The remainder of the water is then poured over his head. The barber then sprinkles him with cocoanut water, this time using areca blossoms, and makes him sip a little thereof. The barber makes a hole in the plantain leaf, and picks out the contents. The eldest son bathes, and after the bath there is a presentation of gifts. The barber, sitting in the verandah beside the son, first gives to each person under pollution a little salt and raw rice, which they eat. He then gives them a little betel leaf and a small piece of areca nut, and receives in return a quarter of an anna. The eldest son chews the betel which he has received, and spits into a spittoon held by the barber, whose property it becomes. Then to the barber, who has been presented with a new mat to sit on and new cloth to wear before he seats himself in the verandah, are given an ear-ring such as is worn by Tiyan women, a silk cloth, a white cotton cloth, and a few annas. If the deceased has been cremated he is given six fanams, and, if buried, five fanams as the fee for his priestly offices. On an occasion of this kind, several barbers, male and female, turn up in the hope of receiving presents. All who help during the various stages of the ceremonial are treated in much the same way, but the senior barber alone receives the officiating fee. It is odd that the barbers of the four surrounding villages are entitled to receive gifts of new cloths and money. Those under death pollution are forbidden to eat fish or flesh, chew betel, or partake of jaggery. The restriction is removed on the pula-kuli day. The last act for their removal is as follows. The barber isrequired to eat some jaggery, and drink some conjee. After this, the eldest son, the Tandān, and a neighbour, sit on a mat spread in the middle of the house, and formally partake of conjee and jaggery. The pula-kuli is then over.It is a sacred duty to a deceased person who was one of importance, for example the head of a family, to have a silver image of him made, and arrange for it being deposited in some temple, where it will receive its share of pūja (worship), and offerings of food and water. The new-moon day of the months Karkitakam (July-August), Tulam (October-November), and Kumbham (February-March) is generally selected for doing this. The temples at Tirunelli in Wynād and Tirunavayi, which are among the oldest in Malabar, were generally the resting-places of these images, but now some of the well-to-do deposit them much further afield, even at Benares and Rāmēsvaram. A silver image is presented to the local Siva temple, where, for a consideration, pūja is done every new-moon day. On each of these days, mantrams are supposed to be repeated a thousand times. When the image has been the object of these mantrams sixteen thousand times, it is supposed to have become eligible for final deposit in a temple. It is this image which rests in the temple at Tirunavayi, or elsewhere.An annual srādh ceremony is performed for the sake of the spirit of the deceased, at which crows are fed in the manner already described, and relations are fed. On the night of this day, some sweetmeats or cakes, such as the deceased was fond of during life, are offered to the spirit. A lamp is placed on a stool, and lighted in the middle room of the house, with a kindi of water and a young cocoanut near it. The cakes or sweetmeatsare placed in front of the stool. Children sprinkle rice over it, and the door is shut for a quarter of an hour. The individual who feeds the crows should partake of only one meal, without fish or flesh, on the previous day. Another ceremony, which is necessary for the repose of the dead, is called badha-velichatu-variethal, or bringing out the spirit. It cannot be performed until at least a year after death, for during that period the spirit is in a sort of purgatory. After that, it may be invoked, and it will answer questions. The ceremony resembles the nelikala pregnancy ceremony. The performers are Pānans or washermen. Some little girls are seated in front of a booth in the yard. The celebrant of the rite sings, invoking the spirit of the deceased. Late at night, one of the girls becomes possessed by the spirit, and, it is said, talks and acts just like the deceased, calling the children, relations and friends by name, talking of the past, and giving commands for the future conduct of the living members of the family. After this, the spirit is severed from earthly trammels, and attains heavenly bliss.The wood used for the purpose of cremation is that of a mango tree, which must be cut down after the death. A little sandalwood and cuscus (grass) roots are sometimes added to the pyre. In these days, when the important and interesting features of ceremonial are fast disappearing, it is not surprising that dried cakes of cow-dung are superseding the mango wood.Among other ceremonies, there is one called kutti pūja, which is performed when a newly built house is taken charge of. Vastu Purusha is the name of the supreme being which, lying on its back with its head to the north-east and legs to the south-west, supports the earth. Or rather the earth is but a small portion of thisvast body. Forests are its tiny hairs, oceans its blood-vessels, and the wind its breath. In this body are fifty-three deities, who are liable to disturbance when the surface of the earth is dug, when trees are felled, foundations laid, and a house built. These angry beings must be propitiated, or there will be untimely deaths, poverty, and sickness among the inmates. The ceremony is performed in the following manner. A square with fifty-three columns is made with rice flour in the middle room of the house, and each column is filled with yellow, red, and black powder. A plantain leaf is placed over it, and a few measures of paddy are set on the top of the leaf. On this is placed another leaf, with various kinds of grain, plantains, cocoanuts, and jaggery on it. The carpenter, who is the architect and builder of the house, then performs pūja with flowers, incense and lights, and the troublesome imp-spirit Gulikan is propitiated with toddy and arrack, and a fowl which is decapitated for him. Then all the workmen—carpenters, masons, and coolies—walk thrice round the house, breaking cocoanuts on the walls and doors, and howling in order to drive away all evil spirits which may by chance be lurking about the place. After this, they are all fed until they cry out “We are satisfied, and want no more.” They are given cloths and other presents, and the chief feature of the ceremony takes place. This is the formal handing over of the house by the carpenter. He hands it over to a third person, and never directly to the owner. It is not always easy to find a third person who is willing to undertake the responsibility, and who is at the same time suitable for the Gulikan who is dispossessed of the house, and pursues him henceforth, following him who first receives charge of the house. He should be a man who brings luck, cheerful and contented, having afamily, and not labouring under any disorder or sickness of body. There is, or was a few years ago, an old Nāyar living not far from Calicut, who was much sought after to fulfil the functions of third person on these occasions, and all the houses he received prospered. The third person is generally a poor man, who is bribed with presents of cloths, money and rice, to undertake the job. He wears one of the new cloths during the ceremony. When the carpenter’s ceremonies have been completed, this man is taken to the middle room of the house, and made to stand facing the door, with each foot on a plantain leaf. Pieces of the thatch are tied to the four corners of his cloth. He shuts the door, opens it, and shuts it again. The carpenter calls from without, asking him whether he has taken charge of the house. He replies evasively “Have the carpenters and workmen received all their wages? If they have, I take charge of the house.” The carpenter does not answer the question, for, if he did so, the mischief would be transferred to him through the house-owner. So he says “I did not ask you about my wages. Have you taken charge of the house?” The man inside answers as before, adding “otherwise not.” The carpenter again says “I did not ask you about my wages. Answer me straight. Have you, or have you not taken charge of the house?” The man inside replies “I have taken charge of the house,” and opens the door. Taking in his hands the plantain leaves on which he stood, he runs away as fast as he can without looking back. This he must not do on any account. The people pelt him with plantains, and hoot at him as he runs, and water mingled with cow-dung is sprinkled in his path. After all this, cow’s milk is boiled with a little rice in the house, of which every one partakes, and the owner assumes charge of his house.In the pre-British days, a few of the well-to-do families of Tiyans lived in houses of the kind called nalapura (four houses), having an open quadrangle in the centre. But, for the most part, the Tiyans—slaves of the Nāyars and Nambūtiris—lived in a one-roomed thatched hut. Nowadays, the kala pura usually consists of two rooms, east and west.Toddy-drawing, and every thing connected with the manufacture and sale of arrack (country liquor) and unrefined sugar, form the orthodox occupation of the Tiyan. But members of the community are to be found in all classes of society, and in practically all professions and walks of life. It is interesting to find that the head of a Tiyan family in North Malabar bears the title Cherayi Panikar, conferred on the family in the old days by a former Zamorin. A title of this kind was given only to one specially proficient in arms. Even in those days there were Tiyan physicians, bone-setters, astrologers, diviners, and sorcerers.It is easy to identify the toddy-tapper by the indurated skin of the palms, fingers, inner side of the forearms, and the instep. The business of toddy-tapping involves expert climbing, while carrying a considerable paraphernalia, with no adventitious aid other than can be got out of a soft grummet of coir to keep the feet near together, while the hands, with the arms extended, grasp the palm tree. The profession is rarely adopted before the age of eighteen, but I have seen a man who said he began when he was twelve years old. It is very hard work. A tapper can work about fifteen trees, each of which he has to climb three times a day. In the northern districts of the Madras Presidency, among the Telugu population, the toddy-drawers use a ladder about eight or nine feet in length, which is placed against the tree,to avoid climbing a third or a fourth of it. While in the act of climbing up or down, they make use of a wide band, which is passed round the body at the small of the back, and round the tree. This band is easily fastened with a toggle and eye. The back is protected by a piece of thick soft leather. It gives great assistance in climbing, which it makes easy. All over the southernmost portion of the peninsula, among the Shānāns and Tiyans, the ladder and waist-band are unknown. They climb up and down with their hands and arms, using only the grummet on the feet. The Tiyan toddy-tapper’s equipment consists of a short-handled hatchet, about seven inches square, of thin iron, sheathed in a wooden case, and fastened to a waist-belt composed of several strings of coir yarn, to which is hung a small pot of gummy substance obtained by bruising the leaves of the aichil plant. A vessel holding a couple of gallons, made out of the spathe of the areca palm, is used for bringing down the toddy. Tucked into the waist-belt is a bone loaded with lead at either end, which is used for tapping the palm to bring out the juice. A man once refused to sell at any price one of these bones—the femur of a sāmbar (Cervus unicolor), which had such virtue that, according to its owner, it would fetch palm juice out of any tree. The garb of the tapper at work consists of a short cloth round the loins, and (always during the rains, and often at other times) a head-covering somewhat pointed in shape, made of the leaves of the cocoanut palm placed together as in a clinker-built boat, or of a rounded shape, made out of the spathe of the areca palm. The toddy-tapper should go through the show of reverence by touching the cocoanut tree with the right hand, and then applying his hand to the forehead, every time he prepares to climb a tree.In connection with toddy-drawing, the following note occurs in the Gazetteer of Malabar. “The tapper and the toddy shopkeeper are generally partners, the former renting the trees, paying the tree-tax, and selling the toddy at fixed prices to the latter. Sometimes the shopkeeper pays both rent and tax, and the tapper is his servant paid by the bottle. The trees are rented half yearly, and the rent varies between Re. 1 and Re. 1–8–0 per tree. They are fit for tapping as soon as they come into bearing, but four years later and in the succeeding decade are most productive. They are seldom tapped for more than six months in the year, and the process, though it shortens the life of the tree, improves the yield of nuts in the rest of the year. The tapper’s outfit is neither costly nor elaborate. A knife in a wooden case, a bone weighted with lead (the leg bone of a sambhur for choice), a few pots, and two small rings of rope with which to climb complete the tale. Operations begin when the spathe is still enclosed by its sheath. Once a day the spathe is gently bruised on either side with the bone, and on the third and following days a thin slice is cut off the end twice a day. On the fifteenth day drawing begins, and the bruising ceases. Sheath and spathe are swathed for the greater part of their length in a thick covering of leaves or fibre; the ends are still cut off twice or three times a day, but, after each operation, are smeared with a paste made of leaves and water with the object, it is said, of keeping the sap from oozing through the wound and rotting the spathe. The leaves used for this purpose are those of the éechal or vetti tree, which are said to be one and the same (Aporosa Lindleyana); but in British Cochin, where the tree does not grow, backwater mud is utilised. Round the space between the end of the sheath and thethick covering of leaves a single leaf is bound, and through this the sap bleeds into a pot fastened below. The pot is emptied once a day in the morning. The yield of sap varies with the quality of the tree and the season of the year. In the hot months the trees give on an average about a bottle a day, in the monsoon and succeeding months as much as three bottles. In the gardens along the backwaters, south of Chēttuvāyi, Messrs. Parry & Co. consider that in a good year they should get a daily average of three bottles or half a gallon of toddy per tree. A bottle of toddy sells for three or four pies.”Tiya females at a coir factory.Tiya females at a coir factory.In connection with the coir industry, it is noted, in the Gazetteer of Malabar, that “the husks of the cocoanuts are buried in pits as near as possible to the waterline of rivers, backwaters and creeks, and are left to soak for six months, a year, or even eighteen months—the longer the better. The colour of the yarn, and thereby the quality, depends very much on the water in which the husks are steeped. It should be running water, and, if possible, fresh water. If the water be salt, the yarn may at first be almost white, but in a damp climate it soon becomes discoloured and blotchy. As soon as the husks are taken out of the pits, the fibre is beaten out with short sticks by Tiyattis (Tiyan females) and women of the Vēttuvan caste. It is dried in the sun for twelve hours, and is then ready for sale to native merchants at Calicut and Cochin, who in their turn deal with the European firms. The fibre is twisted into yarn by Tiyattis and other women, and in that form the greater part of the coir made in Malabar is exported from Cochin to all parts of the world, but chiefly to the United Kingdom and Germany.”It has been said that “in North Malabar the preparation of coir is a regular cottage industry of the mosttypical kind. Throughout the year, wherever one goes, one hears the noise of the women hammering out the fibre, and sees them taking, in the evening, that part of it which they have rolled into yarn to the nearest little wayside shop, to be exchanged for salt, chillies, paddy, etc. But, in the north of the district, nothing of the kind goes on, and the coir is commonly used as fuel.”It has been already stated that marumakkatāyam, or inheritance through nephews, is the invariable rule in North Malabar, being followed even by the Muhammadan Māppillas. In South Malabar, where the Tiyans do not observe marumakkatāyam, the property devolves through the sons. All sons share alike. Daughters have no share. The practice of polyandry, which still exists in Malabar among the Tiyans (and other classes), and which was probably once general, tends to prevent dispersion of the family property. Although theoretically all sons share the property of their father, it is the eldest son who succeeds to possession and management of the tarwad property. The others are entitled to maintenance only, so long as they remain in the same tarwad house. It is the same among the Izhuvans.Beef, as in the case of all Hindus, is forbidden as an article of diet. The staple food is rice with fish curry. The common beverage is conjee, but this is being supplanted by tea, coffee, lemonade, and soda-water.A loin-cloth, which should not reach to the knees, with a Madras handkerchief on the shoulders, is the orthodox dress of the males, and a double loin-cloth that of females. Women were not allowed to wear anything above the waist, except when under death pollution. Any colour might be worn, but white and blue are most common. A ring, composed of hollow gold beads, calledmani-kathila, is the proper ornament for a Tiyan woman’s ear. Twenty or thirty, with a pendant in the middle, might be worn. Gold or silver bracelets could be worn. Hollow silver bracelets were worn by girls until the birth of their first child. But times have changed, and nowadays Tiyan women wear the ornaments which, strictly speaking, appertain to Nāyar and Brāhman women. Their mode of tying the hair, and even their dress, which is inclined to follow the fashion of the Christians, has changed. In olden days, a Tiyan woman could wear an ornament appropriate for a Nāyar on a special occasion, but only with the permission of the Nāyar landlord, obtained through the Tandān, on payment of a fee.In North Malabar a good round oath is upon Perumāl Iswaran, the God of the shrine at Kōtiyūr. In South Malabar it is common to swear by Kodungallūr Bhagavati, or by Guruvayūr Appan, local deities.The Tandān is the principal person in the tara, to decide all caste disputes. In South Malabar, he is, as a rule, appointed by the senior Rāni of the Zamorin. A fee of anything up to 101 fanams (Rs. 25–4–0) must be paid to this lady, when she appoints a Tandān. When there is a problem of any special difficulty, it is referred to her for decision. In territories other than those within the power of the Zamorin, the local Rāja appoints the Tandān, and gives the final decision in special cases. As we have seen, the Tiyan is always to some extent subordinate to a Nāyar overlord, but he is not bound to any particular one. He can go where he likes, and reside anywhere, and is not bound to any particular chief, as is the Nāyar. It is noted by General E. F. Burton,26in connection with bygone days, that“such was the insolent pride of caste that the next (and very respectable) class of Hindus, the Teers, were not allowed to come near the Nairs, under penalty of being cut down by the sword, always naked and ready.”In connection with the religion of the Tiyans, I may commence with an old tradition, which is no doubt from a Brāhmanic source. Once upon a time there were seven heavenly damsels, who used to bathe every day before dawn in a lake situated in a forest. Siva found this out, and appeared as a fire on the bank, at which the girls warmed themselves. Having thus lured them, the God made all of them mothers. Seven beautiful boys were born, and Siva presented them to Parvati, who treated them as if they were her own sons. They were taken to mount Kailāsa, and employed in preparing toddy for the mysterious and wonderful Sakti worship. Daily they brought the toddy at the moment when it was required for the golden pot. Parvati embraced the boys all at once, and they became one. On a certain day, this boy sent the sacred toddy in charge of a Brāhman, who became curious to know the virtues of the mysterious liquid. As he rested on a river bank thinking about it, he drank a little, and filled the vessel up with water. Then he reached Kailāsa too late for the daily worship. Siva was angry, and ordered the Saunika boy (Parvati’s name for him) to be brought before him. But the boy had been told what had happened, and cut off the head of the Brāhman, who had confessed to him. Seeing the boy coming along carrying a Brāhman’s head, Siva was astonished, and commanded him to approach nearer. The boy explained that it was not a heinous crime to cut off the head of one who had prevented the Sakti worship. Siva said that the killing of a Brāhman was the worst of crimes, and put the perpetrator out of caste. He wouldnot listen to the boy, who replied that whoever prevented Sakti worship was a Chandāla, and condemned him. The boy asked for death at Siva’s hands. The request pleased the God, who forgave him. The boy had to remain out of caste, but was initiated into the mysteries of Sakti worship as the surest means of salvation, and to him was given the exclusive privilege of performing Sakti worship with liquor. He was commanded to follow, and imitate the Brāhmans in everything, except in the matter of repeating the sacred mantrams. By tantrams (signs with the hands) he eventually obtained the merit of making pūja with mantrams. He was the first Tiyan.It is pretty safe to say that all the ideas of the Tiyans connected with pure Hinduism—the Hinduism of the Vēdas—and of tradition, of which we see very little in Southern India, and which in Malabar is more perverted in confused ideas than perhaps elsewhere, those relating to re-birth, karma, pilgrimages to Benares and distant temples are borrowed from the Brāhmans. In the ceremonies which have been described, notably in those connected with marriage and death, we have seen the expression of many Hindu ideas. Not so is all that relates to offerings to the dead. That is the common property of all the children of men.A main feature in the religion of the Tiyan is that it is largely connected with Sakti worship. Some Brāhmans indulge therein, but they are unable, like the Tiyans, to use arrack in connection with it, and are obliged to use, instead of this requisite, milk or honey. Siva, not exactly a Vēdic entity, and Sakti, are supposed to be the two primordial and eternal principles in nature. Sakti is, perhaps, more properly the vital energy, and Sakti worship the worship of the life principle in nature. We are not considering the abstract meaning of the termSakti; nor are we now thinking of the Siva of Monier Williams or Max Müller. We are in Malabar, where the Hinduism of the Vēdas is in almost hopeless confusion, and mingled with animism and nearly every other kind of primitive religious idea. It is not therefore at all an easy task to represent in words anything like a rational conception of what the religion of the Tiyan really is. The poor and ignorant follow, in a blind ignorant way, Hinduism as they know it and feel it. Their Hinduism is very largely imbued with the lower cult, which, with a tinge of Hinduism, varied in extent here and there, is really the religion of the people at large all over Southern India. The Tiyans have a large share of it. To the actions of evil and other spirits are attributable most, if not all of the ills and joys of life. The higher Hinduism is far above them. Nevertheless, we find among them the worship of the obscure and mysterious Sakti, which, unfortunately, is practiced in secret. Nobody seems to be in the least proud of having anything to do with it. In fact, they are rather ashamed to say anything about it. Those who, so to speak, go in for it are obliged to undergo preliminary purificatory ceremonies, before the great mystery can be communicated to them. The mantram, which is whispered by the guru (religious preceptor) in the ear of the devotee is said to be “Brahma aham, Vishnu aham, Bhairavu aham” (I am Brahma, I am Vishnu, I am Bhairavan). It is believed that each individual is a spark of the divinity. Having in him the potentiality of the Supreme Being, he can develop, and attain godhood. There is no distinction of caste in Sakti worship. The devotees may belong to the highest or to the lowest castes, though I doubt very much whether the Nambūtiri Brāhmans indulge in it.The novices, of whatever caste, eat and drink together during the period of pūja. Men and women participate in the secret rites. A solemn oath is taken that the mystery of Sakti will not be revealed, except with the permission of the guru, or on the death-bed. The spirit of the goddess (for Sakti is thought of as the female principle) must be withdrawn from the body of the Sakti worshipper when he is at the point of death. A lamp is lighted beside him. A few leaves of the tulsi plant (Ocimum sanctum), a little rice, and a lighted wick are given to the dying man. Holding these things, he makes three passes over his body from head to foot, and, as it were, transfers the spirit to the next man, at the same time communicating his wishes about continuing the worship, and so on. When a man dies before this separation or transfer has been accomplished, a Brāhman must be called in, who, with a silver image representing the deceased, makes symbolic transference of the Sakti spirit. It must be done somehow, or the soul of the deceased cannot attain salvation. It is said that, like many other things in this land, Sakti worship has undergone degeneration, that such lofty ideas and feelings as may have once pervaded it have more or less disappeared, and that the residue is not very edifying. Be this as it may, in every tara there is a Bhagavati temple for Tiyans, where Tiyans officiate as priests. The Komaram (oracle) of the Bhagavati temple is clothed in red, and embellished with red sandal paste mixed with turmeric. Bhagavati is always associated with various jungle spirits or gods, whose Komarams always wear black. There is no daily worship in Tiyan temples, with the exception of a few in the neighbourhood of Cannanore. But there is an annual celebration of pūja during the mannalam (forty day) period, commencing on the first of the monthVrischikam (15th November). Lamps are lighted, and worship is begun on this day, and continued for forty days. At its conclusion, the jungle gods retire to the jungle until the next year. A death in the family of a Komaram involves, I believe, some postponement of the rites. The period is supposed to be first part of the functional activity of the earth, which ends somewhere about the 21st of June. It is during this period that Sakti worship is carried on.The temple of Subramania at Palni in the Madura district is a favourite objective for Tiyan pilgrims. The subject of pilgrimages to this temple has been touched on in my note on the Nāyars (seeNāyar). The Bhagavati temple at Kodungallūr in Cochin territory on the coast is another favourite place of pilgrimage among the Tiyans. All classes of people, with the exception of Brāhmans, undertake this pilgrimage. Everyone under a vow, proceeding to the festival, which takes place in February or March, carries with him a cock, which is beheaded at the shrine. Under the Perumāls, pilgrimage to Kodungallūr was somewhat compulsory. This temple was a fruitful source of revenue to the State, for not only the Tiyans, but the fisherman and artisan castes had their own temple in every tara in the land, and the Mūppan—the Komaram—of each temple was under an obligation to contribute yearly gifts to the temple at Kodungallūr. Rent for the temple lands was set at a nominal figure—a mere pepper-corn rent as acknowledgment of sovereign right. Rent might not be paid in times of trouble, but the gifts eked out of superstition were unfailing. It is not surprising, therefore, that learning and advancement among the inferior castes did not receive much encouragement from the rulers of those days.The temple of Kotiyūr in North Malabar is also a shrine to which Tiyans make pilgrimage. Indeed, it may be said that they follow Hinduism generally in rather a low form, and that Sakti worship is perhaps more peculiarly theirs than others’, owing to their being able to use arrack, a product of the palm, and therefore of their own particular métier. The highest merit in Sakti can be reached only through arrack. The Sakti goddess, Bhagavati, the Tiyans look upon as their own guardian spirit.As instancing the mixture and confusion of religious ideas in Malabar, it may be mentioned that Māppillas have been known to indulge in Sakti worship, and Tiyans to have made vows, and given offerings at Māppilla mosques and Christian churches. Vows to the well-known mosque at Mambram are made by people of almost every caste. It is not uncommon to present the first fruit of a jāk tree, or the milk of a cow when it brings forth its first calf, to the local Tangal or Māppilla priest.In many, perhaps in most Tiyan houses, offerings are made annually to a bygone personage named Kunnath Nāyar, and to his friend and disciple Kunhi Rāyan, a Māppilla. It is probable that they excelled in witchcraft and magic, but, according to the story, the Nāyar worshipped the kite until he obtained command and control over all the snakes in the land. The offerings are made in order to prevent accidents from snakes. The snake god will also give children to the family, and promote domestic prosperity. Men without offspring worship him. Leprosy and the death of a child are believed to be the consequence of killing a snake. There are Māppilla devotees of Kunnath Nāyar and Kunhi Rāyan, who exhibit snakes in a box, and collect alms. There is a snake mosque near Manarghāt,at the foot of the Nīlgiri hills, which has its annual festival. The alms are collected ostensibly for this mosque.An interesting story, which is the legendary account of the exodus of the artisans from Malabar, and their return with the Tiyans, is narrated by the Pānans. There were, in olden times, five recognised classes, which includes the Āsāris (carpenters), Musāris (workers in bell-metal), Thattāns (goldsmiths), and Perin-Kollans (blacksmiths). The fifth class is unknown. When an individual of the artisan classes dies, the Pānan of the tara must bring a death gift to the house, which consists of cocoanuts and jāk fruits or plantains. The Pānan places the gift in the yard and repeats a long formula, which he has learnt by heart. It is very likely that he knows little or nothing of its meaning. But he reels it off, and at its conclusion the gifts are accepted. The same formula is also always repeated among the carpenters, goldsmiths, and blacksmiths during wedding and tāli-tying ceremonies. It relates how the artisans deserted the land of Chēraman Perumāl, and sought an asylum in the country of the Izhuvans with the island king, and how the Perumāl sent the Pānan to bring them back. Every one knows this old story, and believes it firmly. It must be learnt by heart, and the Pānan gives it in the yard when a member of the artisan classes dies. The story is to the following effect. During the four Yugams, Kreta, Treta, Dwapara, and Kāli, many kings reigned over the earth. Parasu Rāman destroyed the Kshatriya kings on twenty-one occasions, and was obliged to make atonement in expiatory ceremonies. He worshipped Varuna, the ocean god, and recovered from the sea a hundred and sixty kāthams of land, consisting of Kōlanād (?), Vēnād (Travancore), Kanya Kumāri (Cape Comorin), Chēranād,and Malayālam up to Changala Vazhi beyond the Anaimalai hills. Chēraman Perūmāl was the ruler of this land, in which were the four castes. His capital was at Tiruvanja Kolam. One day, Veluthēdan27Chiraman was washing the Perumāl’s cloths in a tank. He beat the cloths on a stone which was flat on the ground, and held one of the cloths in his hand. A girl of the carpenter caste, Ayyesvari by name, was just then going to the tank to bathe after her monthly period. She called out “Ho! Kammal.28That is not the way to wash cloths. Put a small stone under one end of your washing stone, so as to make it slope a little. Then hold both ends of the cloth in your hand, and beat the middle of the cloth on the stone.” The Veluthēdan did so, and found that he washed better, and the cloths were whiter. The Perumāl asked him “Were you not washing the cloths before? Who washed them to-day?”To which the Veluthēdan replied “Oh! Tamburān (chief or lord), a carpenter girl instructed your slave to-day how to wash cloths properly. May Perumāl be pleased to order the girl to be given to your slave as his wife.” Perumāl then said “To whatever caste she may belong, you may take her by force, and will not lose your caste.” Having received the king’s permission, Veluthēdan Chiraman concealed himself near the carpenter’s house, and, when the girl opened the door to sweep the yard at dawn, he seized her, and carried her off to his house. Carpenter Sankaran of Tiruvanja Kalam went to the Perumāl, and complained that Veluthēdan Kammal had carried away his daughter, and disgraced him. He asked the Perumāl whether he would give him an armed guard to rescue her. To which the Perumāl replied “Iwill not help either party with armed men. You must fight it out among yourselves.” Then the five classes of artisans consulted one another, and made common cause. The Pānans, Perin Malayans, and Chēn (red) Koravans joined the artisans. The Ven Thachāns, Vēlans, Paravans, Vēttuvans, Kanisan Panikars, and the Pāndi Pulluvans of Vellālanād joined the other side. There was war for twelve years. In the end, the artisans were defeated. They said among themselves “We have been defeated by the fourteenth caste of Veluthēdan Nāyar, who carried away our daughter. Let us leave this country.” So 7,764 families, with the women and children, tied up their mats, and left Chēramān Perumāl’s country, and went to Izhuva land, which was beyond it. They went before the Izhuva king (island king), and told him their story. Now Chēramān Perumāl used to be shaved every fifteen days. When the barber (Velakathalavan) was sent for, he came without his knife (razor), as his wife had buried it. He said “Oh! Tamburan, have mercy on your slave. Your slave’s knife was given to the blacksmith to be mended, and he took it away with him. He gave me this piece of iron, saying “If you want the knife made ready for use, you must come to the Izhuva land for it, and we will mend it on our return.” So Perumāl had to go without shaving, and his hair grew like a Rishi’s. As there were neither carpenters nor smiths to make implements, agriculture was almost at a standstill; and, as there were no goldsmiths, the tāli-tying ceremonies could not be performed. Nor could the rice-giving ceremony be done, for want of the “neck-rings.” Then Chēramān Perumāl obtained advice, and resolved to send the Mannān (washerman of the Tiyans), who was included in the fourteenth caste, and the Pānan, who belonged to theeleventh caste. The Perumāl gave to each of them a thousand fanams, and told them to go to the Izhuva country, and bring back the Kammālans (artisans). They wandered over various countries, stopping wherever they found a house. The Pānan, being clever, was able to live by his wits, and spent no money of his own. The Mannān, on the contrary, spent all his money. They passed Ramapūri, and reached Trichivampūri. Then the Mannān asked the Pānan for a loan, which was refused. On Friday at noon, the Mannān left the Pānan, saying “The Pānan is no companion for the Mannān.” He returned to the Perumāl and reported his failure, and the Pānan’s refusal to lend him money. The Pānan went on, crossing rivers, canals, and ferries, and at last reached the Izhuva king’s country. He entered the reception hall. At that moment, the king’s goldsmith, who had just finished making a golden crown for him, had put it on his own head, to test its suitability for wearing. The Pānan thought he was the king, and made obeisance to him. The Kammālans recognised him. He discovered his mistake too late, for he had addressed the goldsmith as Tamburan. So, to this day, the Pānans, when addressing goldsmiths, say Tamburan. The Pānan told the Kammālans of his mission, but they refused to return unless full reparation was made for the abduction of the carpenter girl, and certain social disabilities were removed. The 7,764 families of Kammālans asked the Izhuva king his advice, and he said that they should not go away. So the Kammālans sent the Pānan back, and gave him the following presents, in order to demonstrate to the Perumāl that they were in comfortable circumstances:—Gold valam-piri (a sort of string worn over the right shoulder);Silver edam-piri (a similar sort of string worn on the left shoulder);Gold netti-pattam (to be tied on the forehead);Gold bracelet;Gold ornament for the hair.The Kammālans sent word to the Perumāl that they would not return, unless they were given a girl in place of the carpenter’s daughter, who had been abducted, and certain privileges were granted to them. At the same time, they promised the Pānan that they would share their privileges with him, if he was successful. So the Pānan returned, and appeared before the Perumāl, who asked him where the Kammālans were. The Pānan removed his gold cap, and put it under his arm, and replied that they were prosperous, and not anxious to return. Saying so, he placed before the Perumāl the rich presents given by the Kammālans, and told the king that they would not return, unless they were given a girl and certain concessions. The Perumāl told the Pānan to go back, and invite the Kammālans to return on their own terms. He said they would catch the first girl they met on the way to his palace, and all their demands were granted. The Pānan arrived again in the Izhuva country, and told the Kammālans what the Perumāl had said. They went to the Izhuva king, and obtained his permission to return to their own country. Then they caught an Izhuva boy, and confined him. The king asked them why they did so. They replied that they had lived for twelve years29as his subjects, and would never recognise any other king, so they wanted the Izhuva boy to represent him. The king consented. When they started, the boy began to cry.A Nasrāni,30by name Thomma (Thomas), was taken to accompany and protect the boy. The Kammālans travelled to their own country, and appeared before Chēramān Perumāl. On the way, they found a girl of the Variar caste plucking flowers, and caught her by the hand. All the five classes claimed her. At last it was resolved to unite her with the Izhuva boy, their Tandān, who represented their king, and treat her as their sister. Chēramān Perumāl confirmed his promise, and granted the following privileges to the Kammālans:—1. To make ceilings for their houses.2. To make upstairs houses to live in.3. To put up single staircases, consisting of one pole, in which notches are cut, or pegs are stuck alternately, for the feet.4. To have a gate-house.5. To perform the tāli-tying ceremonies of their girls in a booth having four posts or supports; to place within it, on a stool, a looking-glass with a handle, and the Rāmayana; and to place a silk cloth on the girl’s head.6. To do arpu at the conclusion of the tāli-tying ceremony (Vel! Arpu! is yelled out by the boys).7. To cook rice in copper vessels on occasions of marriage and other ceremonies, and to serve sugar and pappadams at their feasts.8. To hold the umbrella and taza (a sort of umbrella), which are carried in front of processions.9. To clap hands, and dance.10. To keep milch-cows for their own use.Permission was further granted for the Kammālans to wear the following ornaments.1. Netti-pattam, worn on the forehead during the tāli-tying ceremony.2. Ananthovi, a ear ornament named after Anandan, the endless, the serpent on which Vishnu reposes. The serpent is sometimes represented with its tail in its mouth, forming a circle, an endless figure. Ananthovi is the central pendant of the ear-ring worn by Tiyan women among their kathila (ordinary gold ear-rings). It resembles a serpent in form. It is worn by men of the Tiyan and artisan castes on special occasions.3. Waist zone or girdle.4. Bracelets.5. Anklet with two knobs, formed of two pieces screwed together.6. Puli-mothiram, or tiger’s claws mounted in gold, worn by children.7. Podippu, a knot of cotton-thread at the end of the string on which coins are hung as ornaments.8. Kalanchi, a gold knob above the podippu, which represents a flower.9. Necklace.10. Edakam and madkam-tāli, neck ornaments, in one of which are set twenty-one stones.11. Cotton thread above the gold thread on the neck.The Perumāl conferred like privileges upon the family (Tiruvarankath) of the Pānan who brought back the Kammālans. He wore all his ornaments, and made his obeisance to the Perumāl. He had, however, taken off his gold cap. The Perumāl said “What you have removed, let it be removed.” So he lost the privilege of wearing a gold cap. The Perumāl blessed the Kammālans, and they returned to their villages. They made a separate house for the Izhuva boy and the Variargirl, and maintained them. The Izhuva boy, who was the first Tiyan to come to Malabar, brought with him the cocoanut, and retained the right to cultivate and use it. To this day, the people of the serf castes—Cherumans, Kanakans, and the like—use the word Varian when addressing Tiyans, in reference to their descent from the Variar girl.The orthodox number of classes of Kammālans is five. But the artisans do not admit the workers in leather as of their guild, and say there are only four classes. According to them, the fifth class was composed of the copper-smiths, who did not return to Malabar with the others, but remained in Izhuva land. Nevertheless, they always speak of themselves as the Aiyen kudi or five-house Kammālans.There is a variant of the legend of the exodus, told by the Āsāris (carpenters), which is worth narrating. Their version of the story is repeated among themselves, and not by the Pānan, at every marriage and tāli-tying ceremony. They identify the village of the Perumāl’s washerman as Kanipayyūr. This is the name of a Nambūtiri’s illam in the Ponāni tāluk of Malabar. The Nambūtiri is, it may be mentioned, considered to be the highest extant authority in architecture. Disputed points relating to this subject are referred to him, and his decision is final, and accepted by all carpenters and house-builders. The washerman’s stone is said to have been lying flat in the water. The girl Ayyesvari was also of Kanipayyūr, and was carried off as in the former story. But there was no request for an armed guard to rescue her. The Perumāl was, instead, asked to make the washerman marry her, and thus avoid disgrace. He consented to do so, and all the 7,764 families of the five classes of Kammālans assembled for the wedding. Animmense booth, supported on granite pillars, was erected. The washerman and his party were fed sumptuously. But the booth had been so constructed that it could be made to collapse instantaneously. So the Kammālans went quietly outside, and, at a given signal, the booth collapsed, and crushed to death the washerman and his friends. After this, the Kammālans fled, and remained one year, eight months and eleven days in the Izhuva country. Negotiations were carried on through the Izhuva king, and the Kammālans returned under his guarantee that their demands would be complied with. The Izhuva king sent his own men and the Nasrāni to the capital of the Perumāl. The story of the exodus and the return was inscribed on granite stone with solemn rites, and in the presence of witnesses. This was buried at the northern gate of the Tiruvanchakulam temple on Friday, the eighth of the month of Kanni. It was resolved that, in any case of doubt, the stone should be unearthed. And it was only after all this had been done that the Izhuva king’s envoy returned to him. Then the Kammālans came back to Malabar. According to the carpenters, the copper-smiths did not return. They say that eighteen families of Āsāris remained behind. Some of these returned long afterwards, but they were not allowed to rejoin the caste. They are known as Puzhi Tachan, or sand carpenters, and Patinettanmar, or the eighteen people. There are four families of this class now living at or near Parpangadi. They are carpenters, but the Āsāris treat them as outcastes.There is yet another variant of the story of the exodus, which is obviously of recent manufacture, for a Pattar Brāhman is brought in, and gives cunning advice. We know that the Pattars are comparatively new comers in Malabar.The Tiyans have recently been summed up as follows.31“The Tiyas have always been characterised by their persevering and enterprising habits. A large percentage of them are engaged in various agricultural pursuits, and some of the most profitable industries of Malabar have from time out of mind been in their hands. They are exclusively engaged in making toddy and distilling arrack. Many of them are professional weavers, the Malabar mundu being a common kind of cloth made by them. The various industries connected with cocoanut cultivation are also successfully carried on by the Tiyas. For example, the manufacture of jaggery (crude sugar) is an industry in which a considerable number of the Tiyas are profitably engaged. The preparation of coir from cocoanut fibre is one of their hereditary occupations, and this is done almost wholly by their women at home. They are very skilful in the manufacture of coir matting and allied industries. Commercial pursuits are also common among them. Apart from their agricultural and industrial inclinations, the Tiyas give evidence of a literary taste, which is commendable in a people who are living under conditions which are anything but conducive to literary life. They have among them good Sanskrit scholars, whose contributions have enriched the Malayālam literature; physicians well versed in Hindu systems of medicine; and well-known astrologers, who are also clever mathematicians. In British Malabar, they have made considerable progress in education. In recent years, there has been gaining ground among the Tiyas a movement, which has for its object the social and material improvement of the community. Their leaders have very rightlygiven a prominent place to industry in their schemes of progress and reform. Organisations for the purpose of educating the members of the community on the importance of increased industrial efforts have been formed. The success which has attended the Industrial Exhibition conducted by the members of the community at Quilon, in 1905, has induced them to make it a permanent annual event. Some of their young men have been sent to Japan to study certain industries, and, on their return, they hope to resuscitate the dying local industries, and to enter into fresh fields of industry awaiting development. Factories for the manufacture of coir matting and allied articles have been established by the Tiyas in some parts of Travancore and Cochin.”In 1906, the foundation stone of a Tiya temple at Tellicherry was laid with great ceremony. In the following year, a very successful Industrial Exhibition was held at Cannanore under the auspices of the Sri Narayan Dharma Paripalana Yogam. Still more recently, it was resolved to collect subscriptions for the establishment of a hostel for the use of Tiya youths who come from other places to Tellicherry for educational purposes.Tiyōro.—The Tiyōros are described, in the Madras Census Report, 1901, as “Oriya fishermen, who also make lotus-leaf platters. They have four endogamous sections, viz., Torai, Ghodai, Artia, and Kulodondia.” It has been suggested that the caste name is a corruption of the Sanskrit tivara, a hunter. (SeeRisley, Tribes and Castes of Bengal, Tiyar.)Toda.—Quite recently, my friend Dr. W. H. Rivers, as the result of a prolonged stay on the Nīlgiris, has published32an exhaustive account of the sociology andreligion of this exceptionally interesting tribe, numbering, according to the latest census returns, 807 individuals, which inhabits the Nīlgiri plateau. I shall, therefore, content myself with recording the rambling notes made by myself during occasional visits to Ootacamund and Paikāra, supplemented by extracts from the book just referred to, and the writings of Harkness and other pioneers of the Nīlgiris.
Tiyans.Tiyans.It will not be worth while to attempt a description of the marriage ceremony of the Tiyans of North Malabar, because there is none, or next to none. There the Tiyans and all classes, including even the Muhammadan Māppillas, follow the rule of marumakkatāyam, or inheritance through females from uncle to nephew. The children have no right to their father’s property. Eitherparty may annul the marital union at will, without awarding any compensation; and, as its infraction is easy and simple, so is its institution. Nor is there any rigid inquiry as to the antecedents of either party. It is an affair of mutual arrangement, attended with little formality. Proceeding to the girl’s house, accompanied by a few friends, the intending husband takes with him a couple of cloths, one for the girl, and the other for her mother. In parts of North Malabar, the Tiyan women wear an ornament called chittu (ring) in a hole bored in the top of the helix of each ear. The holes are bored in childhood, but the chittu is not worn until the girl forms a marital union with a man. The chittus are made on the spot at the time, in the marriage pandal erected for the occasion, the girl’s uncle providing the gold. They are never removed during life, except in cases of dire distress. “To sell chittu” is equivalent to having become a pauper. It is supposed that, in olden days, the marriage ceremonies lasted over seven days, and were subsequently reduced to seven meals, or three and a half days, and then to one day. Now the bridegroom remains the first night at the bride’s house, and then takes her to his home. Before they leave, a cocoanut, the outer husk of which has been removed, is placed on a stool of pala wood, and one of the bridegroom’s party must smash it with his fist. Some of the more orthodox in North Malabar observe the formality of examining horoscopes, and a ceremony equivalent to the conjee-drinking ceremony which has been described, called achāra kaliāna, and the payment of kanam in the shape of forty-one fanams, instead of forty-two as in South Malabar. In connection with fanams it may be noted that the old gold fanam is reckoned as worth four annas, whereas five silver or velli fanams make a rupee. Everywherein rural Malabar, calculations are made in terms of velli fanams thus:—10 pice (1/12 of an anna) = 1 velli.5 vellis = 1 rupee.Bazaar men, and those who sell their small stock at the weekly markets all about the country, arrange their prices in vellis.When the death of a Tiyan is expected, all the relations draw near, and await the fateful moment. The person who is about to die is laid on the floor of the middle room, for it is inauspicious to die on a cot. We will suppose that the dying man is a parent and a landlord. Each of the sons and daughters gives him a little conjee water, just before he passes away. At the moment of death, all the women bawl out in lamentations, giving the alarm of death. The Cheruman serfs in the fields join in the chorus, and yell out an unintelligible formula of their own. Absent relations are all formally invited. From the houses of the son’s wife and daughter’s husband are sent quantities of jāk fruits, unripe plantains, and cocoanuts, as death gifts. One half of the husks of the cocoanuts is removed, and the other half left on the shell. After the cremation or burial, these articles are distributed among those present by the Tandān, who receives an extra share for his trouble. When life is extinct, the body is placed with the head to the south, and the thumbs and big toes are tied together. It is then taken out into the yard, washed, bathed in oil, dressed in a new cloth, and brought back to the middle room. A cocoanut is cut in two, and the two halves, with a lighted wick on each, are placed at the head and foot. The house-owner spreads a cotton cloth over the corpse, and all the relations, and friends, do the same. Any one who wishes to place a silk cloth on the corpse maydo so, but he must cover it with a cotton cloth. The body is then removed for burial or cremation, and placed near the grave or funeral pyre. It is the rural rule that elderly persons and karnavans of tarwads are cremated, and others buried. The barber, whose function it is to perform the purificatory rites, now removes, and retains as his perquisite, all the cloths, except the last three covering the corpse. As it is being borne away to the place of burial or cremation, water mixed with cow-dung is sprinkled behind it in the yard. The eldest son, who succeeds to the property and is responsible for the funeral ceremonies, then tears crosswise a piece of the cloth which has been placed over the corpse by the people of the house, and ties it round his forehead. He holds one end of the cloth while the barber holds the other, and tears off the piece. The barber then cuts three holes in the remainder of this cloth covering the body, over the mouth, navel, and pubes. A little water and rice are poured over a gold fanam through the slit over the mouth. All who observe the death pollution,i.e., sons, grandsons, nephews, younger brothers and cousins, offer water and rice in the same manner, and walk three times round the grave or pyre. The barber then breaks a pot of water over the grave. No other ceremonial is observed on this day, on which, and during the night, rice must not be eaten. If the body has been cremated, a watch is kept at the burning ground for five days by Pānans, who beat drums all night to scare away the evil spirits which haunt such spots. Early on the second day, all who are under pollution are shaved. The operation is attended with some ceremonial, and, before it is commenced, a lighted lamp, a measure of rice and paddy on a plantain leaf must be at hand. The paddy and rice are a perquisite of the barber. Those who have been shavedbathe, and then follows the crow-feeding ceremony. Rice is boiled in a bell-metal vessel over a hearth prepared with three young cocoanuts. The eldest son, who tore the cloth of succession from the corpse, makes the rice into two little balls, places them on a plantain leaf, and offers them to the spirit of the departed by pouring libations of water on them over a blade of karuka grass. Men and women who are under pollution then do the same. The rice balls are eaten by crows. This little ceremony is performed daily until the eleventh or thirteenth day, when the period of death pollution comes to an end. If the eleventh day happens to fall on a Tuesday or Friday, or on any inauspicious day, the period is extended to the thirteenth day. When the period of death pollution is partly in one month, and partly in another, another death in the house within the year is expected. Preceding the sanchayanam, which occupies the fifth day, there is the lamp-watching on the previous night. In the south-east corner of the middle room, a little paddy is heaped up, and on it is placed a bell-metal plate with an iron lamp having five or seven lighted wicks on it. Under the lamp is a little cow-dung, and close to it is a bunch of cocoanut flowers. The lamp must be kept burning until it is extinguished on the following day. In the case of the death of a male, his niece watches the lamp, and in that of a female her daughter, lying near it on a grass mat. The sanchayanam is the first stage in the removal of death pollution, and, until it is over, all who come to the house suffer from pollution, and cannot enter their own house or partake of any food without bathing previously. When the body has been cremated, the fragments of calcined bones are collected from the ashes, and carried in procession to the sea, or, if this is far away, into a river. The members ofthe family under pollution then rub their bodies all over with oil, and the barber sprinkles a mixture of cow’s milk over their heads, using a blade of karuka grass as a spout. They then bathe, and the eldest son alone observe māttu. The crow-feeding ceremony follows, and, when this is over, the three cocoanuts which were used as a hearth are thrown away. A large bell-metal vessel filled with water is now placed in the front yard before the door of the house. The barber carries the still burning lamp from the middle room, and sets it on the ground near the pot of water. The women who are under pollution come from the middle room, each carrying a lighted wick, walk thrice round the pot, and throw the wicks into the water. The woman who has watched the lamp puts four annas into the pot, and the others deposit a few pies therein. The eldest son now lights a wick from the iron lamp which is about to be extinguished, and with it lights a lamp in the middle room. The barber then dips the iron lamp in the water, and picks out the money as his perquisite. The water is poured on the roots of a cocoanut tree. The bell-metal vessel becomes the property of the woman who watched the lamp, but she cannot take it away until she leaves the house after the pula-kuli ceremony. When the lamp has been extinguished, a woman, hired for the occasion, is seated on a cocoanut leaf in the front yard. The Tandān pours oil on her head three times, and she receives a little betel and two annas. She rises, and leaves the place without turning back, taking the pollution with her. Betel is then distributed. Those who provided the death gifts on the day of the death must on this day bring with them a bag of rice, and about four rupees in money. They have also to give eight annas to the barber. A folded handkerchief is firstpresented to the barber, who formally returns it, and receives instead of it the eight annas. Before the people disperse, the day of the pula-kuli is settled. Pula-kuli, or washing away the pollution, is the final ceremony for putting off the unpleasant consequences of a death in a family. First of all, the members thereof rub themselves all over with oil, and are sprinkled by the barber with cow’s milk and gingelly oil. They then bathe. The barber outlines the figure of a man or woman, according to the sex of the deceased, with rice flour and turmeric powder, the head to the south, in the middle room of the house. The figure is covered with two plantain leaves, on each of which a little rice and paddy are heaped. Over all is spread a new cloth, with a basket containing three measures of paddy upon it. The eldest son (the heir) sits facing the south, and with a nāzhi measures out the paddy, which he casts to the south, east, and west—not the north. He repeats the performance, using the fingers of the left hand closed so as to form a cup as a measure. Then, closing the first and fourth fingers firmly with the thumb, using the left hand, he measures some paddy in the same manner with the two extended fingers. Rice is treated in the same way. A nāzhi of paddy, with a lighted wick over it, is then placed in a basket. The eldest son takes the nāzhi in his left hand, passes it behind his body, and, receiving it with his right hand, replaces it in the basket. The wick is extinguished by sprinkling it with water three times. At the head of the figure on the floor is placed a clean cloth—the washerman’s māttu. It is folded, and within the folds are three nāzhis of rice. On the top of it a cocoanut is placed. In the four corners a piece of charcoal, a little salt, a few chillies, and a gold fanam are tied. The eldest son, who is always theprotagonist in all the ceremonies after death, lifts the cloth with all its contents, places it on his head, and touches with it his forehead, ears, each side and loins, knees and toes. He does this three times. The plantain leaves are then removed from the figure. A little turmeric powder is taken from the outline, and rubbed on the forehead of the eldest son. He then bows thrice to the figure, crossing his legs and arms so that the right hand holds the left ear, and the left the right ear, and touches the ground with the elbow-joints. It is no joke to do this. All this time, the eldest son wears round his forehead the strip torn from the cloth which covered the corpse. There is nothing more to be done in the middle room for the present, and the eldest son goes out into the yard, and cooks the rice for the final feed to the crows. Three nāzhis of this rice must be pounded and prepared for cooking by the woman who watched the lamp on the fourth night after death. Having cooked the rice, the eldest son brings it into the middle room, and mixes it with some unrefined sugar, plantains and pappadams, making two balls, one large and one small. Each of these he places on a plantain leaf. Then some pūja is done to them, and offerings of rice are made over a gold fanam. The balls are given to the crows in the yard, or, in some cases, taken to the sea or a river, and cast into the water. When this course is adopted, various articles must be kept ready ere the return of the party. These comprise a new pot containing water, a branch of areca blossoms, mango leaves, a kindi containing a gold fanam or gold ring, a little salt and rice, each tied up in a piece of cloth, and a few chillies. The mouth of the pot is covered with a plantain leaf, and secured. There are also two stools, made of pala and mango wood. The eldest son sits on one of these, and placeshis feet on the other, so that he does not touch the ground. The water in the pot is sprinkled with mango leaves by the barber to the north, south, east and west, and on the head of the son. The remainder of the water is then poured over his head. The barber then sprinkles him with cocoanut water, this time using areca blossoms, and makes him sip a little thereof. The barber makes a hole in the plantain leaf, and picks out the contents. The eldest son bathes, and after the bath there is a presentation of gifts. The barber, sitting in the verandah beside the son, first gives to each person under pollution a little salt and raw rice, which they eat. He then gives them a little betel leaf and a small piece of areca nut, and receives in return a quarter of an anna. The eldest son chews the betel which he has received, and spits into a spittoon held by the barber, whose property it becomes. Then to the barber, who has been presented with a new mat to sit on and new cloth to wear before he seats himself in the verandah, are given an ear-ring such as is worn by Tiyan women, a silk cloth, a white cotton cloth, and a few annas. If the deceased has been cremated he is given six fanams, and, if buried, five fanams as the fee for his priestly offices. On an occasion of this kind, several barbers, male and female, turn up in the hope of receiving presents. All who help during the various stages of the ceremonial are treated in much the same way, but the senior barber alone receives the officiating fee. It is odd that the barbers of the four surrounding villages are entitled to receive gifts of new cloths and money. Those under death pollution are forbidden to eat fish or flesh, chew betel, or partake of jaggery. The restriction is removed on the pula-kuli day. The last act for their removal is as follows. The barber isrequired to eat some jaggery, and drink some conjee. After this, the eldest son, the Tandān, and a neighbour, sit on a mat spread in the middle of the house, and formally partake of conjee and jaggery. The pula-kuli is then over.It is a sacred duty to a deceased person who was one of importance, for example the head of a family, to have a silver image of him made, and arrange for it being deposited in some temple, where it will receive its share of pūja (worship), and offerings of food and water. The new-moon day of the months Karkitakam (July-August), Tulam (October-November), and Kumbham (February-March) is generally selected for doing this. The temples at Tirunelli in Wynād and Tirunavayi, which are among the oldest in Malabar, were generally the resting-places of these images, but now some of the well-to-do deposit them much further afield, even at Benares and Rāmēsvaram. A silver image is presented to the local Siva temple, where, for a consideration, pūja is done every new-moon day. On each of these days, mantrams are supposed to be repeated a thousand times. When the image has been the object of these mantrams sixteen thousand times, it is supposed to have become eligible for final deposit in a temple. It is this image which rests in the temple at Tirunavayi, or elsewhere.An annual srādh ceremony is performed for the sake of the spirit of the deceased, at which crows are fed in the manner already described, and relations are fed. On the night of this day, some sweetmeats or cakes, such as the deceased was fond of during life, are offered to the spirit. A lamp is placed on a stool, and lighted in the middle room of the house, with a kindi of water and a young cocoanut near it. The cakes or sweetmeatsare placed in front of the stool. Children sprinkle rice over it, and the door is shut for a quarter of an hour. The individual who feeds the crows should partake of only one meal, without fish or flesh, on the previous day. Another ceremony, which is necessary for the repose of the dead, is called badha-velichatu-variethal, or bringing out the spirit. It cannot be performed until at least a year after death, for during that period the spirit is in a sort of purgatory. After that, it may be invoked, and it will answer questions. The ceremony resembles the nelikala pregnancy ceremony. The performers are Pānans or washermen. Some little girls are seated in front of a booth in the yard. The celebrant of the rite sings, invoking the spirit of the deceased. Late at night, one of the girls becomes possessed by the spirit, and, it is said, talks and acts just like the deceased, calling the children, relations and friends by name, talking of the past, and giving commands for the future conduct of the living members of the family. After this, the spirit is severed from earthly trammels, and attains heavenly bliss.The wood used for the purpose of cremation is that of a mango tree, which must be cut down after the death. A little sandalwood and cuscus (grass) roots are sometimes added to the pyre. In these days, when the important and interesting features of ceremonial are fast disappearing, it is not surprising that dried cakes of cow-dung are superseding the mango wood.Among other ceremonies, there is one called kutti pūja, which is performed when a newly built house is taken charge of. Vastu Purusha is the name of the supreme being which, lying on its back with its head to the north-east and legs to the south-west, supports the earth. Or rather the earth is but a small portion of thisvast body. Forests are its tiny hairs, oceans its blood-vessels, and the wind its breath. In this body are fifty-three deities, who are liable to disturbance when the surface of the earth is dug, when trees are felled, foundations laid, and a house built. These angry beings must be propitiated, or there will be untimely deaths, poverty, and sickness among the inmates. The ceremony is performed in the following manner. A square with fifty-three columns is made with rice flour in the middle room of the house, and each column is filled with yellow, red, and black powder. A plantain leaf is placed over it, and a few measures of paddy are set on the top of the leaf. On this is placed another leaf, with various kinds of grain, plantains, cocoanuts, and jaggery on it. The carpenter, who is the architect and builder of the house, then performs pūja with flowers, incense and lights, and the troublesome imp-spirit Gulikan is propitiated with toddy and arrack, and a fowl which is decapitated for him. Then all the workmen—carpenters, masons, and coolies—walk thrice round the house, breaking cocoanuts on the walls and doors, and howling in order to drive away all evil spirits which may by chance be lurking about the place. After this, they are all fed until they cry out “We are satisfied, and want no more.” They are given cloths and other presents, and the chief feature of the ceremony takes place. This is the formal handing over of the house by the carpenter. He hands it over to a third person, and never directly to the owner. It is not always easy to find a third person who is willing to undertake the responsibility, and who is at the same time suitable for the Gulikan who is dispossessed of the house, and pursues him henceforth, following him who first receives charge of the house. He should be a man who brings luck, cheerful and contented, having afamily, and not labouring under any disorder or sickness of body. There is, or was a few years ago, an old Nāyar living not far from Calicut, who was much sought after to fulfil the functions of third person on these occasions, and all the houses he received prospered. The third person is generally a poor man, who is bribed with presents of cloths, money and rice, to undertake the job. He wears one of the new cloths during the ceremony. When the carpenter’s ceremonies have been completed, this man is taken to the middle room of the house, and made to stand facing the door, with each foot on a plantain leaf. Pieces of the thatch are tied to the four corners of his cloth. He shuts the door, opens it, and shuts it again. The carpenter calls from without, asking him whether he has taken charge of the house. He replies evasively “Have the carpenters and workmen received all their wages? If they have, I take charge of the house.” The carpenter does not answer the question, for, if he did so, the mischief would be transferred to him through the house-owner. So he says “I did not ask you about my wages. Have you taken charge of the house?” The man inside answers as before, adding “otherwise not.” The carpenter again says “I did not ask you about my wages. Answer me straight. Have you, or have you not taken charge of the house?” The man inside replies “I have taken charge of the house,” and opens the door. Taking in his hands the plantain leaves on which he stood, he runs away as fast as he can without looking back. This he must not do on any account. The people pelt him with plantains, and hoot at him as he runs, and water mingled with cow-dung is sprinkled in his path. After all this, cow’s milk is boiled with a little rice in the house, of which every one partakes, and the owner assumes charge of his house.In the pre-British days, a few of the well-to-do families of Tiyans lived in houses of the kind called nalapura (four houses), having an open quadrangle in the centre. But, for the most part, the Tiyans—slaves of the Nāyars and Nambūtiris—lived in a one-roomed thatched hut. Nowadays, the kala pura usually consists of two rooms, east and west.Toddy-drawing, and every thing connected with the manufacture and sale of arrack (country liquor) and unrefined sugar, form the orthodox occupation of the Tiyan. But members of the community are to be found in all classes of society, and in practically all professions and walks of life. It is interesting to find that the head of a Tiyan family in North Malabar bears the title Cherayi Panikar, conferred on the family in the old days by a former Zamorin. A title of this kind was given only to one specially proficient in arms. Even in those days there were Tiyan physicians, bone-setters, astrologers, diviners, and sorcerers.It is easy to identify the toddy-tapper by the indurated skin of the palms, fingers, inner side of the forearms, and the instep. The business of toddy-tapping involves expert climbing, while carrying a considerable paraphernalia, with no adventitious aid other than can be got out of a soft grummet of coir to keep the feet near together, while the hands, with the arms extended, grasp the palm tree. The profession is rarely adopted before the age of eighteen, but I have seen a man who said he began when he was twelve years old. It is very hard work. A tapper can work about fifteen trees, each of which he has to climb three times a day. In the northern districts of the Madras Presidency, among the Telugu population, the toddy-drawers use a ladder about eight or nine feet in length, which is placed against the tree,to avoid climbing a third or a fourth of it. While in the act of climbing up or down, they make use of a wide band, which is passed round the body at the small of the back, and round the tree. This band is easily fastened with a toggle and eye. The back is protected by a piece of thick soft leather. It gives great assistance in climbing, which it makes easy. All over the southernmost portion of the peninsula, among the Shānāns and Tiyans, the ladder and waist-band are unknown. They climb up and down with their hands and arms, using only the grummet on the feet. The Tiyan toddy-tapper’s equipment consists of a short-handled hatchet, about seven inches square, of thin iron, sheathed in a wooden case, and fastened to a waist-belt composed of several strings of coir yarn, to which is hung a small pot of gummy substance obtained by bruising the leaves of the aichil plant. A vessel holding a couple of gallons, made out of the spathe of the areca palm, is used for bringing down the toddy. Tucked into the waist-belt is a bone loaded with lead at either end, which is used for tapping the palm to bring out the juice. A man once refused to sell at any price one of these bones—the femur of a sāmbar (Cervus unicolor), which had such virtue that, according to its owner, it would fetch palm juice out of any tree. The garb of the tapper at work consists of a short cloth round the loins, and (always during the rains, and often at other times) a head-covering somewhat pointed in shape, made of the leaves of the cocoanut palm placed together as in a clinker-built boat, or of a rounded shape, made out of the spathe of the areca palm. The toddy-tapper should go through the show of reverence by touching the cocoanut tree with the right hand, and then applying his hand to the forehead, every time he prepares to climb a tree.In connection with toddy-drawing, the following note occurs in the Gazetteer of Malabar. “The tapper and the toddy shopkeeper are generally partners, the former renting the trees, paying the tree-tax, and selling the toddy at fixed prices to the latter. Sometimes the shopkeeper pays both rent and tax, and the tapper is his servant paid by the bottle. The trees are rented half yearly, and the rent varies between Re. 1 and Re. 1–8–0 per tree. They are fit for tapping as soon as they come into bearing, but four years later and in the succeeding decade are most productive. They are seldom tapped for more than six months in the year, and the process, though it shortens the life of the tree, improves the yield of nuts in the rest of the year. The tapper’s outfit is neither costly nor elaborate. A knife in a wooden case, a bone weighted with lead (the leg bone of a sambhur for choice), a few pots, and two small rings of rope with which to climb complete the tale. Operations begin when the spathe is still enclosed by its sheath. Once a day the spathe is gently bruised on either side with the bone, and on the third and following days a thin slice is cut off the end twice a day. On the fifteenth day drawing begins, and the bruising ceases. Sheath and spathe are swathed for the greater part of their length in a thick covering of leaves or fibre; the ends are still cut off twice or three times a day, but, after each operation, are smeared with a paste made of leaves and water with the object, it is said, of keeping the sap from oozing through the wound and rotting the spathe. The leaves used for this purpose are those of the éechal or vetti tree, which are said to be one and the same (Aporosa Lindleyana); but in British Cochin, where the tree does not grow, backwater mud is utilised. Round the space between the end of the sheath and thethick covering of leaves a single leaf is bound, and through this the sap bleeds into a pot fastened below. The pot is emptied once a day in the morning. The yield of sap varies with the quality of the tree and the season of the year. In the hot months the trees give on an average about a bottle a day, in the monsoon and succeeding months as much as three bottles. In the gardens along the backwaters, south of Chēttuvāyi, Messrs. Parry & Co. consider that in a good year they should get a daily average of three bottles or half a gallon of toddy per tree. A bottle of toddy sells for three or four pies.”Tiya females at a coir factory.Tiya females at a coir factory.In connection with the coir industry, it is noted, in the Gazetteer of Malabar, that “the husks of the cocoanuts are buried in pits as near as possible to the waterline of rivers, backwaters and creeks, and are left to soak for six months, a year, or even eighteen months—the longer the better. The colour of the yarn, and thereby the quality, depends very much on the water in which the husks are steeped. It should be running water, and, if possible, fresh water. If the water be salt, the yarn may at first be almost white, but in a damp climate it soon becomes discoloured and blotchy. As soon as the husks are taken out of the pits, the fibre is beaten out with short sticks by Tiyattis (Tiyan females) and women of the Vēttuvan caste. It is dried in the sun for twelve hours, and is then ready for sale to native merchants at Calicut and Cochin, who in their turn deal with the European firms. The fibre is twisted into yarn by Tiyattis and other women, and in that form the greater part of the coir made in Malabar is exported from Cochin to all parts of the world, but chiefly to the United Kingdom and Germany.”It has been said that “in North Malabar the preparation of coir is a regular cottage industry of the mosttypical kind. Throughout the year, wherever one goes, one hears the noise of the women hammering out the fibre, and sees them taking, in the evening, that part of it which they have rolled into yarn to the nearest little wayside shop, to be exchanged for salt, chillies, paddy, etc. But, in the north of the district, nothing of the kind goes on, and the coir is commonly used as fuel.”It has been already stated that marumakkatāyam, or inheritance through nephews, is the invariable rule in North Malabar, being followed even by the Muhammadan Māppillas. In South Malabar, where the Tiyans do not observe marumakkatāyam, the property devolves through the sons. All sons share alike. Daughters have no share. The practice of polyandry, which still exists in Malabar among the Tiyans (and other classes), and which was probably once general, tends to prevent dispersion of the family property. Although theoretically all sons share the property of their father, it is the eldest son who succeeds to possession and management of the tarwad property. The others are entitled to maintenance only, so long as they remain in the same tarwad house. It is the same among the Izhuvans.Beef, as in the case of all Hindus, is forbidden as an article of diet. The staple food is rice with fish curry. The common beverage is conjee, but this is being supplanted by tea, coffee, lemonade, and soda-water.A loin-cloth, which should not reach to the knees, with a Madras handkerchief on the shoulders, is the orthodox dress of the males, and a double loin-cloth that of females. Women were not allowed to wear anything above the waist, except when under death pollution. Any colour might be worn, but white and blue are most common. A ring, composed of hollow gold beads, calledmani-kathila, is the proper ornament for a Tiyan woman’s ear. Twenty or thirty, with a pendant in the middle, might be worn. Gold or silver bracelets could be worn. Hollow silver bracelets were worn by girls until the birth of their first child. But times have changed, and nowadays Tiyan women wear the ornaments which, strictly speaking, appertain to Nāyar and Brāhman women. Their mode of tying the hair, and even their dress, which is inclined to follow the fashion of the Christians, has changed. In olden days, a Tiyan woman could wear an ornament appropriate for a Nāyar on a special occasion, but only with the permission of the Nāyar landlord, obtained through the Tandān, on payment of a fee.In North Malabar a good round oath is upon Perumāl Iswaran, the God of the shrine at Kōtiyūr. In South Malabar it is common to swear by Kodungallūr Bhagavati, or by Guruvayūr Appan, local deities.The Tandān is the principal person in the tara, to decide all caste disputes. In South Malabar, he is, as a rule, appointed by the senior Rāni of the Zamorin. A fee of anything up to 101 fanams (Rs. 25–4–0) must be paid to this lady, when she appoints a Tandān. When there is a problem of any special difficulty, it is referred to her for decision. In territories other than those within the power of the Zamorin, the local Rāja appoints the Tandān, and gives the final decision in special cases. As we have seen, the Tiyan is always to some extent subordinate to a Nāyar overlord, but he is not bound to any particular one. He can go where he likes, and reside anywhere, and is not bound to any particular chief, as is the Nāyar. It is noted by General E. F. Burton,26in connection with bygone days, that“such was the insolent pride of caste that the next (and very respectable) class of Hindus, the Teers, were not allowed to come near the Nairs, under penalty of being cut down by the sword, always naked and ready.”In connection with the religion of the Tiyans, I may commence with an old tradition, which is no doubt from a Brāhmanic source. Once upon a time there were seven heavenly damsels, who used to bathe every day before dawn in a lake situated in a forest. Siva found this out, and appeared as a fire on the bank, at which the girls warmed themselves. Having thus lured them, the God made all of them mothers. Seven beautiful boys were born, and Siva presented them to Parvati, who treated them as if they were her own sons. They were taken to mount Kailāsa, and employed in preparing toddy for the mysterious and wonderful Sakti worship. Daily they brought the toddy at the moment when it was required for the golden pot. Parvati embraced the boys all at once, and they became one. On a certain day, this boy sent the sacred toddy in charge of a Brāhman, who became curious to know the virtues of the mysterious liquid. As he rested on a river bank thinking about it, he drank a little, and filled the vessel up with water. Then he reached Kailāsa too late for the daily worship. Siva was angry, and ordered the Saunika boy (Parvati’s name for him) to be brought before him. But the boy had been told what had happened, and cut off the head of the Brāhman, who had confessed to him. Seeing the boy coming along carrying a Brāhman’s head, Siva was astonished, and commanded him to approach nearer. The boy explained that it was not a heinous crime to cut off the head of one who had prevented the Sakti worship. Siva said that the killing of a Brāhman was the worst of crimes, and put the perpetrator out of caste. He wouldnot listen to the boy, who replied that whoever prevented Sakti worship was a Chandāla, and condemned him. The boy asked for death at Siva’s hands. The request pleased the God, who forgave him. The boy had to remain out of caste, but was initiated into the mysteries of Sakti worship as the surest means of salvation, and to him was given the exclusive privilege of performing Sakti worship with liquor. He was commanded to follow, and imitate the Brāhmans in everything, except in the matter of repeating the sacred mantrams. By tantrams (signs with the hands) he eventually obtained the merit of making pūja with mantrams. He was the first Tiyan.It is pretty safe to say that all the ideas of the Tiyans connected with pure Hinduism—the Hinduism of the Vēdas—and of tradition, of which we see very little in Southern India, and which in Malabar is more perverted in confused ideas than perhaps elsewhere, those relating to re-birth, karma, pilgrimages to Benares and distant temples are borrowed from the Brāhmans. In the ceremonies which have been described, notably in those connected with marriage and death, we have seen the expression of many Hindu ideas. Not so is all that relates to offerings to the dead. That is the common property of all the children of men.A main feature in the religion of the Tiyan is that it is largely connected with Sakti worship. Some Brāhmans indulge therein, but they are unable, like the Tiyans, to use arrack in connection with it, and are obliged to use, instead of this requisite, milk or honey. Siva, not exactly a Vēdic entity, and Sakti, are supposed to be the two primordial and eternal principles in nature. Sakti is, perhaps, more properly the vital energy, and Sakti worship the worship of the life principle in nature. We are not considering the abstract meaning of the termSakti; nor are we now thinking of the Siva of Monier Williams or Max Müller. We are in Malabar, where the Hinduism of the Vēdas is in almost hopeless confusion, and mingled with animism and nearly every other kind of primitive religious idea. It is not therefore at all an easy task to represent in words anything like a rational conception of what the religion of the Tiyan really is. The poor and ignorant follow, in a blind ignorant way, Hinduism as they know it and feel it. Their Hinduism is very largely imbued with the lower cult, which, with a tinge of Hinduism, varied in extent here and there, is really the religion of the people at large all over Southern India. The Tiyans have a large share of it. To the actions of evil and other spirits are attributable most, if not all of the ills and joys of life. The higher Hinduism is far above them. Nevertheless, we find among them the worship of the obscure and mysterious Sakti, which, unfortunately, is practiced in secret. Nobody seems to be in the least proud of having anything to do with it. In fact, they are rather ashamed to say anything about it. Those who, so to speak, go in for it are obliged to undergo preliminary purificatory ceremonies, before the great mystery can be communicated to them. The mantram, which is whispered by the guru (religious preceptor) in the ear of the devotee is said to be “Brahma aham, Vishnu aham, Bhairavu aham” (I am Brahma, I am Vishnu, I am Bhairavan). It is believed that each individual is a spark of the divinity. Having in him the potentiality of the Supreme Being, he can develop, and attain godhood. There is no distinction of caste in Sakti worship. The devotees may belong to the highest or to the lowest castes, though I doubt very much whether the Nambūtiri Brāhmans indulge in it.The novices, of whatever caste, eat and drink together during the period of pūja. Men and women participate in the secret rites. A solemn oath is taken that the mystery of Sakti will not be revealed, except with the permission of the guru, or on the death-bed. The spirit of the goddess (for Sakti is thought of as the female principle) must be withdrawn from the body of the Sakti worshipper when he is at the point of death. A lamp is lighted beside him. A few leaves of the tulsi plant (Ocimum sanctum), a little rice, and a lighted wick are given to the dying man. Holding these things, he makes three passes over his body from head to foot, and, as it were, transfers the spirit to the next man, at the same time communicating his wishes about continuing the worship, and so on. When a man dies before this separation or transfer has been accomplished, a Brāhman must be called in, who, with a silver image representing the deceased, makes symbolic transference of the Sakti spirit. It must be done somehow, or the soul of the deceased cannot attain salvation. It is said that, like many other things in this land, Sakti worship has undergone degeneration, that such lofty ideas and feelings as may have once pervaded it have more or less disappeared, and that the residue is not very edifying. Be this as it may, in every tara there is a Bhagavati temple for Tiyans, where Tiyans officiate as priests. The Komaram (oracle) of the Bhagavati temple is clothed in red, and embellished with red sandal paste mixed with turmeric. Bhagavati is always associated with various jungle spirits or gods, whose Komarams always wear black. There is no daily worship in Tiyan temples, with the exception of a few in the neighbourhood of Cannanore. But there is an annual celebration of pūja during the mannalam (forty day) period, commencing on the first of the monthVrischikam (15th November). Lamps are lighted, and worship is begun on this day, and continued for forty days. At its conclusion, the jungle gods retire to the jungle until the next year. A death in the family of a Komaram involves, I believe, some postponement of the rites. The period is supposed to be first part of the functional activity of the earth, which ends somewhere about the 21st of June. It is during this period that Sakti worship is carried on.The temple of Subramania at Palni in the Madura district is a favourite objective for Tiyan pilgrims. The subject of pilgrimages to this temple has been touched on in my note on the Nāyars (seeNāyar). The Bhagavati temple at Kodungallūr in Cochin territory on the coast is another favourite place of pilgrimage among the Tiyans. All classes of people, with the exception of Brāhmans, undertake this pilgrimage. Everyone under a vow, proceeding to the festival, which takes place in February or March, carries with him a cock, which is beheaded at the shrine. Under the Perumāls, pilgrimage to Kodungallūr was somewhat compulsory. This temple was a fruitful source of revenue to the State, for not only the Tiyans, but the fisherman and artisan castes had their own temple in every tara in the land, and the Mūppan—the Komaram—of each temple was under an obligation to contribute yearly gifts to the temple at Kodungallūr. Rent for the temple lands was set at a nominal figure—a mere pepper-corn rent as acknowledgment of sovereign right. Rent might not be paid in times of trouble, but the gifts eked out of superstition were unfailing. It is not surprising, therefore, that learning and advancement among the inferior castes did not receive much encouragement from the rulers of those days.The temple of Kotiyūr in North Malabar is also a shrine to which Tiyans make pilgrimage. Indeed, it may be said that they follow Hinduism generally in rather a low form, and that Sakti worship is perhaps more peculiarly theirs than others’, owing to their being able to use arrack, a product of the palm, and therefore of their own particular métier. The highest merit in Sakti can be reached only through arrack. The Sakti goddess, Bhagavati, the Tiyans look upon as their own guardian spirit.As instancing the mixture and confusion of religious ideas in Malabar, it may be mentioned that Māppillas have been known to indulge in Sakti worship, and Tiyans to have made vows, and given offerings at Māppilla mosques and Christian churches. Vows to the well-known mosque at Mambram are made by people of almost every caste. It is not uncommon to present the first fruit of a jāk tree, or the milk of a cow when it brings forth its first calf, to the local Tangal or Māppilla priest.In many, perhaps in most Tiyan houses, offerings are made annually to a bygone personage named Kunnath Nāyar, and to his friend and disciple Kunhi Rāyan, a Māppilla. It is probable that they excelled in witchcraft and magic, but, according to the story, the Nāyar worshipped the kite until he obtained command and control over all the snakes in the land. The offerings are made in order to prevent accidents from snakes. The snake god will also give children to the family, and promote domestic prosperity. Men without offspring worship him. Leprosy and the death of a child are believed to be the consequence of killing a snake. There are Māppilla devotees of Kunnath Nāyar and Kunhi Rāyan, who exhibit snakes in a box, and collect alms. There is a snake mosque near Manarghāt,at the foot of the Nīlgiri hills, which has its annual festival. The alms are collected ostensibly for this mosque.An interesting story, which is the legendary account of the exodus of the artisans from Malabar, and their return with the Tiyans, is narrated by the Pānans. There were, in olden times, five recognised classes, which includes the Āsāris (carpenters), Musāris (workers in bell-metal), Thattāns (goldsmiths), and Perin-Kollans (blacksmiths). The fifth class is unknown. When an individual of the artisan classes dies, the Pānan of the tara must bring a death gift to the house, which consists of cocoanuts and jāk fruits or plantains. The Pānan places the gift in the yard and repeats a long formula, which he has learnt by heart. It is very likely that he knows little or nothing of its meaning. But he reels it off, and at its conclusion the gifts are accepted. The same formula is also always repeated among the carpenters, goldsmiths, and blacksmiths during wedding and tāli-tying ceremonies. It relates how the artisans deserted the land of Chēraman Perumāl, and sought an asylum in the country of the Izhuvans with the island king, and how the Perumāl sent the Pānan to bring them back. Every one knows this old story, and believes it firmly. It must be learnt by heart, and the Pānan gives it in the yard when a member of the artisan classes dies. The story is to the following effect. During the four Yugams, Kreta, Treta, Dwapara, and Kāli, many kings reigned over the earth. Parasu Rāman destroyed the Kshatriya kings on twenty-one occasions, and was obliged to make atonement in expiatory ceremonies. He worshipped Varuna, the ocean god, and recovered from the sea a hundred and sixty kāthams of land, consisting of Kōlanād (?), Vēnād (Travancore), Kanya Kumāri (Cape Comorin), Chēranād,and Malayālam up to Changala Vazhi beyond the Anaimalai hills. Chēraman Perūmāl was the ruler of this land, in which were the four castes. His capital was at Tiruvanja Kolam. One day, Veluthēdan27Chiraman was washing the Perumāl’s cloths in a tank. He beat the cloths on a stone which was flat on the ground, and held one of the cloths in his hand. A girl of the carpenter caste, Ayyesvari by name, was just then going to the tank to bathe after her monthly period. She called out “Ho! Kammal.28That is not the way to wash cloths. Put a small stone under one end of your washing stone, so as to make it slope a little. Then hold both ends of the cloth in your hand, and beat the middle of the cloth on the stone.” The Veluthēdan did so, and found that he washed better, and the cloths were whiter. The Perumāl asked him “Were you not washing the cloths before? Who washed them to-day?”To which the Veluthēdan replied “Oh! Tamburān (chief or lord), a carpenter girl instructed your slave to-day how to wash cloths properly. May Perumāl be pleased to order the girl to be given to your slave as his wife.” Perumāl then said “To whatever caste she may belong, you may take her by force, and will not lose your caste.” Having received the king’s permission, Veluthēdan Chiraman concealed himself near the carpenter’s house, and, when the girl opened the door to sweep the yard at dawn, he seized her, and carried her off to his house. Carpenter Sankaran of Tiruvanja Kalam went to the Perumāl, and complained that Veluthēdan Kammal had carried away his daughter, and disgraced him. He asked the Perumāl whether he would give him an armed guard to rescue her. To which the Perumāl replied “Iwill not help either party with armed men. You must fight it out among yourselves.” Then the five classes of artisans consulted one another, and made common cause. The Pānans, Perin Malayans, and Chēn (red) Koravans joined the artisans. The Ven Thachāns, Vēlans, Paravans, Vēttuvans, Kanisan Panikars, and the Pāndi Pulluvans of Vellālanād joined the other side. There was war for twelve years. In the end, the artisans were defeated. They said among themselves “We have been defeated by the fourteenth caste of Veluthēdan Nāyar, who carried away our daughter. Let us leave this country.” So 7,764 families, with the women and children, tied up their mats, and left Chēramān Perumāl’s country, and went to Izhuva land, which was beyond it. They went before the Izhuva king (island king), and told him their story. Now Chēramān Perumāl used to be shaved every fifteen days. When the barber (Velakathalavan) was sent for, he came without his knife (razor), as his wife had buried it. He said “Oh! Tamburan, have mercy on your slave. Your slave’s knife was given to the blacksmith to be mended, and he took it away with him. He gave me this piece of iron, saying “If you want the knife made ready for use, you must come to the Izhuva land for it, and we will mend it on our return.” So Perumāl had to go without shaving, and his hair grew like a Rishi’s. As there were neither carpenters nor smiths to make implements, agriculture was almost at a standstill; and, as there were no goldsmiths, the tāli-tying ceremonies could not be performed. Nor could the rice-giving ceremony be done, for want of the “neck-rings.” Then Chēramān Perumāl obtained advice, and resolved to send the Mannān (washerman of the Tiyans), who was included in the fourteenth caste, and the Pānan, who belonged to theeleventh caste. The Perumāl gave to each of them a thousand fanams, and told them to go to the Izhuva country, and bring back the Kammālans (artisans). They wandered over various countries, stopping wherever they found a house. The Pānan, being clever, was able to live by his wits, and spent no money of his own. The Mannān, on the contrary, spent all his money. They passed Ramapūri, and reached Trichivampūri. Then the Mannān asked the Pānan for a loan, which was refused. On Friday at noon, the Mannān left the Pānan, saying “The Pānan is no companion for the Mannān.” He returned to the Perumāl and reported his failure, and the Pānan’s refusal to lend him money. The Pānan went on, crossing rivers, canals, and ferries, and at last reached the Izhuva king’s country. He entered the reception hall. At that moment, the king’s goldsmith, who had just finished making a golden crown for him, had put it on his own head, to test its suitability for wearing. The Pānan thought he was the king, and made obeisance to him. The Kammālans recognised him. He discovered his mistake too late, for he had addressed the goldsmith as Tamburan. So, to this day, the Pānans, when addressing goldsmiths, say Tamburan. The Pānan told the Kammālans of his mission, but they refused to return unless full reparation was made for the abduction of the carpenter girl, and certain social disabilities were removed. The 7,764 families of Kammālans asked the Izhuva king his advice, and he said that they should not go away. So the Kammālans sent the Pānan back, and gave him the following presents, in order to demonstrate to the Perumāl that they were in comfortable circumstances:—Gold valam-piri (a sort of string worn over the right shoulder);Silver edam-piri (a similar sort of string worn on the left shoulder);Gold netti-pattam (to be tied on the forehead);Gold bracelet;Gold ornament for the hair.The Kammālans sent word to the Perumāl that they would not return, unless they were given a girl in place of the carpenter’s daughter, who had been abducted, and certain privileges were granted to them. At the same time, they promised the Pānan that they would share their privileges with him, if he was successful. So the Pānan returned, and appeared before the Perumāl, who asked him where the Kammālans were. The Pānan removed his gold cap, and put it under his arm, and replied that they were prosperous, and not anxious to return. Saying so, he placed before the Perumāl the rich presents given by the Kammālans, and told the king that they would not return, unless they were given a girl and certain concessions. The Perumāl told the Pānan to go back, and invite the Kammālans to return on their own terms. He said they would catch the first girl they met on the way to his palace, and all their demands were granted. The Pānan arrived again in the Izhuva country, and told the Kammālans what the Perumāl had said. They went to the Izhuva king, and obtained his permission to return to their own country. Then they caught an Izhuva boy, and confined him. The king asked them why they did so. They replied that they had lived for twelve years29as his subjects, and would never recognise any other king, so they wanted the Izhuva boy to represent him. The king consented. When they started, the boy began to cry.A Nasrāni,30by name Thomma (Thomas), was taken to accompany and protect the boy. The Kammālans travelled to their own country, and appeared before Chēramān Perumāl. On the way, they found a girl of the Variar caste plucking flowers, and caught her by the hand. All the five classes claimed her. At last it was resolved to unite her with the Izhuva boy, their Tandān, who represented their king, and treat her as their sister. Chēramān Perumāl confirmed his promise, and granted the following privileges to the Kammālans:—1. To make ceilings for their houses.2. To make upstairs houses to live in.3. To put up single staircases, consisting of one pole, in which notches are cut, or pegs are stuck alternately, for the feet.4. To have a gate-house.5. To perform the tāli-tying ceremonies of their girls in a booth having four posts or supports; to place within it, on a stool, a looking-glass with a handle, and the Rāmayana; and to place a silk cloth on the girl’s head.6. To do arpu at the conclusion of the tāli-tying ceremony (Vel! Arpu! is yelled out by the boys).7. To cook rice in copper vessels on occasions of marriage and other ceremonies, and to serve sugar and pappadams at their feasts.8. To hold the umbrella and taza (a sort of umbrella), which are carried in front of processions.9. To clap hands, and dance.10. To keep milch-cows for their own use.Permission was further granted for the Kammālans to wear the following ornaments.1. Netti-pattam, worn on the forehead during the tāli-tying ceremony.2. Ananthovi, a ear ornament named after Anandan, the endless, the serpent on which Vishnu reposes. The serpent is sometimes represented with its tail in its mouth, forming a circle, an endless figure. Ananthovi is the central pendant of the ear-ring worn by Tiyan women among their kathila (ordinary gold ear-rings). It resembles a serpent in form. It is worn by men of the Tiyan and artisan castes on special occasions.3. Waist zone or girdle.4. Bracelets.5. Anklet with two knobs, formed of two pieces screwed together.6. Puli-mothiram, or tiger’s claws mounted in gold, worn by children.7. Podippu, a knot of cotton-thread at the end of the string on which coins are hung as ornaments.8. Kalanchi, a gold knob above the podippu, which represents a flower.9. Necklace.10. Edakam and madkam-tāli, neck ornaments, in one of which are set twenty-one stones.11. Cotton thread above the gold thread on the neck.The Perumāl conferred like privileges upon the family (Tiruvarankath) of the Pānan who brought back the Kammālans. He wore all his ornaments, and made his obeisance to the Perumāl. He had, however, taken off his gold cap. The Perumāl said “What you have removed, let it be removed.” So he lost the privilege of wearing a gold cap. The Perumāl blessed the Kammālans, and they returned to their villages. They made a separate house for the Izhuva boy and the Variargirl, and maintained them. The Izhuva boy, who was the first Tiyan to come to Malabar, brought with him the cocoanut, and retained the right to cultivate and use it. To this day, the people of the serf castes—Cherumans, Kanakans, and the like—use the word Varian when addressing Tiyans, in reference to their descent from the Variar girl.The orthodox number of classes of Kammālans is five. But the artisans do not admit the workers in leather as of their guild, and say there are only four classes. According to them, the fifth class was composed of the copper-smiths, who did not return to Malabar with the others, but remained in Izhuva land. Nevertheless, they always speak of themselves as the Aiyen kudi or five-house Kammālans.There is a variant of the legend of the exodus, told by the Āsāris (carpenters), which is worth narrating. Their version of the story is repeated among themselves, and not by the Pānan, at every marriage and tāli-tying ceremony. They identify the village of the Perumāl’s washerman as Kanipayyūr. This is the name of a Nambūtiri’s illam in the Ponāni tāluk of Malabar. The Nambūtiri is, it may be mentioned, considered to be the highest extant authority in architecture. Disputed points relating to this subject are referred to him, and his decision is final, and accepted by all carpenters and house-builders. The washerman’s stone is said to have been lying flat in the water. The girl Ayyesvari was also of Kanipayyūr, and was carried off as in the former story. But there was no request for an armed guard to rescue her. The Perumāl was, instead, asked to make the washerman marry her, and thus avoid disgrace. He consented to do so, and all the 7,764 families of the five classes of Kammālans assembled for the wedding. Animmense booth, supported on granite pillars, was erected. The washerman and his party were fed sumptuously. But the booth had been so constructed that it could be made to collapse instantaneously. So the Kammālans went quietly outside, and, at a given signal, the booth collapsed, and crushed to death the washerman and his friends. After this, the Kammālans fled, and remained one year, eight months and eleven days in the Izhuva country. Negotiations were carried on through the Izhuva king, and the Kammālans returned under his guarantee that their demands would be complied with. The Izhuva king sent his own men and the Nasrāni to the capital of the Perumāl. The story of the exodus and the return was inscribed on granite stone with solemn rites, and in the presence of witnesses. This was buried at the northern gate of the Tiruvanchakulam temple on Friday, the eighth of the month of Kanni. It was resolved that, in any case of doubt, the stone should be unearthed. And it was only after all this had been done that the Izhuva king’s envoy returned to him. Then the Kammālans came back to Malabar. According to the carpenters, the copper-smiths did not return. They say that eighteen families of Āsāris remained behind. Some of these returned long afterwards, but they were not allowed to rejoin the caste. They are known as Puzhi Tachan, or sand carpenters, and Patinettanmar, or the eighteen people. There are four families of this class now living at or near Parpangadi. They are carpenters, but the Āsāris treat them as outcastes.There is yet another variant of the story of the exodus, which is obviously of recent manufacture, for a Pattar Brāhman is brought in, and gives cunning advice. We know that the Pattars are comparatively new comers in Malabar.The Tiyans have recently been summed up as follows.31“The Tiyas have always been characterised by their persevering and enterprising habits. A large percentage of them are engaged in various agricultural pursuits, and some of the most profitable industries of Malabar have from time out of mind been in their hands. They are exclusively engaged in making toddy and distilling arrack. Many of them are professional weavers, the Malabar mundu being a common kind of cloth made by them. The various industries connected with cocoanut cultivation are also successfully carried on by the Tiyas. For example, the manufacture of jaggery (crude sugar) is an industry in which a considerable number of the Tiyas are profitably engaged. The preparation of coir from cocoanut fibre is one of their hereditary occupations, and this is done almost wholly by their women at home. They are very skilful in the manufacture of coir matting and allied industries. Commercial pursuits are also common among them. Apart from their agricultural and industrial inclinations, the Tiyas give evidence of a literary taste, which is commendable in a people who are living under conditions which are anything but conducive to literary life. They have among them good Sanskrit scholars, whose contributions have enriched the Malayālam literature; physicians well versed in Hindu systems of medicine; and well-known astrologers, who are also clever mathematicians. In British Malabar, they have made considerable progress in education. In recent years, there has been gaining ground among the Tiyas a movement, which has for its object the social and material improvement of the community. Their leaders have very rightlygiven a prominent place to industry in their schemes of progress and reform. Organisations for the purpose of educating the members of the community on the importance of increased industrial efforts have been formed. The success which has attended the Industrial Exhibition conducted by the members of the community at Quilon, in 1905, has induced them to make it a permanent annual event. Some of their young men have been sent to Japan to study certain industries, and, on their return, they hope to resuscitate the dying local industries, and to enter into fresh fields of industry awaiting development. Factories for the manufacture of coir matting and allied articles have been established by the Tiyas in some parts of Travancore and Cochin.”In 1906, the foundation stone of a Tiya temple at Tellicherry was laid with great ceremony. In the following year, a very successful Industrial Exhibition was held at Cannanore under the auspices of the Sri Narayan Dharma Paripalana Yogam. Still more recently, it was resolved to collect subscriptions for the establishment of a hostel for the use of Tiya youths who come from other places to Tellicherry for educational purposes.Tiyōro.—The Tiyōros are described, in the Madras Census Report, 1901, as “Oriya fishermen, who also make lotus-leaf platters. They have four endogamous sections, viz., Torai, Ghodai, Artia, and Kulodondia.” It has been suggested that the caste name is a corruption of the Sanskrit tivara, a hunter. (SeeRisley, Tribes and Castes of Bengal, Tiyar.)Toda.—Quite recently, my friend Dr. W. H. Rivers, as the result of a prolonged stay on the Nīlgiris, has published32an exhaustive account of the sociology andreligion of this exceptionally interesting tribe, numbering, according to the latest census returns, 807 individuals, which inhabits the Nīlgiri plateau. I shall, therefore, content myself with recording the rambling notes made by myself during occasional visits to Ootacamund and Paikāra, supplemented by extracts from the book just referred to, and the writings of Harkness and other pioneers of the Nīlgiris.
Tiyans.Tiyans.It will not be worth while to attempt a description of the marriage ceremony of the Tiyans of North Malabar, because there is none, or next to none. There the Tiyans and all classes, including even the Muhammadan Māppillas, follow the rule of marumakkatāyam, or inheritance through females from uncle to nephew. The children have no right to their father’s property. Eitherparty may annul the marital union at will, without awarding any compensation; and, as its infraction is easy and simple, so is its institution. Nor is there any rigid inquiry as to the antecedents of either party. It is an affair of mutual arrangement, attended with little formality. Proceeding to the girl’s house, accompanied by a few friends, the intending husband takes with him a couple of cloths, one for the girl, and the other for her mother. In parts of North Malabar, the Tiyan women wear an ornament called chittu (ring) in a hole bored in the top of the helix of each ear. The holes are bored in childhood, but the chittu is not worn until the girl forms a marital union with a man. The chittus are made on the spot at the time, in the marriage pandal erected for the occasion, the girl’s uncle providing the gold. They are never removed during life, except in cases of dire distress. “To sell chittu” is equivalent to having become a pauper. It is supposed that, in olden days, the marriage ceremonies lasted over seven days, and were subsequently reduced to seven meals, or three and a half days, and then to one day. Now the bridegroom remains the first night at the bride’s house, and then takes her to his home. Before they leave, a cocoanut, the outer husk of which has been removed, is placed on a stool of pala wood, and one of the bridegroom’s party must smash it with his fist. Some of the more orthodox in North Malabar observe the formality of examining horoscopes, and a ceremony equivalent to the conjee-drinking ceremony which has been described, called achāra kaliāna, and the payment of kanam in the shape of forty-one fanams, instead of forty-two as in South Malabar. In connection with fanams it may be noted that the old gold fanam is reckoned as worth four annas, whereas five silver or velli fanams make a rupee. Everywherein rural Malabar, calculations are made in terms of velli fanams thus:—10 pice (1/12 of an anna) = 1 velli.5 vellis = 1 rupee.Bazaar men, and those who sell their small stock at the weekly markets all about the country, arrange their prices in vellis.When the death of a Tiyan is expected, all the relations draw near, and await the fateful moment. The person who is about to die is laid on the floor of the middle room, for it is inauspicious to die on a cot. We will suppose that the dying man is a parent and a landlord. Each of the sons and daughters gives him a little conjee water, just before he passes away. At the moment of death, all the women bawl out in lamentations, giving the alarm of death. The Cheruman serfs in the fields join in the chorus, and yell out an unintelligible formula of their own. Absent relations are all formally invited. From the houses of the son’s wife and daughter’s husband are sent quantities of jāk fruits, unripe plantains, and cocoanuts, as death gifts. One half of the husks of the cocoanuts is removed, and the other half left on the shell. After the cremation or burial, these articles are distributed among those present by the Tandān, who receives an extra share for his trouble. When life is extinct, the body is placed with the head to the south, and the thumbs and big toes are tied together. It is then taken out into the yard, washed, bathed in oil, dressed in a new cloth, and brought back to the middle room. A cocoanut is cut in two, and the two halves, with a lighted wick on each, are placed at the head and foot. The house-owner spreads a cotton cloth over the corpse, and all the relations, and friends, do the same. Any one who wishes to place a silk cloth on the corpse maydo so, but he must cover it with a cotton cloth. The body is then removed for burial or cremation, and placed near the grave or funeral pyre. It is the rural rule that elderly persons and karnavans of tarwads are cremated, and others buried. The barber, whose function it is to perform the purificatory rites, now removes, and retains as his perquisite, all the cloths, except the last three covering the corpse. As it is being borne away to the place of burial or cremation, water mixed with cow-dung is sprinkled behind it in the yard. The eldest son, who succeeds to the property and is responsible for the funeral ceremonies, then tears crosswise a piece of the cloth which has been placed over the corpse by the people of the house, and ties it round his forehead. He holds one end of the cloth while the barber holds the other, and tears off the piece. The barber then cuts three holes in the remainder of this cloth covering the body, over the mouth, navel, and pubes. A little water and rice are poured over a gold fanam through the slit over the mouth. All who observe the death pollution,i.e., sons, grandsons, nephews, younger brothers and cousins, offer water and rice in the same manner, and walk three times round the grave or pyre. The barber then breaks a pot of water over the grave. No other ceremonial is observed on this day, on which, and during the night, rice must not be eaten. If the body has been cremated, a watch is kept at the burning ground for five days by Pānans, who beat drums all night to scare away the evil spirits which haunt such spots. Early on the second day, all who are under pollution are shaved. The operation is attended with some ceremonial, and, before it is commenced, a lighted lamp, a measure of rice and paddy on a plantain leaf must be at hand. The paddy and rice are a perquisite of the barber. Those who have been shavedbathe, and then follows the crow-feeding ceremony. Rice is boiled in a bell-metal vessel over a hearth prepared with three young cocoanuts. The eldest son, who tore the cloth of succession from the corpse, makes the rice into two little balls, places them on a plantain leaf, and offers them to the spirit of the departed by pouring libations of water on them over a blade of karuka grass. Men and women who are under pollution then do the same. The rice balls are eaten by crows. This little ceremony is performed daily until the eleventh or thirteenth day, when the period of death pollution comes to an end. If the eleventh day happens to fall on a Tuesday or Friday, or on any inauspicious day, the period is extended to the thirteenth day. When the period of death pollution is partly in one month, and partly in another, another death in the house within the year is expected. Preceding the sanchayanam, which occupies the fifth day, there is the lamp-watching on the previous night. In the south-east corner of the middle room, a little paddy is heaped up, and on it is placed a bell-metal plate with an iron lamp having five or seven lighted wicks on it. Under the lamp is a little cow-dung, and close to it is a bunch of cocoanut flowers. The lamp must be kept burning until it is extinguished on the following day. In the case of the death of a male, his niece watches the lamp, and in that of a female her daughter, lying near it on a grass mat. The sanchayanam is the first stage in the removal of death pollution, and, until it is over, all who come to the house suffer from pollution, and cannot enter their own house or partake of any food without bathing previously. When the body has been cremated, the fragments of calcined bones are collected from the ashes, and carried in procession to the sea, or, if this is far away, into a river. The members ofthe family under pollution then rub their bodies all over with oil, and the barber sprinkles a mixture of cow’s milk over their heads, using a blade of karuka grass as a spout. They then bathe, and the eldest son alone observe māttu. The crow-feeding ceremony follows, and, when this is over, the three cocoanuts which were used as a hearth are thrown away. A large bell-metal vessel filled with water is now placed in the front yard before the door of the house. The barber carries the still burning lamp from the middle room, and sets it on the ground near the pot of water. The women who are under pollution come from the middle room, each carrying a lighted wick, walk thrice round the pot, and throw the wicks into the water. The woman who has watched the lamp puts four annas into the pot, and the others deposit a few pies therein. The eldest son now lights a wick from the iron lamp which is about to be extinguished, and with it lights a lamp in the middle room. The barber then dips the iron lamp in the water, and picks out the money as his perquisite. The water is poured on the roots of a cocoanut tree. The bell-metal vessel becomes the property of the woman who watched the lamp, but she cannot take it away until she leaves the house after the pula-kuli ceremony. When the lamp has been extinguished, a woman, hired for the occasion, is seated on a cocoanut leaf in the front yard. The Tandān pours oil on her head three times, and she receives a little betel and two annas. She rises, and leaves the place without turning back, taking the pollution with her. Betel is then distributed. Those who provided the death gifts on the day of the death must on this day bring with them a bag of rice, and about four rupees in money. They have also to give eight annas to the barber. A folded handkerchief is firstpresented to the barber, who formally returns it, and receives instead of it the eight annas. Before the people disperse, the day of the pula-kuli is settled. Pula-kuli, or washing away the pollution, is the final ceremony for putting off the unpleasant consequences of a death in a family. First of all, the members thereof rub themselves all over with oil, and are sprinkled by the barber with cow’s milk and gingelly oil. They then bathe. The barber outlines the figure of a man or woman, according to the sex of the deceased, with rice flour and turmeric powder, the head to the south, in the middle room of the house. The figure is covered with two plantain leaves, on each of which a little rice and paddy are heaped. Over all is spread a new cloth, with a basket containing three measures of paddy upon it. The eldest son (the heir) sits facing the south, and with a nāzhi measures out the paddy, which he casts to the south, east, and west—not the north. He repeats the performance, using the fingers of the left hand closed so as to form a cup as a measure. Then, closing the first and fourth fingers firmly with the thumb, using the left hand, he measures some paddy in the same manner with the two extended fingers. Rice is treated in the same way. A nāzhi of paddy, with a lighted wick over it, is then placed in a basket. The eldest son takes the nāzhi in his left hand, passes it behind his body, and, receiving it with his right hand, replaces it in the basket. The wick is extinguished by sprinkling it with water three times. At the head of the figure on the floor is placed a clean cloth—the washerman’s māttu. It is folded, and within the folds are three nāzhis of rice. On the top of it a cocoanut is placed. In the four corners a piece of charcoal, a little salt, a few chillies, and a gold fanam are tied. The eldest son, who is always theprotagonist in all the ceremonies after death, lifts the cloth with all its contents, places it on his head, and touches with it his forehead, ears, each side and loins, knees and toes. He does this three times. The plantain leaves are then removed from the figure. A little turmeric powder is taken from the outline, and rubbed on the forehead of the eldest son. He then bows thrice to the figure, crossing his legs and arms so that the right hand holds the left ear, and the left the right ear, and touches the ground with the elbow-joints. It is no joke to do this. All this time, the eldest son wears round his forehead the strip torn from the cloth which covered the corpse. There is nothing more to be done in the middle room for the present, and the eldest son goes out into the yard, and cooks the rice for the final feed to the crows. Three nāzhis of this rice must be pounded and prepared for cooking by the woman who watched the lamp on the fourth night after death. Having cooked the rice, the eldest son brings it into the middle room, and mixes it with some unrefined sugar, plantains and pappadams, making two balls, one large and one small. Each of these he places on a plantain leaf. Then some pūja is done to them, and offerings of rice are made over a gold fanam. The balls are given to the crows in the yard, or, in some cases, taken to the sea or a river, and cast into the water. When this course is adopted, various articles must be kept ready ere the return of the party. These comprise a new pot containing water, a branch of areca blossoms, mango leaves, a kindi containing a gold fanam or gold ring, a little salt and rice, each tied up in a piece of cloth, and a few chillies. The mouth of the pot is covered with a plantain leaf, and secured. There are also two stools, made of pala and mango wood. The eldest son sits on one of these, and placeshis feet on the other, so that he does not touch the ground. The water in the pot is sprinkled with mango leaves by the barber to the north, south, east and west, and on the head of the son. The remainder of the water is then poured over his head. The barber then sprinkles him with cocoanut water, this time using areca blossoms, and makes him sip a little thereof. The barber makes a hole in the plantain leaf, and picks out the contents. The eldest son bathes, and after the bath there is a presentation of gifts. The barber, sitting in the verandah beside the son, first gives to each person under pollution a little salt and raw rice, which they eat. He then gives them a little betel leaf and a small piece of areca nut, and receives in return a quarter of an anna. The eldest son chews the betel which he has received, and spits into a spittoon held by the barber, whose property it becomes. Then to the barber, who has been presented with a new mat to sit on and new cloth to wear before he seats himself in the verandah, are given an ear-ring such as is worn by Tiyan women, a silk cloth, a white cotton cloth, and a few annas. If the deceased has been cremated he is given six fanams, and, if buried, five fanams as the fee for his priestly offices. On an occasion of this kind, several barbers, male and female, turn up in the hope of receiving presents. All who help during the various stages of the ceremonial are treated in much the same way, but the senior barber alone receives the officiating fee. It is odd that the barbers of the four surrounding villages are entitled to receive gifts of new cloths and money. Those under death pollution are forbidden to eat fish or flesh, chew betel, or partake of jaggery. The restriction is removed on the pula-kuli day. The last act for their removal is as follows. The barber isrequired to eat some jaggery, and drink some conjee. After this, the eldest son, the Tandān, and a neighbour, sit on a mat spread in the middle of the house, and formally partake of conjee and jaggery. The pula-kuli is then over.It is a sacred duty to a deceased person who was one of importance, for example the head of a family, to have a silver image of him made, and arrange for it being deposited in some temple, where it will receive its share of pūja (worship), and offerings of food and water. The new-moon day of the months Karkitakam (July-August), Tulam (October-November), and Kumbham (February-March) is generally selected for doing this. The temples at Tirunelli in Wynād and Tirunavayi, which are among the oldest in Malabar, were generally the resting-places of these images, but now some of the well-to-do deposit them much further afield, even at Benares and Rāmēsvaram. A silver image is presented to the local Siva temple, where, for a consideration, pūja is done every new-moon day. On each of these days, mantrams are supposed to be repeated a thousand times. When the image has been the object of these mantrams sixteen thousand times, it is supposed to have become eligible for final deposit in a temple. It is this image which rests in the temple at Tirunavayi, or elsewhere.An annual srādh ceremony is performed for the sake of the spirit of the deceased, at which crows are fed in the manner already described, and relations are fed. On the night of this day, some sweetmeats or cakes, such as the deceased was fond of during life, are offered to the spirit. A lamp is placed on a stool, and lighted in the middle room of the house, with a kindi of water and a young cocoanut near it. The cakes or sweetmeatsare placed in front of the stool. Children sprinkle rice over it, and the door is shut for a quarter of an hour. The individual who feeds the crows should partake of only one meal, without fish or flesh, on the previous day. Another ceremony, which is necessary for the repose of the dead, is called badha-velichatu-variethal, or bringing out the spirit. It cannot be performed until at least a year after death, for during that period the spirit is in a sort of purgatory. After that, it may be invoked, and it will answer questions. The ceremony resembles the nelikala pregnancy ceremony. The performers are Pānans or washermen. Some little girls are seated in front of a booth in the yard. The celebrant of the rite sings, invoking the spirit of the deceased. Late at night, one of the girls becomes possessed by the spirit, and, it is said, talks and acts just like the deceased, calling the children, relations and friends by name, talking of the past, and giving commands for the future conduct of the living members of the family. After this, the spirit is severed from earthly trammels, and attains heavenly bliss.The wood used for the purpose of cremation is that of a mango tree, which must be cut down after the death. A little sandalwood and cuscus (grass) roots are sometimes added to the pyre. In these days, when the important and interesting features of ceremonial are fast disappearing, it is not surprising that dried cakes of cow-dung are superseding the mango wood.Among other ceremonies, there is one called kutti pūja, which is performed when a newly built house is taken charge of. Vastu Purusha is the name of the supreme being which, lying on its back with its head to the north-east and legs to the south-west, supports the earth. Or rather the earth is but a small portion of thisvast body. Forests are its tiny hairs, oceans its blood-vessels, and the wind its breath. In this body are fifty-three deities, who are liable to disturbance when the surface of the earth is dug, when trees are felled, foundations laid, and a house built. These angry beings must be propitiated, or there will be untimely deaths, poverty, and sickness among the inmates. The ceremony is performed in the following manner. A square with fifty-three columns is made with rice flour in the middle room of the house, and each column is filled with yellow, red, and black powder. A plantain leaf is placed over it, and a few measures of paddy are set on the top of the leaf. On this is placed another leaf, with various kinds of grain, plantains, cocoanuts, and jaggery on it. The carpenter, who is the architect and builder of the house, then performs pūja with flowers, incense and lights, and the troublesome imp-spirit Gulikan is propitiated with toddy and arrack, and a fowl which is decapitated for him. Then all the workmen—carpenters, masons, and coolies—walk thrice round the house, breaking cocoanuts on the walls and doors, and howling in order to drive away all evil spirits which may by chance be lurking about the place. After this, they are all fed until they cry out “We are satisfied, and want no more.” They are given cloths and other presents, and the chief feature of the ceremony takes place. This is the formal handing over of the house by the carpenter. He hands it over to a third person, and never directly to the owner. It is not always easy to find a third person who is willing to undertake the responsibility, and who is at the same time suitable for the Gulikan who is dispossessed of the house, and pursues him henceforth, following him who first receives charge of the house. He should be a man who brings luck, cheerful and contented, having afamily, and not labouring under any disorder or sickness of body. There is, or was a few years ago, an old Nāyar living not far from Calicut, who was much sought after to fulfil the functions of third person on these occasions, and all the houses he received prospered. The third person is generally a poor man, who is bribed with presents of cloths, money and rice, to undertake the job. He wears one of the new cloths during the ceremony. When the carpenter’s ceremonies have been completed, this man is taken to the middle room of the house, and made to stand facing the door, with each foot on a plantain leaf. Pieces of the thatch are tied to the four corners of his cloth. He shuts the door, opens it, and shuts it again. The carpenter calls from without, asking him whether he has taken charge of the house. He replies evasively “Have the carpenters and workmen received all their wages? If they have, I take charge of the house.” The carpenter does not answer the question, for, if he did so, the mischief would be transferred to him through the house-owner. So he says “I did not ask you about my wages. Have you taken charge of the house?” The man inside answers as before, adding “otherwise not.” The carpenter again says “I did not ask you about my wages. Answer me straight. Have you, or have you not taken charge of the house?” The man inside replies “I have taken charge of the house,” and opens the door. Taking in his hands the plantain leaves on which he stood, he runs away as fast as he can without looking back. This he must not do on any account. The people pelt him with plantains, and hoot at him as he runs, and water mingled with cow-dung is sprinkled in his path. After all this, cow’s milk is boiled with a little rice in the house, of which every one partakes, and the owner assumes charge of his house.In the pre-British days, a few of the well-to-do families of Tiyans lived in houses of the kind called nalapura (four houses), having an open quadrangle in the centre. But, for the most part, the Tiyans—slaves of the Nāyars and Nambūtiris—lived in a one-roomed thatched hut. Nowadays, the kala pura usually consists of two rooms, east and west.Toddy-drawing, and every thing connected with the manufacture and sale of arrack (country liquor) and unrefined sugar, form the orthodox occupation of the Tiyan. But members of the community are to be found in all classes of society, and in practically all professions and walks of life. It is interesting to find that the head of a Tiyan family in North Malabar bears the title Cherayi Panikar, conferred on the family in the old days by a former Zamorin. A title of this kind was given only to one specially proficient in arms. Even in those days there were Tiyan physicians, bone-setters, astrologers, diviners, and sorcerers.It is easy to identify the toddy-tapper by the indurated skin of the palms, fingers, inner side of the forearms, and the instep. The business of toddy-tapping involves expert climbing, while carrying a considerable paraphernalia, with no adventitious aid other than can be got out of a soft grummet of coir to keep the feet near together, while the hands, with the arms extended, grasp the palm tree. The profession is rarely adopted before the age of eighteen, but I have seen a man who said he began when he was twelve years old. It is very hard work. A tapper can work about fifteen trees, each of which he has to climb three times a day. In the northern districts of the Madras Presidency, among the Telugu population, the toddy-drawers use a ladder about eight or nine feet in length, which is placed against the tree,to avoid climbing a third or a fourth of it. While in the act of climbing up or down, they make use of a wide band, which is passed round the body at the small of the back, and round the tree. This band is easily fastened with a toggle and eye. The back is protected by a piece of thick soft leather. It gives great assistance in climbing, which it makes easy. All over the southernmost portion of the peninsula, among the Shānāns and Tiyans, the ladder and waist-band are unknown. They climb up and down with their hands and arms, using only the grummet on the feet. The Tiyan toddy-tapper’s equipment consists of a short-handled hatchet, about seven inches square, of thin iron, sheathed in a wooden case, and fastened to a waist-belt composed of several strings of coir yarn, to which is hung a small pot of gummy substance obtained by bruising the leaves of the aichil plant. A vessel holding a couple of gallons, made out of the spathe of the areca palm, is used for bringing down the toddy. Tucked into the waist-belt is a bone loaded with lead at either end, which is used for tapping the palm to bring out the juice. A man once refused to sell at any price one of these bones—the femur of a sāmbar (Cervus unicolor), which had such virtue that, according to its owner, it would fetch palm juice out of any tree. The garb of the tapper at work consists of a short cloth round the loins, and (always during the rains, and often at other times) a head-covering somewhat pointed in shape, made of the leaves of the cocoanut palm placed together as in a clinker-built boat, or of a rounded shape, made out of the spathe of the areca palm. The toddy-tapper should go through the show of reverence by touching the cocoanut tree with the right hand, and then applying his hand to the forehead, every time he prepares to climb a tree.In connection with toddy-drawing, the following note occurs in the Gazetteer of Malabar. “The tapper and the toddy shopkeeper are generally partners, the former renting the trees, paying the tree-tax, and selling the toddy at fixed prices to the latter. Sometimes the shopkeeper pays both rent and tax, and the tapper is his servant paid by the bottle. The trees are rented half yearly, and the rent varies between Re. 1 and Re. 1–8–0 per tree. They are fit for tapping as soon as they come into bearing, but four years later and in the succeeding decade are most productive. They are seldom tapped for more than six months in the year, and the process, though it shortens the life of the tree, improves the yield of nuts in the rest of the year. The tapper’s outfit is neither costly nor elaborate. A knife in a wooden case, a bone weighted with lead (the leg bone of a sambhur for choice), a few pots, and two small rings of rope with which to climb complete the tale. Operations begin when the spathe is still enclosed by its sheath. Once a day the spathe is gently bruised on either side with the bone, and on the third and following days a thin slice is cut off the end twice a day. On the fifteenth day drawing begins, and the bruising ceases. Sheath and spathe are swathed for the greater part of their length in a thick covering of leaves or fibre; the ends are still cut off twice or three times a day, but, after each operation, are smeared with a paste made of leaves and water with the object, it is said, of keeping the sap from oozing through the wound and rotting the spathe. The leaves used for this purpose are those of the éechal or vetti tree, which are said to be one and the same (Aporosa Lindleyana); but in British Cochin, where the tree does not grow, backwater mud is utilised. Round the space between the end of the sheath and thethick covering of leaves a single leaf is bound, and through this the sap bleeds into a pot fastened below. The pot is emptied once a day in the morning. The yield of sap varies with the quality of the tree and the season of the year. In the hot months the trees give on an average about a bottle a day, in the monsoon and succeeding months as much as three bottles. In the gardens along the backwaters, south of Chēttuvāyi, Messrs. Parry & Co. consider that in a good year they should get a daily average of three bottles or half a gallon of toddy per tree. A bottle of toddy sells for three or four pies.”Tiya females at a coir factory.Tiya females at a coir factory.In connection with the coir industry, it is noted, in the Gazetteer of Malabar, that “the husks of the cocoanuts are buried in pits as near as possible to the waterline of rivers, backwaters and creeks, and are left to soak for six months, a year, or even eighteen months—the longer the better. The colour of the yarn, and thereby the quality, depends very much on the water in which the husks are steeped. It should be running water, and, if possible, fresh water. If the water be salt, the yarn may at first be almost white, but in a damp climate it soon becomes discoloured and blotchy. As soon as the husks are taken out of the pits, the fibre is beaten out with short sticks by Tiyattis (Tiyan females) and women of the Vēttuvan caste. It is dried in the sun for twelve hours, and is then ready for sale to native merchants at Calicut and Cochin, who in their turn deal with the European firms. The fibre is twisted into yarn by Tiyattis and other women, and in that form the greater part of the coir made in Malabar is exported from Cochin to all parts of the world, but chiefly to the United Kingdom and Germany.”It has been said that “in North Malabar the preparation of coir is a regular cottage industry of the mosttypical kind. Throughout the year, wherever one goes, one hears the noise of the women hammering out the fibre, and sees them taking, in the evening, that part of it which they have rolled into yarn to the nearest little wayside shop, to be exchanged for salt, chillies, paddy, etc. But, in the north of the district, nothing of the kind goes on, and the coir is commonly used as fuel.”It has been already stated that marumakkatāyam, or inheritance through nephews, is the invariable rule in North Malabar, being followed even by the Muhammadan Māppillas. In South Malabar, where the Tiyans do not observe marumakkatāyam, the property devolves through the sons. All sons share alike. Daughters have no share. The practice of polyandry, which still exists in Malabar among the Tiyans (and other classes), and which was probably once general, tends to prevent dispersion of the family property. Although theoretically all sons share the property of their father, it is the eldest son who succeeds to possession and management of the tarwad property. The others are entitled to maintenance only, so long as they remain in the same tarwad house. It is the same among the Izhuvans.Beef, as in the case of all Hindus, is forbidden as an article of diet. The staple food is rice with fish curry. The common beverage is conjee, but this is being supplanted by tea, coffee, lemonade, and soda-water.A loin-cloth, which should not reach to the knees, with a Madras handkerchief on the shoulders, is the orthodox dress of the males, and a double loin-cloth that of females. Women were not allowed to wear anything above the waist, except when under death pollution. Any colour might be worn, but white and blue are most common. A ring, composed of hollow gold beads, calledmani-kathila, is the proper ornament for a Tiyan woman’s ear. Twenty or thirty, with a pendant in the middle, might be worn. Gold or silver bracelets could be worn. Hollow silver bracelets were worn by girls until the birth of their first child. But times have changed, and nowadays Tiyan women wear the ornaments which, strictly speaking, appertain to Nāyar and Brāhman women. Their mode of tying the hair, and even their dress, which is inclined to follow the fashion of the Christians, has changed. In olden days, a Tiyan woman could wear an ornament appropriate for a Nāyar on a special occasion, but only with the permission of the Nāyar landlord, obtained through the Tandān, on payment of a fee.In North Malabar a good round oath is upon Perumāl Iswaran, the God of the shrine at Kōtiyūr. In South Malabar it is common to swear by Kodungallūr Bhagavati, or by Guruvayūr Appan, local deities.The Tandān is the principal person in the tara, to decide all caste disputes. In South Malabar, he is, as a rule, appointed by the senior Rāni of the Zamorin. A fee of anything up to 101 fanams (Rs. 25–4–0) must be paid to this lady, when she appoints a Tandān. When there is a problem of any special difficulty, it is referred to her for decision. In territories other than those within the power of the Zamorin, the local Rāja appoints the Tandān, and gives the final decision in special cases. As we have seen, the Tiyan is always to some extent subordinate to a Nāyar overlord, but he is not bound to any particular one. He can go where he likes, and reside anywhere, and is not bound to any particular chief, as is the Nāyar. It is noted by General E. F. Burton,26in connection with bygone days, that“such was the insolent pride of caste that the next (and very respectable) class of Hindus, the Teers, were not allowed to come near the Nairs, under penalty of being cut down by the sword, always naked and ready.”In connection with the religion of the Tiyans, I may commence with an old tradition, which is no doubt from a Brāhmanic source. Once upon a time there were seven heavenly damsels, who used to bathe every day before dawn in a lake situated in a forest. Siva found this out, and appeared as a fire on the bank, at which the girls warmed themselves. Having thus lured them, the God made all of them mothers. Seven beautiful boys were born, and Siva presented them to Parvati, who treated them as if they were her own sons. They were taken to mount Kailāsa, and employed in preparing toddy for the mysterious and wonderful Sakti worship. Daily they brought the toddy at the moment when it was required for the golden pot. Parvati embraced the boys all at once, and they became one. On a certain day, this boy sent the sacred toddy in charge of a Brāhman, who became curious to know the virtues of the mysterious liquid. As he rested on a river bank thinking about it, he drank a little, and filled the vessel up with water. Then he reached Kailāsa too late for the daily worship. Siva was angry, and ordered the Saunika boy (Parvati’s name for him) to be brought before him. But the boy had been told what had happened, and cut off the head of the Brāhman, who had confessed to him. Seeing the boy coming along carrying a Brāhman’s head, Siva was astonished, and commanded him to approach nearer. The boy explained that it was not a heinous crime to cut off the head of one who had prevented the Sakti worship. Siva said that the killing of a Brāhman was the worst of crimes, and put the perpetrator out of caste. He wouldnot listen to the boy, who replied that whoever prevented Sakti worship was a Chandāla, and condemned him. The boy asked for death at Siva’s hands. The request pleased the God, who forgave him. The boy had to remain out of caste, but was initiated into the mysteries of Sakti worship as the surest means of salvation, and to him was given the exclusive privilege of performing Sakti worship with liquor. He was commanded to follow, and imitate the Brāhmans in everything, except in the matter of repeating the sacred mantrams. By tantrams (signs with the hands) he eventually obtained the merit of making pūja with mantrams. He was the first Tiyan.It is pretty safe to say that all the ideas of the Tiyans connected with pure Hinduism—the Hinduism of the Vēdas—and of tradition, of which we see very little in Southern India, and which in Malabar is more perverted in confused ideas than perhaps elsewhere, those relating to re-birth, karma, pilgrimages to Benares and distant temples are borrowed from the Brāhmans. In the ceremonies which have been described, notably in those connected with marriage and death, we have seen the expression of many Hindu ideas. Not so is all that relates to offerings to the dead. That is the common property of all the children of men.A main feature in the religion of the Tiyan is that it is largely connected with Sakti worship. Some Brāhmans indulge therein, but they are unable, like the Tiyans, to use arrack in connection with it, and are obliged to use, instead of this requisite, milk or honey. Siva, not exactly a Vēdic entity, and Sakti, are supposed to be the two primordial and eternal principles in nature. Sakti is, perhaps, more properly the vital energy, and Sakti worship the worship of the life principle in nature. We are not considering the abstract meaning of the termSakti; nor are we now thinking of the Siva of Monier Williams or Max Müller. We are in Malabar, where the Hinduism of the Vēdas is in almost hopeless confusion, and mingled with animism and nearly every other kind of primitive religious idea. It is not therefore at all an easy task to represent in words anything like a rational conception of what the religion of the Tiyan really is. The poor and ignorant follow, in a blind ignorant way, Hinduism as they know it and feel it. Their Hinduism is very largely imbued with the lower cult, which, with a tinge of Hinduism, varied in extent here and there, is really the religion of the people at large all over Southern India. The Tiyans have a large share of it. To the actions of evil and other spirits are attributable most, if not all of the ills and joys of life. The higher Hinduism is far above them. Nevertheless, we find among them the worship of the obscure and mysterious Sakti, which, unfortunately, is practiced in secret. Nobody seems to be in the least proud of having anything to do with it. In fact, they are rather ashamed to say anything about it. Those who, so to speak, go in for it are obliged to undergo preliminary purificatory ceremonies, before the great mystery can be communicated to them. The mantram, which is whispered by the guru (religious preceptor) in the ear of the devotee is said to be “Brahma aham, Vishnu aham, Bhairavu aham” (I am Brahma, I am Vishnu, I am Bhairavan). It is believed that each individual is a spark of the divinity. Having in him the potentiality of the Supreme Being, he can develop, and attain godhood. There is no distinction of caste in Sakti worship. The devotees may belong to the highest or to the lowest castes, though I doubt very much whether the Nambūtiri Brāhmans indulge in it.The novices, of whatever caste, eat and drink together during the period of pūja. Men and women participate in the secret rites. A solemn oath is taken that the mystery of Sakti will not be revealed, except with the permission of the guru, or on the death-bed. The spirit of the goddess (for Sakti is thought of as the female principle) must be withdrawn from the body of the Sakti worshipper when he is at the point of death. A lamp is lighted beside him. A few leaves of the tulsi plant (Ocimum sanctum), a little rice, and a lighted wick are given to the dying man. Holding these things, he makes three passes over his body from head to foot, and, as it were, transfers the spirit to the next man, at the same time communicating his wishes about continuing the worship, and so on. When a man dies before this separation or transfer has been accomplished, a Brāhman must be called in, who, with a silver image representing the deceased, makes symbolic transference of the Sakti spirit. It must be done somehow, or the soul of the deceased cannot attain salvation. It is said that, like many other things in this land, Sakti worship has undergone degeneration, that such lofty ideas and feelings as may have once pervaded it have more or less disappeared, and that the residue is not very edifying. Be this as it may, in every tara there is a Bhagavati temple for Tiyans, where Tiyans officiate as priests. The Komaram (oracle) of the Bhagavati temple is clothed in red, and embellished with red sandal paste mixed with turmeric. Bhagavati is always associated with various jungle spirits or gods, whose Komarams always wear black. There is no daily worship in Tiyan temples, with the exception of a few in the neighbourhood of Cannanore. But there is an annual celebration of pūja during the mannalam (forty day) period, commencing on the first of the monthVrischikam (15th November). Lamps are lighted, and worship is begun on this day, and continued for forty days. At its conclusion, the jungle gods retire to the jungle until the next year. A death in the family of a Komaram involves, I believe, some postponement of the rites. The period is supposed to be first part of the functional activity of the earth, which ends somewhere about the 21st of June. It is during this period that Sakti worship is carried on.The temple of Subramania at Palni in the Madura district is a favourite objective for Tiyan pilgrims. The subject of pilgrimages to this temple has been touched on in my note on the Nāyars (seeNāyar). The Bhagavati temple at Kodungallūr in Cochin territory on the coast is another favourite place of pilgrimage among the Tiyans. All classes of people, with the exception of Brāhmans, undertake this pilgrimage. Everyone under a vow, proceeding to the festival, which takes place in February or March, carries with him a cock, which is beheaded at the shrine. Under the Perumāls, pilgrimage to Kodungallūr was somewhat compulsory. This temple was a fruitful source of revenue to the State, for not only the Tiyans, but the fisherman and artisan castes had their own temple in every tara in the land, and the Mūppan—the Komaram—of each temple was under an obligation to contribute yearly gifts to the temple at Kodungallūr. Rent for the temple lands was set at a nominal figure—a mere pepper-corn rent as acknowledgment of sovereign right. Rent might not be paid in times of trouble, but the gifts eked out of superstition were unfailing. It is not surprising, therefore, that learning and advancement among the inferior castes did not receive much encouragement from the rulers of those days.The temple of Kotiyūr in North Malabar is also a shrine to which Tiyans make pilgrimage. Indeed, it may be said that they follow Hinduism generally in rather a low form, and that Sakti worship is perhaps more peculiarly theirs than others’, owing to their being able to use arrack, a product of the palm, and therefore of their own particular métier. The highest merit in Sakti can be reached only through arrack. The Sakti goddess, Bhagavati, the Tiyans look upon as their own guardian spirit.As instancing the mixture and confusion of religious ideas in Malabar, it may be mentioned that Māppillas have been known to indulge in Sakti worship, and Tiyans to have made vows, and given offerings at Māppilla mosques and Christian churches. Vows to the well-known mosque at Mambram are made by people of almost every caste. It is not uncommon to present the first fruit of a jāk tree, or the milk of a cow when it brings forth its first calf, to the local Tangal or Māppilla priest.In many, perhaps in most Tiyan houses, offerings are made annually to a bygone personage named Kunnath Nāyar, and to his friend and disciple Kunhi Rāyan, a Māppilla. It is probable that they excelled in witchcraft and magic, but, according to the story, the Nāyar worshipped the kite until he obtained command and control over all the snakes in the land. The offerings are made in order to prevent accidents from snakes. The snake god will also give children to the family, and promote domestic prosperity. Men without offspring worship him. Leprosy and the death of a child are believed to be the consequence of killing a snake. There are Māppilla devotees of Kunnath Nāyar and Kunhi Rāyan, who exhibit snakes in a box, and collect alms. There is a snake mosque near Manarghāt,at the foot of the Nīlgiri hills, which has its annual festival. The alms are collected ostensibly for this mosque.An interesting story, which is the legendary account of the exodus of the artisans from Malabar, and their return with the Tiyans, is narrated by the Pānans. There were, in olden times, five recognised classes, which includes the Āsāris (carpenters), Musāris (workers in bell-metal), Thattāns (goldsmiths), and Perin-Kollans (blacksmiths). The fifth class is unknown. When an individual of the artisan classes dies, the Pānan of the tara must bring a death gift to the house, which consists of cocoanuts and jāk fruits or plantains. The Pānan places the gift in the yard and repeats a long formula, which he has learnt by heart. It is very likely that he knows little or nothing of its meaning. But he reels it off, and at its conclusion the gifts are accepted. The same formula is also always repeated among the carpenters, goldsmiths, and blacksmiths during wedding and tāli-tying ceremonies. It relates how the artisans deserted the land of Chēraman Perumāl, and sought an asylum in the country of the Izhuvans with the island king, and how the Perumāl sent the Pānan to bring them back. Every one knows this old story, and believes it firmly. It must be learnt by heart, and the Pānan gives it in the yard when a member of the artisan classes dies. The story is to the following effect. During the four Yugams, Kreta, Treta, Dwapara, and Kāli, many kings reigned over the earth. Parasu Rāman destroyed the Kshatriya kings on twenty-one occasions, and was obliged to make atonement in expiatory ceremonies. He worshipped Varuna, the ocean god, and recovered from the sea a hundred and sixty kāthams of land, consisting of Kōlanād (?), Vēnād (Travancore), Kanya Kumāri (Cape Comorin), Chēranād,and Malayālam up to Changala Vazhi beyond the Anaimalai hills. Chēraman Perūmāl was the ruler of this land, in which were the four castes. His capital was at Tiruvanja Kolam. One day, Veluthēdan27Chiraman was washing the Perumāl’s cloths in a tank. He beat the cloths on a stone which was flat on the ground, and held one of the cloths in his hand. A girl of the carpenter caste, Ayyesvari by name, was just then going to the tank to bathe after her monthly period. She called out “Ho! Kammal.28That is not the way to wash cloths. Put a small stone under one end of your washing stone, so as to make it slope a little. Then hold both ends of the cloth in your hand, and beat the middle of the cloth on the stone.” The Veluthēdan did so, and found that he washed better, and the cloths were whiter. The Perumāl asked him “Were you not washing the cloths before? Who washed them to-day?”To which the Veluthēdan replied “Oh! Tamburān (chief or lord), a carpenter girl instructed your slave to-day how to wash cloths properly. May Perumāl be pleased to order the girl to be given to your slave as his wife.” Perumāl then said “To whatever caste she may belong, you may take her by force, and will not lose your caste.” Having received the king’s permission, Veluthēdan Chiraman concealed himself near the carpenter’s house, and, when the girl opened the door to sweep the yard at dawn, he seized her, and carried her off to his house. Carpenter Sankaran of Tiruvanja Kalam went to the Perumāl, and complained that Veluthēdan Kammal had carried away his daughter, and disgraced him. He asked the Perumāl whether he would give him an armed guard to rescue her. To which the Perumāl replied “Iwill not help either party with armed men. You must fight it out among yourselves.” Then the five classes of artisans consulted one another, and made common cause. The Pānans, Perin Malayans, and Chēn (red) Koravans joined the artisans. The Ven Thachāns, Vēlans, Paravans, Vēttuvans, Kanisan Panikars, and the Pāndi Pulluvans of Vellālanād joined the other side. There was war for twelve years. In the end, the artisans were defeated. They said among themselves “We have been defeated by the fourteenth caste of Veluthēdan Nāyar, who carried away our daughter. Let us leave this country.” So 7,764 families, with the women and children, tied up their mats, and left Chēramān Perumāl’s country, and went to Izhuva land, which was beyond it. They went before the Izhuva king (island king), and told him their story. Now Chēramān Perumāl used to be shaved every fifteen days. When the barber (Velakathalavan) was sent for, he came without his knife (razor), as his wife had buried it. He said “Oh! Tamburan, have mercy on your slave. Your slave’s knife was given to the blacksmith to be mended, and he took it away with him. He gave me this piece of iron, saying “If you want the knife made ready for use, you must come to the Izhuva land for it, and we will mend it on our return.” So Perumāl had to go without shaving, and his hair grew like a Rishi’s. As there were neither carpenters nor smiths to make implements, agriculture was almost at a standstill; and, as there were no goldsmiths, the tāli-tying ceremonies could not be performed. Nor could the rice-giving ceremony be done, for want of the “neck-rings.” Then Chēramān Perumāl obtained advice, and resolved to send the Mannān (washerman of the Tiyans), who was included in the fourteenth caste, and the Pānan, who belonged to theeleventh caste. The Perumāl gave to each of them a thousand fanams, and told them to go to the Izhuva country, and bring back the Kammālans (artisans). They wandered over various countries, stopping wherever they found a house. The Pānan, being clever, was able to live by his wits, and spent no money of his own. The Mannān, on the contrary, spent all his money. They passed Ramapūri, and reached Trichivampūri. Then the Mannān asked the Pānan for a loan, which was refused. On Friday at noon, the Mannān left the Pānan, saying “The Pānan is no companion for the Mannān.” He returned to the Perumāl and reported his failure, and the Pānan’s refusal to lend him money. The Pānan went on, crossing rivers, canals, and ferries, and at last reached the Izhuva king’s country. He entered the reception hall. At that moment, the king’s goldsmith, who had just finished making a golden crown for him, had put it on his own head, to test its suitability for wearing. The Pānan thought he was the king, and made obeisance to him. The Kammālans recognised him. He discovered his mistake too late, for he had addressed the goldsmith as Tamburan. So, to this day, the Pānans, when addressing goldsmiths, say Tamburan. The Pānan told the Kammālans of his mission, but they refused to return unless full reparation was made for the abduction of the carpenter girl, and certain social disabilities were removed. The 7,764 families of Kammālans asked the Izhuva king his advice, and he said that they should not go away. So the Kammālans sent the Pānan back, and gave him the following presents, in order to demonstrate to the Perumāl that they were in comfortable circumstances:—Gold valam-piri (a sort of string worn over the right shoulder);Silver edam-piri (a similar sort of string worn on the left shoulder);Gold netti-pattam (to be tied on the forehead);Gold bracelet;Gold ornament for the hair.The Kammālans sent word to the Perumāl that they would not return, unless they were given a girl in place of the carpenter’s daughter, who had been abducted, and certain privileges were granted to them. At the same time, they promised the Pānan that they would share their privileges with him, if he was successful. So the Pānan returned, and appeared before the Perumāl, who asked him where the Kammālans were. The Pānan removed his gold cap, and put it under his arm, and replied that they were prosperous, and not anxious to return. Saying so, he placed before the Perumāl the rich presents given by the Kammālans, and told the king that they would not return, unless they were given a girl and certain concessions. The Perumāl told the Pānan to go back, and invite the Kammālans to return on their own terms. He said they would catch the first girl they met on the way to his palace, and all their demands were granted. The Pānan arrived again in the Izhuva country, and told the Kammālans what the Perumāl had said. They went to the Izhuva king, and obtained his permission to return to their own country. Then they caught an Izhuva boy, and confined him. The king asked them why they did so. They replied that they had lived for twelve years29as his subjects, and would never recognise any other king, so they wanted the Izhuva boy to represent him. The king consented. When they started, the boy began to cry.A Nasrāni,30by name Thomma (Thomas), was taken to accompany and protect the boy. The Kammālans travelled to their own country, and appeared before Chēramān Perumāl. On the way, they found a girl of the Variar caste plucking flowers, and caught her by the hand. All the five classes claimed her. At last it was resolved to unite her with the Izhuva boy, their Tandān, who represented their king, and treat her as their sister. Chēramān Perumāl confirmed his promise, and granted the following privileges to the Kammālans:—1. To make ceilings for their houses.2. To make upstairs houses to live in.3. To put up single staircases, consisting of one pole, in which notches are cut, or pegs are stuck alternately, for the feet.4. To have a gate-house.5. To perform the tāli-tying ceremonies of their girls in a booth having four posts or supports; to place within it, on a stool, a looking-glass with a handle, and the Rāmayana; and to place a silk cloth on the girl’s head.6. To do arpu at the conclusion of the tāli-tying ceremony (Vel! Arpu! is yelled out by the boys).7. To cook rice in copper vessels on occasions of marriage and other ceremonies, and to serve sugar and pappadams at their feasts.8. To hold the umbrella and taza (a sort of umbrella), which are carried in front of processions.9. To clap hands, and dance.10. To keep milch-cows for their own use.Permission was further granted for the Kammālans to wear the following ornaments.1. Netti-pattam, worn on the forehead during the tāli-tying ceremony.2. Ananthovi, a ear ornament named after Anandan, the endless, the serpent on which Vishnu reposes. The serpent is sometimes represented with its tail in its mouth, forming a circle, an endless figure. Ananthovi is the central pendant of the ear-ring worn by Tiyan women among their kathila (ordinary gold ear-rings). It resembles a serpent in form. It is worn by men of the Tiyan and artisan castes on special occasions.3. Waist zone or girdle.4. Bracelets.5. Anklet with two knobs, formed of two pieces screwed together.6. Puli-mothiram, or tiger’s claws mounted in gold, worn by children.7. Podippu, a knot of cotton-thread at the end of the string on which coins are hung as ornaments.8. Kalanchi, a gold knob above the podippu, which represents a flower.9. Necklace.10. Edakam and madkam-tāli, neck ornaments, in one of which are set twenty-one stones.11. Cotton thread above the gold thread on the neck.The Perumāl conferred like privileges upon the family (Tiruvarankath) of the Pānan who brought back the Kammālans. He wore all his ornaments, and made his obeisance to the Perumāl. He had, however, taken off his gold cap. The Perumāl said “What you have removed, let it be removed.” So he lost the privilege of wearing a gold cap. The Perumāl blessed the Kammālans, and they returned to their villages. They made a separate house for the Izhuva boy and the Variargirl, and maintained them. The Izhuva boy, who was the first Tiyan to come to Malabar, brought with him the cocoanut, and retained the right to cultivate and use it. To this day, the people of the serf castes—Cherumans, Kanakans, and the like—use the word Varian when addressing Tiyans, in reference to their descent from the Variar girl.The orthodox number of classes of Kammālans is five. But the artisans do not admit the workers in leather as of their guild, and say there are only four classes. According to them, the fifth class was composed of the copper-smiths, who did not return to Malabar with the others, but remained in Izhuva land. Nevertheless, they always speak of themselves as the Aiyen kudi or five-house Kammālans.There is a variant of the legend of the exodus, told by the Āsāris (carpenters), which is worth narrating. Their version of the story is repeated among themselves, and not by the Pānan, at every marriage and tāli-tying ceremony. They identify the village of the Perumāl’s washerman as Kanipayyūr. This is the name of a Nambūtiri’s illam in the Ponāni tāluk of Malabar. The Nambūtiri is, it may be mentioned, considered to be the highest extant authority in architecture. Disputed points relating to this subject are referred to him, and his decision is final, and accepted by all carpenters and house-builders. The washerman’s stone is said to have been lying flat in the water. The girl Ayyesvari was also of Kanipayyūr, and was carried off as in the former story. But there was no request for an armed guard to rescue her. The Perumāl was, instead, asked to make the washerman marry her, and thus avoid disgrace. He consented to do so, and all the 7,764 families of the five classes of Kammālans assembled for the wedding. Animmense booth, supported on granite pillars, was erected. The washerman and his party were fed sumptuously. But the booth had been so constructed that it could be made to collapse instantaneously. So the Kammālans went quietly outside, and, at a given signal, the booth collapsed, and crushed to death the washerman and his friends. After this, the Kammālans fled, and remained one year, eight months and eleven days in the Izhuva country. Negotiations were carried on through the Izhuva king, and the Kammālans returned under his guarantee that their demands would be complied with. The Izhuva king sent his own men and the Nasrāni to the capital of the Perumāl. The story of the exodus and the return was inscribed on granite stone with solemn rites, and in the presence of witnesses. This was buried at the northern gate of the Tiruvanchakulam temple on Friday, the eighth of the month of Kanni. It was resolved that, in any case of doubt, the stone should be unearthed. And it was only after all this had been done that the Izhuva king’s envoy returned to him. Then the Kammālans came back to Malabar. According to the carpenters, the copper-smiths did not return. They say that eighteen families of Āsāris remained behind. Some of these returned long afterwards, but they were not allowed to rejoin the caste. They are known as Puzhi Tachan, or sand carpenters, and Patinettanmar, or the eighteen people. There are four families of this class now living at or near Parpangadi. They are carpenters, but the Āsāris treat them as outcastes.There is yet another variant of the story of the exodus, which is obviously of recent manufacture, for a Pattar Brāhman is brought in, and gives cunning advice. We know that the Pattars are comparatively new comers in Malabar.The Tiyans have recently been summed up as follows.31“The Tiyas have always been characterised by their persevering and enterprising habits. A large percentage of them are engaged in various agricultural pursuits, and some of the most profitable industries of Malabar have from time out of mind been in their hands. They are exclusively engaged in making toddy and distilling arrack. Many of them are professional weavers, the Malabar mundu being a common kind of cloth made by them. The various industries connected with cocoanut cultivation are also successfully carried on by the Tiyas. For example, the manufacture of jaggery (crude sugar) is an industry in which a considerable number of the Tiyas are profitably engaged. The preparation of coir from cocoanut fibre is one of their hereditary occupations, and this is done almost wholly by their women at home. They are very skilful in the manufacture of coir matting and allied industries. Commercial pursuits are also common among them. Apart from their agricultural and industrial inclinations, the Tiyas give evidence of a literary taste, which is commendable in a people who are living under conditions which are anything but conducive to literary life. They have among them good Sanskrit scholars, whose contributions have enriched the Malayālam literature; physicians well versed in Hindu systems of medicine; and well-known astrologers, who are also clever mathematicians. In British Malabar, they have made considerable progress in education. In recent years, there has been gaining ground among the Tiyas a movement, which has for its object the social and material improvement of the community. Their leaders have very rightlygiven a prominent place to industry in their schemes of progress and reform. Organisations for the purpose of educating the members of the community on the importance of increased industrial efforts have been formed. The success which has attended the Industrial Exhibition conducted by the members of the community at Quilon, in 1905, has induced them to make it a permanent annual event. Some of their young men have been sent to Japan to study certain industries, and, on their return, they hope to resuscitate the dying local industries, and to enter into fresh fields of industry awaiting development. Factories for the manufacture of coir matting and allied articles have been established by the Tiyas in some parts of Travancore and Cochin.”In 1906, the foundation stone of a Tiya temple at Tellicherry was laid with great ceremony. In the following year, a very successful Industrial Exhibition was held at Cannanore under the auspices of the Sri Narayan Dharma Paripalana Yogam. Still more recently, it was resolved to collect subscriptions for the establishment of a hostel for the use of Tiya youths who come from other places to Tellicherry for educational purposes.Tiyōro.—The Tiyōros are described, in the Madras Census Report, 1901, as “Oriya fishermen, who also make lotus-leaf platters. They have four endogamous sections, viz., Torai, Ghodai, Artia, and Kulodondia.” It has been suggested that the caste name is a corruption of the Sanskrit tivara, a hunter. (SeeRisley, Tribes and Castes of Bengal, Tiyar.)Toda.—Quite recently, my friend Dr. W. H. Rivers, as the result of a prolonged stay on the Nīlgiris, has published32an exhaustive account of the sociology andreligion of this exceptionally interesting tribe, numbering, according to the latest census returns, 807 individuals, which inhabits the Nīlgiri plateau. I shall, therefore, content myself with recording the rambling notes made by myself during occasional visits to Ootacamund and Paikāra, supplemented by extracts from the book just referred to, and the writings of Harkness and other pioneers of the Nīlgiris.
Tiyans.Tiyans.
Tiyans.
It will not be worth while to attempt a description of the marriage ceremony of the Tiyans of North Malabar, because there is none, or next to none. There the Tiyans and all classes, including even the Muhammadan Māppillas, follow the rule of marumakkatāyam, or inheritance through females from uncle to nephew. The children have no right to their father’s property. Eitherparty may annul the marital union at will, without awarding any compensation; and, as its infraction is easy and simple, so is its institution. Nor is there any rigid inquiry as to the antecedents of either party. It is an affair of mutual arrangement, attended with little formality. Proceeding to the girl’s house, accompanied by a few friends, the intending husband takes with him a couple of cloths, one for the girl, and the other for her mother. In parts of North Malabar, the Tiyan women wear an ornament called chittu (ring) in a hole bored in the top of the helix of each ear. The holes are bored in childhood, but the chittu is not worn until the girl forms a marital union with a man. The chittus are made on the spot at the time, in the marriage pandal erected for the occasion, the girl’s uncle providing the gold. They are never removed during life, except in cases of dire distress. “To sell chittu” is equivalent to having become a pauper. It is supposed that, in olden days, the marriage ceremonies lasted over seven days, and were subsequently reduced to seven meals, or three and a half days, and then to one day. Now the bridegroom remains the first night at the bride’s house, and then takes her to his home. Before they leave, a cocoanut, the outer husk of which has been removed, is placed on a stool of pala wood, and one of the bridegroom’s party must smash it with his fist. Some of the more orthodox in North Malabar observe the formality of examining horoscopes, and a ceremony equivalent to the conjee-drinking ceremony which has been described, called achāra kaliāna, and the payment of kanam in the shape of forty-one fanams, instead of forty-two as in South Malabar. In connection with fanams it may be noted that the old gold fanam is reckoned as worth four annas, whereas five silver or velli fanams make a rupee. Everywherein rural Malabar, calculations are made in terms of velli fanams thus:—
Bazaar men, and those who sell their small stock at the weekly markets all about the country, arrange their prices in vellis.
When the death of a Tiyan is expected, all the relations draw near, and await the fateful moment. The person who is about to die is laid on the floor of the middle room, for it is inauspicious to die on a cot. We will suppose that the dying man is a parent and a landlord. Each of the sons and daughters gives him a little conjee water, just before he passes away. At the moment of death, all the women bawl out in lamentations, giving the alarm of death. The Cheruman serfs in the fields join in the chorus, and yell out an unintelligible formula of their own. Absent relations are all formally invited. From the houses of the son’s wife and daughter’s husband are sent quantities of jāk fruits, unripe plantains, and cocoanuts, as death gifts. One half of the husks of the cocoanuts is removed, and the other half left on the shell. After the cremation or burial, these articles are distributed among those present by the Tandān, who receives an extra share for his trouble. When life is extinct, the body is placed with the head to the south, and the thumbs and big toes are tied together. It is then taken out into the yard, washed, bathed in oil, dressed in a new cloth, and brought back to the middle room. A cocoanut is cut in two, and the two halves, with a lighted wick on each, are placed at the head and foot. The house-owner spreads a cotton cloth over the corpse, and all the relations, and friends, do the same. Any one who wishes to place a silk cloth on the corpse maydo so, but he must cover it with a cotton cloth. The body is then removed for burial or cremation, and placed near the grave or funeral pyre. It is the rural rule that elderly persons and karnavans of tarwads are cremated, and others buried. The barber, whose function it is to perform the purificatory rites, now removes, and retains as his perquisite, all the cloths, except the last three covering the corpse. As it is being borne away to the place of burial or cremation, water mixed with cow-dung is sprinkled behind it in the yard. The eldest son, who succeeds to the property and is responsible for the funeral ceremonies, then tears crosswise a piece of the cloth which has been placed over the corpse by the people of the house, and ties it round his forehead. He holds one end of the cloth while the barber holds the other, and tears off the piece. The barber then cuts three holes in the remainder of this cloth covering the body, over the mouth, navel, and pubes. A little water and rice are poured over a gold fanam through the slit over the mouth. All who observe the death pollution,i.e., sons, grandsons, nephews, younger brothers and cousins, offer water and rice in the same manner, and walk three times round the grave or pyre. The barber then breaks a pot of water over the grave. No other ceremonial is observed on this day, on which, and during the night, rice must not be eaten. If the body has been cremated, a watch is kept at the burning ground for five days by Pānans, who beat drums all night to scare away the evil spirits which haunt such spots. Early on the second day, all who are under pollution are shaved. The operation is attended with some ceremonial, and, before it is commenced, a lighted lamp, a measure of rice and paddy on a plantain leaf must be at hand. The paddy and rice are a perquisite of the barber. Those who have been shavedbathe, and then follows the crow-feeding ceremony. Rice is boiled in a bell-metal vessel over a hearth prepared with three young cocoanuts. The eldest son, who tore the cloth of succession from the corpse, makes the rice into two little balls, places them on a plantain leaf, and offers them to the spirit of the departed by pouring libations of water on them over a blade of karuka grass. Men and women who are under pollution then do the same. The rice balls are eaten by crows. This little ceremony is performed daily until the eleventh or thirteenth day, when the period of death pollution comes to an end. If the eleventh day happens to fall on a Tuesday or Friday, or on any inauspicious day, the period is extended to the thirteenth day. When the period of death pollution is partly in one month, and partly in another, another death in the house within the year is expected. Preceding the sanchayanam, which occupies the fifth day, there is the lamp-watching on the previous night. In the south-east corner of the middle room, a little paddy is heaped up, and on it is placed a bell-metal plate with an iron lamp having five or seven lighted wicks on it. Under the lamp is a little cow-dung, and close to it is a bunch of cocoanut flowers. The lamp must be kept burning until it is extinguished on the following day. In the case of the death of a male, his niece watches the lamp, and in that of a female her daughter, lying near it on a grass mat. The sanchayanam is the first stage in the removal of death pollution, and, until it is over, all who come to the house suffer from pollution, and cannot enter their own house or partake of any food without bathing previously. When the body has been cremated, the fragments of calcined bones are collected from the ashes, and carried in procession to the sea, or, if this is far away, into a river. The members ofthe family under pollution then rub their bodies all over with oil, and the barber sprinkles a mixture of cow’s milk over their heads, using a blade of karuka grass as a spout. They then bathe, and the eldest son alone observe māttu. The crow-feeding ceremony follows, and, when this is over, the three cocoanuts which were used as a hearth are thrown away. A large bell-metal vessel filled with water is now placed in the front yard before the door of the house. The barber carries the still burning lamp from the middle room, and sets it on the ground near the pot of water. The women who are under pollution come from the middle room, each carrying a lighted wick, walk thrice round the pot, and throw the wicks into the water. The woman who has watched the lamp puts four annas into the pot, and the others deposit a few pies therein. The eldest son now lights a wick from the iron lamp which is about to be extinguished, and with it lights a lamp in the middle room. The barber then dips the iron lamp in the water, and picks out the money as his perquisite. The water is poured on the roots of a cocoanut tree. The bell-metal vessel becomes the property of the woman who watched the lamp, but she cannot take it away until she leaves the house after the pula-kuli ceremony. When the lamp has been extinguished, a woman, hired for the occasion, is seated on a cocoanut leaf in the front yard. The Tandān pours oil on her head three times, and she receives a little betel and two annas. She rises, and leaves the place without turning back, taking the pollution with her. Betel is then distributed. Those who provided the death gifts on the day of the death must on this day bring with them a bag of rice, and about four rupees in money. They have also to give eight annas to the barber. A folded handkerchief is firstpresented to the barber, who formally returns it, and receives instead of it the eight annas. Before the people disperse, the day of the pula-kuli is settled. Pula-kuli, or washing away the pollution, is the final ceremony for putting off the unpleasant consequences of a death in a family. First of all, the members thereof rub themselves all over with oil, and are sprinkled by the barber with cow’s milk and gingelly oil. They then bathe. The barber outlines the figure of a man or woman, according to the sex of the deceased, with rice flour and turmeric powder, the head to the south, in the middle room of the house. The figure is covered with two plantain leaves, on each of which a little rice and paddy are heaped. Over all is spread a new cloth, with a basket containing three measures of paddy upon it. The eldest son (the heir) sits facing the south, and with a nāzhi measures out the paddy, which he casts to the south, east, and west—not the north. He repeats the performance, using the fingers of the left hand closed so as to form a cup as a measure. Then, closing the first and fourth fingers firmly with the thumb, using the left hand, he measures some paddy in the same manner with the two extended fingers. Rice is treated in the same way. A nāzhi of paddy, with a lighted wick over it, is then placed in a basket. The eldest son takes the nāzhi in his left hand, passes it behind his body, and, receiving it with his right hand, replaces it in the basket. The wick is extinguished by sprinkling it with water three times. At the head of the figure on the floor is placed a clean cloth—the washerman’s māttu. It is folded, and within the folds are three nāzhis of rice. On the top of it a cocoanut is placed. In the four corners a piece of charcoal, a little salt, a few chillies, and a gold fanam are tied. The eldest son, who is always theprotagonist in all the ceremonies after death, lifts the cloth with all its contents, places it on his head, and touches with it his forehead, ears, each side and loins, knees and toes. He does this three times. The plantain leaves are then removed from the figure. A little turmeric powder is taken from the outline, and rubbed on the forehead of the eldest son. He then bows thrice to the figure, crossing his legs and arms so that the right hand holds the left ear, and the left the right ear, and touches the ground with the elbow-joints. It is no joke to do this. All this time, the eldest son wears round his forehead the strip torn from the cloth which covered the corpse. There is nothing more to be done in the middle room for the present, and the eldest son goes out into the yard, and cooks the rice for the final feed to the crows. Three nāzhis of this rice must be pounded and prepared for cooking by the woman who watched the lamp on the fourth night after death. Having cooked the rice, the eldest son brings it into the middle room, and mixes it with some unrefined sugar, plantains and pappadams, making two balls, one large and one small. Each of these he places on a plantain leaf. Then some pūja is done to them, and offerings of rice are made over a gold fanam. The balls are given to the crows in the yard, or, in some cases, taken to the sea or a river, and cast into the water. When this course is adopted, various articles must be kept ready ere the return of the party. These comprise a new pot containing water, a branch of areca blossoms, mango leaves, a kindi containing a gold fanam or gold ring, a little salt and rice, each tied up in a piece of cloth, and a few chillies. The mouth of the pot is covered with a plantain leaf, and secured. There are also two stools, made of pala and mango wood. The eldest son sits on one of these, and placeshis feet on the other, so that he does not touch the ground. The water in the pot is sprinkled with mango leaves by the barber to the north, south, east and west, and on the head of the son. The remainder of the water is then poured over his head. The barber then sprinkles him with cocoanut water, this time using areca blossoms, and makes him sip a little thereof. The barber makes a hole in the plantain leaf, and picks out the contents. The eldest son bathes, and after the bath there is a presentation of gifts. The barber, sitting in the verandah beside the son, first gives to each person under pollution a little salt and raw rice, which they eat. He then gives them a little betel leaf and a small piece of areca nut, and receives in return a quarter of an anna. The eldest son chews the betel which he has received, and spits into a spittoon held by the barber, whose property it becomes. Then to the barber, who has been presented with a new mat to sit on and new cloth to wear before he seats himself in the verandah, are given an ear-ring such as is worn by Tiyan women, a silk cloth, a white cotton cloth, and a few annas. If the deceased has been cremated he is given six fanams, and, if buried, five fanams as the fee for his priestly offices. On an occasion of this kind, several barbers, male and female, turn up in the hope of receiving presents. All who help during the various stages of the ceremonial are treated in much the same way, but the senior barber alone receives the officiating fee. It is odd that the barbers of the four surrounding villages are entitled to receive gifts of new cloths and money. Those under death pollution are forbidden to eat fish or flesh, chew betel, or partake of jaggery. The restriction is removed on the pula-kuli day. The last act for their removal is as follows. The barber isrequired to eat some jaggery, and drink some conjee. After this, the eldest son, the Tandān, and a neighbour, sit on a mat spread in the middle of the house, and formally partake of conjee and jaggery. The pula-kuli is then over.
It is a sacred duty to a deceased person who was one of importance, for example the head of a family, to have a silver image of him made, and arrange for it being deposited in some temple, where it will receive its share of pūja (worship), and offerings of food and water. The new-moon day of the months Karkitakam (July-August), Tulam (October-November), and Kumbham (February-March) is generally selected for doing this. The temples at Tirunelli in Wynād and Tirunavayi, which are among the oldest in Malabar, were generally the resting-places of these images, but now some of the well-to-do deposit them much further afield, even at Benares and Rāmēsvaram. A silver image is presented to the local Siva temple, where, for a consideration, pūja is done every new-moon day. On each of these days, mantrams are supposed to be repeated a thousand times. When the image has been the object of these mantrams sixteen thousand times, it is supposed to have become eligible for final deposit in a temple. It is this image which rests in the temple at Tirunavayi, or elsewhere.
An annual srādh ceremony is performed for the sake of the spirit of the deceased, at which crows are fed in the manner already described, and relations are fed. On the night of this day, some sweetmeats or cakes, such as the deceased was fond of during life, are offered to the spirit. A lamp is placed on a stool, and lighted in the middle room of the house, with a kindi of water and a young cocoanut near it. The cakes or sweetmeatsare placed in front of the stool. Children sprinkle rice over it, and the door is shut for a quarter of an hour. The individual who feeds the crows should partake of only one meal, without fish or flesh, on the previous day. Another ceremony, which is necessary for the repose of the dead, is called badha-velichatu-variethal, or bringing out the spirit. It cannot be performed until at least a year after death, for during that period the spirit is in a sort of purgatory. After that, it may be invoked, and it will answer questions. The ceremony resembles the nelikala pregnancy ceremony. The performers are Pānans or washermen. Some little girls are seated in front of a booth in the yard. The celebrant of the rite sings, invoking the spirit of the deceased. Late at night, one of the girls becomes possessed by the spirit, and, it is said, talks and acts just like the deceased, calling the children, relations and friends by name, talking of the past, and giving commands for the future conduct of the living members of the family. After this, the spirit is severed from earthly trammels, and attains heavenly bliss.
The wood used for the purpose of cremation is that of a mango tree, which must be cut down after the death. A little sandalwood and cuscus (grass) roots are sometimes added to the pyre. In these days, when the important and interesting features of ceremonial are fast disappearing, it is not surprising that dried cakes of cow-dung are superseding the mango wood.
Among other ceremonies, there is one called kutti pūja, which is performed when a newly built house is taken charge of. Vastu Purusha is the name of the supreme being which, lying on its back with its head to the north-east and legs to the south-west, supports the earth. Or rather the earth is but a small portion of thisvast body. Forests are its tiny hairs, oceans its blood-vessels, and the wind its breath. In this body are fifty-three deities, who are liable to disturbance when the surface of the earth is dug, when trees are felled, foundations laid, and a house built. These angry beings must be propitiated, or there will be untimely deaths, poverty, and sickness among the inmates. The ceremony is performed in the following manner. A square with fifty-three columns is made with rice flour in the middle room of the house, and each column is filled with yellow, red, and black powder. A plantain leaf is placed over it, and a few measures of paddy are set on the top of the leaf. On this is placed another leaf, with various kinds of grain, plantains, cocoanuts, and jaggery on it. The carpenter, who is the architect and builder of the house, then performs pūja with flowers, incense and lights, and the troublesome imp-spirit Gulikan is propitiated with toddy and arrack, and a fowl which is decapitated for him. Then all the workmen—carpenters, masons, and coolies—walk thrice round the house, breaking cocoanuts on the walls and doors, and howling in order to drive away all evil spirits which may by chance be lurking about the place. After this, they are all fed until they cry out “We are satisfied, and want no more.” They are given cloths and other presents, and the chief feature of the ceremony takes place. This is the formal handing over of the house by the carpenter. He hands it over to a third person, and never directly to the owner. It is not always easy to find a third person who is willing to undertake the responsibility, and who is at the same time suitable for the Gulikan who is dispossessed of the house, and pursues him henceforth, following him who first receives charge of the house. He should be a man who brings luck, cheerful and contented, having afamily, and not labouring under any disorder or sickness of body. There is, or was a few years ago, an old Nāyar living not far from Calicut, who was much sought after to fulfil the functions of third person on these occasions, and all the houses he received prospered. The third person is generally a poor man, who is bribed with presents of cloths, money and rice, to undertake the job. He wears one of the new cloths during the ceremony. When the carpenter’s ceremonies have been completed, this man is taken to the middle room of the house, and made to stand facing the door, with each foot on a plantain leaf. Pieces of the thatch are tied to the four corners of his cloth. He shuts the door, opens it, and shuts it again. The carpenter calls from without, asking him whether he has taken charge of the house. He replies evasively “Have the carpenters and workmen received all their wages? If they have, I take charge of the house.” The carpenter does not answer the question, for, if he did so, the mischief would be transferred to him through the house-owner. So he says “I did not ask you about my wages. Have you taken charge of the house?” The man inside answers as before, adding “otherwise not.” The carpenter again says “I did not ask you about my wages. Answer me straight. Have you, or have you not taken charge of the house?” The man inside replies “I have taken charge of the house,” and opens the door. Taking in his hands the plantain leaves on which he stood, he runs away as fast as he can without looking back. This he must not do on any account. The people pelt him with plantains, and hoot at him as he runs, and water mingled with cow-dung is sprinkled in his path. After all this, cow’s milk is boiled with a little rice in the house, of which every one partakes, and the owner assumes charge of his house.
In the pre-British days, a few of the well-to-do families of Tiyans lived in houses of the kind called nalapura (four houses), having an open quadrangle in the centre. But, for the most part, the Tiyans—slaves of the Nāyars and Nambūtiris—lived in a one-roomed thatched hut. Nowadays, the kala pura usually consists of two rooms, east and west.
Toddy-drawing, and every thing connected with the manufacture and sale of arrack (country liquor) and unrefined sugar, form the orthodox occupation of the Tiyan. But members of the community are to be found in all classes of society, and in practically all professions and walks of life. It is interesting to find that the head of a Tiyan family in North Malabar bears the title Cherayi Panikar, conferred on the family in the old days by a former Zamorin. A title of this kind was given only to one specially proficient in arms. Even in those days there were Tiyan physicians, bone-setters, astrologers, diviners, and sorcerers.
It is easy to identify the toddy-tapper by the indurated skin of the palms, fingers, inner side of the forearms, and the instep. The business of toddy-tapping involves expert climbing, while carrying a considerable paraphernalia, with no adventitious aid other than can be got out of a soft grummet of coir to keep the feet near together, while the hands, with the arms extended, grasp the palm tree. The profession is rarely adopted before the age of eighteen, but I have seen a man who said he began when he was twelve years old. It is very hard work. A tapper can work about fifteen trees, each of which he has to climb three times a day. In the northern districts of the Madras Presidency, among the Telugu population, the toddy-drawers use a ladder about eight or nine feet in length, which is placed against the tree,to avoid climbing a third or a fourth of it. While in the act of climbing up or down, they make use of a wide band, which is passed round the body at the small of the back, and round the tree. This band is easily fastened with a toggle and eye. The back is protected by a piece of thick soft leather. It gives great assistance in climbing, which it makes easy. All over the southernmost portion of the peninsula, among the Shānāns and Tiyans, the ladder and waist-band are unknown. They climb up and down with their hands and arms, using only the grummet on the feet. The Tiyan toddy-tapper’s equipment consists of a short-handled hatchet, about seven inches square, of thin iron, sheathed in a wooden case, and fastened to a waist-belt composed of several strings of coir yarn, to which is hung a small pot of gummy substance obtained by bruising the leaves of the aichil plant. A vessel holding a couple of gallons, made out of the spathe of the areca palm, is used for bringing down the toddy. Tucked into the waist-belt is a bone loaded with lead at either end, which is used for tapping the palm to bring out the juice. A man once refused to sell at any price one of these bones—the femur of a sāmbar (Cervus unicolor), which had such virtue that, according to its owner, it would fetch palm juice out of any tree. The garb of the tapper at work consists of a short cloth round the loins, and (always during the rains, and often at other times) a head-covering somewhat pointed in shape, made of the leaves of the cocoanut palm placed together as in a clinker-built boat, or of a rounded shape, made out of the spathe of the areca palm. The toddy-tapper should go through the show of reverence by touching the cocoanut tree with the right hand, and then applying his hand to the forehead, every time he prepares to climb a tree.
In connection with toddy-drawing, the following note occurs in the Gazetteer of Malabar. “The tapper and the toddy shopkeeper are generally partners, the former renting the trees, paying the tree-tax, and selling the toddy at fixed prices to the latter. Sometimes the shopkeeper pays both rent and tax, and the tapper is his servant paid by the bottle. The trees are rented half yearly, and the rent varies between Re. 1 and Re. 1–8–0 per tree. They are fit for tapping as soon as they come into bearing, but four years later and in the succeeding decade are most productive. They are seldom tapped for more than six months in the year, and the process, though it shortens the life of the tree, improves the yield of nuts in the rest of the year. The tapper’s outfit is neither costly nor elaborate. A knife in a wooden case, a bone weighted with lead (the leg bone of a sambhur for choice), a few pots, and two small rings of rope with which to climb complete the tale. Operations begin when the spathe is still enclosed by its sheath. Once a day the spathe is gently bruised on either side with the bone, and on the third and following days a thin slice is cut off the end twice a day. On the fifteenth day drawing begins, and the bruising ceases. Sheath and spathe are swathed for the greater part of their length in a thick covering of leaves or fibre; the ends are still cut off twice or three times a day, but, after each operation, are smeared with a paste made of leaves and water with the object, it is said, of keeping the sap from oozing through the wound and rotting the spathe. The leaves used for this purpose are those of the éechal or vetti tree, which are said to be one and the same (Aporosa Lindleyana); but in British Cochin, where the tree does not grow, backwater mud is utilised. Round the space between the end of the sheath and thethick covering of leaves a single leaf is bound, and through this the sap bleeds into a pot fastened below. The pot is emptied once a day in the morning. The yield of sap varies with the quality of the tree and the season of the year. In the hot months the trees give on an average about a bottle a day, in the monsoon and succeeding months as much as three bottles. In the gardens along the backwaters, south of Chēttuvāyi, Messrs. Parry & Co. consider that in a good year they should get a daily average of three bottles or half a gallon of toddy per tree. A bottle of toddy sells for three or four pies.”
Tiya females at a coir factory.Tiya females at a coir factory.
Tiya females at a coir factory.
In connection with the coir industry, it is noted, in the Gazetteer of Malabar, that “the husks of the cocoanuts are buried in pits as near as possible to the waterline of rivers, backwaters and creeks, and are left to soak for six months, a year, or even eighteen months—the longer the better. The colour of the yarn, and thereby the quality, depends very much on the water in which the husks are steeped. It should be running water, and, if possible, fresh water. If the water be salt, the yarn may at first be almost white, but in a damp climate it soon becomes discoloured and blotchy. As soon as the husks are taken out of the pits, the fibre is beaten out with short sticks by Tiyattis (Tiyan females) and women of the Vēttuvan caste. It is dried in the sun for twelve hours, and is then ready for sale to native merchants at Calicut and Cochin, who in their turn deal with the European firms. The fibre is twisted into yarn by Tiyattis and other women, and in that form the greater part of the coir made in Malabar is exported from Cochin to all parts of the world, but chiefly to the United Kingdom and Germany.”
It has been said that “in North Malabar the preparation of coir is a regular cottage industry of the mosttypical kind. Throughout the year, wherever one goes, one hears the noise of the women hammering out the fibre, and sees them taking, in the evening, that part of it which they have rolled into yarn to the nearest little wayside shop, to be exchanged for salt, chillies, paddy, etc. But, in the north of the district, nothing of the kind goes on, and the coir is commonly used as fuel.”
It has been already stated that marumakkatāyam, or inheritance through nephews, is the invariable rule in North Malabar, being followed even by the Muhammadan Māppillas. In South Malabar, where the Tiyans do not observe marumakkatāyam, the property devolves through the sons. All sons share alike. Daughters have no share. The practice of polyandry, which still exists in Malabar among the Tiyans (and other classes), and which was probably once general, tends to prevent dispersion of the family property. Although theoretically all sons share the property of their father, it is the eldest son who succeeds to possession and management of the tarwad property. The others are entitled to maintenance only, so long as they remain in the same tarwad house. It is the same among the Izhuvans.
Beef, as in the case of all Hindus, is forbidden as an article of diet. The staple food is rice with fish curry. The common beverage is conjee, but this is being supplanted by tea, coffee, lemonade, and soda-water.
A loin-cloth, which should not reach to the knees, with a Madras handkerchief on the shoulders, is the orthodox dress of the males, and a double loin-cloth that of females. Women were not allowed to wear anything above the waist, except when under death pollution. Any colour might be worn, but white and blue are most common. A ring, composed of hollow gold beads, calledmani-kathila, is the proper ornament for a Tiyan woman’s ear. Twenty or thirty, with a pendant in the middle, might be worn. Gold or silver bracelets could be worn. Hollow silver bracelets were worn by girls until the birth of their first child. But times have changed, and nowadays Tiyan women wear the ornaments which, strictly speaking, appertain to Nāyar and Brāhman women. Their mode of tying the hair, and even their dress, which is inclined to follow the fashion of the Christians, has changed. In olden days, a Tiyan woman could wear an ornament appropriate for a Nāyar on a special occasion, but only with the permission of the Nāyar landlord, obtained through the Tandān, on payment of a fee.
In North Malabar a good round oath is upon Perumāl Iswaran, the God of the shrine at Kōtiyūr. In South Malabar it is common to swear by Kodungallūr Bhagavati, or by Guruvayūr Appan, local deities.
The Tandān is the principal person in the tara, to decide all caste disputes. In South Malabar, he is, as a rule, appointed by the senior Rāni of the Zamorin. A fee of anything up to 101 fanams (Rs. 25–4–0) must be paid to this lady, when she appoints a Tandān. When there is a problem of any special difficulty, it is referred to her for decision. In territories other than those within the power of the Zamorin, the local Rāja appoints the Tandān, and gives the final decision in special cases. As we have seen, the Tiyan is always to some extent subordinate to a Nāyar overlord, but he is not bound to any particular one. He can go where he likes, and reside anywhere, and is not bound to any particular chief, as is the Nāyar. It is noted by General E. F. Burton,26in connection with bygone days, that“such was the insolent pride of caste that the next (and very respectable) class of Hindus, the Teers, were not allowed to come near the Nairs, under penalty of being cut down by the sword, always naked and ready.”
In connection with the religion of the Tiyans, I may commence with an old tradition, which is no doubt from a Brāhmanic source. Once upon a time there were seven heavenly damsels, who used to bathe every day before dawn in a lake situated in a forest. Siva found this out, and appeared as a fire on the bank, at which the girls warmed themselves. Having thus lured them, the God made all of them mothers. Seven beautiful boys were born, and Siva presented them to Parvati, who treated them as if they were her own sons. They were taken to mount Kailāsa, and employed in preparing toddy for the mysterious and wonderful Sakti worship. Daily they brought the toddy at the moment when it was required for the golden pot. Parvati embraced the boys all at once, and they became one. On a certain day, this boy sent the sacred toddy in charge of a Brāhman, who became curious to know the virtues of the mysterious liquid. As he rested on a river bank thinking about it, he drank a little, and filled the vessel up with water. Then he reached Kailāsa too late for the daily worship. Siva was angry, and ordered the Saunika boy (Parvati’s name for him) to be brought before him. But the boy had been told what had happened, and cut off the head of the Brāhman, who had confessed to him. Seeing the boy coming along carrying a Brāhman’s head, Siva was astonished, and commanded him to approach nearer. The boy explained that it was not a heinous crime to cut off the head of one who had prevented the Sakti worship. Siva said that the killing of a Brāhman was the worst of crimes, and put the perpetrator out of caste. He wouldnot listen to the boy, who replied that whoever prevented Sakti worship was a Chandāla, and condemned him. The boy asked for death at Siva’s hands. The request pleased the God, who forgave him. The boy had to remain out of caste, but was initiated into the mysteries of Sakti worship as the surest means of salvation, and to him was given the exclusive privilege of performing Sakti worship with liquor. He was commanded to follow, and imitate the Brāhmans in everything, except in the matter of repeating the sacred mantrams. By tantrams (signs with the hands) he eventually obtained the merit of making pūja with mantrams. He was the first Tiyan.
It is pretty safe to say that all the ideas of the Tiyans connected with pure Hinduism—the Hinduism of the Vēdas—and of tradition, of which we see very little in Southern India, and which in Malabar is more perverted in confused ideas than perhaps elsewhere, those relating to re-birth, karma, pilgrimages to Benares and distant temples are borrowed from the Brāhmans. In the ceremonies which have been described, notably in those connected with marriage and death, we have seen the expression of many Hindu ideas. Not so is all that relates to offerings to the dead. That is the common property of all the children of men.
A main feature in the religion of the Tiyan is that it is largely connected with Sakti worship. Some Brāhmans indulge therein, but they are unable, like the Tiyans, to use arrack in connection with it, and are obliged to use, instead of this requisite, milk or honey. Siva, not exactly a Vēdic entity, and Sakti, are supposed to be the two primordial and eternal principles in nature. Sakti is, perhaps, more properly the vital energy, and Sakti worship the worship of the life principle in nature. We are not considering the abstract meaning of the termSakti; nor are we now thinking of the Siva of Monier Williams or Max Müller. We are in Malabar, where the Hinduism of the Vēdas is in almost hopeless confusion, and mingled with animism and nearly every other kind of primitive religious idea. It is not therefore at all an easy task to represent in words anything like a rational conception of what the religion of the Tiyan really is. The poor and ignorant follow, in a blind ignorant way, Hinduism as they know it and feel it. Their Hinduism is very largely imbued with the lower cult, which, with a tinge of Hinduism, varied in extent here and there, is really the religion of the people at large all over Southern India. The Tiyans have a large share of it. To the actions of evil and other spirits are attributable most, if not all of the ills and joys of life. The higher Hinduism is far above them. Nevertheless, we find among them the worship of the obscure and mysterious Sakti, which, unfortunately, is practiced in secret. Nobody seems to be in the least proud of having anything to do with it. In fact, they are rather ashamed to say anything about it. Those who, so to speak, go in for it are obliged to undergo preliminary purificatory ceremonies, before the great mystery can be communicated to them. The mantram, which is whispered by the guru (religious preceptor) in the ear of the devotee is said to be “Brahma aham, Vishnu aham, Bhairavu aham” (I am Brahma, I am Vishnu, I am Bhairavan). It is believed that each individual is a spark of the divinity. Having in him the potentiality of the Supreme Being, he can develop, and attain godhood. There is no distinction of caste in Sakti worship. The devotees may belong to the highest or to the lowest castes, though I doubt very much whether the Nambūtiri Brāhmans indulge in it.The novices, of whatever caste, eat and drink together during the period of pūja. Men and women participate in the secret rites. A solemn oath is taken that the mystery of Sakti will not be revealed, except with the permission of the guru, or on the death-bed. The spirit of the goddess (for Sakti is thought of as the female principle) must be withdrawn from the body of the Sakti worshipper when he is at the point of death. A lamp is lighted beside him. A few leaves of the tulsi plant (Ocimum sanctum), a little rice, and a lighted wick are given to the dying man. Holding these things, he makes three passes over his body from head to foot, and, as it were, transfers the spirit to the next man, at the same time communicating his wishes about continuing the worship, and so on. When a man dies before this separation or transfer has been accomplished, a Brāhman must be called in, who, with a silver image representing the deceased, makes symbolic transference of the Sakti spirit. It must be done somehow, or the soul of the deceased cannot attain salvation. It is said that, like many other things in this land, Sakti worship has undergone degeneration, that such lofty ideas and feelings as may have once pervaded it have more or less disappeared, and that the residue is not very edifying. Be this as it may, in every tara there is a Bhagavati temple for Tiyans, where Tiyans officiate as priests. The Komaram (oracle) of the Bhagavati temple is clothed in red, and embellished with red sandal paste mixed with turmeric. Bhagavati is always associated with various jungle spirits or gods, whose Komarams always wear black. There is no daily worship in Tiyan temples, with the exception of a few in the neighbourhood of Cannanore. But there is an annual celebration of pūja during the mannalam (forty day) period, commencing on the first of the monthVrischikam (15th November). Lamps are lighted, and worship is begun on this day, and continued for forty days. At its conclusion, the jungle gods retire to the jungle until the next year. A death in the family of a Komaram involves, I believe, some postponement of the rites. The period is supposed to be first part of the functional activity of the earth, which ends somewhere about the 21st of June. It is during this period that Sakti worship is carried on.
The temple of Subramania at Palni in the Madura district is a favourite objective for Tiyan pilgrims. The subject of pilgrimages to this temple has been touched on in my note on the Nāyars (seeNāyar). The Bhagavati temple at Kodungallūr in Cochin territory on the coast is another favourite place of pilgrimage among the Tiyans. All classes of people, with the exception of Brāhmans, undertake this pilgrimage. Everyone under a vow, proceeding to the festival, which takes place in February or March, carries with him a cock, which is beheaded at the shrine. Under the Perumāls, pilgrimage to Kodungallūr was somewhat compulsory. This temple was a fruitful source of revenue to the State, for not only the Tiyans, but the fisherman and artisan castes had their own temple in every tara in the land, and the Mūppan—the Komaram—of each temple was under an obligation to contribute yearly gifts to the temple at Kodungallūr. Rent for the temple lands was set at a nominal figure—a mere pepper-corn rent as acknowledgment of sovereign right. Rent might not be paid in times of trouble, but the gifts eked out of superstition were unfailing. It is not surprising, therefore, that learning and advancement among the inferior castes did not receive much encouragement from the rulers of those days.
The temple of Kotiyūr in North Malabar is also a shrine to which Tiyans make pilgrimage. Indeed, it may be said that they follow Hinduism generally in rather a low form, and that Sakti worship is perhaps more peculiarly theirs than others’, owing to their being able to use arrack, a product of the palm, and therefore of their own particular métier. The highest merit in Sakti can be reached only through arrack. The Sakti goddess, Bhagavati, the Tiyans look upon as their own guardian spirit.
As instancing the mixture and confusion of religious ideas in Malabar, it may be mentioned that Māppillas have been known to indulge in Sakti worship, and Tiyans to have made vows, and given offerings at Māppilla mosques and Christian churches. Vows to the well-known mosque at Mambram are made by people of almost every caste. It is not uncommon to present the first fruit of a jāk tree, or the milk of a cow when it brings forth its first calf, to the local Tangal or Māppilla priest.
In many, perhaps in most Tiyan houses, offerings are made annually to a bygone personage named Kunnath Nāyar, and to his friend and disciple Kunhi Rāyan, a Māppilla. It is probable that they excelled in witchcraft and magic, but, according to the story, the Nāyar worshipped the kite until he obtained command and control over all the snakes in the land. The offerings are made in order to prevent accidents from snakes. The snake god will also give children to the family, and promote domestic prosperity. Men without offspring worship him. Leprosy and the death of a child are believed to be the consequence of killing a snake. There are Māppilla devotees of Kunnath Nāyar and Kunhi Rāyan, who exhibit snakes in a box, and collect alms. There is a snake mosque near Manarghāt,at the foot of the Nīlgiri hills, which has its annual festival. The alms are collected ostensibly for this mosque.
An interesting story, which is the legendary account of the exodus of the artisans from Malabar, and their return with the Tiyans, is narrated by the Pānans. There were, in olden times, five recognised classes, which includes the Āsāris (carpenters), Musāris (workers in bell-metal), Thattāns (goldsmiths), and Perin-Kollans (blacksmiths). The fifth class is unknown. When an individual of the artisan classes dies, the Pānan of the tara must bring a death gift to the house, which consists of cocoanuts and jāk fruits or plantains. The Pānan places the gift in the yard and repeats a long formula, which he has learnt by heart. It is very likely that he knows little or nothing of its meaning. But he reels it off, and at its conclusion the gifts are accepted. The same formula is also always repeated among the carpenters, goldsmiths, and blacksmiths during wedding and tāli-tying ceremonies. It relates how the artisans deserted the land of Chēraman Perumāl, and sought an asylum in the country of the Izhuvans with the island king, and how the Perumāl sent the Pānan to bring them back. Every one knows this old story, and believes it firmly. It must be learnt by heart, and the Pānan gives it in the yard when a member of the artisan classes dies. The story is to the following effect. During the four Yugams, Kreta, Treta, Dwapara, and Kāli, many kings reigned over the earth. Parasu Rāman destroyed the Kshatriya kings on twenty-one occasions, and was obliged to make atonement in expiatory ceremonies. He worshipped Varuna, the ocean god, and recovered from the sea a hundred and sixty kāthams of land, consisting of Kōlanād (?), Vēnād (Travancore), Kanya Kumāri (Cape Comorin), Chēranād,and Malayālam up to Changala Vazhi beyond the Anaimalai hills. Chēraman Perūmāl was the ruler of this land, in which were the four castes. His capital was at Tiruvanja Kolam. One day, Veluthēdan27Chiraman was washing the Perumāl’s cloths in a tank. He beat the cloths on a stone which was flat on the ground, and held one of the cloths in his hand. A girl of the carpenter caste, Ayyesvari by name, was just then going to the tank to bathe after her monthly period. She called out “Ho! Kammal.28That is not the way to wash cloths. Put a small stone under one end of your washing stone, so as to make it slope a little. Then hold both ends of the cloth in your hand, and beat the middle of the cloth on the stone.” The Veluthēdan did so, and found that he washed better, and the cloths were whiter. The Perumāl asked him “Were you not washing the cloths before? Who washed them to-day?”To which the Veluthēdan replied “Oh! Tamburān (chief or lord), a carpenter girl instructed your slave to-day how to wash cloths properly. May Perumāl be pleased to order the girl to be given to your slave as his wife.” Perumāl then said “To whatever caste she may belong, you may take her by force, and will not lose your caste.” Having received the king’s permission, Veluthēdan Chiraman concealed himself near the carpenter’s house, and, when the girl opened the door to sweep the yard at dawn, he seized her, and carried her off to his house. Carpenter Sankaran of Tiruvanja Kalam went to the Perumāl, and complained that Veluthēdan Kammal had carried away his daughter, and disgraced him. He asked the Perumāl whether he would give him an armed guard to rescue her. To which the Perumāl replied “Iwill not help either party with armed men. You must fight it out among yourselves.” Then the five classes of artisans consulted one another, and made common cause. The Pānans, Perin Malayans, and Chēn (red) Koravans joined the artisans. The Ven Thachāns, Vēlans, Paravans, Vēttuvans, Kanisan Panikars, and the Pāndi Pulluvans of Vellālanād joined the other side. There was war for twelve years. In the end, the artisans were defeated. They said among themselves “We have been defeated by the fourteenth caste of Veluthēdan Nāyar, who carried away our daughter. Let us leave this country.” So 7,764 families, with the women and children, tied up their mats, and left Chēramān Perumāl’s country, and went to Izhuva land, which was beyond it. They went before the Izhuva king (island king), and told him their story. Now Chēramān Perumāl used to be shaved every fifteen days. When the barber (Velakathalavan) was sent for, he came without his knife (razor), as his wife had buried it. He said “Oh! Tamburan, have mercy on your slave. Your slave’s knife was given to the blacksmith to be mended, and he took it away with him. He gave me this piece of iron, saying “If you want the knife made ready for use, you must come to the Izhuva land for it, and we will mend it on our return.” So Perumāl had to go without shaving, and his hair grew like a Rishi’s. As there were neither carpenters nor smiths to make implements, agriculture was almost at a standstill; and, as there were no goldsmiths, the tāli-tying ceremonies could not be performed. Nor could the rice-giving ceremony be done, for want of the “neck-rings.” Then Chēramān Perumāl obtained advice, and resolved to send the Mannān (washerman of the Tiyans), who was included in the fourteenth caste, and the Pānan, who belonged to theeleventh caste. The Perumāl gave to each of them a thousand fanams, and told them to go to the Izhuva country, and bring back the Kammālans (artisans). They wandered over various countries, stopping wherever they found a house. The Pānan, being clever, was able to live by his wits, and spent no money of his own. The Mannān, on the contrary, spent all his money. They passed Ramapūri, and reached Trichivampūri. Then the Mannān asked the Pānan for a loan, which was refused. On Friday at noon, the Mannān left the Pānan, saying “The Pānan is no companion for the Mannān.” He returned to the Perumāl and reported his failure, and the Pānan’s refusal to lend him money. The Pānan went on, crossing rivers, canals, and ferries, and at last reached the Izhuva king’s country. He entered the reception hall. At that moment, the king’s goldsmith, who had just finished making a golden crown for him, had put it on his own head, to test its suitability for wearing. The Pānan thought he was the king, and made obeisance to him. The Kammālans recognised him. He discovered his mistake too late, for he had addressed the goldsmith as Tamburan. So, to this day, the Pānans, when addressing goldsmiths, say Tamburan. The Pānan told the Kammālans of his mission, but they refused to return unless full reparation was made for the abduction of the carpenter girl, and certain social disabilities were removed. The 7,764 families of Kammālans asked the Izhuva king his advice, and he said that they should not go away. So the Kammālans sent the Pānan back, and gave him the following presents, in order to demonstrate to the Perumāl that they were in comfortable circumstances:—
The Kammālans sent word to the Perumāl that they would not return, unless they were given a girl in place of the carpenter’s daughter, who had been abducted, and certain privileges were granted to them. At the same time, they promised the Pānan that they would share their privileges with him, if he was successful. So the Pānan returned, and appeared before the Perumāl, who asked him where the Kammālans were. The Pānan removed his gold cap, and put it under his arm, and replied that they were prosperous, and not anxious to return. Saying so, he placed before the Perumāl the rich presents given by the Kammālans, and told the king that they would not return, unless they were given a girl and certain concessions. The Perumāl told the Pānan to go back, and invite the Kammālans to return on their own terms. He said they would catch the first girl they met on the way to his palace, and all their demands were granted. The Pānan arrived again in the Izhuva country, and told the Kammālans what the Perumāl had said. They went to the Izhuva king, and obtained his permission to return to their own country. Then they caught an Izhuva boy, and confined him. The king asked them why they did so. They replied that they had lived for twelve years29as his subjects, and would never recognise any other king, so they wanted the Izhuva boy to represent him. The king consented. When they started, the boy began to cry.A Nasrāni,30by name Thomma (Thomas), was taken to accompany and protect the boy. The Kammālans travelled to their own country, and appeared before Chēramān Perumāl. On the way, they found a girl of the Variar caste plucking flowers, and caught her by the hand. All the five classes claimed her. At last it was resolved to unite her with the Izhuva boy, their Tandān, who represented their king, and treat her as their sister. Chēramān Perumāl confirmed his promise, and granted the following privileges to the Kammālans:—
1. To make ceilings for their houses.
2. To make upstairs houses to live in.
3. To put up single staircases, consisting of one pole, in which notches are cut, or pegs are stuck alternately, for the feet.
4. To have a gate-house.
5. To perform the tāli-tying ceremonies of their girls in a booth having four posts or supports; to place within it, on a stool, a looking-glass with a handle, and the Rāmayana; and to place a silk cloth on the girl’s head.
6. To do arpu at the conclusion of the tāli-tying ceremony (Vel! Arpu! is yelled out by the boys).
7. To cook rice in copper vessels on occasions of marriage and other ceremonies, and to serve sugar and pappadams at their feasts.
8. To hold the umbrella and taza (a sort of umbrella), which are carried in front of processions.
9. To clap hands, and dance.
10. To keep milch-cows for their own use.
Permission was further granted for the Kammālans to wear the following ornaments.
1. Netti-pattam, worn on the forehead during the tāli-tying ceremony.
2. Ananthovi, a ear ornament named after Anandan, the endless, the serpent on which Vishnu reposes. The serpent is sometimes represented with its tail in its mouth, forming a circle, an endless figure. Ananthovi is the central pendant of the ear-ring worn by Tiyan women among their kathila (ordinary gold ear-rings). It resembles a serpent in form. It is worn by men of the Tiyan and artisan castes on special occasions.
3. Waist zone or girdle.
4. Bracelets.
5. Anklet with two knobs, formed of two pieces screwed together.
6. Puli-mothiram, or tiger’s claws mounted in gold, worn by children.
7. Podippu, a knot of cotton-thread at the end of the string on which coins are hung as ornaments.
8. Kalanchi, a gold knob above the podippu, which represents a flower.
9. Necklace.
10. Edakam and madkam-tāli, neck ornaments, in one of which are set twenty-one stones.
11. Cotton thread above the gold thread on the neck.
The Perumāl conferred like privileges upon the family (Tiruvarankath) of the Pānan who brought back the Kammālans. He wore all his ornaments, and made his obeisance to the Perumāl. He had, however, taken off his gold cap. The Perumāl said “What you have removed, let it be removed.” So he lost the privilege of wearing a gold cap. The Perumāl blessed the Kammālans, and they returned to their villages. They made a separate house for the Izhuva boy and the Variargirl, and maintained them. The Izhuva boy, who was the first Tiyan to come to Malabar, brought with him the cocoanut, and retained the right to cultivate and use it. To this day, the people of the serf castes—Cherumans, Kanakans, and the like—use the word Varian when addressing Tiyans, in reference to their descent from the Variar girl.
The orthodox number of classes of Kammālans is five. But the artisans do not admit the workers in leather as of their guild, and say there are only four classes. According to them, the fifth class was composed of the copper-smiths, who did not return to Malabar with the others, but remained in Izhuva land. Nevertheless, they always speak of themselves as the Aiyen kudi or five-house Kammālans.
There is a variant of the legend of the exodus, told by the Āsāris (carpenters), which is worth narrating. Their version of the story is repeated among themselves, and not by the Pānan, at every marriage and tāli-tying ceremony. They identify the village of the Perumāl’s washerman as Kanipayyūr. This is the name of a Nambūtiri’s illam in the Ponāni tāluk of Malabar. The Nambūtiri is, it may be mentioned, considered to be the highest extant authority in architecture. Disputed points relating to this subject are referred to him, and his decision is final, and accepted by all carpenters and house-builders. The washerman’s stone is said to have been lying flat in the water. The girl Ayyesvari was also of Kanipayyūr, and was carried off as in the former story. But there was no request for an armed guard to rescue her. The Perumāl was, instead, asked to make the washerman marry her, and thus avoid disgrace. He consented to do so, and all the 7,764 families of the five classes of Kammālans assembled for the wedding. Animmense booth, supported on granite pillars, was erected. The washerman and his party were fed sumptuously. But the booth had been so constructed that it could be made to collapse instantaneously. So the Kammālans went quietly outside, and, at a given signal, the booth collapsed, and crushed to death the washerman and his friends. After this, the Kammālans fled, and remained one year, eight months and eleven days in the Izhuva country. Negotiations were carried on through the Izhuva king, and the Kammālans returned under his guarantee that their demands would be complied with. The Izhuva king sent his own men and the Nasrāni to the capital of the Perumāl. The story of the exodus and the return was inscribed on granite stone with solemn rites, and in the presence of witnesses. This was buried at the northern gate of the Tiruvanchakulam temple on Friday, the eighth of the month of Kanni. It was resolved that, in any case of doubt, the stone should be unearthed. And it was only after all this had been done that the Izhuva king’s envoy returned to him. Then the Kammālans came back to Malabar. According to the carpenters, the copper-smiths did not return. They say that eighteen families of Āsāris remained behind. Some of these returned long afterwards, but they were not allowed to rejoin the caste. They are known as Puzhi Tachan, or sand carpenters, and Patinettanmar, or the eighteen people. There are four families of this class now living at or near Parpangadi. They are carpenters, but the Āsāris treat them as outcastes.
There is yet another variant of the story of the exodus, which is obviously of recent manufacture, for a Pattar Brāhman is brought in, and gives cunning advice. We know that the Pattars are comparatively new comers in Malabar.
The Tiyans have recently been summed up as follows.31“The Tiyas have always been characterised by their persevering and enterprising habits. A large percentage of them are engaged in various agricultural pursuits, and some of the most profitable industries of Malabar have from time out of mind been in their hands. They are exclusively engaged in making toddy and distilling arrack. Many of them are professional weavers, the Malabar mundu being a common kind of cloth made by them. The various industries connected with cocoanut cultivation are also successfully carried on by the Tiyas. For example, the manufacture of jaggery (crude sugar) is an industry in which a considerable number of the Tiyas are profitably engaged. The preparation of coir from cocoanut fibre is one of their hereditary occupations, and this is done almost wholly by their women at home. They are very skilful in the manufacture of coir matting and allied industries. Commercial pursuits are also common among them. Apart from their agricultural and industrial inclinations, the Tiyas give evidence of a literary taste, which is commendable in a people who are living under conditions which are anything but conducive to literary life. They have among them good Sanskrit scholars, whose contributions have enriched the Malayālam literature; physicians well versed in Hindu systems of medicine; and well-known astrologers, who are also clever mathematicians. In British Malabar, they have made considerable progress in education. In recent years, there has been gaining ground among the Tiyas a movement, which has for its object the social and material improvement of the community. Their leaders have very rightlygiven a prominent place to industry in their schemes of progress and reform. Organisations for the purpose of educating the members of the community on the importance of increased industrial efforts have been formed. The success which has attended the Industrial Exhibition conducted by the members of the community at Quilon, in 1905, has induced them to make it a permanent annual event. Some of their young men have been sent to Japan to study certain industries, and, on their return, they hope to resuscitate the dying local industries, and to enter into fresh fields of industry awaiting development. Factories for the manufacture of coir matting and allied articles have been established by the Tiyas in some parts of Travancore and Cochin.”
In 1906, the foundation stone of a Tiya temple at Tellicherry was laid with great ceremony. In the following year, a very successful Industrial Exhibition was held at Cannanore under the auspices of the Sri Narayan Dharma Paripalana Yogam. Still more recently, it was resolved to collect subscriptions for the establishment of a hostel for the use of Tiya youths who come from other places to Tellicherry for educational purposes.
Tiyōro.—The Tiyōros are described, in the Madras Census Report, 1901, as “Oriya fishermen, who also make lotus-leaf platters. They have four endogamous sections, viz., Torai, Ghodai, Artia, and Kulodondia.” It has been suggested that the caste name is a corruption of the Sanskrit tivara, a hunter. (SeeRisley, Tribes and Castes of Bengal, Tiyar.)
Toda.—Quite recently, my friend Dr. W. H. Rivers, as the result of a prolonged stay on the Nīlgiris, has published32an exhaustive account of the sociology andreligion of this exceptionally interesting tribe, numbering, according to the latest census returns, 807 individuals, which inhabits the Nīlgiri plateau. I shall, therefore, content myself with recording the rambling notes made by myself during occasional visits to Ootacamund and Paikāra, supplemented by extracts from the book just referred to, and the writings of Harkness and other pioneers of the Nīlgiris.