What the ancient martial art of Kalaripayattu taught me about hardships
As the unrelenting sun gave way to a cool evening, I found myself walking around the tea gardens in Munnar, traversing the last few kilometers enroute to my homestay, hoping to rest my feet and enjoy some Malayali hospitality. As I passed by the meandering roads, coconut trees and countless hotels, I turned the corner and noticed a board which advertised a show around Kalaripayattu. I had heard of this martial art form vaguely, but dismissed this particular show as one of the touristy things to do and almost decided to skip it.
Kalaripayattu originated as a style in Kerala, southern India (North Malabar). Kalaripayattu is derived from the words kalari — which means “place, threshing floor, or battlefield”, and payattu — which means to “exercise in arms or practice”. The origin stories of Kalaripayattu are debatable. The religious lineage is connected with Lord Parashuram (credited to also reclaim Kerala from the Arabian Sea), the manifest of Lord Vishnu who is said to have learnt the same from Lord Shiva. In its recent form, by the 6th century, Kalaripayattu had developed during an extended period of warfare between the Chera and Chola dynasties. It declined during the imperialist rule and the resurgence of public interest in Kalaripayattu began in the 1920's in Thalassery, as part of a wave of rediscovery of the traditional arts throughout south India and continued through the 1970's surge of general worldwide interest in martial arts.
Against my own judgement, I decided to go ahead with the show. I entered the darkened room, and waited for the Kalaripayattu fighters to display their craft. I was already intrigued by the weapons on display. They lay quietly in sharp contrast to the excitement of the audience, as if peacefully waiting to see off an enthusiastic kid. They seem to lay with the quiet wisdom of knowing that their masters would come soon, and treat them with the respect and finesse they deserve.
And as the music soared and the lights brightened, entered four men who seemed to posses strength and flexibility which was the stuff of mythology. The crouches, the leaps, the kicks, every thump of the leg, every cross-split, every scissor cut would have clearly required years of training. Within a few minutes, we knew we were watching the proponents of an ancient art which had its roots in nature, borrowing the fighting styles from the lion, the tiger, the snake, the elephant, even the cock!
One of the fighters was armed only with a knife, and when he found himself under attack, he clung to the ground like a serpent, gazing slowly at his opponent, never breaking eye contact and yet slowly advancing towards him. With an audible hush, the crowd fell silent, anticipation hung in the air and suddenly we felt that the tables had turned. The hunter became the hunted and with the agility of a black mamba, the knife wielding fighter leapt at his opponent, barely giving him time to defend himself.
Yet what was absolutely fascinating for me was the way the mind was controlled — their own tamed by the fighters and ours dominated by their theatrics. We swayed with the movement of swords which could cut the air into a thousand pieces, we rumbled as the sparks flew when the swords collided, we jumped from our seats when they flew into the air and our eyes widened as they performed body bending moves. They played with fire with lucidity, handling it with the dexterity of a wily master. It was an absolute stupefaction of our senses, they drew their strength from the earth, and there were moments where their focus was so intense, that they seemed to have stopped time for us, when everything in the background dissolved and we were one with the fighters. They were already one with their craft, their body and mind moved as a singular unit, in perfect harmony. It was not merely a martial arts form, it was thousands of years of worldly and other worldly wisdom condensed into an art form.
And as each combat ended, they were at ease in a moment, while we were still reeling in incredulity of what we just witnessed. With them we fought vicariously, but unlike them, we did not possess the balance of the mind to dissociate ourselves quickly. And in that moment, it became clear to me that at the heart of Kalaripayattu is the theory of Dharma Yuddha (War of Duty/Truth).
It is symbolized in the ritual practice in the Kalari of touching the floor or the hand of the master with the right hand and then touching the chest and the head (heart and mind). This stands to signify that the fight should only be initiated by the mind if the heart approves of it.
In our lives, we may sometimes find ourselves on the backfoot. Just like the knife yielding fighter, who in a matter of seconds, demonstrated how one can turn almost any position into an advantage and not only emerge unscathed but actually emerge victorious.But most importantly, if we find that the battles we choose to fight find the approval of our heart, we would always find the courage in our mind to fight them.
