By Sreedevi Chitharanjan
As dawn breaks over the red earth and the first golden light touches the sacred groves, the rhythmic thud of the chenda cuts through the still air. It is Thulam 10th in the Malayalam calendar — the day that opens the doors to North Kerala’s Theyyam season, a time when the divine and the human meet in dance, colour, and devotion.
For the people of Malabar, this day is more than just a calendar mark. It signals the start of months filled with sound, fire, and faith — when the quiet temples and ancestral shrines (kaavus) come alive with the vibrant pulse of Theyyam, Kerala’s most ancient ritual performance.
The First Beat
In the early hours, before sunrise, the courtyards of small village shrines echo with the deep notes of the chenda and elathalam. Performers begin their sacred preparations, painting their faces in bright reds and yellows, fixing ornate headgear, and reciting the thottam paattu, songs that summon the spirit of the deity.
The moment the performer steps out, he is no longer himself. He is the god. Villagers fall at his feet, seeking blessings and counsel. Children stare in awe; elders bow in silence. The transformation is complete — the divine has descended.
A Season of Living Gods
Thulam 10th, which usually falls in late October, marks the first Theyyam performance of the year. From this day onward, the region transforms into a moving festival of faith that continues till Meenam month (March–April).
Each village, each kavu, hosts its own deities — over 400 different Theyyams are performed across the northern districts of Kasaragod, Kannur, and parts of Kozhikode and Wayanad. Each carries its own legend: some narrate the stories of heroic warriors, some of goddesses who rose against injustice, and some of humble souls who found divine power in their suffering.
For devotees, attending the first Theyyam of the season is almost a renewal — a chance to begin afresh with blessings for the months ahead. For the performers, often belonging to families who have inherited this art for generations, the day marks the start of their spiritual duty for the year.
Echoes of Faith and Earth
Theyyam is not just performance art; it is lived faith. It blurs the lines between ritual and theatre, between god and man. Unlike other dance forms that belong to the stage, Theyyam belongs to the soil — performed outdoors, among trees, under the open sky, before villagers who gather barefoot.
Thulam 10th also marks an economic and cultural revival in these villages. Costumers, painters, metal craftsmen, drummers, and priests — all find their rhythm again. Theyyam brings not only devotion but livelihood, weaving together art, ancestry, and community life.
In the villages of Ramanthali, Nileshwar, Kalarivathukkal, and Ezhom, the first performances draw hundreds, sometimes thousands, who travel from far-off towns to witness the living deities. Cameras flash, but the real magic lies in the eyes of those who bow silently as the performer, now divine, blesses them with a handful of sacred ash.
When the Divine Becomes Human
To watch a Theyyam is to witness transformation — of the performer, of the space, and of the people themselves. The fire torches flare, drums grow louder, and as the Theyyam spins in trance, you feel something ancient stirring. For that moment, the distance between heaven and earth disappears.
Every year, on Thulam 10th, this cycle begins again. Faith renews itself, generation after generation. And somewhere in the sacred groves of North Kerala, amid the drumbeats and chants, the gods once more step down to dance.
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