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Published: June 30th 2007
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Harmony at work
Hundreds of muscles tuned to a single command. A single deviant move would be catastrophic. The sky is surprisingly clear as we board a boat from Nedumudi to Chambakulam on Midhunam 15, 1182 (Malayalam Era). It's a special day for the denizens of this backwater country, who believe it marks the installation of Krishna's idol in Ambalapuzha temple four centuries ago. The entire population of the riverside villages seems to be on the boats that travel upstream to Chambakulam to witness the snake boats (chundan vallam) in action. Yesterday’s monsoon wind had razed several houses in parts of Kuttanad, the backwater maze off Alapuzha. But that was yesterday.
The natives, who toil in the paddy fields and the intertwined backwaters, have been waiting for this day, which launches the watersports calendar of Kerala. Chambakulam Moolam boat race in Pampa River precedes a dozen boat races, including the famed Nehru Trophy boat race in Punnamada in Alapuzha, where all the 21 chundan vallams race for the trophy sponsored by former prime minister Jawaharlal Nehru.
In the motor boat, local reporters and photographers supply anecdotes of the boats and boatmen. The week-long training is a spectacle in itself, they tell me. Oarsmen - farmhands, coir workers and toddy tappers when they are not rowing boats
Women power
Kuttanadu women showing their rowing skills at an exhibition race in Chambakkulam. - perfect the art of synchronization, the keyword to success. There would be 70-100 rowers and singers on each boat and they act in unison to the captain’s measured beats.
Don’t ever ask the rowers for water even if you die of thirst, a well-wisher tells me. They are given water boiled with kadukka (Terminalia chebula), an anaphrodisiac herb. And the feast before the race is known for its spicy menu, which makes the rowers drink more water and suspend basic instincts. The poor guy has had a forgettable experience with the potion. English soccer coaches could test this defence against energy-drain.
We take a quick deviation to one of the many riverside toddy shops, despite warnings of adulteration. Today, when everyone celebrates, not even the entire coconut trees in the area could ferment enough toddy to satiate the revellers. But memories of the sweet taste are irresistible. When toddy is not enough, foreign liquor and banned arrack keep the spirits high. Families on outing on hired boats take bites and swigs amid the chatter.
On the way to the venue, near the starting point, is the Mappilassery house, central to the myth associated with the origin
Finishing point
The final contenders race for the famed Chambakkulam Moolam Trophy. of Chambakulam boat race. The story dates back to one of the Chembakassery kings, who lorded over the backwaters with an enviable fleet of snake boats 400 years ago. The boat race commemorates the procession of snake boats carrying an idol of Sri Krishna to be installed in the Ambalapuzha temple.
The king’s men, accompanying the idol, were given shelter at dusk by the Mappilassery family. The Christian family held the customary rituals on the idol. The lamp the family lit before the idol continues to burn amid pictures of Jesus and Mary. The next day, the divine procession resumed from Chambakulam to Ambalapuzha. Speaker after speaker at the pavilion, waiting for the chief guests to arrive, repeat the story.
Yonder, the boatmen have taken position on the snake boats and other smaller boats. The nine snake boats that vie for the Rajapramukhan trophy shine over the dancing waves. Their pointed bows almost touching the water, their aerodynamic sterns pointed to the sky, their black hulls polished with sardine oil and egg white, snake boats are a study in speed. Legend has it that the snake boats were specially designed by an imaginative mason for the royal navy.
Grand finale
Judgment gone awry, boatmen ready to fight it out for the big trophy. The first rower was a mix of the soldier and the galley slave.
People adore the former war machines from the banks as if they were caparisoned elephants on a festival ground. Revellers row small boats here and there while children swim around. In this waterworld, children learn to swim before they learn cycling. Paddy fields in Kuttanad, sometimes lower than sea level, have been reclaimed from a vast lake. In monsoon, many interior villages turn isolated islands.
At last the speeches are over. All boats are called for a drill. Then commentators take over. Three snake boats - Chambakulam, St George and Jawahar Thayankeri - kick off the regatta. Minutes later, Jawahar Thayankeri traverses the 1800-metre track to win the first heats. The heat is missing in the absence of a close contender. Now two more heats to pick the contenders for the final. Cheruthana and Sri Ganesh emerge clear winners.
The boats, each with its own lore of exploits in the various races across the state, are hired by rival boat clubs. Participating in a race will cost a club at least Rs 10 lakh. But what’s money when honour is at stake? There are even expatriates who take leave to lead their teams. The clubs assemble the rowers, conduct camps for them and keep them in good spirits throughout the camp. For the rowers, it is good money, though for a season.
Smaller boats have their share of the limelight. Veppu, Odi, Churulan…all built for a specific use in a land which still relies on waterways than roads. A few big cargo boats, called kettuvallams, still transport goods between Alapuzha and Kochi. When transport became faster, kettuvallams were converted into prototypes of houseboats, which now rake in tourism money in the backwaters of Kerala.
One of the results went wrong on a television channel telecasting the regatta live. Fans of the real winner are quick to react. A powerboat carrying agitated (and inebriated) sponsors and fans hover around the pavilion filled with the who’s who of Kuttanad, until the mistake is rectified. There is no room for error of judgment, either in the pavilion or on the speeding boats, for the results would be catastrophic.
A boat capsizes at half point. Police patrol boats and spectators on smaller boats rush to the rescue. Many of the oarsmen swim to safety while the others cling to the hull till the rescuers arrive. All of them are fast swimmers, but they may be too exhausted to swim after minutes of hard work on the boat. A single misplaced beat, a single misjudged bow, a single misguided oar could tilt the balance of the boat.
By evening, competitions are over but for the grand finale. Many cheerleaders are already knocked out. Their women try to wake them up as three snake boats, winners of the heats, line up for the final countdown. At the starting whistle, Jawahar Thayankeri, Cheruthana Chundan and Sri Ganesh rev up at a thousand muscles. Like three black horses bound to a chariot, they race neck and neck…a sight we have been waiting for all day.
Horses…that’s what the poets compare the leaping chundans to. But in its dynamism, they are comparable more to worms, with a hundred tiny legs obeying a single brain and moving a single body. Each oar touches the water at the same second. On every third row, the three (or four or five) oarsmen at the stern accelerate the speed with their long oars. These experienced captains decide the pace and direction of the boat.
Waves dance to the tune of celebrated boat songs. Thrilled spectators on either side of the river echo the songs that describe and define everything Kuttanad. Apart from entertainment and motivation, these folksongs are a guidebook for the oarsmen. These rhythmic meters and accompanying beats bind dozens of oars to a single mind. If one oar goes out of sync, it will strike with its neighbour bound to the rhythmic pattern.
At the finishing point, excitement boils over. Many kids are already in the river cheering the former battleships cruising dangerously close. It’s a photo finish between Cheruthana and Sri Ganesh. Cheruthana has homegrown boys on it while the latter is powered by Jesus Boat Club, Kollam. Claims and counterclaims rend the air. The judges look confused as the contenders barricade the pavilion with their long boats.
The police contingent is not prepared to handle the high emotions of the sweating oarsmen and their swearing sponsors. The VIPs at the pavilion, including a state minister and the local legislator, try to cool off the situation, but oars are already out. We decide it’s safer to wait for the result outside the venue. Anyway, we had had our share of thrill.
Two days later, Sri Ganesh was declared winner at the Collector’s Chamber in Alapuzha with the help of video clips. Now the wait for the mother of all regattas - Nehru Trophy.
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Rohini
non-member comment
Ooooh
Ooooh... Lovely piece Don. Felt like I too was standing there witnessing the event :D