Navaratri ‘Kolu’ (India)

As a small child growing up in Kerala, I was quite unaware of the vibrancy; of the intensity and vitality of ‘Kolu’, which is an integral part of Navaratri, a celebration of the Goddess Durga. I was introduced to its color and pageantry only after my mother and I relocated to Bangalore in Karnataka, a state that is in many respects synonymous with the traditions of Navaratri (also known there as Dasara). It didn’t become a part of me until age seven; this, the ‘Kolu’ festival in which terracotta dolls are decorated and displayed on tiers in every Hindu home, (much like the spirit in which Christmas trees are decorated in the West), capturing and holding - for a brief nine nights and ten days - the child in all of us.

This display of dolls and decorative floral designs during Navaratri is seen mostly in the south Indian states of Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh and Karnataka. The south Indian Diaspora celebrates ‘Kolu’ in the same traditional way, recreating this familiar cultural landscape wherever in the world they may happen to find themselves.

In the patriarchal north of India, Dasara is symbolic of the mythological victory of Ram over Ravana, the ten-faced demon king of Lanka. On the tenth day, a huge effigy of Ravana is torched amid a noisy fireworks display. There is joy and jubilation all around. ‘Good’ has prevailed over ‘evil’ once again. The ‘Ram Lila’ (as this ten-day enactment is called) in north India, like the ‘Kolu’ in the south, is inexorably woven into the memories of childhood.

Meanwhile in the south, as well as in the state of West Bengal, Dasara is a ten-day celebration of the Mother Goddess in all her multifarious forms: She is Chamundi who slays the buffalo demon in a ten-day battle in Mysore; she is Saraswati, the Goddess of learning, in Kerala; she is Bhavani who rides on a tiger in Gujarat and Maharashtra; Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth, in Tamil Nadu; and Ma Durga who rides on a lion in West Bengal. She is said to be stern, yet compassionate.

The tenth morning - also called ‘Vijayadsami’ (or the ‘victorious tenth day’) - the very young are initiated into learning and for those who have already begun their studies it serves as a reminder that learning is an ongoing experience.

In India, the mythic and the ordinary co-exist, and in these festivals one sees them merge. Religion (or faith) becomes a living, breathing amalgamation, very much rooted in the organic expression of everyday life. It does not much matter to people that Ram or Durga are only metaphors. What matters is the celebratory nature of life in all its various aspects. Little girls and boys dress in festive finery. The girls in long, shimmering silk skirts with flowers in their hair take their little brothers to visit neighbors in order to see the dolls, decorated and exhibited on tiers. All those who visit are given tiny dolls, flowers, and sweets; each item prettily wrapped and put in special thamboolam bags made of silk.

The tiered arrangement of the dolls is to adhere to a specific protocol: the bottom tier is laid out with fruits and flowers; the topmost tier has regular panoply of gods and goddesses with Durga taking pride of place. The tiers between are meant to represent people from all walks of life—in essence, a microcosm showcasing both, the human and the divine dimensions.

I remember these celebrations so vividly. The lights, the colors, the smell of jasmine and incense; the lively chatter of my friends as we visited the various neighborhood ‘Kolus’; the busy adults; the scrumptious food; the dolls we so preciously decorated and displayed; the tiers so painstakingly arranged; the abundance of fruits and flowers; the strains of someone playing notes in praise of the goddess on the veena; of giggling helplessly at the incomprehensible lyrics; the embarrassment when asked to perform; the wonderful hubbub of those ten days that are but a pause before the free-fall of Diwali.

Parvathi Venkatraman; Chennai, India