Invoking Agni

A village in Kerala readies for an athiraathram, the most complex of the Vedic yajnas.

Agnaye idam na mama (“This is for Agni, not for myself”) — three months from now, these words will echo through the village of Panjal in Kerala’s Thrissur district as part of what may be among the world’s oldest surviving rituals.

Panjal is readying for an athiraathram, an approximately 3,000-year-old Vedic ceremony, to be conducted from April 4 to 15. The ritual is the initiative of the two-month-old Varthathe Trust, set up with the aim of preserving the country’s culture and heritage. “It is a ritual for universal peace and prosperity and is the biggest Vedic yajna,” says Neelakanthan Pillai, one of the nine members of the trust, based in Ottapalam, Kerala. The trust’s members felt that an athiraathram, which has not been conducted on such a large scale in Kerala for the last 35 years, would be an appropriate first event, “given the present condition of the world,” says Pillai, a banker by profession.

 

A yajna, or sacrifice, is an important part of the Vedic tradition. Some have a specific purpose, while others are for the prosperity of the universe as a whole. Athiraathrams, which fall in the latter category, are considered to be the most complex of the Vedic yajnas because of the nature of the rituals involved and the time it takes to conduct them.The ceremony is conducted by the yajamaanan, a Namboothiri (as members of Kerala’s Brahmin community are known) who should have already performed the five-day somayaagam, and his wife — in contrast to the commonly held belief that such rituals are the exclusive territory of men.

The sacred fire for the ceremony is lit by rubbing two twigs together. “Even if this takes five or six hours, this is the only way we are allowed to light the ceremonial fire, like it used to be done in the olden days,” says Sivakaran Namboothiri, one of the 16 priests who will assist in the athiraathram, and an ayurveda doctor. On the fourth day, construction begins on a 1,000-brick platform in the shape of an eagle, a feature unique to athiraathrams in Kerala. In the last three days, the chanting of the mantras and other rites continue through the night, giving the ceremony its name. The yaagashaala is finally set on fire, symbolically sending the elements back to nature.

The effects of such a ceremony, like any other religious ritual, may not be tangible, but rain immediately after an athiraathram is considered a good sign. “At the 1975 athiraathram, it had rained after the yaagashaala was set on fire and a lone krishnaparindu (brahminy kite) was sighted, considered good omens,” recalls Kochi-based translator Prema Jayakumar, who had attended the last athiraathram in Panjal.

Expense is one of the reasons the ceremony, estimated to cost Rs 1 crore now, is rarely held. Panjal last witnessed the ritual in 1975, at the prompting of Berkeley University professor and Indologist Frits Staal, who was allowed to film and document it in return for arranging funds for the ceremony from different sources.

The preparations are another deterrent. Apart from the materials and vessels needed, all of which are made specifically for the yajna, “Of the 16 priests, we need four who are masters in each Veda, who are not so easy to find these days,” says Namboothiri. And the yajamaanan, who gets the title of akkithiri or akkitham after performing the athiraathram, and his wife can never leave their village together after the ceremony, since one of them has to remain at home at all times to ensure the sacred fire (taken from the yajna) does not go out.

Organising an athiraathram is perhaps in keeping with the general trend of the revival in rituals one is seeing in Kerala, and the rest of the country, says C M Neelakandhan, professor in Vedic studies at Sankaracharya University of Sanskrit in Kerala. But he feels there has been a subtle and not entirely positive shift in the attitude towards rituals, adding that this is true for all ceremonies, cutting across religions. The words itham na nama, meaning “I am not doing this for myself,” are a significant part of the mantras in all yajnas, “but one wonders if this basic concept is still being followed,” he says. Neelakandhan also says that while it is good to preserve traditions, the ritual tradition must be secondary to the knowledge-based, or spiritual, tradition of the Vedas. “This has been emphasised by important figures,” like Vivekananda.

The organisers of the athiraathram in April are, nevertheless, keyed up about the ceremony. “We are expecting 15,000 people every day and 40,000 on the final day,” says Pillai.

Considering the increasing number of people around us seeking spiritual solace in different forms, there may well be many eyes turned skyward this April 15 in Panjal, hoping to spot that lone brahminy kite.