Draupadi’s Theemithi – Singapore’s fire-walking festival through the ages (Part II).

For eighteen years, Balakrishnan donned the role of Draupadi with poise and ferocity that ran deep within the community. Even outside the walls of the temple, people only addressed him as “Draupadi” Bala – an experience that was amusing and exasperating at once. His servitude towards the temple did not just stop there, he continued on as a volunteer, leader and mentor for forty-six years as everyone began to affectionately recognise him as “Bala Anneh” (elder brother) as well.

“In countries like India and Malaysia, fire-walking festivals are done during the Tamil month of Aadi. Because the worship of Mariamman is mostly popular during Aadi, certain temples in these countries conduct the fire-walking for her. In Singapore, we do it for Draupadi instead, following the tradition of including the rituals of the Mahabarata, her oath stemmed from the epic itself.”

As the month of Aadi ceases, the temple sees an extra influx of devotees and tourists alike, for the countdown for fire-walking festival begins. In early August, the first crowd gathers at South Bridge road for Periyaachi Poojai – paying respect to the mendicant goddess Periyaachi Amman (“periya” meaning big and “aachi” a term that is used to affectionately call someone grandma) and asking her to protect the community from any evil that might befall.

The day after the prayers for Periyaachi Amman introduces the ritual known as Kodiyetram, or hoisting of the flag. Almost two dozens long, a majestic emblem of Hanuman, the divine Vanara god is splashed on the flag and hoisted on the temple flagstaff amidst a jarring chorus of “govindha” by the crowd. Just like a customary flag-raising ceremony in local schools every morning to signify the start of a academic day, the flag of Hanuman is hoisted to announce the official start of the fire-walking festival.

“We never re-use the flags from previous years. All flags are done up from scratch every year and we start around the end of June. First we get a painter to draw out the Hanuman emblem on the cloth. After which, we get a tailor to enhance the details. A huge board is attached to the cloth with staples and allowed to dry before removing it on the morning of the event itself. Garlands and embellishments are added right before the prayers commence.”

“The ritual of Kodiyetram dates back to the kampong and village era of our ancestors. When a flag is hoisted to kick-off a festival, it means the village is “tied”. No one is allowed to go out of the boundary or no one is allowed to come into the boundary until the flag is down again. This is to prevent any deaths, diseases or supernatural evil while the festival is ongoing.”

Following the hoisting of the flag, a priest then sits himself at the Draupadi sanctum to read the Mahabarata in chapters everyday, until the actual fire-walking event itself. The large leather-bound book can still be spotted at the sanctum atop a podium until today.

“Kodiyetram begins on a Monday, and so do the other events that come after. Why Monday? Because back in those days, the washermen clan used to appropriate the fire-walking festival and conduct these rituals. Mondays used to be their rest days, where they allocate their free time to the temple. It has been since then we follow the same tradition of holding all our events on Mondays.”

Following the next Monday after Kodiyetram is the ritual of Draupadi’s Maalaiyiduthal, her betrothal to the five Pandava princes. After which, the third Monday is when she ties the knot – Draupadi Thirukalyanam.

The following Monday after the week of the wedding sees a heartbreaking re-enactment of Draupadi’s disrobing in the Mahabaratha – Draupadi’s Vasthirabharanam.

“A yellow saree is tied underneath her usual saree for that day. As the priest pulls, her yellow saree is then revealed to recognise her vow that she has undertook now. Her tresses will be untied and left flowing – look closely enough and you’ll notice the immediate change on her face, from being a coy bride to a furious goddess waiting to seek justice on the battle field.”

From the disrobing arrives the ritual of putting prayers to honour Aravan, the son of the third Pandava, Arjuna. The story of Aravan is one that is intriguing, for I remember my father patiently telling it to me a few times when I was a little girl ; I was very curious (and slightly amazed) at Aravan’s head and the lack of a torso.

Arjuna took on other wives apart from Draupadi, one of them being Ulupi, the Naga (snake) princess whom Aravan was born to. As such, Aravan becomes the stepson of Draupadi, but she loved him like her own.

Before a war commences, it is notable for warriors to give a kalabali (battle sacrifice) to the goddess Kali, in hopes of appeasing her that she grants victory to whoever who provided the sacrifice to her. As such, when the eldest Kaurava brother Duryodhana hears of this, he goes to meet Sahadeva, the fifth Pandava for Sahadeva was an expert astrologer and would provide an exact, prosperous date for the sacrifice to happen. Not withstanding his work ethic, Sahadeva then explains to his cousin brother that a kalabali must be conducted on the day of the full moon.

The Pandavas’ loyal friend and close cousin Krishna then appoints candidates to be sacrificed, out of which Aravan was chosen. The moment of Draupadi’s refusal to her son being sacrificed is then re-enacted as a ritual on a new moon day right after the Aravan Poojai – the Aravan Kalabali. This is also the first event in the stretch that Bala would become Draupadi for, displaying distress at Aravan’s death – the event from which he begins his fast for his own walk of faith across the fire in a few days to come.

Thirty-two balls of pumpkin mixed with kungumam would be placed in front of a make-shift Aravan to signify his flesh and sacrifice. Towards the end of the ritual, Bala as Draupadi would lament her son’s death as she instates the trident on a risen platform of sand right beside the Aravan sanctum, marking it as the battlefield.

The arrival of the new moon day also announces the start of the annual Navaratri celebrations in the following weeks to come – which means the fire-walking festival is also edging precariously closer.

“The decoration process last time was very simple – we used those cinema/drama type of plex-boards and decorated them accordingly. It was really heavy and involved too much manpower and time so I had to sit down and think about how can we simplify this process – hence came about the ideas of different decorations themes, all of it which you can see during the nine days here – the busiest nine days of the year.” 

“Cutting painting, drawing, decorating, etc, were also done solely by ourselves but now we order in, and we strive to get the best quality. We save our hard-earned money to prepare all of these – us working hard is an understatement.”

“Nowadays, the ideas are generated by the younger boys. I facilitate their discussion, only because I want to give them the space to be creative as much as possible – their ideas are carved differently from mine and its refreshing. We even got a couple of awards for the amount of hardwork and creativity recognised.” 

As the day nears, the temple becomes alive. As the nine nights of celebrations end, the volunteers start to gear up – for a long weekend awaits them.

“It all boils down to interest – how are we going to do this and what would the execution be like interests me. There were days where I hardly returned home too. I have grown attached to this temple and the deity inside. Do it for your satisfaction and her’s – don’t expect anything out of it, but I believe that if you do good as such, she’s got your back forever.”

“When you look at her and think that she is just a mere stone, she will be. You look at her and you see her as a woman, a person there listening to you, a mother, she will be that too. Your perspective matters, but your faith puts it into clarity.” 

Friday rolls in – two days before the annual fire-walking festival. South Bridge road is lighted up, excitement buzzing in the air. Loud, live music blares from the speakers overhead as they could be heard a mile away. It is almost midnight when someone excitedly shouts across to the frenzied crowd while glancing at their phone.

“She’s coming.”