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

“Uncle, you’ve crossed the fire pit for years. You’re used to it right? The experience helps you, correct?”

Balakrishnan laughs.

“You can be a freshie, you could have walked for years – but it will always be a first year no matter what your age or experience is. It is fire, heat is inevitable and we are only humans – we WILL be scared no matter who asks us other wise and I am not ashamed to admit that. Why do we do it repeatedly? Because when we cross the pit, we remember the oath our mother took. We know she waits for us at the end of the pit with her arms outstretched – why would we not want that satisfaction? We take that leap of faith despite our fear because we know that she is there to hold us. It’s what a mother does, doesn’t she?”

While the men of the community prepare to cross the pit in a few days, the temple’s doors are now open wide throughout the night and into the dawn. Crowds of devotees in yellow prepare to carry out their vows through rituals like paalkudam (offering of the milk pot), maavilakku (offering of rice-flour lamp), angapradakshinam (moving around the temple in a rolling movement while lying down) and kumbiduthanam (prostrating by kneeling down after every three steps).

“While fire-walking festival is done for Draupadi, these vows are done for our main deity, Mariamman. We, sanctum volunteers, must be extra vigilant on days when devotees come here to fulfil these vows. A thousand eyes are on us volunteers ; one mistake and it affects all of us. Discipline and projecting a good image to the public is crucial. I never want a single criticism about my team for inefficiency.”

“We are not paid, we are volunteers. The exhaustion is real, the sacrifice is immense. But our years of service and experience are very important to the organisation. We have as much authority as someone who is getting paid.”

During the two days prior to the fire-walking event itself, a silver chariot bearing the idol of Sri Mariamman exits the temple and begins its journey towards the southern estates of Singapore. These estates prepare for her imminent arrival with gusto as they welcome her with bright lights, live performances and offerings before sending her off to the next stop – truly a wholesome festive mood.

“The crowd was much lesser last time, especially during the 1970s. About a hundred to two hundred people participated in the actual fire-walking – hence why the events last time were conducted over a period of three days instead of a week or a month like now. The silver chariot only went out on the eve of fire-walking.”

“Chariot points were expanded due to the demographics – more Indians who moved into areas like Bukit Merah, Bukit Purmei, Telok Blangah, Henderson, Hoy Fatt, Depot Road and Everton Road requested for the chariot to come to that particular estate. Hence why we now see many different points in just two days that the chariot goes out.”   

The silver chariot comes back to Mariamman temple around midnight, sometimes later, to an overwhelming crowd awaiting for a glimpse of her. As she rocks to the hundreds chanting “Om Sakthi”, one cannot help but shed happy tears at just the mere sight of her face.

It is now four in the morning and the crowd that welcomed the silver chariot back into the temple is slowly dissolving. It is only hours away from the fire-walking festival. Meanwhile, the volunteers gather at the sanctum of Aravan and begin to prepare for the formation of the Chakravyuham – Chakravarthi Kottai.

The formation of the Chakravyuham was a battle tactic used by the Kauravas in the war of Kurukshetra. Also known as the ‘Padmavyuham’, the formation was shaped like a blooming lotus and was an invincible fortress that move in circles. While the third Pandava Arjuna and his charioteer Krishna were the only warriors who knew how to break in and break out of the formation, they were unfortunately absent at the moment. Hence, Arjuna’s son Abhimanyu offered to help.

However, Abhimanyu was only aware of the breaking in tactic, and not the one that helps him to break out. Goaded on by his paternal uncles and promised support, he then breaks the ranks of the Vyuham but unfortunately battles the Kaurava army alone while his uncles were defeated at the very start of the formation. Abhimanyu then dies when the Kaurava army unjustly surrounds him and kills him on the thirteenth day of battle.

A large sand maze is built outside the sanctum of Aravan as the sand maze has four entrances to the middle, guarded by four protective hordes represented by the volunteers, armed with the five swords. A fifth volunteer holds a sword and goes around each entrance, requesting permission into the Vyuham as Abhimanyu, son of Arjuna. While the first three guardians deny entry, the fourth does, allowing Abhimanyu to trample on the sand maze.

As this happens, a white cloth is then laid on a flat surface and a volunteer, representing Abhimanyu, lies down on it while the rest of the volunteers wrap him and start to pinch him. When the maze is being dissolved, the volunteers then pick up the wrapped man and run to the Draupadi sanctum while chanting “cho cho cho” – the man is then made to kneel before the sanctum with both hands above his head as another volunteer brandishes a whip on his wrist three times.

“It is believed that the volunteer who lies down on the cloth loses consciousness for a few seconds. We keep pinching him to make sure he is still able to feel, and we brandish the whip on his wrists thrice to bring back his pulse. The unconsciousness that the volunteer feels is also believed to be the rage of Draupadi herself – Abhimanyu was her son too.”

The same process happens a few hours later during the ritual of Padukalam – the last and most important ritual right before the fire-walking festival itself.

The morning of the fire-walking festival sees a huge ground display of five sand mounds – three small mounds, one medium-sized mound and the last one a huge mound. It is the end of the war, and Krishna (a volunteer) now brings Draupadi (another volunteer) out to let her lament the dead.

He walks her to the first mound of sand and tells her that this is her son Abhimanyu, who died in the 13th day of war. Krishna then proceeds to ask Draupadi if he deserves “moksham” (liberation) or “naragam” (hell), to which she replies the former and dances around the mound while beating her chest as the narrator sings the song of lament. (yaar potta padukalama? – who laid the battlefield?) She then spreads some turmeric on the mound to end her mourning. She follows suit, granting liberation to the next two small sand mounds. (representing Drona and Karna)

As she walks to the medium-sized mound, a sense of excitement swirls around the crowd gathered – a hush descends. Krishna tells Draupadi that this is Dussasana, the second Kaurava brother who dragged her to the court by her hair to humiliate her. Bosoms heaving, Draupadi furiously beats her chest to the song as she finally steps on the mound with her foot, declaring hell for Dussasana. Now comes the crucial part of it all – the final mourning.

While Krishna walks Draupadi over to the largest mound, she is shaking. As she dances around the mound, Krishna explains to her that this is the body of Duryodhana, the Kaurava prince responsible for her misery and whom she needed to avenge. As she finishes her last round of mourning, the same volunteer who laid down for Chakravarthi Kottai now lies down on a white cloth spread once more, representing Duryodhana, and is hurried to the sanctum of Draupadi before she pounces on him. He is then whipped and revived once more, saved from her wrath.

Draupadi’s loose hair is now tied as she takes a few measuring steps forward to finalise the length of the fire-pit and completes her long withstanding oath. The preparation of the fire-pit begins that very moment itself, kicking the fire-walking festival off.

“When I used to invoke Draupadi back in those days, a whip was brandished to control the force of the trance. It is a force that can be subdued by tying it with a whip (in Tamil: பிண்ணினால் அடங்கும் சக்தி), but it’s been misused a lot these days. We received numerous complaints about injuries too, hence why we stopped doing that. But every year, a whip will follow the karagam on a plate as a symbolism of protection.”

“Yes, there used to be whiplashes involved. Whiplashing is a “ritual” that reduces fear and invokes courage in a devotee (like a protection) – one is made to grasp both his hands together above his head as he kneels down, while the whiplash is administered on his wrists. The whip can be seen on Veerabhadra’s neck – and is used to tame a trance as well.”

“The only time we use the whip is when we are passing the long bridge towards South Bridge Road because negative vibes and mischievous spirits lurk mostly there. We swing it to ward them off, so that no harm befalls on the karagam as it passes.”

While half the team prepares the fire-pit and temple for the event, the other half prepares to leave to Sri Srinivasa Perumal Temple, where the karagam will be prepared. From there once the karagam is done and hoisted on the pandaaram’s head, it is a customary walk towards South Bridge Road with thousands of male devotees trailing the procession to cross the fire.

Being an integral part of the festival, the karagam is much revered, a symbol of the goddess herself. The karagam is always on the head of the pandaaram (chief priest) and he is the first one to walk over the fire. It is notable that a karagam has to safely cross the fire pit, a mark of approval for the rest of the devotees to follow suit.

During the 1990s, Balakrishnan took over the leadership for the karagam team. It was then that everyone realised he didn’t just make the best Draupadi, but he was a creative force to be reckoned with.

“I was younger and I had a lot of ideas. Back in those days, a karagam was a simple structure embellished with basic flowers and neem leaves. When I joined the team as a leader, I thought – why not switch it up?”

What you see every year on our Karagam are ideas generated by me. Two weeks before the official fire-walking commences, I sit down and think about how our karagam this year should go out. I immediately use colour pencils, markers, etc, to sketch it out before I finalise on technical aspects like measurements and logistics. It’s a new year every year, and so far it’s rather well-received. Of course, I communicate with her too. I tell her that this is how I am going to bring her out this year. Promise me that not one strand of your hair would be out of your plait.”

“The karagam tying process is very much tedious. The karagam that crosses the fire is the only one that contains rice grains – the rest of the karagams that we tie throughout the year for other prayers within the temple contain water. Hence, there is a lot of difference in weight and stability.”

“When the Karagam sits on the pandaaram’s head, it cannot come down no matter what. That’s why time management on both the fire-pit team and the karagam team is important – we cannot delay, nor rush. It’s tricky, but with cooperation and communication, this can be done perfectly.”

“Now I’ve been training two apprentices to learn karagam management from me. We must never be selfish when it comes to imparting duties and knowledge – all my life I’ve served, now it’s time I pass it on to the generation after me to continue.”

As the karagam proceeds towards South Bridge Road, it is often seen to be protected by oil lamps, five swords and a five-pointed staff.

“The five swords represent the five Pandava brothers and the five-pointed staff, is called kotham and anjimani kattai – they represent the five protecting powers of Ganesha, Kali, Agora Veerabhadra, Draupadi and Mariamman. It is crucial that these must always surround the karagam to ward off any mischievous spirits trying to knock it over. The only objective then is to ensure that the karagam safely reaches the temple before crossing the fire-pit.”

“In 1983, the pandaaram was suddenly seized and had his arms pressed to the side of his body while we witnessed the karagam just lift slightly above his head. Immediately, all five swords were put together, pointed upwards and the whip was swung in order to clear the air.”

“Previously, there used to be a well in Mariamman temple, just right outside the sanctum of Muthala Raja, where we used to wash the knives in. The well is now boarded up, but the water from it was so fresh; Mariamman’s first abishegam (ritual of pouring water or other sacred substances on a deity) every morning was with water from that well itself. A water body is crucial to the temple, water being a superior element in Hindu tradition and worship. When we tie a karagam within the temple premises, we do it near the boarded-up well as a form of symbolism and to identify with the water body in the temple.”

“Not many people are aware, but we used to have a goat sacrifice before the fire-walking festival too. Of course it was banned, but the next time you visit the temple, just look up at the main entrance above and you’ll notice hooks (kallumaram) – that was were we hung the goat’s head. It is a type of offering to appease the goddess herself but urban times do not see to animal sacrifices anymore, especially in Singapore.”

The crowd is now anxiously awaiting the karagam procession as the roads outside Sri Mariamman temple welcome people from all walks of life, eager to witness the moment the karagam safely crosses the pit.

As the pandaaram reaches the threshold, he looks ahead and sees the goddess in the main sanctum, smiling serenely as though welcoming him. He dances across the threshold and in front of the fire pit, as everyone wait with bated breaths. He pauses, and steadies himself, as the volunteers lean forward, any moment now.

He strides forward confidently and onto the fire-pit, accompanied by a cacophony of jubilant cheers of the crowd yelling “Om Sakthi” while the volunteers jog beside him, holding up the fort. As his feet touches the milk pit dug at the end of the fire pit, the crowd exhales relief.

A father, a son, a brother and a husband walks, but every man’s footsteps are being watched closely. Subconsciously, we ask her to bring everyone across safely to fulfil the oath – the selflessness of human nature at its peak.

“The moment you step into the temple, as a devotee or even as a volunteer, treat the rest of your fellow men with respect and have faith. I’d always advise my boys too – respect the rest and have faith, but do not aim for power or status.”

“When you are in a team, contribution and learning is essential. Quantity of servitude isn’t important to me, quality is. We stay up together and work together, there is no such thing as ‘he does lesser and I do more’. What have you learnt over the course of service that contributes to the team? That is important.”

“During Padukalam in 1989, I was playing Draupadi. A volunteer who was participating in the event was fully inebriated the night before. During the Padukalam, he suddenly grabbed me by my waist (while I was in trance) and my faux hair got stuck in his chain. Due to the rage of the character and my obliviousness, I was nonetheless disturbed and angered by his action. I fiercely sat on his thigh and his thigh broke. I was unaware of this entire ordeal until at a much later time – it was then I realised that we are nothing compared to the force she is. Why stop her when she is at the brink of fulfilling her oath?”

“When you test the force above us, you must be prepared to face what is coming your way. A lot of us take these situations for granted, thinking that we can get away with it, but when you sow goodness, you reap goodness. When you want to test her, don’t forget that you won’t be able to withstand it if she does the same thing back to you. She showers love on her children, but never undermine her compassion.”

“I was academically the least qualified in my household, holding only a PSLE certificate. My siblings were more educated than I was, and others looked down on me for being a wastrel without education. I was thirty-nine when I finally completed my diploma, and was forty when I completed my advanced diploma. During Navaratri period, I’d bring my books here to study and complete projects whenever I had the opportunity to, in the midst of all the planning and preparing. Even if you ask me now, this wouldn’t have been possible if not for her watching over me as I climbed hurdle after hurdle.”

“I want the youths to learn about our culture and religion. There are a lot of rituals that link up to the main event itself. Learn all about the Mahabharatham itself, come and see all the events. It’s a challenge to get kids these days to understand WHY we do certain things and HOW, not when or where. We all know about fire-walking, but how many of us know the significance behind each and every event that leads up to it and how does the Mahabharatha tie in? We’ve done this for years, now that the younger generation catches up, it is only wise that they know why are the doing it before they do it.”

“There might not be chances this year to come down and observe due to the current situation we are all in. But as I mentioned, faith is important – I have faith that Draupadi will regain her Theemithi back next year, and when she does, we celebrate her once more.”