"It is by defeating fear that we become men." Image: Ryan Lobo
Ryan Lobo: Jallikattu is a harvest event that’s been happening around Pongal in Tamil Nadu for as long as anyone can remember. Jallikattu for a Tamil famer is like Christmas or Bakrid, except far fewer animals die for its celebration. It’s celebrated right across Asia in various ways and is followed by mostly tribal and rural populations. Jallikattu differs from its Spanish equivalent in that the bulls are not killed.Many of the people working on our coconut farm play Jallikattu or attend the festivities. Being a farmer in India involves immense challenges, and Pongal is a Thanksgiving of sorts. The first rice of the season is fed to bulls. It’s not solely a male event—everyone attends, often atop bullock carts on trucks for a better and safer vantage point. Teams are formed, villages get together, and the best bulls are paraded about. The discussion goes on for days—once everyone has returned to work—and the most aggressive bulls are in much demand as studs. Much human courtship and matchmaking happen after harvest time as well.
It’s fun. The women love it. The men who succeed at it are definitely looked at with admiration—it provides an opportunity for a man to prove himself in front of the whole village. It also builds camaraderie, cements bonds, builds up an idea of community and provides semi-impoverished farmers with entertainment, spectacle, an involvement with the sacred, and a sense of cultural belonging without them having to pay for it.
"He is my Innova. He is my Scorpio." Image: Ryan Lobo
The opinions were varied, but it seemed to me that overriding them all was a sense of shock and hurt that people who lived far away, removed from the deeper aspects of this tradition, could ban it based on the petition filed by an organization with its ideological roots in another country.A Bangalore-based auto rickshaw driver who returns to his village every year for Jallikattu told me that while us city chaps just play with our cellphones, he “battles gods” once a year. A young woman in Madurai quipped that women did not need Jallikattu, as they went through childbirth. She also joked that there were more love matches after Jallikattu than at any other time, and that banning Jallikattu would reduce the number of children in Tamil Nadu.Has the spotlight on Jallikattu actually contributed to its popularity, especially among urban young men?
I hope so. I think so.
"What's the use of lofty and holy appearance, if one does what his own heart knows is wrong." From The Thirukkal, a classic Tamil text. Image: Ryan Lobo
I met several auto drivers, one mechanic, a fruit seller and one medical student, both before and after they played Jallikattu. Many participants work in cities and return to the villages for Jallikattu, which plays an important part in keeping communities together rather than allowing for fragmentation, as there is massive migration to cities.People who participated in the protests last January have reportedly taken up cattle-rearing, farming and other "socio-environmental initiatives" . How do you see the event changing in its scope?
I am not sure how effective urban people farming is really going to be. Farming is not easy and I don’t know if "socio-environmental initiatives" will last the test of time and seasons. I hope people move into agricultural areas and do farming work. I think they will do so when it is lucrative and not otherwise.
"Doesn't he look like the Supreme One digging into the bosom of Death." (Excerpt from the 2000-year-old Kaliththokai anthology of poems) Image: Ryan Lobo
To answer the allegation that Jallikattu is sometimes cruel, yes it is—though not as much as activists might suggest. So is non-vegetarianism, palm oil, fossil fuels, chicken farms, eggs, dairy, the unjust war in Iraq, leather shoes, coffee and tea (grown in former forests of the Western Ghats), cell phone towers and motor vehicles.
"Look at the bull,/ Raised horns as certain as silkmoths,/ he skewers to death the cowherd who sprang/ heedless of the look in the animal's eyes." (From the Kaliththokai) Image: Ryan Lobo
For centuries Jallikattu has inspired poems, songs, books and paintings. Its deep cultural reverberations go far beyond current definitions of the event. I view Jallikattu as a sacred rite of passage, with characteristics of folk craft, ritual, religion, festival and sport. It’s a huge spectacle and an important for agriculture business and livestock rearing.I wanted to reveal more profound aspects of the celebration via my photographs and their captions. The quotes come either from people who took part in Jallikattu, or ancient, epic Tamil poetry. A beautiful poem that describes Jallikattu is in the Kaliththokai , one of the anthologies of Tamil poetry.
"He rides on an elephant as fast as the wind, with unstoppable strength,/ like Death with swift gait, jingling bells hanging on both sides and eternal odai ornaments,/ With a face lined with deep scars caused by weapons with sharp tips." (From Tirumurugatruppadai by the medieval Tamil poet Nakkirar) Image: Ryan Lobo
Keep an eye out for angry bulls and—after the ban—keep an eye out for angry Tamils.
Less distraction. More epic. The captions are a part of the work and colour would have distracted. Magenta shorts, fluorescent t-shirts and crazed bulls look better in black and white. I wanted to reveal those timeless, sacred aspects of the event rather than just photographing spectacular moments, which everyone seems to do.In one image, a bull standing between several campaign posters hints at the way culture becomes politicised. How do you see the link between this event and the larger political context?
Political parties in Tamil Nadu have always supported Jallikattu; it’s an integral part of village culture and therefore a source of votes. With the death of Jayalalithaa there is a large political vacuum in Tamil Nadu and other forces might use this to rise. Inadvertently, the ban gives political parties much fodder. I think a lot of Tamils misunderstand the ban to be an attack by the centre on Tamil culture, which it is not. It is being used by some fringe groups as a call to secession from the Union. I heard that surviving elements of the LTTE [Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam] are hard at work using the emotions aroused by the ban to gain political currency.
"There, in the middle ground where the brides wait,/ Men gather again/ Ready to master the bulls." (From "The Girl Friend Describes the Bull Fight", by AK Ramanujan) Image: Ryan Lobo
"We designed our own t-shirts. We are fearless." Lingam brothers Jallikattu team, Kottapatti village. Image: Ryan Lobo
The smallest unit of civilization is the family. Then you have a community or tribe. In modern society, we may dress up for initiation ceremonies like passing out of college or confirmation, ceremonies that might not have a connection to the sacred anymore. In traditional societies, initiation ceremonies like Jallikattu serve to increase a sense of of the sacred, and introduce the initiate to the spiritual values of the community. The initiate returns to society with a refreshed sense of the sacred, a deeper sense of camaraderie and belonging to his kin group. The requirement to endure physical pain or to test one’s courage are very common features of initiation rites. The brotherhood you mention, or better put “community-hood”, is a result of Jallikattu and serves to make a community stronger against whatever external force might come to visit.What do you think the effects would be of completely banning Jallikattu, particularly on the idea of masculinity, with the loss of this “rite of passage”?
Many people say that it’s a “masculine” event, but Jallikattu involves and affects the whole community. One might look at cities like Gurugram, where traditional society has been destroyed, where young men are de-cultured and where the mythic bonds that hold communities together have been broken by real estate values and a more globalised consumerist culture. All that energy will find other outlets.Today, many factors threaten traditional ideas of masculinity. Some of it is warranted but some of it is ideologically motivated. Often it's cantonment-dwelling sorts who push certain ideologies that emanate from imaginary homelands far away. Gender and identity politics have been weaponised by the far left and the English speaking ‘elite’ in India mirror the views of their left counterparts in the United States and Europe without much thinking through of their contexts. The imaginary homeland of the cantonment-dwelling English speaking activist is not Mumbai, Bangalore or Chennai, but New York and California.
"I remain rooted to the earth,/ No matter the winds that blow." Image: Ryan Lobo
A woman had a minor car accident near Madurai. The lady looked like an activist: she spoke good English, wore khadi and jeans, and was in an SUV driven by a Tamil speaker. She had been educated in California but returned, married an industrialist and as she told everyone, she was the proud mother of several street dogs. In between berating her driver, even though the accident wasn’t his fault, she cursed farmers saying that they had no right to force bulls to run and that maybe they should make their own grandfathers run. “How would you like to be jumped on,” she said. She then put on some lipstick and checked herself in the mirror. I wanted to tell her that her lipstick was made from palm oil, grown on slash and burned rainforest from Southeast Asia which meant she was indirectly consuming orangutans. It was very gory to watch. I like orangutans.
"Even one's own tradition is not one's birthright./ It has to be earned, repossessed." (AK Ramanujan) Image: Ryan Lobo