1This book is a rich and multi-layered comparative study of two ritual complexes, Teyyāṭṭam in northern Kerala and Navadurga in Bhaktapur in Nepal. Martin defines these ritual complexes as ‘Folk Śākta’ arguing that they build on trans-local Tantric ritual knowledge transmitted via Nāth ascetic networks (46–47, 169–71) while integrating local practices and religiosities. This postulation is further developed into four interrelated hypotheses about the history and structure of these ritual complexes. The first hypothesis identifies them as macro-clans of fictive kinship alliances. The second outlines their evolution as ‘bricolage webs of ritual knowledge’ under the patronage of medieval kingdoms. The third hypothesis is based on the analysis of blood sacrifices as engendering communal self-reflexivity, and the fourth postulates the affinities between ‘Folk Śākta’ rituals and contemporary ‘territory-conscious Marxist ideology’ (261–63). Martin’s methodology is interdisciplinary, combining anthropology and religious studies, or ‘anthropologically informed religious studies’, and ‘triangulating secondary sources and Neo-Durkheimian theory’ (8–12).
2Bhaktapur and northern Kerala are quite far removed from each other in terms of geography, language and sociocultural history, which complicates the fieldwork and its analysis. Martin incorporated participant observational methods in his fieldwork, attending the festivals held in Bhaktapur and in northern Kerala (Kasargod and Kannur districts). In Bhaktapur, he conducted interviews with practitioners and other community members from different walks of life (historians, social scientists, political activists) over the course of fourteen meetings. In northern Kerala, he first encountered some difficulties in contacting Teyyam performers, but eventually got in touch with a family of practitioners and engaged in conversations with a wider variety of ‘lineages of dancer mediums’ (17). It is unclear, however, whether he took notes and later fleshed them out or whether he recorded the interviews, then reworked and edited them to present selected extracts in his book. The cited interviews do not seem to represent raw, unedited material. A greater level of transparency regarding the practicalities of representing practitioners’ input would have been helpful.
3The theoretical frameworks structuring this book are quite ambitious. In his introduction, Martin conceptualises the two ritual complexes as ‘spiraling web-like ritual networks’ (18) and ‘bricolage webs of ritual knowledge’ (46), terms used throughout the book in relation to the socioreligious phenomena observed. He further contextualises his research in relation to medieval Tantric religiosities vis-à-vis Vedic (24–42) against the historical and societal backdrop of the case studies (43–55). Martin conceptualises his Nepali and Keralan case studies as enacting socially coherent ‘menstrual synchrony’ between goddess-clan members on local and historical levels (20, 41). These theoretical frameworks can be noted throughout the book, alternating between northern Kerala and Bhaktapur. The book concludes with a chart listing Martin’s hypotheses, comparing his findings of Teyyāṭṭam with those of the Navadurga ritual complex, and summarising the four major conceptualisations grounding his analytical framework (260–265). This impressive investment in substantiating the theoretical hypotheses and defining the central concepts of the book – in particular ‘folk’, ‘bricolage’ and ‘spiraling’ – is commendable, but not devoid of problems. For example, if ‘bricolage’ and ‘spiraling’ can be accepted perhaps as metaphors, a concept such as ‘folk’ might have been better formulated to contrast the case studies with ‘classical’ or ‘elite’ Śākta rituals. Considering the historical context of royal patronage as presented by Martin (166–69, 190–93), the term ‘folk’ seems somewhat incongruent in this case (granted we accept that the case studies represent Śākta rituals at all). Clarification of these central terms might have been useful to substantiate the rather elaborate and complex theorisation in the book.
- 1 See UNDRR, The Sendai Framework for Disaster Risk Reduction 2015-2030, available online at: https: (...)
- 2 The phrase he cites and its translations should be corrected, however, to eṉṟe māṭāyi-nagarē, ‘Hey (...)
4The book is divided into two parts and six chapters. The first part presents a thick description of the ritual complexes in each of the case studies. Based on the observations in part one, part two is divided into four thematic chapters on ‘dancer-medium communities and ritual kinship’ (123–162), ‘history and assimilation in Tantric cosmology’ (163–201), ‘sacrifice, earth cycles, and self-reflexivity affect’ (202–228), and ‘politics, ritual performance, and caste’ (229–259). This frame of analysis is engaging and compelling, and the constant comparisons between the two case studies are thought-provoking, especially in relation to social formations and indigenous knowledge systems.1 For example, the interviews with Navadurga performers and devotees reveal the role of ritual in community resilience during the devastating 2015 earthquake (159) and local risk perception of river pollution (159). In the case of Teyyāṭṭam, the role of this ritual complex in resolving and negotiating inter-communal tensions and relations is discussed, especially in relation to lower-caste performers and Muslim participants (134–35). Martin notes how the Madayi Teyyam deity ‘praise[s] Muslim worshippers’, attributing this multi-communal ritual system to historical developments (183).2 However, the deeper one delves into the details, the more the comparison between Teyyāṭtam and Navadurga seems forced.
- 3 See in particular the work by Maciej Karasinski-Sroka and G Sudev Krishna Sharman (2022: 667) See (...)
- 4 From the causative verb tōṟṟuka, ‘cause to appear, manifest’, which Martin translates as ‘creation (...)
5Despite growing evidence that Tantra networks had indeed once connected Kerala to north India, the data attesting to the fact that these ritual complexes were inherently Tantric is rather lacking.3 What is especially missing is solid evidence for the arguments presented and their substantiation. As a scholar of Kerala’s history and culture, I was struck by the lack of rigour in discussions of Teyyāṭṭam and its regional and historical context. Whereas the Navadurga ritual complex is associated with the Devīmahātmyam story-world (192–93), Teyyāṭṭam has a rich and diverse textual heritage which is quite removed from the worlds of Tantric texts or Śākta traditions such as the Devīmahātmyam. Teyyāṭṭam myths are recited at the onset of possession; hence they are known as tōṟṟampāṭṭǝ, which can be roughly translated as ‘incarnation songs’.4 The multiple and diverse origin stories of Teyyam deities has been documented by several scholars, especially Vishnu Namboothiri, who edited several anthologies of tōṟṟampāṭṭǝ with hundreds of different stories of apotheosis recited during Teyyāṭṭam (eg Namboothiri 2005). Moreover, the story as told by Teyyam performers differs from the story Nāyar patrons tell, often resulting in two different identities of the same Teyyam. The multiple stories of apotheosis and the heuristic divide are left unaccounted for in Martin’s framework of ‘fictive kinship’ and ‘menstrual synchrony’, which seems inapplicable to many, if not most, Teyyāṭṭam case studies. The comparative paradigm, albeit valid and promising, consequently fails to deliver on the hypotheses presented at the outset, leading to erroneous assertions. For example, asserting that in Teyyam, ‘ancestors are given human form, such that mediums emerge as the macro-clan’s Kārṇavan’ (127) is incompatible with the stories of apotheosis of lower-caste victims of the kārṇavan’s cruelty. Similarly, identifying Nāyar as an avarṇa caste, listed among dancer-mediums (89n82) is erroneous; Nāyars are the upper-caste patrons of the ritual complex, at least traditionally.
- 5 For example, the word Māppiḷa is spelt in three different ways, Māppilya, Mappila and Māppiya, thr (...)
6There are also quite a few mistakes and inconsistencies in the transliteration of Malayalam and Sanskrit words,5 and a tendency to cite secondary sources in a somewhat misleading manner. Thus, Dinesan Vadakkiniyil is cited as evidence for Teyyāṭṭam becoming ‘deeply politicized by BJP or Marxist divides’ (91), whereas the article cited focuses on a single Teyyam deity, Mūttappaṉ, as a modern phenomenon and its incorporation by the Kerala state agenda, regardless of the political party in power. In any case, the political spectrum in Kerala has the Congress as the opposition to the CPI(M), with the BJP winning no seats whatsoever in the last election round. In Kannur and Kasargode in particular, the BJP has no stronghold, as far as I am aware. Several other pieces of evidence to support the hypothesis of political radicalisation embedded in the sanguinary ritual practices of Teyyāṭṭam seem awkward. For example, Dilip Menon’s translation of a political mural is cited as evidence that ‘these body-based, kin-like sentiments are artistically displayed in CPI(M) propaganda’ (240–241), but Menon clearly states that the mural represents the social democratic progressive youth party DYFI, not the CPI(M).
7Despite these shortcomings, the multidisciplinary comparative study of the two ritual complexes is a welcome attempt at studying South Asian regional histories and cultures in relation to each other. Martin’s transgression of the North-South divide in Indology is commendable for its serendipitous venture into under-researched historical connections. There is undoubtedly a lot more to uncover in this regard. Readers might find in this book interesting and innovative ideas, and fruitful paths for further explorations. The book is indicative of new trends in South Asian Studies, incorporating ritual studies and comparative religion in social and political science frameworks.
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