TRANSFORMED INTO A BUFFALO
The Komati Chetty sits in the bazaar behind his wares. He has baskets of grain before him. There is a basket of tamarind, another of red pepper. Not everything is displayed and temptingly laid out for the eyes of questioning purchasers on his verandah. There is a door behind him, which, when open, reveals bags and baskets filled with wares stored away.
Perhaps he deals in cloth, in needles and thread and scissors, in beads and glittering ornaments made of paste diamonds and rubies. Ask him for a few yards of tape, and he dives into the well-stocked “go-down” that opens from his verandah, pulls out a package, opens it before you and displays tapes of different widths. He brings out fine muslin and flowered chintz, and says, “Buy, missus, verry cheap.” He even has a china pug dog to show you, and cheap playthings that are marked “Made in Germany.” Ask him the “proper price,” and he mentions three times the amount which he can justly claim. Bargain with him, decide finally that you do not want his wares, and he will hand them to you at a reasonable cost.
The Komati is often a wealthy man. He has money, and lends it at high interest. The women go to him and buy the rice for the evening meal, and the various spices that go to make a good curry. Pariah women, too, must come to buy. Sometimes the scant cooley which the family has earned is not enough to supply food for all, though they buy the cheapest kind of grain. Then they go into debt with the Komati, and he keeps them in fear and anxiety until the debt is paid.
It would not occur to any one that there could be a connection between the wealthy, prosperous Komati and the poor, despised Madiga if peculiar customs did not exist that point to some kind of tie between them. The Komatis are not pleased with a reference to these customs. The ill-will of other castes, they say, spreads these tales about them.
The marriage ceremonies of the Komatis are generally as elaborate as their wealth will permit. Friends and relatives are invited to sumptuous feasts. But, though the Madiga would not be a guest in any way desirable, he must be invited, lest ill-fortune befall the young couple. And the Madiga is far from coveting such an invitation; he considers it unlucky and insulting. Should a Komati dare to extend it openly, his messenger might be treated roughly at the hands of the irate Madigas.
The Komati waits for a time when it is not likely that the Madigas will see him. He takes the iron vessel with which he measures the grain and makes his way to the Madiga hamlet. Hiding behind one of the houses, he whispers into the vessel, “In the house of the small ones (Komatis) a marriage is to take place; the members of the big house (Madigas) are to come.”
But this is not sufficient. The light with which the fire is kindled during the marriage ceremony must come from the house of the Madiga. There is obstinate refusal when asked. Perhaps the men of the Madiga hamlet grow angry when they hear of the request. Strategy must be employed, the light which the Madiga refuses to give must be taken from him by stealth, to satisfy custom.
There must be some reason for these customs. Major Mackenzie observed them even as far south as the Mysore district, where the Madigas have emigrated. He suggests that the connection between two such different castes as the Madigas and Komatis may lie in the fact that both worship the same goddess. The Komatis have as their caste-goddess the virgin Karnika-Amma, who destroyed herself rather than marry a prince, because he was of another caste. She is represented by a vessel full of water, and during the marriage ceremony is brought in state from her temple and is placed on the seat of honour in the house. The Madigas claim Karnika as their goddess, under the name Matangi, and object to seeing the Komatis take her away.
This is certainly significant, showing that there is connection between the two castes, not only by social customs, but also by similar religious interests. I have heard a legend which may throw some light on the subject. It was told by a Komati, and, like most Indian legends, includes the element of the impossible.
There was once a Brahmin who, contrary to the rules of caste, lived with a Madiga woman. He was versed in the arts of the magician, and, by his magic, he transformed her by day into the body of a buffalo; at night she was again a woman. They had eleven children.
One day the Brahmin was called away on urgent work. He called his children and charged them to care for the buffalo, to untie it and take it to the field to graze.
The children did not know of the transformation which took place every day. Thoughtlessly they drove the buffalo before them to pasture, and when it would not go as they wished they beat it with a stick. But the buffalo was old and weak. It fell down and died.
The father came home, and the children told him that the buffalo was dead. He asked how it died, and said: “Alas, the buffalo was your mother! As an expiation of your crime, go and cut up the buffalo and eat it.” The Komatis are said to be the descendants of these children.
Once a year the Komatis shape a lump of dough, made of rice-flour, into a four-legged animal, to represent a buffalo. Each member of the family takes a little of it and eats it. This ceremony is called Nabsanimudda.
The legend and this household ceremony have something in common. It is not impossible that the Komatis may be of mixed descent. I looked for information concerning them in the Manual of Administration of the Madras Presidency, and found that they are said to have emigrated from some place in the north, a few authorities mention Penoocondah, which was a place of importance under the Vijayanagar dynasty. There is evidently some doubt as to the locality from which they have sprung, and nothing definite is known of their origin. They claim to be purer Vaisyas than other subdivisions of the trading-castes, and are divided into many clans.
Neither Komatis nor Madigas are pleased with the connection between them. Strange, therefore, that it is so enduring.