‘Did you come walking all these sixty miles?’

‘How could I walk? Am I not an old man?  By your leave I came by bullock-
            bandy.’

‘And what have you to tell me now?’

‘Whatever you give leave, that will I tell.’

This was the polite reply which I had heard many a time. It had happened repeatedly that my questions, far from bringing to light valuable material, only revealed the fact that there was nothing to draw forth. I regarded Yelliah, as he sat facing me, as an experiment.

‘Tell me,’ I said, ‘about the old days.’

            ‘My mother, Ammah, was a Matangi.’

            ‘And what is that?’ I asked.

            ‘A Matangi is a Madiga woman, who is possessed by Ellama.’

            ‘And who is Ellama ?’

‘She is Adimata, the mother who was from the beginning.’

By this time I had straitened myself. I dipped my pen into the ink with an air of business. I took my note-book, and I said, ‘Now, Yelliah, begin at the very beginning.’

And Yelliah began far back with his great-grandmother, who was a Matangi. His grandmother was not invested with the power. He was his mother's eldest child, and when he was about three years old something strange happened to her. She was well, and had been going to her work as usual, when, one Adivaramu, being the first day of the week, after the offering of food had been placed in the Ellama idol-house, she began to act in a peculiar way.

She sat apart at meal-time, and refused to eat. It was harvest-time, and for two weeks she went to the fields as usual, but aside from the grain, which she ate as she worked, she would not partake of food. The Sudras, for whom the family worked, noticed this. The whole village began to watch her closely, for she looked this way and that, and laughed to herself. They said, ‘What does it all mean?’

It soon became a matter of discussion in the community, for there were many who worshipped Ellama. No matter whether anyone was a Sivite or a Vishnuite, he yet thought it well to worship Ellama. When it was decided, therefore, that a council should be called to investigate whether this woman was really invested with the power of Ellama, a very general interest wa shown. Sudras and Brahmins came, but the man who was head of the council was the headman of the Madiga village, who, as such, had the function of entering the Ellama idol-house once a wek with offerings of milk, butter, and fruit.

The test agreed upon was that the Bainurdu, who is the minstrel in the Ellama sect, should recite the story of Ellama in the presence of the woman. If Ellama’s power had come upon her, she would dance, inspired by the goddess; if it was an evil spirit that possessed her, the story would not affect her. Without loss of time the test was made; and as soon as the minstrel began the young woman danced, and not only she, but her husband and other members of the family also danced, and thus it was evident that Ellama's power possessed the family.

All were now convinced that they had a new Matangi in this woman. It was considered an event, for Matangis were rare, only one or two in a Taluk. It was decided that an old Matangi from an adjoining Taluk should be called to initiate the new Matangi into the rites of the office. The family had to bear the expense of the initiation, about sixteen rupees, which necessitated a debt; but they did not hesitate, for they knew that afterwards there would be great gain. An atmosphere of expectancy and anticipation was abroad in the community.

There lived a Reddi in the place, who was chief of the Reddis, one of the branches of the Sudra caste. Years before he had had a serpent made, life-size, of silver, gold, copper, and various metals, and then he, and a number of villagers as witnesses, had gone to Sulvesanama Kona [c], where the Gundlacumma River flows through a cave, and where there is a famous place of worship. Here the Reddi fulfilled certain conditions, and went through initiatory rites, for which he received a certificate from the officiating priests. His wife had gone with him, and had also met all conditions, so that she, too, could take a prominent part in the worship of the snake, when, after their return home, they were asked here and there with the serpent.

The great day came when the old Matangi arrived. The Madiga headman went into the little thatch-roof house, sacred to Ellama, and took out the pot, hung to the roof, that contained coins and shells and other articles emblematical of Ellama and her sons. The pot was taken to the village-tank in the morning, and left in the water all day, a man remaining near by as guard. In the evening all went to take it out of the water, worship it, and take it back to the village. One goat was killed near the water, another half-way to the house, and a third after reaching the house, where the blood was painted over the door-frame. The Reddi had brought his serpent and placed it, with its hood spread, where the offerings of rice could be piled up around it.

That same night, after the serpent had been worshipped, the old Matangi and the Reddi's wife sat down together on the back of a goat. It lay down with the weight, but was dragged three times around the spot where the serpent and all the offerings were. Instruments were played, and the bystanders danced the wild dance of possession. Whatever trouble or sickness there was among the people would, it was believed, fall upon the goat and die with it. It was half dead, after being dragged three times around the circle, and was then taken to one side and killed.

On the next day all the rice and other offerings that had been heaped around the serpent were cooked by Sudras; for Brahmins too were coming to eat, and if Sudras cooked it, the caste prejudices of all were respected.[d] There was a feast, and then all returned to their own houses. The old Matangi also went home. The new Matangi had been passive throughout, had simply looked on. She and her family worshipped Ellama for one week, and then went to their work as usual. She showed no further signs of possession. Only when stories of Ellama were recited, she and others of the family began the dance.

During the year that followed the family and others of the Madigas worked and saved, and laid up grain, and contracted debts to meet the initiatory rites that were to follow. They could not accept help from the Sudras, or any one else, for the Matangi must come from the Madigas. It is a Madiga affair, and while other castes may share, they cannot have any initiative. A new pot was made for Ellama; shells and pebbles were brought from the sea; water from the Krishna River was brought to wash them.

Before the initiation could take place, however, a final test was ordained, to prove that the woman was really worthy of the office. On the floor of a house a figure in three parts was drawn, with white, red, and yellow powder. In one part the serpent had its place, in the second the Ellama-pot, and in the third the new Matangi was seated. A little earthenware pot was placed in each corner, painted with saffron[e] and red dots, representing Ellama, and filled with buttermilk. Threads were then tied to the pots, brought to the roof and back again, crosswise, four times.

After these preparations had been completed, the Bainurdu began to recite Ellama stories, accompanying himself with his instrument. The possession came upon the woman, but she could not rise up and dance, she had to remain seated and contain it within herself. If she could not do this, she was not worthy. The strings tied across furnished the proof, for if she moved they would break, and the buttermilk in the pots would be spilled. In due time the Bainurdu said soothing words, and the possession slowly disappeared.

A crowd of people had stood by as witnesses, and great was the feeling of relief when the new Matangi had stood the test and proved that she would be able to carry her office with dignity. Again the old Matangi was called; this time to stand by and instruct her colleague in office. First she was decked like the old Matangi, with new clothes, her face and arms were painted with saffron, rice was tied around her waist, and a wreath of margosa leaves was hung around her neck. As her insignia of office, a basket was placed in her left hand, a stick in her right hand, and two small plates, one containing yellow saffron, the other red powder, were held by a woman who was her female attendant. She stood in the middle of the crowd, took buttermilk into her mouth, passed it on a bunch of margosa leaves, and sprinkled it on all who stood near. It was believed that whoever was thus sprinkled would be cleansed from all defilement and pollution; for even the touch of a Matangi is thought to have power. In the night the Reddi's wife and the new Matangi sat on the goat together; again the serpent was worshipped, and there was great feasting on the day following. After this the new Matangi went about with her husband, performing the ceremonies of her office in the villages of the Taluk. Her husband was passive, for men can never assume the role of a Matangi.

Such was the story of the initiation of a Matangi as told to me. I enquired for legends concerning the Matangi cult, and found one which is not without additional information.

There lived, once upon a time, a king whose name was Dundagheri Rajah. His wife was Jamila Devi. When the king was holding court one day, a beautiful maiden appeared before him. She was an incarnation of the goddess Parvati, the consort of Siva. The king extended his right hand to catch the maiden, but she moved away from him. He and his people followed in pursuit of her, but she receded, and finally disappeared into an ant-hill. The king sent for diggers, and ordered them to dig till they found the girl, and offered large rewards. They began to dig, but soon found that the ant-hill was hard as stone. The king then sent for stone-cutters, and the queen offered them still greater rewards. They too failed. Then the king grew angry, took his spear, and drove it into the ant-hill. The spear pierced the skull of the maiden, and as the king pulled out the spear, the brains of the girl began to ooze out and blood began to flow. The king and all his followers, at sight of this, fell into a swoon.

The maiden then came out of the ant-hill in great majesty and of divine proportions. She held the heavens in her left hand (the basket to-day represents this), in her right hand she held Adisesha, the great serpent (the stick is now substituted for this). She held the sun and moon as plates, in one of which she caught the spilt blood, in the other the scattered brain. Upon the foreheads of the people, that lay in a swoon, she made a mark with the brain and another with the blood. Therefore the Matangi to-day has two plates, one with yellow saffron, the other with red turmeric, with which she marks the foreheads of people. After all those who lay in a swoon had been thus marked, they recovered, and saw the goddess before them in the form of a maiden. The king and queen took her into their house. She was afterwards married to the sage Jamadagni, and had five sons.

‘About ten miles to the south-west of Cumbum, in the Kurnool district [f], and within a mile of the village of Tudimilla, there is a narrow pass between two hillocks known as Surabeswara Kona. Besides the more common presences, we find here the following shrines:-                                                                                                  

                     (a) Sapthamāthas (seven  mothers).
                     (b) A curious temple, in which are found the idols of Jamadhagni
                          Bagawān - the father of Parasurāma and the local rishi - his wife
                          Renuka Dēvi [g], and the Surabi [h].

        (c) Opposite to this temple is the curious shrine, not very much
             bigger than a railway pointsman's box, dedicated to Māthangi. In
             this temple are found no less than five idols arranged in the
             following order:-

1) a three-headed snake; (2) another three-headed snake; (3) a female body, with the palms joined reverentially in the worshipping posture in front, with the lower half of the body snaky in form, and with a canopy of snaky hoods above; (4) Māthangi proper - a female figure of about 15 inches in height, made of stone – with a short skirt, below which the feet are visible, but no upper garment, and wearing a garland round the neck. The right hand holds a snake-headed stick, while the left has an adlika, a kind of sieve; (5) another similar figure, but without even the skirt.’

[p. 301-05]

‘The version locally prevalent is somewhat different [to scriptural versions].

Jamadhagni Bagawān's hermitage was near this Kona, and he was worshipping the god Surabeswara, and doing tapas (penance) there. One day, his wife Renuka Dēvi went, very early in the morning, to the river Gundlacama to bathe, and fetch water for her husband's sacrificial rites. She was accompanied, as was her wont on such occasions, by a female slave of the chuckler (leather-worker) caste, as a sort of bodyguard and attendant. While she was bathing, the great warrior Karthaviriyarjuna with a thousand arms happened to fly across the sky on some business of his own, and Renuka saw his form reflected in the water, and was pleased with it in her mind. It must be mentioned that she never used to take any vessel with her to fetch water, for her chastity was such that she had power to roll water into a pot-like shape, as if it were wax, and thus bring it home. On this day, however, she failed to effect this, try what she might, and she was obliged to return home empty-handed.

In the meanwhile, the sage, her husband, finding that his wife did not return as usual, learnt through his ‘wisdom sight’ what had happened, and ordered his son Parasurama to slay his sinful mother. Parasurama went towards the river accordingly, and, seeing his mother returning, aimed an arrow at her, which severed her head from her body, and also similarly severed, with its unspent force, the head of the chuckler woman who was coming immediately behind his mother.

Parasurama returned to his father without even noticing this accident, and when his father, pleased with his prompt obedience, offered him any boon, he prayed for the re-animation of his mother. Jamadhagni then gave him some holy water out of his vessel, and told him to put together the dismembered parts, and sprinkle some water over them. Parasurama went off in great delight and haste, and, as it was still dark and early in the morning, he wrongly put his mother's head on the chuckler woman's trunk, and sprinkled water on them. Then, seeing another head and another body lying close by, he thought that they belonged to the female slave whom he had unwittingly killed, and he put them also together, and re-animated them.

He was extremely vexed when he found out the mistakes he had committed, but, as there was no rectifying them without another double murder, he produced the two women before his father, and begged to be forgiven. The sage finally accepted the person with his late consort's head as his wife, and granted to the other woman the status of an inferior deity, in response to her prayers, and owing to her having his wife's body. This was the origin of Māthangi.

There are some permanent inām (rent-free) lands belonging to this shrine, and there is always a Madiga ‘vestal virgin’ known as Māthangi, who is the high priestess, or rather the embodied representative of the Brahman-chuckler goddess, and who enjoys the fruits of the ināms. Māthangi is prohibited from marrying, and, when a Māthangi dies, her successor is chosen in the following manner. All the chuckler girls of the village, between the ages of eight and ten, who have not attained puberty, are assembled before the shrine, and the invoking hymns are chanted amid a flourish of trumpets, drums, and other accessories. The girl who becomes possessed - on whom the goddess descends - is the chosen vessel, and she is invested with the insignia of her office, a round sieve, a bunch of margosa (Melia Azadivachta) leaves, a snake-headed bamboo stick, a piece of cotton thread rope with some cowries (Cypræa moneta shells) strung on it, and a small vessel of kunkuma (coloured aniline powder). A vow of lifelong celibacy is also administered to her. Curiously enough, this shrine is venerated by all castes, from the Brahman downwards. We were informed that, at the time of worship, the chuckler priestess dances about in wild frenzy, and she is given toddy to drink, which she not infrequently spits on her devotees, and even Brahmans regard this as auspicious, and not in the least polluting.

We had the pleasure of witnessing a ‘possessed dance’ by the reigning Māthangi with her drummer in attendance. She is a chuckler woman, about thirty years of age, and, but for the insignia of her office, not in any way differing from the rest of her class. Though unmarried she had several children, but this was apparently no disqualification. We were standing before the shrine of the seven mothers when the drummer invoked the goddess by chanting a Telugu hymn, keeping time on his drum. The meaning of the hymn was to this effect, as far as we could make out:-

Sathya Surabesa Kona! Gowthama's Kamadhenu! the headless trunk in Sathya Surabesa Kona! your father Giri Rāzu Kamadēva Jamadhagni Mamuni beheaded the trunk; silently Jamadhagni cut off the arms; did you, the headless trunk in Kamadhenuvanam, the headless trunk of Jamadhagni, your father's golden sword, did you ask to be born a virgin in the snake pit?

While chanting the above, the drummer was dancing round and round the woman, and beating wildly on his drum. The woman began to tremble all over, and soon it was visible that the goddess had descended on her. Then the drummer, wilder and more frantic than ever, began to praise the goddess in these words :-

Are you wearing bells to your ankles, O mother? Are you wearing cowries, O mother?  Dancing and singing, O mother! We pray to thee, O mother! Possessed and falling on the ground, I implore thee, O mother! O mother, who went to Delhi and Oruganti [i] with a sieve in the right-hand, with a wand in the left; with bells tinkling at her ankles, the mother went to Oruganti town, the mother went away.

During this chant, the woman vies with the drummer, and dances fiercely round and round, always facing him. Then comes the appeasing chant, which the drummer drawls out in a quivering and solemn tone, and without dancing about:-

By the feet of the thirty-three crores, by the feet of the sixty crores, by the feet of the Dēvas, peace!

The woman then stands with closed eyes, panting for breath, and quite exhausted.