Oggu Ravi’s father wanted him to become an engineer.
Today, he paints his face with bright streaks of yellow, dabbing on a large, twirly moustache in black paint for effect. He wears a faux tiger-skin dhoti, and smears turmeric on his forehead, before applying it to his 39 team mates. One, with long, smooth hair, electric eyes and a pot of leaves on her head, looks like a goddess – but is actually a man.
One by one, they strap the Oggu (drums) to their waists, and Ravi grabs his mic. They walk on in silent procession through a crowd of bookworms and artists – who wonder which tribe they came out of. The Master of Ceremonies doles out an introduction and advises the crowd to step back. Ravi’s squad is set to finish a literary festival as its closing act.
With military precision, the performers form two lines and pound their drums. Ravi walks in between them, narrating a story on the mic. The beat is hypnotic, and sets a mood – one feels as if part of an ancient ceremony designed to lift you up into a trance.
The artists, moved into a sense of divinity, perform acrobatic stunts to Ravi’s command. Two men wrap their legs around their leader, who lifts them off the ground and spins – like a makeshift human helicopter. In the end, Ravi and the ‘goddess’ circle each other; she chews up the leaves and he thrusts a dash of turmeric into the air.
Copyright©Madras Courier, All Rights Reserved. You may share using our article tools. Please don't cut articles from madrascourier.com and redistribute by email, post to the web, mobile phone or social media.Please send in your feed back and comments to [email protected]
