Pepita Seth offers a wide range of perspectives and photographs about the world of Theyyam

Inside Malabar, rich in history, tropical jungles, old tharavads and modern homes, there are these little clearings dotted with temples. Often, a human dallies here with divinity and manifests a spiritual art called Theyyam. Those used to tourism brochures from Kerala are aware in a general sense of this ancient devotional endeavour.

However, for those living in this land of ballads and ‘kalaripayattu’, the traditional martial art, Theyyam serves as an unrestrained belief in having a holy communion with the gods from the Hindu pantheon. This is all about colour, often bright reds and yellow, firetorches made with palm leaves, the music of ‘chenda’, Kerala’s unique drums, and the synergy between the devotee and the man, who plays god. Holding a believer’s hand, the Theyyam artiste listens to woes and requests, watches tears flow, and offers hope and blessings. This is catharsis and comfort, and for those who have seen a Theyyam, it offers a perspective on Hinduism’s diverse strands.

Into this complex world, Pepita Seth wades in with a sense of wonder, extreme patience and a scholar’s hunger for knowledge. The result is a stunning coffee table book, In God’s Mirror, The Theyyams of Malabar. Coffee table books at times get dismissed as gloss, offering relief to the eyes and nothing more, but Seth begs to differ. Irrespective of whether you consider Theyyam as just an art form or an intensely spiritual pursuit, this book needs to be savoured.

Whispers of mystery

British writer Seth, who set out from London in 1970, in a bid to mine her memories of an ancestor, who once lived in India, was also inexorably drawn towards Kerala. Her trips gradually moved northwards and then she discovered Malabar. The vast ocean of literature does have many stunning lines and we all have our favourites — it could be a passage about the monsoon from Allan Sealy’s The Everest Hotel or any other excerpt that readers of this review may remember fondly. To that list please add these lines by Seth: “Malabar is a beautiful word, slipping off the tongue like a sighing whisper, murmuring of mystery and shadows, suggesting somewhere unknown and unreachable.”

Armed with a camera, notebook and an insatiable desire to understand Theyyam in all its complexities, Seth throws light on this ancient form of worship. William Dalrymple’s Nine Lives, published in 2009, was perhaps the first to offer a glimpse into Theyyams in mainstream writing. His chapter, ‘The Dancer of Kannur’, is essential reading for those who want a quick grasp of Theyyam. What Seth does across 336 pages is to offer a breathtaking range of perspectives and photographs about the world of Theyyam.

The book can be read from end to end or it can be treated like an encyclopaedia on Theyyam. Want to know who Chamundi or Gulikan is? Or curious about Bhagavathi or Kuttichathan? They are basically manifestations of the

Englishspeaking — tended to look down on other Indians, especially those who weren’t fluent in English.”

The paradoxes

Pepita Seth’s constant travels across Kozhikode, Kannur and Kasaragod districts throw up a macro-level analysis of diverse Theyyams.

In God’s Mirror: The Theyyams of Malabar

Pepita Seth

Scala Arts & Heritage Publishers Ltd.

Hindu pantheon, be it Shiva, Vishnu or Durga, but for more details, just dive into the relevant chapters and relish what is on offer. Seth’s constant travels within Malabar, across Kozhikode, Kannur and Kasaragod districts, throw up a macrolevel analysis of diverse Theyyams, including a rare one in which a woman

This passage, intended as a way of communicating some of the paradoxes involved in selling Englishlanguage books in India, tells us how in India, reading and selling English literature is inextricably linked with class, caste and privilegerelated issues. The acts of reading and writing are aspirational, yes, but that aspiration isn’t in a single, easytodigest mode — the UPSC aspirant in Delhi is motivated to read and write in English for very different reasons than, say, a young TV journalist in Noida. Both individuals, however, are keenly aware of how speaking/writing good English is perceived in the country, and that perception is everything.

D. Mehra’s journey, meanwhile, takes the

Pepita Seth company to its first big success and soon, the family consolidates the business by signing on a slew of big names — and securing the rights to publish/translate some internationally renowned authors as well. What’s interesting in this section is the way we see oldschool publishers going the extra mile to establish a personal relationship with authors. A far cry, indeed, from contemporary marketing gobbledygook and “outreach programs” built solely around transitory, sandcastlelike social media strategies.

Ray and other anecdotes

The company’s entrepreneurial trajectory is covered in the first half of the book; the second half (200odd pages) is filled with celebrity anecdotes, the kind of thing you’d be happy to read on the last page of a Sunday features publication. It’s entertaining stuff, mostly, like the story of Satyajit Ray casually drawing a whole book cover over a cup of coffee and a few puffs of his signature cheroot. Or the story of how smuggled copies of The Satanic Verses found their way into a car boot. Some of the more impactful and consequential anecdotes, however, take place in the chapter about the author’s own trip to Pakistan. It’s a business trip and the Rupa team meets famous writers and some of their biggest clients (booksellers) in Pakistan. Interesting encounters abound, but the one I found most noteworthy was with Iqbal Hussain of Paramount Books, one of Rupa’s booksellerclients. Very kindly, Hussain asks his dons the attire and invokes the divine spirit.

Toppling caste hierarchies

The caste equations that underpin Theyyam is also dealt with as specific clans are associated with this old art form. For those in the know, in a welcome move, Theyyam also topples rigid caste hierarchies as a lowercaste man playing god offers his benediction to an uppercaste devotee. Seth writes about her interactions with Lakshmanan Peruvannan, who used to perform the Muchilottu Bhagavathi Theyyam. The blurring of lines between man and god becomes evident in these lines: “Mahavishnu is his friend and therefore, when giving naivedyam, he may take a bite himself, have a taste and then give the rest to the god — simply because there is no difference between him and God, and it is only right that he does this.”

Many Indians became aware of Theyyam thanks to the Kannada blockbuster Kantara, which dealt with Bhoota Kola, a variant practised in neighbouring Karnataka’s coastal districts with a Tulu inflection. Seth looks at this too while moving around Kasaragod and this highlights an old truth: boundaries can never rein in the fluidity of cultural influences.

Be it the religious, artistically inclined or those invested in social anthropology, this book is essential reading about a unique landmass and its accompanying beliefs. guests what they wanted to eat and upon hearing, “daalroti” invites them to his house for lunch. There,

Iqbal’s wife has prepared a sumptuous vegetarian meal for them — but she refuses to come out of her room and greet them. As the author realises soon, this has something to do with the fact that this is early 1993, and just a few weeks ago, something horrible had happened to India’s Muslims.

“His daughter had just served lunch, and mustering great courage, I asked Iqbal bhai why his wife hadn’t joined us for lunch. ‘Babri Masjid’, whispered Iqbal bhai in my ears. The controversial mosque had just been demolished in Ayodhya, much to the hurt and anger of Muslims, Iqbal bhai’s wife being one of them. She welcomed us with her warm, homecooked food but her heart had gone cold.”

Personally, I would have shaved about a hundred pages off this book at the editing table. After a while, all celebrity encounters begin to read alike — like a cocktail of performative humility and practised selfdeprecation.

But Never Out of Print is a fast and engaging read nevertheless, plus a valuable record of publishing history in India. If you’re associated with the industry in any way, you should definitely read this. And even if you aren’t you’ll find plenty to keep you happy here.

Read an excerpt online.

The writer and journalist is working on his first book of nonfiction.