Ülo Valk

University of Tartu
Tartu, Estonia
S. Lourdusamy
Centre for Dialogue and Communication
Hyderabad, India

Village Deities of Tamil Nadu in

Myths and Legends
The Narrated Experience

Abstract

The article discusses religious narratives about the village deities of North Tamil Nadu
that can be conceptualized as myths, legends, and memorates according to a folkloris-
tic taxonomy of genres. These narratives confirm the power of deities to assist people
in hardships and give warning examples of supernatural sanctions that follow the
breaking of norms. Village priests (pujaris) are the religious authorities who control
both deities and oral traditions (aideegam) about them. There is a widespread belief
in the studied region about encountering the deities at night, when they ride around
their territory to protect it from evil powers. Such experiences are narrated both in
legend and memorate form. Religious folklore genres thus form the border zone in
which the social world of humans and mythical realm of deities are merged into one
textual space of mutual interaction.
Keywords: folk religion—Tamil Nadu—village deities—temple priests—narrative—
genres—myth—legend—memorate

Asian Folklore Studies, Volume 66, 2007: 179–199

T
he history of Hinduism in India has been dominated by such powerful
pan-Indian gods as Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva, who figure in religious
texts in Sanskrit and are controlled and mediated by Brahmins, the reli-
gious elite of the society.* Scholarly understanding of Hinduism as a systematic
religion is likewise shaped by endeavors to construct a uniform, coherent system
of beliefs and religious practices. However, the Hinduism of the scriptures is dif-
ferent from the vernacular forms of the religion that are expressed, practiced,
and narrated by ordinary people, the majority of whom live in the countryside.
The aim of the present article is to explore the religious narratives of Tamil
folklore in their social context. It claims that temple priests are the main author-
ities who control traditional beliefs and stories relating to the village deities that
appear in different genres. Birth stories of gods and primordial events are nar-
rated in myths that establish the world order on a cosmic scale. Legends about
the interaction between gods and humans are set in the mundane reality of his-
torical time, providing models of religious and social behavior. One of the main
functions of legends is to link social reality with the supernatural sphere and to
affirm the active participation of deities in the everyday life of villages.
Tamil Nadu (“Tamil land”) is a state in southeastern India with a popula-
tion of over sixty-two million people, most of whom speak the Tamil language
that belongs to the Dravidian group. Tamil is a classical language with literature
dating back more than two thousand years. About ninety percent of the popula-
tion of Tamil Nadu is Hindu; about five percent are Christians, and about five
percent Muslims. Shiva is widely worshipped in temples but various forms of the
Goddess (Tamil: Amman “mother”)—often interpreted as consorts of Shiva—
are popular in the countryside, where people also worship male guardian dei-
ties, such as Aiyanar and many others. Rural Tamil Nadu is mainly involved in
agriculture—growing rice, sugar cane, coffee, corn, and other crops.
This article discusses narratives about local deities in the villages of north-
ern Tamil Nadu: Agaram, Sadaikatti, Velakulam, Kodukapattu, Athipakkam
(near Tirukkovilur), Viruduvilanginan, Kalleri, and Pavithiram—all in one
region on the borderlands between Viluppuram and Tiruvannamalai districts.
[ 180 ]
 village deities of tamil nadu 181
Fieldwork there started in February 2006, when both authors of this article
visited the region, and was later continued by S. Lourdusamy. Most informants
were men and belonged to the following castes: Udaiyar, Vanniyar, Reddiar (all
farmers), Vellalar, Mudaliar (both agricultural landlords), Shettiars (well dig-
gers), Sakliers (leather workers), Konars (shepherds), and Dalits (untouchables
and agricultural laborers).

the textual and generic world of folk religion

Village temples of Tamil Nadu attract the attention of travelers with their col-
orful statues representing gods and goddesses, their guardians and mounts—
usually white horses, sometimes elephants. The expressive visuality of these
statues is striking and their iconography can reveal the status of featured dei-
ties, their membership in the Shaiva or Vaishnava lineages, their relationships,
marital status, even names and nature, ranging from a benevolent mildness
to a fierce bloodthirstiness that is satisfied with regular sacrifices—goats, pigs,
and chickens. However, even more knowledge about the deities is spread orally
and remains latent in the memory of the villagers until it is expressed in either
ritualistic behavior or verbal form. Without conducting interviews with the
local people we could only guess at the role of deities in their worldview and
the web of beliefs that influences their daily life. The primary realm of deities
and their living environment is not physical (that is, the sacred space of temples
and statues), but textual—the narrative world that includes sacred myths about
the origin of the world and more mundane stories about supernatural interven-
tions of deities in the lives of the villagers, whose daily well-being depends on
the deities’ benevolence or anger. This narrative realm does not form a uniform,
homogeneous mass of verbal expression, but it can be conceptualized as a sys-
tem of diverse genres with their own poetic features, temporal scales, functions,
and connections with specific tradition groups, such as the priests (pujaris) and
lay people, castes, families, and whole villages. Some narratives derive from pan-
Indian or Tamil literary traditions; others have never reached the written culture
and circulate in oral communication only.
Traditional stories, songs, beliefs about deities, and the relevant customs and
rites are called aideegam in the studied region. This refers to religious lore in the
broadest sense, including all tradition groups, from the untouchable Dalits who
can serve as temple priests to the learned Brahmins. Aideegam is a synthetic con-
cept, covering and blending expressive forms that can be differentiated as distinct
genres if we take an etic and analytical point of view. The vernacular terminology
of Tamil folklore is rich and identifies many clear-cut genres and types of per-
formances, such as the terukkūttu (“street folk theatre”), vilpāttu (“bow song”—
epical songs about deified local heroes and heroines), udukkai pāttu—legends or
182 ülo valk and s. lourdusamy
local epics that are performed to the accompaniment of a hand drum, and many
others (Lourdu 2003). Ethnic terminology of genres and analytical categories
that have been developed in folkloristics offer two complementary approaches
towards understanding folklore. In this article we follow the analytic scheme of
differentiation between myths, legends and folktales conceptualized by William
Bascom (1984) and elaborated by other folklorists, such as Lauri Honko (1989a).
Imaginative folktales (katai) in Tamil folklore start with the opening for-
mula “in a certain place” (oru ūrilē), which refers to the narrative world of fiction
(Blackburn 2001, 266). Unlike folktales, “true” stories about village deities are
often framed by physical and social surroundings well known to the narrators
and their audience. These narratives correspond to the analytical term “legend,”
used in folkloristics to denote a “traditional (mono)episodic, highly ecotypified,
localized, historicized narrative of past events told as believable in a conversation-
al mode” (Tangherlini 2007, 8). Memorates are legends that are told in the first
person about the narrator’s supernatural encounters (Honko 1989b). They are
reported as true stories about extraordinary or numinous experiences, narrated
by the witnesses themselves. Because of their different temporal settings, both leg-
ends and memorates can be distinguished from myths—“prose narratives which,
in the society in which they are told, are considered to be truthful accounts of
what happened in the remote past” (Bascom 1984, 9). Myths and folktales belong
to the most thoroughly studied folklore genres in India. Until now very little
research has been done on Indian legends (Bhattacharjee 2007, 3), but this
generic category has the potential to be a remarkable source for generating new
knowledge about narrating and transmitting belief in religious communities.

genealogies and hierarchies: creating unity in diversity

The names and genealogies of village deities blend into a huge pool of motifs
and narrative plots. Seeking for the beginnings of the world and thus estab-
lishing etiologies and cosmic order is a generic trait of myths. Focusing on the
ancestral figure provides the narrator with a leading thread in the complex net-
work of oral traditions that lacks any editorial or Brahmanic control.
The interviews reveal that the ultimate principle and the creator is not God
but the Goddess (Amman “Mother”): “Amman is the original shakti [female
power] and from her are created Ishvaran [Shiva], Vishnu, and Brahman. She
takes various Avatars [incarnations, appearances] and is worshipped in differ-
ent places under different names, such as Kamakshiamman, Draupadiamman,
Kaliamman, and Parashakti.”1 Another informant also noted the feminine
nature of the divine and the unity of goddesses but referred to other names:
“Mariamman, Pachaiyamman, Ellaipidari, Durga, Samundiamman, Kali, and
others are all the same shakti. Their names differ according to the Avatar in
 village deities of tamil nadu 183
which they appear in different times and places to different people. All of them
put together are the Ishvari (goddess) who is the origin of all Avatars.”2
There is a certain distance in Hinduism between the great gods with pow-
ers over the cosmos on the one hand and ordinary people on the other hand,
whose problems seem too mundane to bring them to the attention of the
supreme deities (Fuller 1992, 36). The position of Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva
in Brahmanic theology is much more prominent than in folk narratives that
express people’s affection for local deities who guard their villages. Vadivel, the
pujari of Munieshvaran and Amman temples in Pavithiram, said: “Every village
has temples for Munieshvaran, Aiyanar, Mariamman, and Murugan, but there
will be no temple for Brahman, because he is the one who writes down our des-
tiny. Therefore he is like a killer and people do not build temples for him.”
Although the great gods tend to remain in the background in the cult, they
appear in creation myths that provide village deities with noble family lineages
and high positions in divine hierarchies:

In the beginning there existed Adiparashakti. She had a dangerous look,

long and prolonged teeth and uncombed, unwashed hair. She was the first
being in the world, where she used to roam around. Once she wanted to
drink, so she came to a pool of water and looked into it. She saw her face
and body in the water. She thought that there was another being besides
her and so she jumped into the water. Inside the water all the dirt on her
body came off and formed life. Then she realized that she had the power
to create. She had desire [kama] and wanted to have a male companion.
With the help of mantras she created Shiva. Another tradition says that
first she created Munieshvaran (Munnal [i.e., the first or the one before]).
According to this tradition Vinayagar was created after Munieshvaran, and
then Mahavishnu and Shivaperuman were created.3

Vinayagar can be identified with Shiva’s elephant-headed son who is

known as Ganesha or Ganapati in other parts of India. Munieshvaran is one of
the most popular deities in the region and is identified with Aiyanar by several
informants. Let us also consider the birth story of Aiyanar, who like many other
village deities is provided with parents of high rank. Aiyanar’s birth from Shiva
and Vishnu, who takes the female form of Mohini, is widespread in the villages
and appears in multiple versions.4 The following myth expresses the endless
rivalry between gods (deva) and asuras—semi-gods or demons of high rank,
whose generic context is in myths, not in legends.

Once Padmasuran asked Ishvaran [Shiva] for a boon. The boon was that
anyone whose head he touched should be burnt to ashes. Ishvaran granted
184 ülo valk and s. lourdusamy
the boon. But Padmasuran wanted to test it and tried to put his hand on
the head of Ishvaran himself. Ishvaran tried to escape from him. He ran
from place to place and finally turned himself into Aivelangai [a seeded
fruit that goats eat] and Padmasuran turned himself into a goat to eat it.
Mahavishnu, the brother-in-law of Ishvaran, saw this, took the form of a
beautiful girl Mohini, and appeared to Padmasuran. When Padmasuran
saw this beauty, he lost interest in running after Ishvaran. Instead, he
became infatuated with Mohini and wanted to join in union with her. Then
Mohini told him that he was dirty and filthy and should take a bath. Only
afterwards, when he came back, would she accept him. But Mahavishnu
made it dry everywhere so that there was no water left for bathing. Not
finding water, Padmasuran came back to report to Mohini. Mohini said
that if he found at least enough water to fill a cow’s hoof print, this would
be enough for a bath. Padmasuran did so. He took the water, placed it on
his head and was burnt to ashes.
Then Mahavishnu went to the forest and called Ishvaran who was hid-
ing himself because he was afraid of Padmasuran. When he came to know
that he was already dead, Ishvaran asked Mahavishnu, how he managed
to destroy Padmasuran. Then Mahavishnu narrated what had happened.
Ishvaran wanted to see him in the form of Mohini and Mahavishnu agreed.
When Ishvaran saw Mohini, he became passionate and his semen came
out. Mahavishnu wanted to prevent it falling on the ground and took it
in his hand. Out of this union in hand and from Ishvaran’s semen Aiyanar
was born. This is a very special birth and therefore Aiyanar is a deity.5

Establishing the family lineages of deities also means fixing their hierar-
chies, as the divine parents tend to be more prominent than their children. In
the first myth Adiparashakti and Shiva formed the parental couple; in the sec-
ond myth Shiva and Vishnu gave life to the village deity Aiyanar (who corre-
sponds to Shiva’s and Parvati’s son Skanda elsewhere in India).
Temple premises usually include images of many deities but never in
random combinations. The subordination of deities and their ranks also cre-
ate order in complex mythologies with hundreds of names and distinct identi-
ties: “Each deity has a Kaval Deivam [guardian deity]: Murugan has Kadamban,
Mariamman has Kathavarayan, Periyayī has Pavadairayan and Munieshvaran
is the guardian deity of Ishvaran. In the first place, all the people of our village
believe in Mariamman, and then in Murugan.”6
Guardianship thus has two meanings. First, all deities guard the village and
protect the believers who worship them in rituals. Secondly, some deities are
subordinate to the others and serve them as their guardians.
 figure 1. Amman temple at the road to Pavithiram
village. Photo by Ü. Valk, Feb. 2006.

figure 2. Statue of Vakkira Kāliamman on the

roadside near Sithan Nagar village. Photo by Ü.
Valk, Feb. 2006.

figure 3. Munieshvaran and his wives in their temple in Sadaikatti village.

Photo by S. Lourdusamy, summer 2006.
 figure 4. Pujari Vadivel in front
of Amman statue in the temple in
Pavithiram. Photo by S. Lourdusamy,
summer 2006.

figure 5. Pujari Sakkara in Aiyanar

temple, Agaram village. Photo by S.
Lourdusamy, summer 2006.

figure 6. Pujari Sakkara, Agaram village. Photo by S. Lourdusamy,

summer 2006.
figure 7. Temple in Kalleri village. From the right Vīranar, his wife Vīrī, their
guru Ishvara, whose nightly rides were described by Darman and Ramasamy.
Photo by Ü. Valk, 6 Feb. 2006.

figure 8. Statues in the temple in Kalleri have been repainted. Photo by S.

Lourdusamy, summer 2006.
 figure 9. Mounts of Vīranar and other deities in the temple in Kalleri. Photo by Ü.
Valk, 6 Feb. 2006.

figure 10. Mounts of deities in the temple in Kalleri have been repainted. Photo by S.
Lourdusamy, summer 2006.
 village deities of tamil nadu 189
pujaris as religious authorities
Whereas everybody in the village is to some extent familiar with mythologies
and other religious traditions about local deities, the temple priests are the great-
est specialists of aideegam. They are called pujari or koil pusari (“temple priest”),
and usually belong to non-Brahmanic castes and Dalits. These temple priests
are particularly close to the deity and are responsible for his or her well-being
(Masilamani-Meyer 2004, 35). They are religious authorities whose positions
are usually hereditary and can be connected with the history of the temple.
Pichchandi is a seventy-six-year-old Dalit from Athipakkam who serves
as a priest in the temples of Mariamman and Vīranar, and who told a family
legend about the origin of the latter temple. His grandfather had brought the
sacred stone, representing Vīranar, in his hand from the village Irumbilikuchi
Madambattu, where Vīranar originally resided. Because his wife had no success
in bearing children, he went to that village, took the statue of Vīranar, gave it a
ritual bath on the way in Pennaiyar River, and brought it home. Since the infor-
mant’s grandfather had carried the Vīranar image in his hand (kai) he gave it
the name Kaiverivīran (“Vīran who was brought in the hand”). During the fol-
lowing year the informant’s father was born and was named Vīran. Since then,
Vīranar has been worshiped in the village with a special feast. Transferring dei-
ties to villages by conveying them in substances, such as trees or handfuls of
earth, is a common tradition in Tamil Nadu (Mines 2003, 245).
The latter narrative about the pujari’s family history explains his personal
connection with the deity. Genre-analytically it is important to note a shift in the
temporal scale of narratives. From the primordial age of myths we have reached
the historical time of legends. The pujari’s personal link with Vīranar continues
until the present day and endows him with special powers to control the deity:

The deity listens to me and people come to me for help in various ways.
For instance, it happened once that people got frightened of the banyan
tree near the main road because Vīranar used to reside in the tree. Then
I lighted camphor, told Vīranar about the people’s fear, and asked him to
leave the place. On the next day he went away from there.
Recently someone built a house in a place that was haunted by the deity.
The owner of the house told me about the fear that people have because of
the sounds of the deity’s movements, and hence he asked me to do some-
thing. So I went there, lit camphor, and prayed to Vīranar, asking him to avoid
that place. Vīranar promised me to do it. Since then, the people have no fear.

It is a generic trait of legends to locate their events within the geographi-

cal and social context of the daily life of traditional communities. Gods can be
frightening and troublesome, as the latter stories show, but more often they have
190 ülo valk and s. lourdusamy
a particular reason to be angry with people. Legends offer warning examples
of the misbehavior of villagers, followed by a supernatural punishment. Thus
they confirm the norms of proper conduct and establish the rules of people’s
interaction with deities. Sakkara is the pujari of Aiyanar temple in the village of
Agaram. He is forty-five years old and belongs to Kaundar caste. The following
passage from his interview shows him as a specialist of ritual who knows how to
deal with the deities and avoid troubles:

A few years ago, a Dalit came to the temple and tried his magic inside the
premises. But Aiyanar did not spare him, because he does not like impure
people and people with evil intentions. The man died a few days later.
When someone loses things or money, it is a custom to write on a piece
of thin copper sheet that he wants to get them back and to add the names
of the suspects. The sheet is hidden in the temple premises. Usually people
are frightened to go near that sheet, let alone to check what is written on it.
In his goodness, Aiyanar helps to recover the lost things. If the person does
not return to thank the deity, Aiyanar does not spare him. Either he falls
sick or some misfortunes take place in his family. He punishes those who
are arrogant.
We had the statue of the main deity in the temple premises. One day some-
one broke the head of the statue. At that time we did not know who the person
was, but the man who did it is by now destroyed along with his whole family.

Such narratives construct the sacred space of temples where “certain purity
rules have to be followed” (Masilamani-Meyer 2004, 89). Public opinion con-
demns Dalits who dare to enter the temple premises, and people with evil inten-
tions—black magicians and thieves—who all deserve punishment. Obviously
legends about “true” events provide convincing examples that endorse the belief
in the powers of deities to control the social sphere. As “there is no absolute
distinction between an image and its corresponding deity” (Fuller 1992, 61),
breaking or damaging the statues in temples is not only a sacrilege but a physi-
cal attack on the gods they represent. Interdictions are normally violated in
folktales but seldom punished; in legends, however, the breaking of behavioral
norms is always followed by a supernatural sanction.7 Narratives confirm that,
even if one doubts the existence of deities, provoking and challenging them is a
serious wrongdoing. Let us consider the following story, told by Kasi Visvanatha
Gurukal, a thirty-five-year-old Brahman and the pujari of Ishvaran temple in
the village of Velakulam.

As a child I lived with my grandparents in the village called Thiruadigai

near Panruti. The village had no big temple, but there was a small one,
 village deities of tamil nadu 191
known as Adi Munieshvaran. There is a canal-like pool there that looks
quite natural. Once a year people of the village used to go to the temple site
at night, light oil lamps, and throw boiled rice for the deity.
My grandfather used to tell us stories about Adi Munieshvaran, who
was honored in the temple. He said that Munieshvaran was very tall, very
fair in color with long hair, had vipūti [sacred ash] on his forehead, and
wore footwear and a spotless white dhoti. He used to come to the pond on
Ammavasai night to wash his clothes. If anyone was sleeping or sitting in
his way he would turn and look at him, and the look was very frightening.
[…] My grandfather also said that the Muni is Shaivam; he likes only rice
and that is what is offered to him. He said that when the Muni goes to the
pond to wash his clothes and take a bath at midnight, and comes up from
the pond after the bath, if anyone should throw cooked rice onto his path
he will catch that rice in the air and eat it. Our school teacher also used to
speak about the visit of the Muni on new-moon nights. To add to these
fears about the Muni, my grandmother used to frighten me by saying that
we should not go to the temple of Adi Munieshvaran because he would
carry the children away. I was fearful, because every day I was told to avoid
the temple and the nearby place.
When I grew up, I had the courage to try to see what Adi Munieshvaran
looked like and determine whether the stories about him were true. I was
sixteen years old. During vacation, we boys used to gather in my grandpar-
ents’ village. Once four of us decided to go to the temple to see if the Muni
would be washing clothes and eat the rice thrown up in the air. The oldest
among us was my uncle Sarvesuran, who was about twenty-one or twenty-
two years old. We took cooked rice and went to the temple site and sat near
the pond. At midnight we heard the sound of washing clothes, but we could
not see anybody. Then we heard how the sound of wooden footwear was
coming up from the pond towards the temple. Since we were four togeth-
er, we were not afraid. We thought that at least one of us should see the
deity and we proceeded towards the sound of the footwear. Suddenly the
container with rice jumped out of Sarvesuran’s hand and the rice spilt on
the ground. We saw nothing, but we were happy to have heard the sound,
and returned home. When we returned home, our people scolded us and
warned us not to go there again. Thus, the adventure was over and in fact
we forgot about it for some time.
However, something happened to Sarvesuran, out of whose hands the
rice container fell down. Although the rest of us forgot the event, he could
not forget it. Thoughts about the rice that was spilt from his hand were
haunting him. He lived only for another sixteen days. From that day an
unknown malady started; his semen began to come out without his control.
192 ülo valk and s. lourdusamy
It went on for days. People took him to the doctor, but I do not know what
the doctor said. He could not be cured, and his own people said that it is
the Munieshvaran who caught him face to face, and that is why he was pun-
ished with such a sickness. Finally, he died on the day after the full moon.
He was twenty-one years old.

We have applied the analytic genre category of legend and its cognate mem-
orate to conceptualize such religious narratives. Bill Nicolaisen has described the
structure of legend on the basis of William Labov’s analysis of personal experi-
ence narratives. He notes that the triad: orientation–complicating action–result,
is normally the narrative core of the legend (Nicolaisen 1987, 69). Obviously
the above narrative, told in the Tamil language about a personal experience, can
hardly be influenced by similar stories of Western folklore. However, what we
find here is the same basic structure of legends. First, the setting and participat-
ing persons are introduced with references to other relevant information (ori-
entation), then follows the main event—the dramatic encounter in the darkness
(complicating action) that leads to the death of the young man (result or resolu-
tion). Although the end of the story seems to be here, the interview continues
with an evaluation, which is another structural element of narratives about per-
sonal experience, described by Labov and Nicolaisen. Brahmin Kasi Visvanatha
Gurukal says: “In those days I did not know how to handle such events with
mantras. Now I do. I have the protection of deities (devarakshayam) on my fore-
head. This will help me to feel if deities cross my path. Besides, it will protect me
from others’ mantram-tantram and pilli [magic and witchcraft].” Thus, the above
narrative illustrates the validity of the folkloristic theory of legend structure in
Indian oral traditions.
The narrator’s evaluation also reminds us of the authority of the priest in
the village. His professional knowledge and close relationship with the deity
enable him to handle supernatural matters that are dangerous for laymen. What
Kasi Visvanatha Gurukal did not know in his youth, he now knows as a practic-
ing pujari, moreover a Brahmin. Although sad and unwanted, Sarvesuran’s death
is far from meaningless if interpreted within the generic context of legends. This
narrative warns the younger generation and others who foolishly want to chal-
lenge the power of the ruling authorities in the village—the deity Munieshvaran
on one hand and the elderly people on the other—who represent traditional
knowledge, the wisdom of aideegam.

narrated experiences: deities on horses

As we saw, one of the main functions of narratives about deities is to control the
social sphere of the village and to provide convincing examples of supernatural
 village deities of tamil nadu 193
reward and punishment. In religious communities with rich oral traditions
the change of perspective from the third person of legends to the first person
of memorates easily occurs. Deities can appear to believers in daily life and in
dreams that are often blended in narratives:8

One day, when I was studying in the fifth standard, I knocked down the
knife from the hand of Munieshvaran in the temple. That night I had a ter-
rible dream. Munieshvaran looked very much like the statue in the temple
but he was huge. He was going on sari [riding tour]. Ahead of him went
a procession of about five drumming men. Lighted oil lamps were there.
Then I saw Munieshvaran chasing me. I was trying to escape and hid myself
under the bullock cart. He looked frightening.
The next day I had a heavy fever. Then I prayed to the deity and told him
that I had made a mistake unknowingly and asked him to forgive me. I
offered him coconut and camphor. Since then, he has not done any harm to
me, and I am fine. God exists but some people do not believe and do not go
to the temple. But I believe in god.9

Several researchers have mentioned the lively oral tradition about village
deities who are mounted on horses and guard their territory at night. Henry
Whitehead, in his classical study The Village Gods of South India, notes that “in
almost every Tamil village there is a shrine of Iyenar [Aiyanar], who is regarded
as the watchman of the village, and is supposed to patrol every night, mounted
on a ghostly steed, a terrible sight to behold, scaring away the evil spirits (White-
head 1999, 33). Eveline Masilamani-Meyer also heard these legends about the
riding deities during her fieldwork in Tamil Nadu from 1989 to 1991: “Aiyanār,
on the white horse, and Karuppar, on the brown horse (sometimes he too has a
white horse), are said to ride around at night. Some old priests claimed that they
could hear the sound of their horses” (Masilamani-Meyer 2004, 21). She also
writes that a deity “might make use of the cement horse standing in the temple
courtyard when he protects the surrounding area at night” (81) and that “in the
olden days people used to see the god mounted on his horse and riding around
the area with his entourage” (87).
Fieldwork interviews from the studied region reveal a lively oral tradition
about the deities’ nightly rides, called sari. Vadivel is fifty years old and is the
pujari of Munieshvaran and Amman temple in the village of Pavithiram. Vadivel
was interviewed together with the above informant, Kumar, whose frightening
encounter with the deity reminded Vadivel of his own experience:

When the deity goes on sari his face and feet cannot be seen. He wears a
yellow sari-like dress. At that time, if anyone stands on the side or passes by
194 ülo valk and s. lourdusamy
from the side nothing will happen to them. But if they go facing the deity,
he will kill them. Nothing will happen to the cattle if they go facing him.
The deities do not go every night.
I had seen him [Munieshvaran] on his sari while I was keeping a night
watch in my field. Once all of a sudden I heard the sounds of bells that are
usually tied to bulls. I wondered who could come at this time of the night
with bulls. Since I had a lamp tied to a pole near the place where I was sleep-
ing, I could see the yellow clothes of the deity, and from this I understood
that it was the deity on sari. He went so fast that I could not even ask any-
thing. So I did not open my mouth to find out if it were someone else. That
was the only time I have seen him. This happened about ten years ago.

People express different opinions in interviews, regarding whether the dei-

ties go on their tours every night, a couple of times each week, or only once
in a while, but they generally agree upon the danger of the experience. Unlike
pujaris, whose close relationship with the deities makes them immune to visual
and physical encounters, the other villagers are more vulnerable in such situ-
ations. Sugumar Udaiyar is fifty-two years old and the leader of the Udaiyar
community in Athipakkam. He explained the consequences of such frightening
experiences as follows: “People say that if we go facing the deities they will harm
us. We can’t say that the deities really do it, but it is the fear of seeing the deity
suddenly that makes people sick. On such occasions, one may get a heart attack
or high blood pressure or the heart may stop functioning.”
Darman is fifty-five years old and the pujari of Panjammal and Vīranar
temple in Kalleri village. He and his elder brother Ramasamy, both Dalits, con-
firmed in a joint interview having seen the deities on their nightly tours. It is not
clear whether or not the brothers claim to have had a collective supernatural
experience, but it is more important to note how the collective religious tradi-
tion influences individual belief, as both agree upon the basic facts—or legend
motifs, if seen from a folkloristic perspective. Also, it seems that the brothers
feel no urge to use the memorate form, as there is no doubt about the night rides
of the deities and there is no need to convince anyone who thinks otherwise.

We have seen the deities going riding at night. At such times there will be
plenty of handheld oil lamps. The dogs in chain go first, then the police,
and then Vīranar goes on the horse, followed by the other deities. We have
two horses, and so two or three of them get on one horse. Policemen with
guns guard the deities. They are guards in the sense that they keep people
away. If one does not obey the police then the deity himself will punish
the offenders. The entire entourage goes riding around twelve at night. We
can feel the smell of flowers, candles, and incense during their sari. If we
 village deities of tamil nadu 195
get these smells, we have to stop on the spot and step aside even if it rains.
After half an hour all the smells disappear. Only then can we cross over to
the other side. At this time Vīranar holds a knife in his hand. The deities go
every day without exception.

By making nightly riding tours, deities control their territory. They defend
village borders from demons, witchcraft, and evil powers that threaten people
from outside. As stealing and robbing is a major concern for the villagers, the
deities also turn their fierceness against those criminal intruders who act under
the cover of darkness. According to Darman and Ramasamy, the deities of the
neighborhood form a social community, like a governing body that is in charge
of the whole region:

Why do they [the deities] go only at night? They go at night just like we get
together to talk about all that happens. So all the deities in the neighbor-
hood get together and talk among themselves about who did what, about
the people who were favored and who were punished, how people look
after them and what kind of puja people did for them, and what each one
did for the people.
When they gather together at night, they all report to Ishvaran [Shiva],
who is the Guru of all deities. He asks everyone about their mistakes.
Ishvaran tells them not to do any harm to the people, and they obey him,
because they all are his children. That is why the deities listen to us and do
what we ask them. There are so many deities in the neighborhood, but they
have no enmity among themselves, because they all come together and lis-
ten to Ishvaran. They all cooperate and do things together.

Thus, the deities have their social life, arranged according to the princi-
ples of hierarchical order, similar to the system of castes and varnas in human
society. Ishvaran (Shiva) here represents the ultimate authority, the ideal king,
who is the supreme guardian of law and order. Even the fierce deities, who are
“unpredictable and unstable” (Mines 2003, 242), become cool and protective
under his control. As an ideal divine community the deities also set a peace-
ful model for the village, where misunderstandings, tensions, and conflicts are a
part of the mundane reality. In the beginning of the article we saw how the great
pan-Hindu deities function in myths as principles of unity, order, and hierar-
chical arrangement of the worldview. Something similar happens in legends on
a different level—this genre stabilizes the social order by presenting unifying
norms to be followed in social life.
Stuart Blackburn has noted that most popular Tamil folktales “are tales
which make firm ethical judgments” (Blackburn 2001, 276). As narratives
196 ülo valk and s. lourdusamy
about crimes and punishments they are moral fictions, providing people with
models of proper and improper behavior. Legends that were discussed in the
current article also make prescriptions for daily life and give warning examples
about misdeeds and their consequences. Remarkably, offenders are punished
not through the moral law of karma, a doctrine that is developed in Hindu phi-
losophy, but through the immediate intervention of village deities who have
complete control over their territory and its inhabitants.
However, not every narrative can be reduced to the simple doctrine that
each crime is followed by supernatural sanction. The generic world of deities in
Tamil Nadu is diverse and complex, as there are many narratives that cannot be
conceptualized as folk legends. Let us consider one more example that also dis-
cusses religious experience and the relationship between god and believer:

Eripathi Nāyanār had a habit of throwing stones at Shiva Lingam when he

got up from bed. He used to do it every day. If he did not do it, he couldn’t
sleep properly and his work was unsuccessful. Shiva had injuries all over
his body due to the hits from the stones. There were no more places to
receive the stones. He was bleeding all over his body. Someone asked Shiva
about the bleeding, and Shiva said that one man hit him every day with a
stone. Then the neighbor asked Shiva, why do you keep silent, why don’t
you do something to stop him? Then Shiva said that the man who threw
stones at him was very sincere in doing it and he never missed even a single
day. Therefore, Shiva wanted to know if he did it correctly and regularly,
and once he proved to do so, Shiva would take possession of him.
One day there were no stones at all in the vicinity. This was the trick done
by Shiva. The man got angry. Then he said to himself “There are no stones;
I have to go to work urgently. I won’t be happy unless I throw stones at
Shiva, and I will beat him at any cost today.” Saying this he hit his head
against the Shiva Lingam. Normally the head should break, but it did not
happen. Instead, Shiva appeared to the man, saying that what he wanted to
do should be done properly and regularly without risking his job or time.

Although the deity is identified with its image (here a stone lingam) just as
in the warning legends about the village temples, the nature of Shiva here differs
essentially from the folkloric Ishvaran who is the supreme guardian of villages
in Darman’s and Ramasamy’s story. The contrast between the last narrative and
legends about the revenge of gods who punish sacrilege in their temples is strik-
ing. The generic and textual world of deities is heterogeneous. Different mes-
sages are conveyed in different genres (Honko 1989a), and legends about village
deities do not suit the mystical doctrine of bhakti (devotion), expressed in sto-
ries about Tamil Shaiva saints, such as the Nāyanārs (see Hudson 1989). The
 village deities of tamil nadu 197
last story was told by Brahman Kasi Visvanatha Gurukal, who also related his
personal experience with the wrathful Munieshvaran, providing evidence of his
generic competence. As Brahman Gurukal is well read and trained in religious
affairs, the story about Eripathi probably derives from Tamil literature. There
seems to be a connection between the high social status of the learned narrator
and the religious moral of his story, which is more subtle and philosophical than
legends about the village deities. It is also remarkable that the plot is not linked
with contemporary rural settings but rather a remote world of fiction and myth.
The protagonist is not an ordinary man from “our village” but a saint.

concluding remarks
Gods and goddesses are present in the villages in the form of statues in shrines,
but their power is revealed in genres of religious folklore that depict them as
guardians of justice and ritual purity. Legends form the border zone in which
the social world of humans and the mythical realm of deities are merged into
one textual space of interaction.
As protagonists of narratives, the deities—fierce guardians of order and
morals—become participants in village life. Their contrast with weak and sinful
humans creates narrative tension, expressed in stories about frightening encoun-
ters with them. As a distinct genre, legend provides the traditional community
with a special outlook on the world and orientation in reality (Valk 2007).
Legends and memorates share the generic core as narratives about experi-
ences, told by true witnesses, and have a great rhetorical power to make moral
statements and convince the audience about the validity of religious truths.
There is no reason to doubt that in religious communities, plots of such nar-
ratives get actualized in experiences of daily life, perceived and interpreted
according to the cultural models provided by oral tradition. Tamil deities are
not encountered only as statues in village shrines but may also appear to the
members of religious communities all over the territories they guard. However,
religious beliefs are not rooted in such encounters with the supernatural; rather,
oral traditions model the perceptions of witnesses and the ways they report their
experiences. Narrated encounters do not derive from true events but follow the
generic patterns that shape the narration. Likewise, the supernatural power of
gods to help, protect, and punish the believers flows from the narrative tradition
that affirms such powers and conveys the necessary evidence. Thus, in order
to understand the role of deities in religious communities it is not sufficient to
study the construction and structure of shrines, temple art, rituals, and the holy
scripts relating to them. We also need to consider folklore and study its expres-
sive forms and religious genres, which cannot be done without giving word to
the representatives of religious communities—priests and lay members holding
198 ülo valk and s. lourdusamy
different positions and social roles. So let us here stress the importance of their
story realm—magical, powerful, and overwhelming—that brings humans and
deities together as partners and cohabitants of one social space.

notes

* This article has been supported by the Estonian Science Foundation (grant no. 6518).
1. Recorded from Sugumar Udaiyar, who is fifty-two years old and is the leader of the
Udaiyar community in Athipakkam village.
2. Recorded in Viruduvilanginan village from Kannayiram Naikar, who is sixty-eight
years old, is the director of street theatre, and belongs to the Mudaliar caste.
3. This story was told by Shivanesan, who is thirty years old, belongs to the Mudaliar
caste, and is the pujari of Munieshvaran temple in Kodukapattu village.
4. For other versions of the myth, see Masilamani-Meyer 2004, 19–22.
5. Told by Sakkara, a forty-five-year-old pujari of Aiyanar temple in Agaram village.
6. Recorded from Sugumar Udaiyar.
7. Regular violation of interdictions in folktales has been noted by Vladimir Propp.
Different genres thus offer alternative models of action that are relevant to their generic
context. Fictional folktales allow fantasy games but socially oriented legends demonstrate
the sad consequences of misbehavior and breaking the norms.
8. Many legends of Tamil Nadu tell about the appearance of deities in dreams—some-
times with a special message to establish a temple or to warn somebody about the ramifi-
cations of their thoughtless plans (for examples see Masilamani-Meyer 2004, 25, 30, 45).
9. This story was told by Kumar, who is thirty years old, lives in Pavithiram village, and
belongs to the Nathaman Udaiyar caste.

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