A couple of years ago, during my postgraduate days; I stumbled upon the headless God; in the rural areas of Tamil Nadu, that we often visited to run “outreach-clinics”. The story has stayed with me, in the crevices of my mind, waiting to take form and shape. Now, I live in Mumbai, and somehow, the very same story found its way back to me. In a very unexpected way.
A couple of weeks ago: I was browsing through the app called “Bookmyshow” to see if there was any ‘play’ that I could catch with my ex-roommate and dear friend. While I was scanning and screening, reading through the plots of various plays that Mumbai had to offer, I found a play called “One night only” by Akvarious productions. The plot spoke of a less-known story from the Mahabharata. A story of Aravan, Arjuna’s son. The second I saw this name; I was so excited! This was the story I had come across in rural Vellore, all that time ago. The story had come back to me, as if it was meant to. It was an inner reminder, that had been ignored a dozen times. A reminder to write the story of the headless God.
I did watch the play, and thoroughly enjoyed every bit. The cheeky dialogues, the brilliant performances, the read-between-the-lines messages and the old-world charm of Prithvi theater in Juhu, Mumbai was mesmerizing enough. The play took me back to the time I discovered Aravan’s story. I dug out the pictures I had taken during the outreach clinic and some conversations with my team mates, back then (2016).
While sitting in a ‘mobile van’ that was designed to cater to the healthcare needs of people in the villages in Kaniyambadi block of Vellore district; I had noticed the statue of a male body without a head (see picture). I had asked the community health nurse about this, and she had told me that this was Aravan, a character from Mahabharata and that his head (which was stored away for most part of the year) was restored only for 18 days in a year, coinciding with the Kurukshetra war of Mahabharata. She also told me that on the last day of the 18-day period, transgender people from across the country gathered in Koovagam village of Villupuram to get married to Aravan. The transgender people called themselves ‘Aravanis’. They would all dress as brides and the marriage would last for one day. The day after the wedding, Aravan would be sacrificed to Goddess Kali, following which the Aravanis would mourn his death and their widowhood. I was immensely intrigued by what my teammate had told me.
I looked to the all-knowing Google to find some more pieces to complete the jigsaw puzzle. And Google told me that Aravan was the son of Arjuna (one of the Pandavas) and a Naga princess called Ulipi. He was born when the Pandavas had been on exile, after losing the deceptive game of dice against their cousins, the Kauravas. Aravan had never seen his father, and was brought up by his mother. He was a great warrior and wanted to be a significant part of the Kurukshetra war. He wanted the Pandavas to win, and was ready to be a martyr in the war. When Aravan approached Arjuna and Krishna in the Kurukshetra war, Krishna deemed it fit for Aravan to be sacrificed to Goddess Kali, so that victory of the Pandavas is ensured. Aravan agreed, but asked for three boons in return. The three boons he asked for were: to watch the Kurukshetra war in full, to be remembered as a hero and to be married. Krishna granted him the boons, but realized that no girl would be willing to marry Aravan knowing that Aravan would die, and the girl who married him, would be widowed in no time. Hence Krishna, assumed a female form “Mohini” and married Aravan, for a day before Aravan was sacrificed.
It is this part of the story that is enacted every year in the Koovagam festival in Villupuram. The pieces of the jigsaw fit, and the picture of Aravan, the headless God seemed to be complete.
Well the story has been told, knowing well, that there are some gruesome aspects in it: like war and human sacrifice. It is an interesting story nevertheless, and all stories are better told, than kept inside the crevices of the mind or the darkness of the belly.