Bathing a dead body, smearing sandalwood paste and ashes on it, getting it dressed for its final journey, and of course, singing for the departed and for the ones left behind… it's all in a day's work for this young lad. Meet 21-year old death singer Tamil Arasan, already a veteran in his profession, having sung for over 5000 deaths so far.
It started 13 years back, when as an eight-year-old, he tagged along with his grand father and uncles when they went about singing at deaths. A descendant of the dwindling Thambiran community of Tamil Nadu, who have traditionally been death singers, Tamil Arasan is the fifth generation in his family line to take up death singing.
Tamil Arasan happens to be an enigma even within his community, having started death singing when he was just eight years old. Though of course, most of the male members of his extended family happen to be entrenched in this profession. “We go wherever we are called, be it within or outside the state,” says Pattabiram, an elderly death singer frOm the same community. “But, like those in other traditional professions, we are facing tough times, as people are now veering away from traditional practices.” At home in Vyasarpadi in Chennai, Tamil Arasan says, “We don't see a lot of money in this profession; but we survive. If the bereaved family appears well off, we ask for Rs 500, otherwise, we take whatever they give us.”
Traditionally, all the males of the Thambiran community inevitably get into death singing. “Females of the community are not allowed to do so,” Pattabiram informs. But then, that is how it is in Indian tradition - women handle births, while men deal with deaths, be it the death ceremony rites, lighting of the pyre, retrieval of the ashes and bones, or its submersion into rivers or seas.
Contemporary and Western notions suggest that death singing is another one of those archaic practices that need to be shed as it invades upon the privacy of grief, and ends up making a spectacle of death too. “On the contrary, death singing happens to be a profound tradition,” insists sociologist Goutham Shankaran. “Not only is it cathartic, death rituals and death singing enable us to dwell on not just the departed person, but also on the elusive concepts of death and the impermanence of life.
It offers us a chance to focus deeply on these issues, grow spiritually, and perhaps think of what we need to achieve and become before death takes us away too.”
Agrees Tamil Arasan, “When we sing, we see the family connect and break down. I think this actually helps them grieve better and come to terms with the finality of the situation.” He adds as an afterthought, “I see so many kinds of people, some who grieve loudly; some who don't shed a tear, but I know they are crying inside.”
Though the ritual goes by the name death singing, the concept involves much more. Apart from singing, these death singers get the dead body ready for its last rites. A constant accompaniment to the songs is the beat of the ‘udukkai’ (a tiny double barrelled drum) and the ‘sangu jaikandi’ (a kind of windpipe) which is generally carved from a conch. Like most death singers, Tamil Arasan is adept at singing as well as playing these instruments.
As for the songs, they are sourced from Sivapuranam, Devaram and Thiruvasagam, some of the most ancient Tamil hymns. “We also incorporate songs that we deem appropriate from other sources,” Tamil Arasan says.
Like Tamil Arasan, not many in the community take up formal education, and would not be able to recognise the songs from manuscripts. “I learnt it from tagging along with my uncles when they went for death singing,” he says. The dress code for the death singers is white dhoti and now, white shirts. Some also wear rudraksha beads.
Meeting death close can be unnerving. But Tamil Arasan chooses to be pragmatic. “God shows everyone some way to live. This is what he has shown us,” he says. We also go to temple rituals, he adds. And how does one get back to the living world and its associations after constantly meeting death up close? “The ritual generally takes about three hours – an hour at the house of the dead, about half an hour along the way and about an hour at the cemetery.
After we get back home, we take a bath, smear holy ash on our foreheads, spend a moment praying to our deity Munishwaran (local form of Shiva, the destroyer) and then get on with life,” says Tamil Arasan nonchalantly. Some of them go on a drinking binge. Puts in Tamil Arasan, “Actually, only a few in the community do this, but this has given our community a bad image.”
Such a profession cannot but make a person a philosopher, and make him ponder on birth and death. “Oh, the profession has taken out the fear of death from us,” Tamil Arasan says. “I am not scared to step into a graveyard at midnight. What really hurts me is to sing for suicides and accidental deaths. One can take both birth and death, both of which are inevitable.
But death by accidents and suicides – they are really heart-wrenching.” He has lost count, but reckons that he would have seen at least a 1000 suicide deaths. The pain these families go through is immense, he says. “Many of them happen to be poor, and not only have they to lament for the departed soul, but go through the agony of arranging money for the postmortem and other procedures.”
“Regardless of what the relatives feel, we regard the corpse as god,” says this death singer. “My friends too ask me why I continue with this profession. But death singing is a poignant profession.” These songs keep reverberating in this young man's mind. Some of these songs are priceless, not just in the emotional sense, but spiritually too. “We need to hear them, and not just at deaths. I want them to be popularly heard, like film songs,” Tamil Arasan says.
Perhaps by dwelling a little on death, we will get a better grip on life, and a better take on how our life should be. Tamil Arasan shares a verse from Kunnakudi Masthan. Translated, it reads:
Contemplate on yourself.
Think clearly, is anything in the world really yours?
Don't rely on wealth,
It is not going to tag along with you beyond the grave.
