Taking the Bull by the Horns
In January every year, just a day after Pongal, Alanganallur, a sleepy village 16 kms, North West of Madurai, stomps with the sound of a thousand hooves. And the hiss of bovine snorts. At the annual Jallikattu festival, bulls from across the state stream into the village. This year, around 1500 bulls, trained specially for the martial sport that pits man versus animal in a gladiatorial contest of strength and might, congregated at Alanganallur.
The scent of bulls and dung cloaks Alanganallur. Bulls spray painted in the colours of the rainbow and decorated with confetti, with their curved scimitar-like horns sharpened to perfection gleam in the sunshine. The narrow barricaded streets are the thoroughfare through which the bulls are led to the gladiatorial arena. Rows and rows of tethered bulls held tightly by their attenders await the mandatory veterinary inspection that certifies that they are participation-worthy.
The veterinary inspection is part of the recently introduced rules in response to the petition filed by the Animal Welfare Board in 2008 seeking to ban the spectator sport on the grounds of cruelty to animals. The petition claimed that the bulls were subject to inhuman practices such as being fed on alcohol and fired with chilli powder to make them aggressive. It is a claim that has been hotly debated by animal activists seeking to ban the sport and pro-Jallikattu lobby that seeks to preserve the continuity of the sport as a cultural insignia of the Tamils.
A hush descends on the 50,000 spectators who throng the jallikattu arena. Perched precariously on rooftops and jostled about in specially erected enclosures, the place pulsates with anticipation. At 10 am, Alagar Nadar, the bull keeper, lets loose Muniayandi, the six-year-old Temple Bull of Alanganallur. Muniyandi has the distinction of kick starting the conclave of the bulls.
Around 1500 men clad in trademark blinding yellow T shirts (with their political sponsors emblazoned on them!) and black shorts are bold enough to challenge the might of the bulls and subdue them. To do so, is a visible and societally mandated sign of masculinities. It is a challenge that few men are unable to resist. For their eligible predecessors in earlier times, taming the bull confirmed their virility and made them highly sought after as a matrimonial candidate! The machismo of the all-male sport was impossible to miss.
A clutch of testosterone-charged contestants throng the narrow entrance of the Vadivasal through which the bulls emerge unthethered, in a volcanic burst of unbridled energy. The bulls burst into public view one by one. The master of ceremonies brandishes the lineage and ownership of the bulls as they crash onto centre stage. As the bull emerges from the mouth of the narrow opening, it cleaves its way through the men and bisected them across the field. A few short listed men charge after the bull in relentless pursuit. One of them ultimately manages to take the bull by the horns and triumphantly mount on the animal’s hump. The bulls then cantered along to freedom through the streets of Alanganallur and onto the wilderness beyond … It would take their keepers several days to find them.
For every victor, there are several contestants, and even spectators maimed, injured or even killed. The recently concluded Jallikattu is no exception. There are casualties, but the next year it is all forgotten. The old wounds have healed and there’s new crop of young men all ready to test their courage. It’s time for the bulls to run again, never mind the fact that culture and kindness to animals are the two horns of a dilemma that is unlikely to be resolved anytime soon.
