There were two ways to go that morning. One pointed right—to the ERC Voices conference taking place at Pondicherry’s Ecole francaise d'Extreme-Orient (EFEO). One pointed left—to the location of the Masi Maham Kadal Theerthavari on the beachfronts of Vaithikuppam, which is where the fisher communities of Pondicherry have long-lived.
This is one of three great gatherings that happens on this town’s coastal line (the other two are Aadi Amavasya and Thai Amavasya) but this one falls on pournami, the night of the full moon. The festival gets its name from the coincidence of the full moon (or its closeness) with Maha nakshatram. The Maham of the month of Masi, the great Maham or Mahamaham, or masi Maham as it is colloquially known is the largest and most significant of the three for this reason and because it draws deities from elsewhere too: Senji Ranganathaswamy, Malayanoor Angalamman, Mailam Murugan.
Crowds are a hindrance to those who do not participate in this town’s temple traditions, and a draw to those who do because the day offers so many darshans in a single place. To my mind, there was no real choice. I had to go not where Pondicherry’s ritual life was being studied and theorised, but where it was being so richly and elaborately lived. The crowds around me pulled; all I needed to do was to move with them. So, I did.
Manish Maheshwari and Inbar Maor were in town and joined me. We followed the paths of the deities who were still beachside (many had come early and left already). We haggled with hawkers peddling their wares on spread-out cloth, speaking strange mixtures of Hindi and Tamil. We watched a Nataraja dancing in the waves–from which temple, we couldn’t tell (the videos of this you see are taken by Inbar Maor). Tillai vananathar, one man said, but that wasn’t precise enough. We got stuck in the crowds. We didn’t stop for annadanam which was being given out in one of the small roads adjoining. Manish shaded himself with a copy of Nick Dirks’ Castes of Mind which he happened to have on hand, and which I found hilarious. We each had our moorings and our leanings but this wasn’t the place for them. We spoke about all things Masi Maham, and nothing about a project or a plan to document Pondicherry’s temples. All that came before, or after, I don’t precisely recall.
But “Sthalam” as we know it now started there, that precise coincidence of pournami with maha nakshatram, in those waters, in that effervescent mix of heady crowd, hot sun, and the crowd of Gods come to bathe in the purifying waters of the place we know as Pondicherry.