Mr. F. Fawcett.*[1] "Far away in rural Malabar, I witnessed the ceremony in which the Velichchapād exhibited his quality. It was in the neighbourhood of a Nāyar house, to which thronged all the neighbours (Nāyars), men and women, boys and girls. The ceremony lasts about an hour. The Nāyar said it was the custom in his family to have it done once a year, but could give no account of how the custom originated; most probably in a vow, some ancestor having vowed that, if such or such benefit be received, he would for ever after have an annual performance of this ceremony in his house. It involved some expenditure, as the Velichchapād had to be paid, and the neighbours had to be fed. Somewhere about the middle of the little courtyard, always as clean as a dinner table, the Velichchapād placed a lamp (of the Malabar pattern) having a lighted wick, a kalasam (brass vessel), some flowers, camphor, saffron (turmeric) and other paraphernalia. Bhagavati was the deity invoked, and the business involved offering flowers, and waving a lighted wick round the kalasam. The Velichchapād's movements became quicker, and, suddenly seizing his sword (nāndakam), he ran round the courtyard (against the sun, as sailors say) shouting wildly. He is under the influence of the deity who has been introduced into him, and he gives oracular utterances to the deity's commands. What he said I know not, and no one else seemed to know or care in the least, much interested though they were in the performance. As he ran, every now and then he cut his forehead with the sword, pressing it against the skin and sawing vertically up and down. The blood streamed all over his face. Presently he became wilder and wilder, and whizzed round the lamp, bending forward
- ↑ * Madras Museum Bull. III, 3, 1901.
