Snakes on the water

The setting appears straight out of a child’s sketchbook – a vast body of water that stretches out until the eye can see, a calm surface on the lake broken only by the small boats bobbing in the distance, birds smoothly floating in the sky, maybe a fisherman’s call heard here and there. Everything appears peaceful, an oasis of calm in the lake so huge it could be mistaken for the sea itself. And all this silence can be unnerving at times.

But only minutes later, there are ripples and waves through the water and the sounds from more than a hundred throats fill the air with a joyous roar. Looking for the source of commotion, you spot a majestic, 100-feet long boat being rowed by more than a 120 oarsmen at the helm, singing a song in the local dialect, working at the oars in perfect coordination. This is a snake boat from Kerala, the land ubiquitously known as God’s Own Country for its scenic beauty and greenery. And these colourful, gaily-painted boats are as recognisable a characteristic of the state as its backwaters, the palm trees and the Kathakali dancers – vignettes on a postcard sent from Kerala. In the month of August, boat races are held in the state’s backwaters – some small, some not so small, and some tournaments on a grand scale, backed and sponsored by the government itself. And the Nehru Trophy Boat Race, in its 59th edition this year, is the most famous and prestigious tournament held in Kerala, with snake boats (along with smaller ones) competing fiercely for top honours.

Setting out for the task at hand, you discover the snake boat race is just not an annual competition held on the second Saturday of every August – it is more than that, it is almost a way of life for the community living in the area, with men fighting it out for family pride and the right to boast. The location is Kuttanad, a region in the district of Alappuzha district, better known by its anglicised name of Alleppey. Kuttanad is the rice granary of Kerala – an area covered in swathes of lush, green paddy fields as you sail your way on a ‘shikara’ through the greenish-brown backwaters of the Punnamada Lake.

A boatman and our local guide, Vinod, proved to be a rich trove of information about these giant wooden vessels. Called chundan vallams in Malayalam, the snake boats were warrior boats of the Chempakasserry rulers during the olden times. According to age-old tradition, the boat is made from the wood of the ‘aanjili’ (artocarpus hirsutus) tree and five-six massive planks, almost 40 feet long and 90 inches wide, are used. The rear of the boat stands almost 20 feet above the surface of the water, resembling a snake with a raised hood. The hull is built of planks 83 feet long and six inches wide, and the boat is divided into two by a single plank running through its length, with men seated on both sides and three helmsmen standing at the rear end, using a 12-feet long main oar (Adanayampu) to row the mammoth piece of wood and control its movement. As Vinod explains, a chundan is fervently worshipped by oarsmen. “Almost all the members of a village gather together when a boat is constructed. But most of the boats used are quite old now. So instead, the villagers give a helping hand to get the vessel ready for the actual race. It brings the young and the old together, we have schoolboys and grandfathers working together at the same time. Any kind of assistance is welcomed by the boatmen,” says Vinod. No one is allowed to enter the boatyard with slippers. Women are not allowed into the boats (they only compete in smaller ones called ‘thekkanody’), and the oarsmen are fiercely protective of their ‘temple’. Cotton smothered in coconut oil is used to fix gaps in the wood, while charcoal from burnt coconut shells is mixed with fish oil and eggs to give the boat a protective coating. In the water, they row in rhythm to the ‘vanchipattu’ (or the boatman's song).

It is no wonder then that the boat races are also a means of building communal harmony in the area. T Pulikkattil, executive committee member of the Nehru Trophy Boat Race Society (NTBRS), says, “The number of participants has been increasing every year. Though the competition among the various clubs to uphold the family and district name is strong, the competitors are encouraged to participate in the right spirit.”

To row these gigantic vessels at great speed through the lake, the oarsmen need to be trained well and be aware of the slightest change on and beneath the surface, which could alter the boat’s movement and direction. “The meetings and selection for the race start three-four months in advance. 300-350 men are shortlisted and then put through a strenuous physical test. Finally, we cut the list down to 150 men. The training period usually starts 21-27 days before the race, depending upon the size of the clubs participating,” explains KA Pramod, secretary of the United Boat Club (UBC) Kainakary, based in Kuttamangalam. After a rowing session in the morning, the oarsmen take a well-deserved break, and are busy watching a movie on a television screen erected in the boatyard. The rowers, who include young boys from school as well as seasoned participants, do sets of bench presses, push-ups and sit-ups during every session. The afternoon is spent in polishing the boat with husks, cloth and sandpaper, repairing any damage that could have happened and generally finishing chores that are an inevitable part of maintaining such a big vessel. There is another training session in the evening, when the boat is taken out into the water, and the oarsmen put to test again. Without any fancy gym machinery involved, they keep themselves in shape, their rippling muscles a testimony to the hundreds of hours of rowing in an effort to shave valuable seconds off the finish time.

Even for the women, the scenario is almost the same, though they are not allowed to row in the traditional ‘chundans’, with the widely held belief that the snake boats could get defiled (due to their menstrual cycles). The vessels used by women, dressed in red blouses and white/cream sarees, are called ‘thekkanody’ -- they are smaller, without the raised rear of a chundan. At both ends, these boats are flanked by graceful spirals that curve inwards and are decorated by ornaments and flowers, garlands of lemon especially brought from the temple to ward off an evil eye. 35-40 people can be accommodated in such a boat, including the participants and four men who help to manoeuvre the vessel. Four clubs participated in the women’s section – PBC (Pallathuruthi), Sangeetha Boat Club (Alappuzha), Women’s Boat Club (Kainakary) and Vembanad Vanith Boat Club (Alappuazha). For the first time this year, the boats had to cover the whole length, as compared to the last editions when they would cover only half the track. Sajini Babu, captain of the Vembanad Vanith Boat Club, explains that the participants come from a varied background – most of them are teachers, nurses from the local hospital, and fisherwomen.

In the days leading up to the race, tracks are laid out on the lake and police speedboats constantly patrol the waters. District Collector P Venugopal, who is also the chairman of the Nehru Trophy Boat Race Society, said that the race course, which is 20 metres wide, is divided into four tracks. A maximum of 120 oarsmen is allowed into a 35-metre long boat.

According to estimates by the District Information Office, more than 30,000 people gathered on the weekend to watch the race, along with 2,500 foreign tourists, the highest number so far in the tournament’s history. Tickets were Rs 58 lakh were sold, up from Rs 38 lakh last year. It was a bright Saturday afternoon, the sun a welcome respite from the monsoon rains that poured down through the week. As the snake boats took to the water, crowds formed at the edge of the lake, where the District Administration had put up temporary stands and pavilions for spectators. Ghulam Nabi Azad, Union Minister of Health and FamilyWelfare, inaugurated the race and the audience roared in approval when Mammootty, the South Indian superstar, took his place in the stand reserved for special guests.

Before the race got underway, all ‘chundans’ lined up before the special pavilion, floating like cork on water. Seated in the boats, the oarsmen performed a special drill, similar to students performing a marchpast in school. Couplets from ‘Kuchelavritham Vanchipattu’, the classic Malayalam poem (written by Ramapurathu Warrier), were sung as the flag-off gets closer.

As the men rowed through the water on a 1,370 metre long track, their faces reflected concentration, all heads bowed, teeth clenched in an obvious pose of grittiness, trying to extract the maximum from each performance. Apart from the oarsmen, two men stand in the middle of the boat, sticks in hands, banging them in rhythm to the tune to inspire the rest of the competitors. Every limb and sinew moves in perfect coordination across the boat as lusty calls of exhilaration, combined with effort, fill the air. The monstrous effort by more than 200 hands at work covered the track in a little over four minutes, even moving faster than a speedboat at times.

The crowd, eager for a thrilling finale, was granted its wish as Devas chundan (Jesus Boat Club,) and Karichal chundan (Freedom Boat Club) provided a gripping photo finish. Locked in a battle for supremacy, Devas pipped the latter over the last hundred metres, as television replays subsequently indicated. As their captain, Swan Chacko, bowed in front of the vessel and affectionately patted it, the oarsmen chanted hymns of Lord Aiyappa as a token of thanks to the Almighty. The last time Jesus Boat Club had won the trophy was in 2009, when captain J Jacob Pollayil led them to the victory. After the race when night fell, boisterous crowds congregated in the main market square in the town, revelling and marking celebrations with toddy, looking forward to more races in the water until the festive month finally comes to an end.







(Published in the September issue of Sports Illustrated India).