I was too keen to know the secret that made Kambala an exciting
event. Hence, I rushed to the racing arena leaving my friends behind.
The place was bustling with activity with air of festivity all around.
People were present in hundreds. But the Buffalo presence was
overwhelming. Almost every square inch of land had either a buffalo or
its dung on it. I found no early clue for the secret that I was pursuing
and pushed myself near to the racing fields.
I chose a strategic location to watch. It was on one end of the slush
filled long narrow twin racing fields, just beyond the finishing line.
Once settled, I started observing every development carefully, to get
the answer. I squinted towards the far end, where all the action was.
There were two pairs of buffalo's, each accompanied by a dozen of Homo
sapiens. The men were struggling hard to make the beasts stand at the
starting line but to their utter dismay the buffalos were not
cooperating; moving abruptly every time they came close. The buffalos
looked like unwilling groom of Hindi cinema, where as the assistants
looked, dowry hungry parents. As this activity got stretched I opted to
wander around.
Men attired in traditional Mundu or Lungi were all around. Women,
like the lizards of the deserts, had chosen sneaky places to sit and
hide ( I wasn't sure from whom they were hiding, men or buffalos). It
was a pleasant experience to see people of all categories, age and
economy group together in the same place and similar dresses as all
looked part of an extended family. It looked as if everyone from the
village was present there, be it the poor daily wage labourers, the
octogenarians who had stopped frequenting the markets, youth, naughty
kids, or a man who had left for Mumbai a decade ago. It was then that I
noticed first breakthrough for the day. At the Kambala, amazingly, every
one looked equal. The poor-rich divide, which was so obvious on the
streets, was absent or at least heavily diminished. There was a feeling
of oneness. Every one appeared a human being, just a human being.
Whether, this aura of unity had something to do with the Kambala
Mystery? I wondered.
The fields around were vast and of impressive size. Mother Nature
had manifested herself in an extremely lavish manner there. A stream of
water flowing as a Nala snaked across like a garland, proving to be the
lifeline for the adjacent greenery. Trees surrounded the arena from all
sides as if to form a green colosseum for our buffalo - gladiators. The
tall barren mountains in the back yard were dark and prohibitive to
look like the places reserved for the Gods and sages to sit and watch
the Kambala. These lush surroundings looked apt stage for holding the
age-old tradition. The comfort that was seeping into me gave second
enlightenment for the day. I realised that serenity of the place
coupled with the freedom that it offered from the day to day rat race,
were some priceless virtues that made Kambala so special to people.
Then I noticed the guy on the mike, it took me very little time to
know that his role assumes as much importance as that of the buffalo.
Uttering dialogues which were both amusing as well as commanding, he
kept the mood upbeat with vivid and imaginative commentary and also with
some timely gems which he chose to deliver at regular intervals. He
was quick to spite anyone who would displease him be it a camera
flashing journalists, slow moving competitor or even the disorderly
spectator. I noticed that even while shouting at people he maintained
the charm and regal touch in his language and dialogue delivery. You
violate any rule and he'll make you feel as worthless as a three legged
buffalo in a race. He played a key role by keeping the mood elevated,
all the time.
Moving in the outer yard I saw the team preparations. The team
associates were busy in preparatory activities like feeding, washing,
nursing and pampering the buffalos. They did it all with great
dedication as if they were priests for those four legged Gods. Some of
them were drunk but all were thoroughly enjoying what they were doing.
The Jockeys, who run the buffalo, had standout personality. With
distinctly athletic features their physique commanded instant attention
from every onlooker. Their naturally groomed frame looked the best
prototypes for ideal and healthy human physique. I would warn the
Salmans and Shahruks of the world not to visit Kambala unless they are
prepared for a terrible streak of inferiority complex seeing their six
packs.
Kambala is also a food fest with Tulunadu cuisine as its theme.
All Illustrious South-Canara delicacies line up together like Ramba,
Menaka, Urvashi in heaven. Be it the crunchy Charmuri or sensual
Neerdosa, yummy Pulimunchi or the divine Kori Sukka, everything adds up
to be an irresistible temptation. Not to forget the famous Kori Rotti,
the best seller. Biting the crispy Charmuri in my mouth, I felt like
shouting “Eureka”. The amazing feeling of satisfaction on the faces
people who were munching, crunching, licking and biting those
delicacies, made me feel I was quite close to solving the Kambala jigsaw
puzzle and started visualising myself triumphant.
A sudden and progressively intensifying noise made by the crowd woke
me out of my trance. I rushed towards the finishing line and saw an
amazing scene. The unruly grooms, I mean beasts, had finally obliged and
the race had begun. The buffalos were let loose and were coming running
at an awesome speed, with a wave of slush being created in the fields.
It was a pleasure to watch the buffalos running. The dark and huge
beasts were both fierce and majestic in their sprint, giving their best,
extracting every ounce of energy. The muscular men behind them ran like
Olympic sprinters. Their coordinated effort looked a wonderful scene to
watch. Within moments, the brigade had reached the finishing line. The
noise made by the crowd reached the pinnacle, the man saying commentary
was on top of his voice. The slush was getting thrown to meters height
and the human faces around were full of smile and excitement. Then I
noticed the most remarkable thing to happen for the day, surprisingly, I
too was happy, on seeing one pair of buffalo crossing the finishing
line ahead of the other!
In the end, my detective mission was accomplished. The
events made me realise the reasons that made buffalo race so important
to people of my village and every village in Tulunadu. I learnt that
some times, the process of getting the result could be far more
enriching and significant than the result itself. Kambala was not just a
race but was an activity that helps Tuluva to revisit his cultural
heritage and relive his real identity. Along with being a tradition of
Tulu culture it serves as an apt representation of the spirit and
philosophy of life of people who live here.
This realisation made me feel victorious, perhaps like a buffalo who
had won the last race. I must add, I love the buffalos now, as much as I
love their race.
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