The Dancer of Embers: Padayanikkolam

 

Eyes like embers, words ablaze with fire,

He moves like the wind, across field and mire.

The very life of the Padayanikolam,

His head bowed low, at the temple's sacred soil—

He is the Kolakkaran, bound by ancient toil.

When harvests are gathered, and paths are well trod,

As palm fronds are cut, and the sacred fire's glow fades,

To infuse life with the rhythm of burning coals,

Like a heartbeat in the earth.

Like a tempest, he arrives, the temple's deep sigh—

He is the Kolakkaran, beneath the sky,

A shadow dancing with the light.

When Darika's fierce cruelty knew no bounds,

And Devi's wrath burned, setting ablaze the grounds—

Like a forest fire uncontrolled.

With gods helpless before her fiery might,

Shiva's Ganas danced, with forms of light,

Like spirits shimmering in the moon's soft gleam.

Her fury calmed, as peace did reside,

Like a storm’s fierce roar subsiding to a breeze.

That is the legend of the Padayani night!

In the first glow of the 'Choottu Veppu' bright,

Lost in the rhythm of 'Ganapathi Kottu's' might—

Like a leaf caught in a rushing stream.

As 'Maadan,' 'Marutha,' and 'Kaalan' take flight,

Like fleeting shadows against the wall.

When 'Chenda,' 'Kaimani,' and 'Thappu' unite,

Like voices rising in a single, sacred song—

To witness the 'Purappadu's' grandest sight.

He seeks life in this Padayani night,

Like a moth drawn to a guiding flame.

Be it in Kadamanitta, or Othara's sacred grove,

Or in Kadalimangalam's hallowed cove.

In Kallooppara's rhythmic, fiery trance,

Or Pulladu's path, lit by the torchlight's dance.

On the palm sheath, blackened by soot,

He paints in white, in yellow, and in red—

Like dawn breaking over a hidden canvas.

With fire in his eyes, and spirit deeply fed,

To calm the fierce Goddess, as the Kolam takes form.

The ground turns wild, a blazing, fiery storm—

Like a sea churning under a furious sky.

In the torchlight gathered, at the twilight's close,

As he dances blindfolded, lost in the rhythm’s throes—

Like a ship adrift on an endless ocean.

When Kali herself dances, through his very veins—

Like a current of lightning, swift and sharp.

In the sweat of Padayani, that seeps and sustains,

He burns brightly, the Kolakkaran, unbound—

Like a star blazing in the deepest night.

In the midnight's glimmer, where shadows reside,

Like a tempest, he dances, with nothing to hide.

As the heat of the embers melts his very soul—

Like wax yielding to intense heat.

He becomes a daemon’s flame, losing all control—

Like a wildfire consuming all in its path.

He transforms into the wind of the temple ground—

The Kolakkaran profound,

Like smoke rising to meet the heavens.

When dark forces within him fiercely reside,

And he spreads like embers, on the temple’s hallowed side—

Like an unseen presence permeating the air.

When he plunges deep into the demon's dread core—

Like a diver descending into the ocean’s abyss.

As it seeks life in this Padayani eve once more,

He is Kali, he is the Kolam—eternally,

Like a reflection in a sacred mirror.

To banish evil spirits, and sickness to cease,

To bring prosperity, and find inner peace.

The village’s unity, culture’s warm embrace,

A legacy passed down, through time and space—

Like a river flowing from source to sea.

Not lost in the embers of memories scattered wide,

A power passed down through generations’ tide—

Like a torch carried from hand to hand.

Keeping alive the spirit of the Padayani song,

On the temple ground, where he truly belongs.

He lives on—

The Kolakkaran, ever strong,

Like the ancient banyan tree, rooted deep and vast.