Performed over ten days, the Pandav Lila is a ritual re-enactment of stories from the Hindu epic, the Mahabharata.
It tells the adventures of the five Pandava brothers, who, after a battle lost to their cousins, the Kauravas, were exiled to the forest for 12 years, followed by a thirteenth year spent incognito.
Dancing the Pandav Lila
In the late November chill, the whole village gathers each night to watch a cast of allies and enemies embroiled in promises and curses, twisting betrayals and gruesome battles.
On the first few days, the performances start just after dark and last into the early hours of the morning. As the days draw on, the action intensifies; the dancing begins earlier each day, extending right through the night. Life becomes a swirl of white robes, the wild eyes of villains in mule-hair wigs, and the bobbing of homemade hobby horses. The drummers and horn blowers whip up a frenzy, sustaining the cast and audience for twelve euphoric and exhausting days.
This is not simply ‘heritage theatre,’ however. Rather, the dancing forms part of a larger ritual that acknowledges the gods and goddesses and seeks their protection. The key dancers are chosen by the spirits of their characters: they are spontaneously possessed by them and driven to dance. Villagers may play a character every year for 40 years, or until they are no longer physically able.
Why dance the Pandav Lila?
The spirit of the Pandavas arrived in the village some generations ago. A village goatherd was told the stories one summer while grazing his flock in the high-altitude meadows near the Tibetan border. In autumn, he returned home with a small oil lamp that held the spirits of the Pandavas. But rather than bring the lamp to the temple for its blessing, he absentmindedly left it on a rock outside the village. That year he became sick, and his livestock contracted foot-and-mouth disease. It was only months later that he realised his mistake had led to a curse. Once he had conducted a ritual to seek forgiveness from the gods, the illness lifted.
Gradually the villagers realised the power of the Pandavas. They vowed to acknowledge them every year through rituals and dancing their stories, starting always on the tenth day after Choti Diwali.
But the timing coincides with the winter hay harvest, at the end of three months of hard agricultural toil. Villagers are overworked and exhausted. Some years ago, they decided to abandon an annual Pandav Lila in favour of dancing it once every two or three years. But in 2018, the village cows contracted debilitating outbreaks of foot-and-mouth disease. Villagers came together for a decision; They hastily promised the gods they would dance for them, and began making plans for the Pandav Lila later that year.
What does it take to host the Pandav Lila?
Organising a ritual on this scale is a massive commitment. Costumes and props are dusted off and repaired or remade, and the stage is set. The entire village and its guests must be fed for several nights. Vast cooking pots are hauled out, and every household contributes flour, oil, and lentils. Each morning, women gather before dawn to make the steep hike to the forest to collect firewood. Later, they sit in groups around the flames to make mountains of roti and puri, while men stir bubbling cauldrons of daal.
Then at night time, just as everyone’s energy is waning, the drummers beat their call to the temple courtyard. And suddenly that exhaustion is gone. Bodies are drawn willingly, with nervous excitement, to the music.
The Pandav Lila draws people back to the village; daughters who have married out beg their in-laws for permission to return, men apply for leave from their city jobs, relatives pour in from throughout the region.
At the end of it all, there is a sense of loss, not just that the performance is over, but because one never knows if or when they’ll all be together to celebrate the Pandav Lila again.