Chapter 2 : Social Life

During our fieldwork, community members recalled that in the early days the Mannan lived a nomadic life, practicing shifting agriculture across vast stretches of forest land. Over time, however, they were displaced from these forest areas and compelled to settle in various locations, either directly or indirectly provided by the government. They attributed this to several factors, including the implementation of Forest Act protection rules, the construction of reservoirs and resulting flooding, and encroachment by outsiders for plantation activities.

It is commonly believed that the Mannan community once lived across 42 hamlets in Idukki district. Some of these settlements have since dwindled, while others have been relocated. We noted that neither government records nor community sources contain definitive data on the exact number of settlements or the total population, and even the mapping of the original 42 hamlets elicited multiple viewpoints within the community.

In most current settlements, we found that the community resides on revenue land provided by the government, holding only a possession certificate (kaivasha avakasham) rather than a land deed (pattayam). This arrangement has created a sense of dependence and insecurity, limiting the community’s ability to achieve full autonomy. At the same time, it offers some protection by preventing the land from being sold through unfair trade practices, particularly during times of financial strain.

Community members also described a distinctive architectural tradition that once reflected their close relationship with nature and collective life. Earlier, house construction was a well-preserved skill, taking approximately two months and using natural materials such as wooden sticks, bamboo frames, and wild leaves. Building was a communal effort involving 10 to 30 people under the guidance of the Kaani, with labour shared across tasks like foraging leaves, cutting timber, and preparing food. Today, however, cultural changes have led the community, like many others, toward a more capitalist mode of living, and most families now reside in concrete houses built through government housing schemes. Concerns were frequently voiced regarding the quality of these structures, particularly reports of cracks and leaky roofs. 

Mura System: A System Co-dependance   

While interacting with the community, we discovered that the community follows a strict clan system. This system of family informs almost all of the elements of Mannan culture and socio-political organisation. The whole of Mannan community is divided into two sections of clans, namely Aravakudi and Paneekudi. Though loosely called as 25 Paneekudi and Arava Ayyayiram, there are only 35 total sub clans within this system. We experienced there are multiple understandings from hamlet to hamlet in quantifying the sub clans. According to the current king, Raman Rajamannan there are 20 sub clans of Aravakkudi and 15 sub clans of Paneekkudi in total. 

As the Mannan community mainly follows a matrilineal system, the clan assignation also happens in the same way with marriages involving exogamy. Marriages within the same clans were once strictly prohibited and are believed to bring in God’s fury.  

People of administrative power are mainly from the Paneekudi clan. The Mannan king is from Valiyakunakudi sub-clan from Paneekudi division and apart from that all other clans are said to be equal in power, without a structured vertical hierarchy. The names and division of the Mannan clans can be found in Annexure – II.

We have heard multiple stories and come across many incidents where the community observes a mura system based on this family lineage. In this system for every family there exists a pullakutti, a corresponding family lineage who will be tasked with their protection and wellbeing. For example, for an individual in Paneekudi, a sub clan of Aravakudi will act as a pullakutti and vice versa. This system of accompanying is followed in many of the Mannan rituals such as Pongal, as well as during instances when the community treks to the forest. 

Story of Livelihood: Past and Present 

We heard stories of how the Mannan community once led a rich agrarian life centered on shifting cultivation. Small forested plots were cleared for farming, cultivated for a season, and then left fallow as new plots were prepared. They grew traditional varieties of rice and millets, practicing collective farming that emphasized cooperation and shared responsibility. The harvest was stored and distributed among all members, ensuring sustenance for the entire community. Agriculture was not an isolated livelihood activity like today, but an integral part of their culture, deeply interwoven with their beliefs, rituals, and festivals. Even marriage ceremonies were timed with the harvest cycle, celebrated through the Kalaavoottu festival and its associated rituals. In addition to cultivated crops, the community shares stories of their once rich life with sustainable and rich food habits through forest products.  

However, we were able to understand that post-resettlement of many hamlets, the community experienced significant disruption in their livelihood. Aggressive resettlement policies and development encroachment restricted their access to traditional lands and resources for agriculture, challenging their ability to sustain their cultural and economic practices. 

Today, the community is not actively pursuing traditional agriculture as it is largely unviable due to land scarcity and conflicts with wildlife. Many community members have now shifted to newer work sources such as masons, daily wage laborers, or in limited agricultural and plantation work in nearby towns. Some Mannan hamlets on the forest fringes of Kumily benefit from employment as forest watchers, guides, or through community-based tourism initiatives organized under the Department of Forest and Wildlife’s ecotourism programs.

As we travelled across various settlements, we found the opportunities are uneven across different settlements. Restricted access to income-generating activities pose significant challenges in many hamlets. A few elders from various regions have commented how most students leave school after completing the 10th standard and plus two, while only a few continue to undergraduate studies and attempt government employment. Only a small number seems to secure jobs, and engagement in private sector work remains minimal, apart from a few individuals employed in local shops. Raju Mani recalls how their life was quite challenging post displacement of their settlement and how in today's world they are able to find stable income in the form of salaries.

This transition reflects the community’s ongoing struggle to adapt to a pro-capitalist economy while maintaining cultural identity and traditional knowledge.  

Rituals: from birth to death

Birth: During conversations with several elders, community members described cultural practices related to childbirth and infant care among the Mannans. In earlier times, great-grandmothers or other senior women in the household oversaw childbirth. Prayers were offered to the Mannan deity for a safe delivery. When a delivery was delayed, the community sometimes consulted Kodangi, a divination practice comparable to astrology within the Mannan context. In such situations, a name associated with the Mannan deity was assigned to the unborn child to ensure a healthy delivery.

It is believed that newborns should carry the names of their gods or ancestral elders. This initial name, referred to as chavar peru or chaami peru, is considered essential for a safe birth. Examples of such names mentioned by community members include Thevi, Thevan, Rami, Raman, and Chakkan.

Certain regions within Mannan settlements observe additional rituals related to childbirth. In the Chinnapara region, a practice known as Kallu Kondu Iduka takes place during the first year after birth. After the infant is born, the parents receive a blessed stone from the ooru karmi (the ritual specialist of the hamlet). The family then visits the Manappadan Kaani, a sacred site, to perform a prayer ritual and place the blessed stone in a designated area. This act is understood as seeking protection and blessings for the child.

Marriage: Our conversations with community members indicated that the Mannan community traditionally practiced a system of community marriage, in which several marriages were conducted on the same day during the Kaalayootu festival. These ceremonies took place at the residence of the chieftain, the Kaani, and the associated expenses were borne by him.

Marriage practices are structured through a strict clan system. Members of the same clan are not permitted to marry one another, as such unions are believed to invoke divine displeasure and potentially lead to severe consequences, including death. Instead, the internal caste structure of the community outlines specific and permissible marriage alliances between clans. Individuals who violated these rules were, in earlier times, expelled from the hamlet in accordance with community regulations. In recent years, however, marriages outside this system have become more common, reflecting broader social and cultural changes.

Community members also described a traditional practice in which a prospective bride or groom would reside in the in-laws’ household for a period ranging from six months to one year prior to marriage. This stay served as an assessment period during which elders of the host family evaluated the individual’s suitability. During this time, the prospective spouse engaged in tasks such as housekeeping, construction, foraging, forest maintenance, and farming. Designated elders observed their conduct and skills and later conveyed their decision to the Kaani, who then informed the families and granted or withheld approval for the marriage.

Death: In the event of a death, we were told that koothu is performed for one night in the hamlet. Beyond this, there are few immediate ritualistic practices at the time of death. Spiritual performers, termed karmi, visit the house and designate the spot for digging the grave, while the remaining karmi engage in prayers during the proceedings. After the burial, a small thatched roof shed is constructed over the grave, and incense sticks are lit and placed around it.

For a year following the death, relatives of the deceased adhere to rules associated with pela, including the preparation of separate food, referred to as choru vekkal. The spouse generally refrains from wearing flowers, earrings, or garlands for a period of three years. During the annual Kaalayootu festival, the Payayil Iruthal ritual is performed at these households, continuing for a duration of three years.

Payayil Iruthal: Mourning Ritual of the Mannan Community

During our fieldwork, we witnessed and documented Payayil Iruthal (also called Payel Iruthal), a traditional mourning ritual practiced by the Mannan community of Kerala. The ritual is performed by the spouse of a deceased individual to honour their memory, traditionally for three consecutive years, and involves a period of intense grieving, remembrance, and gradual healing. To read about the ethnographic observations from the payel iruthal ritual, refer to Annexure - III.

Watch the documentary on Payayil Iruthal

During the ritual, the spouse lays out a mat (payayil) along with designated pooja items arranged in a prescribed manner. Food items such as rice, curry, and coffee are placed to invite the spirit of the deceased, and sometimes personal items like a betel pack are included, depending on the habits of the departed. A mat is reserved specifically for the spirit, which is believed to inhabit it for the duration of seven days each year.

The spouse remains seated on this mat for seven continuous days, abstaining from all work. Family members provide food, and the spouse is allowed only short walks within the house and toilet breaks. Both male and female spouses participate, following gender-specific observances: men refrain from cutting hair or shaving, while women remove ornaments such as earrings and necklaces during the ritual.

Community elders, including the Kaanikkaran, Pullavashi, or Ilayaraja, oversee the ritual to ensure it is conducted according to tradition, guiding the spouse and relatives regarding their responsibilities. After the seven days, the elders revisit the household to formally conclude the ritual. The mat is shaken three times to symbolically remove the spirit, and the spouse, accompanied by in-laws, visits the deceased’s graveyard for further prayers. Here, they cry briefly and offer prayers to ensure the spirit transitions to the afterlife, returning only when called for protection or guidance.

The ritual concludes with a ceremonial bath, after which family members, typically the sister-in-law, assist the spouse in dressing and adorning her with flowers, jewelry, and other ornaments to mark her return to daily life. This deeply humane practice culminates in Kalavvoottu, a vibrant festival celebrating life and illustrating how sorrow is transformed into healing through ritual and tradition.

In the hamlets we visited during the course of our fieldwork, we encountered Mannan Bhaasha, the Mannan language. The language appeared distinctive, with considerable differences from both Malayalam and Tamil, despite some members of the community describing it as a mixture of the two. While Mannan Bhaasha does incorporate many Malayalam and Tamil words, it also possesses its own vocabulary, tonal patterns, and phonetic features that set it apart as a language in its own right.

We observed that older members of the community spoke a thicker and more fluent form of Mannan Bhaasha, whereas among younger age groups there was a noticeable increase in the use of Malayalam vocabulary. This shift appears closely tied to formal education. Schools attended by Mannan children, often Model Residential Schools established for tribal students, play a significant role in the gradual erosion of the language. Both children and adults recounted experiences of being shamed or subjected to ridicule by teachers and peers for speaking Mannan Bhaasha.

Elders expressed concern that Malayalam is now spoken more frequently than Mannan Bhaasha in many households, particularly in homes with children. The intergenerational transmission of the language is thus weakening. At present, there appear to be no organised efforts aimed at the preservation or revival of Mannan Bhaasha, further heightening anxieties about its future within the community.