Pooram and the Procession of Gods Beneath a Firelit Sky

Something ancient begins to move in the streets as the Pooram festival approaches, rather than in the hushed corners of sanctums. Here, dedication does not whisper. It roars. Rhythms roll like monsoon thunder, saffron flags ripple over rooftops, and elephants with gold-plated foreheads appear beneath a sky already shattered with fireworks. This is Pooram, a festival so brazen and intricately planned that even the gods are reputed to stop and watch.

Pooram is a cultural occurrence that takes place every year in the Malayalam month of Medam (April-May), when temple deities emerge from their sanctums to meet the people. The most prominent of these is Thrissur Pooram, which takes place at the Vadakkunnathan Temple, a revered Shiva shrine that stands sentry in the city centre. From early morning till late as night, the temple grounds serve as the axis around which the world appears to spin.

The beginnings of this ritualised spectacle may be traced back to 1798, when Sakthan Thampuran, the visionary king of the ancient Kingdom of Cochin, attempted to combine turbulent temple festivals into a magnificent celebration. Previously, temples that failed to get in Arattupuzha Pooram on time were forbidden from participating. Rather than accept exclusion, Sakthan Thampuran proposed a new stage in Thrissur. In doing so, he established a new tradition—one that combined spectacle and spiritual synthesis.

At its core, Pooram is a devamela, or "meeting of deities." Temples in nearby villages, most notably Thiruvambady and Paramekkavu, transport their processional idols (typically depictions of Devi or Krishna) on caparisoned elephants, escorted by hundreds of worshippers and percussionists. It is more than just a procession; it is a public expression of piety, pride, and Temple identity.

The rhythm of Pooram is found in its melam. Nowhere else in India does percussion acquire such complexity or cultural significance. The Ilanjithara Melam, which includes over 200 musicians, develops as a sacred battle of sound. Led by a pancha vadyam ensemble, the layers of beats and horns are mathematically accurate yet emotionally primal, intended not only to entertain but also to spiritually elevate. Devotees sway in unison, engrossed in the hypnosis of rhythm, their palms raised in silent prayer as sound becomes sacred.

But if the melam feeds the soul, Kudamattom nourishes the eyes. Men stationed atop elephants swap their brightly coloured parasols in quick succession in this spectacular umbrella battle. What began decades ago as a friendly competition between the Thiruvambady and Paramekkavu temples has grown into a spectacular show of artistic prowess. The parasols, which are frequently embellished with sequins, mirrors, and mythic figures, are changed with precision, mirroring the discipline of classical dancing. Every shift is greeted with a burst of shouts, an outpouring of collective astonishment.

Elephants have sacred value in Kerala's ritual environment. They are more than just carriers of deities; they are living embodiments of Lord Ganesha, and their presence in Pooram is symbolic and ceremonial. Elephants are picked months in advance based on their stature, temperament, and discipline. Their exquisite nettipattam (gold forehead jewellery), bell chains, and painted ears are not simple decorations, but visual rituals, with each element sanctified prior to the event.

The egalitarian attitude of Pooram is its most notable attribute. Despite its roots in Brahmin temple traditions, the event transcends caste and religious borders. Muslim and Christian communities near the Vadakkunnathan Temple take satisfaction in participating by donating resources, sharing space, and contributing to the festivals. The nearby Cheruparambath mosque, for example, has historically provided pilgrims with water and help, reflecting Kerala's syncretic character.

For artisans, this is a season of purpose. Months are spent creating silk parasols, gilded ornaments, and custom firecrackers that will light up the night sky in a grand finale of colour and sound. The Vedikettu, or fireworks display, is a finale that can last over five hours, sending shockwaves through the city like an echo of cosmic birth. It serves as both a spectacle and a statement: a visual supplication to the heavens written in flames.

However, the grandeur of Pooram has sparked discussion. Conservationists and animal rights groups express worry about the welfare of elephants subjected to loud noise and scorching temperatures. Environmentalists highlight the air pollution caused by large-scale pyrotechnics. Temple authorities and cultural custodians must strike a difficult balance between preserving tradition and adjusting to modern sensitivities.

Despite these conflicts, Pooram's spirit survives. It is more than just a celebration of divinity; it is also about human inventiveness, communal collaboration, and Kerala's unique capacity to reconcile opposites. Pooram dares to bring the sacred and the spectacular together in an age when they are frequently kept apart.

When the last firework goes off and the golden elephants fade into the darkness, what remains is more than the sound of drums. It is the remembrance of an ancient promise, maintained each year by those who feel that the divine should be danced, drummed, paraded, and shared with the rest of the world, rather than kept hidden in sanctums.