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dung, and placed a ball of it on the head of the victim. The ball served as a support for an
earthen lamp, which was lighted. The man was by this time nearly dead, and the cattle
were made to pass over his head. The headmen then made off, and, by daybreak, the
whole gang had disappeared. The murdered man was found by the villagers, who have,
since that time, scrupulously avoided the Koravas. The victim is said to have turned into
a Munisvara, and for a long time troubled those who happened to go near the spot at
noon or midnight. The Koravas are said to have performed the sacrifice so as to insure
their cattle against death from disease. The ground, on which they encamped, and on
which they offered the human sacrifice, is stated to have been barren prior thereto, and,
as the result thereof, to have become very fertile.

It is said that Korava women invoke the village goddesses when they are telling fortunes.
They use a winnowing fan and grains of rice in doing this, and prophesy good or evil,
according to the number of grains found on the fan.210 They carry a basket, winnow,
stick, and a wicker tray in which cowry shells are imbedded in a mixture of cow-dung,
and turmeric. The basket represents Kolāpuriamma and the cowries Pōlēramma. When
telling fortunes, the Korava woman places on the basket the winnow, rice, betel leaves
and areca nuts, and the wicker tray. Holding her client’s hand over the winnow, and
moving it about, she commences to chant, and name all sorts of deities. From time to
time she touches the hand of the person whose fortune is being told with the stick. The
Korava women are very clever in extracting information concerning the affairs of a
client before they proceed to tell her fortune.
Korava Woman Telling Fortune.

Brāhmans fix the auspicious hour for marriage, and Chettis are invited to act as priests at
the purification ceremony for re-admission into caste of a man or woman who has
cohabited with a Paraiyan or Muhammadan, or been beaten with a shoe, etc. For the
purpose of re-admission, a panchāyat (council) assembles, at which the headman
presides. Enquiries are made into the conduct of the accused, and a fine of two rupees
levied. Of this sum the Chetti receives eight annas, with some betel and tobacco. The
balance is spent in liquor for those who are assembled. After the Chetti has received his
fee, he smears the foreheads of the guilty person and the company with sacred ashes.
The impure person goes to a stream or well, and bathes. He then again comes before the
council, and is purified by the Chetti again marking his forehead. The proceedings wind
up with a feast. In former days, at a trial before a council, the legs of the complainant
and accused were tied together. In 1907, a Koracha was excommunicated for having
illicit intercourse with a widow. The ceremony of excommunication usually consists of
shaving the head and moustache of the guilty person, and making him ride a donkey,
wearing a necklace of bones. In the case under reference, a donkey could not be
procured, so a temporary shed was made of sajja (Setaria italica) stalks, which were set
on fire after the man had passed through it. He was to be re-admitted into the caste by
standing a feast to all the members of five gangs of Korachas.
It is said211 that “a curious custom of the Kuravans prohibits them from committing
crime on new-moon or full-moon days. Once started on an expedition, they are very
determined and persistent. There is a case on record where one of a band of Kuravans
out on an expedition was drowned in crossing the Cauvery. Nothing daunted by the loss
or the omen, they attempted a burglary, and failed. They then tried another house, where
they also failed; and it was not till they had met with these three mishaps that their
determination weakened, and they went home.”

The Koravas are extremely superstitious, and take careful notice of good or bad omens
before they start on a criminal expedition. They hold a feast, at which the assistance of
the goddess Kolāpuriamma or Perumāl is sought. A young goat, with coloured thread
attached to its horns, and a garland of margosa leaves with a piece of turmeric round its
neck, is taken to an out-of-the-way shrine. Here it is placed before the deity, and
cocoanuts are broken. The god is asked whether the expedition will be successful. If the
body of the animal quivers, it is regarded as an answer in the affirmative; if it does not,
the expedition will be abandoned. If in addition to quivering, the animal urinates, no
better sign could be hoped for. The Koravas make it a point of honour to pay for the goat
used for this religious purpose. It was information of this ceremony having been
performed which led to the detection of a torchlight dacoity in the Cuddapah district in
1896. The expedition was in the first instance successful, for the Koravas broke into a
Kōmati’s house in the middle of a village, and carried off a quantity of jewels. The
Kōmati’s arm was broken, and he and other inmates of the house were badly burnt by
lighted torches thrust against their faces and bodies. Among other methods of consulting
the omens is to sacrifice a fowl at a shrine, and sit in front thereof listening for the
direction whence the chirping of lizards issues. If the omens are auspicious, the members
of the expedition start off, armed as a rule with lātis (sticks) and axes. If they attack a
cart, they commence by throwing stones at it, to ascertain if the occupant has fire-arms
with him. Houses are generally broken into by means of a hole made in the wall near the
door-latch. In the Ceded Districts, where the houses are as a rule substantially built of
rough stone, and have flat roofs of salt earth, an opening is frequently effected through
the roof. The Koravas are often extremely cruel in the methods which they adopt to
extort information from inhabitants of houses as to where their valuables are concealed.
In common with other Hindus, they avoid the shadow of the thandra tree (Terminalia
belerica), in which the spirit of Sanēswaradu is believed to reside. In this connection the
following legend is recited.212 In the city of Bīmanapuram there ruled a king named
Bīmarāju, who had a beautiful daughter named Damayanti, with whom the gods,
including Nalamahārāju, fell in love. Damayanti had never seen Nalamahārāju, but loved
him on account of the stories which reached her of the justice with which he governed
his kingdom, and his chastity. To avoid being charged with partiality in disposing of his
daughter’s hand, Bīmarāju determined to invite all the gods to his house, and the one to
whom Damayanti should throw a garland of flowers should claim her as his wife. The
day fixed on arrived, and all the gods assembled, except Sanēswaradu, who appears to
have been unavoidably detained. The gods were seated in a circle, and a fly guided
Damayanti to Nalamahārāju, on whose neck she threw the garland. Nalamahārāju at
once claimed her as his wife, and started off with her to his kingdom. On the way they
met Sanēswaradu, who demanded an explanation of their being in each other’s company.
He was told, and was very angry because the matter had been settled in his absence, and
swore a mighty oath that they should be separated. To this end, he caused all sorts of
difficulties to come in their way. Under his spell, Nalamahārāju took to gambling, and
lost all his property. He was separated from Damayanti, and lived in poverty for years.
The spell of Sanēswaradu could, however, only last for a certain number of years, and,
when the time expired Nalamahārāju set out for Bīmanapuram, to find Damayanti who
had returned to her father’s house. On the way, under a thandra tree, he met
Sanēswaradu, who confessed that he was the cause of all the troubles that had befallen
him, and begged that he would look leniently on his fault. Nalamahārāju would not
forgive him, but, after cursing him, ordained that he should live for ever in the thandra
tree, so that the area over which he could do wrong should be limited. It is for this reason
that all wandering tribes avoid pitching a camp within the shadow of this tree. A tree
(Terminalia Catappa) belonging to the same genus as the thandra is regarded as a lucky
one to camp beneath, as it was under one of these trees that Rāma made a bower when
he lived with Sīta and Lakshmana after his banishment to the forest of Dandaka.

In connection with omens and superstitions, Mr. Fawcett writes as follows. “Koravas,
being highly superstitious, are constantly on the look-out for omens, especially before
starting out on an excursion when the objective is dacoity or housebreaking. The
household deity, represented by a brick picked up at random, is worshipped, and a sheep
or fowl is sacrificed. Water is first poured over the animal, and, if it shakes its body, the
omen is good, while, if it stands perfectly still, there is misfortune ahead. It is
unfortunate, when starting, to see widows, pots of milk, dogs urinating, a man leading a
bull, or a bull bellowing. On the other hand, it is downright lucky when a bull bellows at
the scene of the criminal operation. To see a man goading a bull is a good omen when
starting, and a bad one at the scene. Sprinkling urine over doors and walls of a house
facilitates breaking into it. The failure of an expedition is generally attributed to the evil
eye, or the evil tongue, whose bad effects are evinced in many ways. If the excursion has
been for housebreaking, the housebreaking implement is often soldered at its sharp end
with panchalokam (five metals), to counteract the effect of the evil eye. The evil tongue
is a frequent cause of failure. It consists in talking evil of others, or harping on probable
misfortunes. There are various ways of removing its unhappy effects. A mud figure of a
man is made on the ground, and thorns are placed over the mouth. This is the man with
the evil tongue. Those who have suffered walk round it, crying out and beating their
mouths; the greater the noise, the better the effect. Cutting the neck of a fowl half
through and allowing it to flutter about, or inserting a red hot splinter in its anus to
madden it with pain, are considered to be effective, while, if a cock should crow after its
neck has been cut, calamities are averted. The fowl is a sort of adjunct to the Koravar’s
life. In early childhood, the first experiments in his career consist in stealing fowls; in
manhood he feasts on them when he is well off, and he uses them, as we have seen, with
abominable cruelty for divination or averting misfortune. The number seven is
considered ominous, and an expedition never consists of seven men. The word for the
number seven in Telugu resembles the word for weeping, and is considered to be
unlucky. A man who has returned from jail, or who has been newly married, is not as a
rule taken on an expedition. In the case of the former, the rule may be set aside by
bringing a lamb from a neighbouring flock. A man who forgets to bring his stick, or to
equip or arm himself properly, is always left behind. As in the case of dacoities, seven is
an unlucky number to start out for housebreaking, but, should it be unavoidable, a fiction
is indulged in of making the housebreaking implement the eighth member of the gang.
When there are dogs about a house, they are soon kept quiet with powdered gajjakai or
ganja leaves mixed with cooked rice, which they eat greedily. Detached parties in the
jungle or elsewhere are able to unite by making sounds like the howling of jackals or
hooting of owls. The direction taken on a road, or in the forest, is indicated by throwing
the leaves of the tangēdu (Cassia auriculata) along the road. At crossroads, the road
taken is indicated by the thick end of a twig of the tangēdu placed under a stone. Rows
of stones, one piled over the other, are also used to point out the route taken when
crossing hills. The women resort to divination, but not accompanied by cruelty, when
their husbands are long enough absent to arouse apprehension of danger. A long piece is
pulled out of a broom, and to one end of it are tied several small pieces dipped in oil. If
the stick floats in water, all is well; but, should it sink, two of the women start out at
once to find the men. They generally know as a matter of pre-arrangement whereabouts
to find them, and proceed thither, pretending to sell karipak (curry leaves). The
eighteenth day of the Tamil month Avani is the luckiest day of all for committing crimes.
A successful criminal exploit on this day ensures good luck throughout the year.
Sundays, which are auspicious for weddings, are inauspicious for crimes. Mondays,
Wednesdays and Saturdays are unlucky until noon for starting out from home. So, too, is
the day after new moon. Fridays are unsuitable for breaking into the houses of Brāhmans
or Kōmatis, as they may be engaged in worshipping Ankalamma, to whom the day is
sacred.”

Many Koravas examined by Mr. Mainwaring were injured in one way or another. One
man had his left nostril split, and explained that it was the result of a bite by another
Korava in the course of a drunken brawl at a toddy-shop. Another had lost some of his
teeth in a similar quarrel, and a third was minus the lobe of his right ear.

A characteristic of the Koravas, which is well marked, is their hairlessness. They have
plenty of straight hair on the head, but their bodies are particularly smooth. Even the
pubic hairs are scanty, and the abdominal hairs are abundant only in a few instances. The
Korava is not, in appearance, the typical criminal of one’s imagination, of the Bill Sykes
type. That even the innocent looking individuals are criminal by nature, the following
figures establish. In 1902, there were 739 Koravas, or Korchas as they are called in the
Anantapur district, on the police registers as members of wandering gangs or ordinary
suspects. Of these, no less than 215, or 29 per cent., had at least one conviction recorded
against them. In the Nellore district, in 1903, there were 54 adult males on the register,
of whom no less than 24, or 44 per cent., had convictions against them. In the Salem
district, in the same year, there were 118 adult male Koravas registered, against 38, or
32.2 per cent. of whom convictions stood. There are, of course, hundreds who escape
active surveillance by assuming an ostensible means of livelihood, and allowances must
be made for the possibility of numbers escaping conviction for offences they may have
committed. The women are equally criminal with the men, but are less frequently
caught. They have no hesitation in concealing small articles by passing them into the
vagina. The best way of ascertaining whether this has been done is said to be to make
them jump. In this way, at a certain feast, a gold jewel was recovered from a woman, and
she was convicted.213 This expedient is, however, not always effectual. A case came
under notice, in 1901, at the Kolar gold fields, in which a woman had a small packet of
stolen gold amalgam passed to her during the search of the house by her husband, who
was suspected. She begged permission to leave the house to urinate. The request was
granted, and a constable who went with her on her return reported her conduct as
suspicious. A female searcher was procured, and the parcel found jammed transversely
in the vagina, and required manipulation to dislodge it. Small jewels, which the Koravas
manage to steal, are at once concealed in the mouth, and even swallowed. When
swallowed, the jewel is next day recovered with the help of a purgative. In this way a
half sovereign was recovered a few years ago.214 Male Koravas sometimes conceal
stolen articles in the rectum. In the Tanjore district a Korava Kēpmari, who was
suspected of having resorted to this dodge, was examined by a medical officer, and two
thin gold chains, each about 14 inches long, were extracted. The females take an
important part in resisting an attempt to arrest the males. I am informed that, “when a
raid is made on an encampment, the males make off, while the females, stripping
themselves, dance in a state of nudity, hoping thereby to attract the constables to them,
while the males get clear away. Should, however, these manœuvres fail to attain their
object, the females proceed to lacerate the pudenda, from which blood flows profusely.
They then lie down as if dead. The unfortunate constables, though proof against amorous
advances, must perforce assist them in their distress. If it comes to searching Korava
huts, the females take a leading part in attacking the intruders, and will not hesitate to
stone them, or break chatties (earthen pots) on their heads.”

It is recorded, in the Cuddapah Manual, that “a Yerukala came to a village, and, under
the pretence of begging, ascertained which women wore jewels, and whether the
husbands of any such were employed at night in the fields. In the night he returned, and,
going to the house he had previously marked, suddenly snatched up the sleeping woman
by the massive kamma (gold ear-ring) she wore, sometimes with such violence as to lift
up the woman, and always in such a way as to wrench off the lobe of the ear. This trick
he repeated in three different hamlets of the same village on one night, and in one house
on two women. In one case, the woman had been lifted so high that, when the ear gave
way, she fell to the ground, and severely injured her head.” A new form of house robbery
is said to have been started by the Koravas in recent years. They mark down the
residence of a woman, whose jewels are worth stealing, and lurk outside the house
before dawn. Then, when the woman comes out, as is the custom, before the men are
stirring, they snatch her ear-rings and other ornaments, and are gone before an alarm can
be raised.215 Another favourite method of securing jewelry is for the Korava to beg for
rice, from door to door, on a dark night, crying “Sandi bichcham, Amma, Sandi
bichcham” (night alms, mother, night alms). Arrived at the house of his victim, he cries
out, and the lady of the house brings out a handful of rice, and puts it in his pot. As she
does so, he makes a grab at her tāli or other neck ornament, and makes off with the spoil.

“Stolen property”, Mr. Mullaly writes,216 “is disposed of, as soon as they can get a
suitable remuneration. The general bargain is Re. I for a rupee’s weight of gold. They do
not, however, as a rule, lose much over their transactions, and invariably convert their
surplus into sovereigns. In searching a Koravar encampment on one occasion, the writer
had the good fortune to discover a number of sovereigns which, for safe keeping, were
stitched in the folds of their pack saddles. Undisposed of property, which had been
buried, is brought to the encampment at nightfall, and taken back and re-buried before
dawn. The ground round the pegs, to which their asses are tethered, in heaps of ashes or
filth, are favourite places for burying plunder.”

The Koravas disguise themselves as Kēpmaris, Alagiris or pūjāris. The terms Kēpmari,
Alagiri, Kathirivāndlu, etc., are applied to certain persons who adopt particular methods
in committing crime, all of which are adopted by the Koravas. The Tamil equivalent of
Kēpmari is Talapa Mathi, or one who changes his head-dress. Alagiris are thieves who
worship at the temple of Kalla Alagar near Madura, and vow that a percentage of their
ill-gotten gains will be given as an offering to his temple. Kathirivāndlu (scissors people)
are those who operate with knives or scissors, snipping off chains, cutting the strings of
purses, and ripping open bags or pockets.

The Koravas are not nice as regards the selection of some of their food. Cats, fowls, fish,
pigs, the black-faced monkey known in Telugu as kondamuchu, jackals, field rats, deer,
antelope, goats and sheep serve as articles of dietary. There is a Tamil proverb “Give an
elephant to a pandit, and a cat to a Kuravan.” They will not eat cattle or buffaloes, and
will not take food in company with Muhammadans, barbers, washermen, carpenters,
goldsmiths, blacksmiths, Paraiyans or Chakkiliyans. The Bōyas seem to be the lowest
class with whom they will eat. They drink heavily when funds are available, or at social
gatherings, when free drinks are forthcoming. At council meetings liquor must be
supplied by the disputants, and there is a proverb, “With dry mouths nothing can be
uttered.”

Most Koravas possess knives, and a kind of billhook, called koduvāl, which is a sort of
compromise between a sword and a sickle. The back of the blade is heavy, and renders it
capable of dealing a very severe blow. With this implement animals are slaughtered,
murders committed, and bamboos split.

For the purpose of committing burglaries, the Koravas are said by Mr. Mullaly to use an
iron instrument pointed at either end, called gādi kōlu or sillu kōlu, which is offered,
before a gang sets out, to Perumāl, whose aid in the success of the undertaking is
invoked.

The Koravas as a class are industrious, and generally doing something. One may see the
men on the march twisting threads into stout cord. Others will be making fine nets for
fishing, or coarse ones, in which to suspend household pots or utensils; straw pads, on
which the round-bottomed chatties invariably stand; or a design with red thread and
cowry shells, wherewith to decorate the head of a bull or a money-bag. It is when
hawking these articles from door to door that the Koravas are said to gain information as
to property which may be worth stealing. The following is a free translation of a song
representing Koracha characteristics, in a play by Mr. D. Krishnamacharlu, a well-
known amateur dramatist of Bellary:—
Hurrah! Our Koracha caste is a very fine caste,
The best of castes, Hurrah!

When a temple feast is proceeding,

We beg, and commit thefts surprising.
Don’t we? Care we for aught?
Don’t we slip off uncaught?

(Chorus.)

Cutting trinkets off,

From the necks of babes in their mothers’ arms.
Who could suspect us? Cannot we hoodwink them all?
Cannot we get away?

(Chorus.)

When those eternal watchmen catch us,

After endless search take life out of us.
Do we blurt out? Do we confess?
Don’t we enquire what is our offence?

(Chorus.)

In the south, the Koravas are frequently employed by villagers as watchmen (kāvalgars)
on the principle of setting a thief to keep other thieves off. They are paid in grain. The
villagers are more than half afraid of them, and, if the remuneration stipulated upon is
not promptly paid to the watchmen, a house-breaking will certainly occur in the village.
If a crime happens to take place in a village where a Korava has been appointed
watchman, he frequently manages to get back the stolen property if the theft is the work
of another Korava, but only on condition that the police are not called in to investigate
the offence.
Yerukala Settlement.

The dwellings in which the Koravas live are made with low mud walls and thatched. The
wanderers erect a temporary hut called gudisē, with mats or cocoanut or palmyra palm
leaves, not more than 4 feet high. It is constructed of crossed bamboos tied together, and
connected by another bamboo, which serves as a ridge, over which they fasten the mats.

Marriages are arranged by the elders. The father of a youth who is of a marriageable age
calls together some of the elders of his division, and proceeds in quest of a suitable
bride. If the family visited consents to the match, the headman is sent for, and a move is
made to the toddy-shop. Here the father of the future bridegroom fills a small earthen
vessel, called in Telugu muntha, and offers it to the father of the bride-elect, asking him,
Do you know why I give you this toddy? The recipient replies, It is because I have given
you my daughter, and I drink to her health. The vessel is refilled and offered to the
headman, who takes it, and enquires of the father of the girl why he is to drink. The reply
is, Because I have given my daughter to ——’s son; drink to her health. The questions
and answers are repeated while every one present, according to rank, has a drink. Those
who have so drunk at this betrothal ceremony are looked upon as witnesses to the
contract. After the drinking ceremony, an adjournment is made to the girl’s house, where
a feast is partaken of. At the conclusion thereof, the future bridegroom’s people enquire
if the girl has a maternal uncle, to whom the purchase money should be paid. The
purchase money is 101 madas (a mada = two rupees), and is always the same for both
well-to-do and poor. But, as a matter of fact, the whole of it is never paid. A few
instalments are sometimes handed over, but generally the money is the cause of endless
quarrels. When, however, the families, are on good terms, and the husband enjoys the
hospitality of his wife’s maternal uncle, or vice versâ, it is a common thing for one to say
to the other after a drink, See, brother-in-law, I have paid you two madas to-day, so
deduct this from the vōli (purchase money). After the marriage has been arranged, and
the maternal uncle has paid four annas as an earnest of the transaction, the party
disperses until such time as the principals are in a position to perform the wedding. They
might be infants, or the girl immature, or the intended husband be away. After the
betrothal ceremony, the parents of the girl should on no account break off the match. If
this were done, the party of the husband-elect would summon those who were present at
the drinking ceremony to a meeting, and he who partook of the second drink (the
headman) would demand from the father of the girl an explanation of the breach of
contract. No explanation is likely to be satisfactory, and the father is fined three hundred
varāhas.217 This sum, like the purchase money, is seldom paid, but the award of it places
the party from whom it is due in a somewhat inferior position to the party to whom it is
payable. They occupy thenceforth the position of creditor to debtor. On the occasion of
quarrels, no delicate sense of refinement restrains the former from alluding to the debt,
and the position would be retained through several generations. There is a Tamil proverb
that the quarrels of a Korava and an Idaiyan are not easily settled. If the contracting
parties are ready to fulfil their engagement, the maternal uncle of the girl is paid five
varāhas as the first instalment of the purchase money, and a Brāhman purōhit is asked to
fix an auspicious time for the marriage ceremony. At the appointed time, the wedding
party assembles at the home of the bride, and the first day is spent in eating and
drinking, the bride and bridegroom being arrayed in new clothes purchased at the
expense of the bride’s father. On the following day, they again feast. The contracting
couple are seated on a kambli (blanket), on which some grains of rice have been
previously sprinkled. The guests form a circle round them, and, at the auspicious
moment, the bridegroom ties a string of black beads round the bride’s neck. When the
string has been tied, the married women present, with hands crossed, throw rice over the
heads of the pair. This rice has been previously prepared, and consists of five seers of
rice with five pieces of turmeric, dried cocoanut, dried date fruit and jaggery (crude
sugar), and five silver or copper coins. While the rice-throwing is proceeding, a
monotonous song is crooned, of which the following is a free translation:—

Procure five white bulls.

Get five white goats.
Obtain a seer218 of silver.
Get a seer of gold.
Always love your father
And live happy for ever.
Look after your mother always,
Your father and mother-in-law.
Do not heed what folk say.
Look after your relations,
And the God above will keep you happy.
Five sons and four daughters
Shall compose your family.

A predominance of sons is always considered desirable, and, with five sons and four
daughters, the mystic number nine is reached.

No widows, women who have remarried, or girls dedicated as prostitutes, are allowed to
join the wedding circle, as they would be of evil omen to the bride. Widows and
remarried women must have lost a husband, and the prostitute never knows the God to
whose service she is dedicated. On the third day, the rice-throwing ceremony is repeated,
but on this occasion the bride and bridegroom pour some of the rice over each other’s
heads before the women officiate. This ends the marriage ceremony, but, as among some
other classes, consummation is prohibited for at least three months, as a very strong
superstition exists that three heads should not enter a door within one year. The bride and
bridegroom are the first two heads to enter the new home, and the birth of a child within
the year would constitute the third. This undesirable event is rendered less likely by a
postponement of consummation. After the prescribed time has lapsed, the bride, with
feigned reluctance, is escorted by her female relations to her husband’s hut. On the way
obscene pleasantries, which evoke much merriment, are indulged in. The bride’s
pretended reluctance necessitates a certain amount of compulsion, and she is given an
occasional shove. Finally, she is thrust into the door of the hut, and the attendant women
take their departure.

The following details in another form of the marriage rites may be noted. The
bridegroom proceeds on a Saturday to the settlement of the bride, where a hut has been
set up for him close to that of the bride. Both the huts should face the east. On the
following day, the headman, or an elder, brings a tray containing betel, flowers and
kankanams (wrist-threads). He ties the threads round the wrists of the bride and
bridegroom, and also round a pestle and mortar and a crowbar. A distribution of rice to
all present, including infants, follows, and pork and mutton are also distributed. Towards
evening, married women go, with music produced by beating on a brass tray, to a well or
tank, with three pots beneath a canopy (ulladam). The pots are filled with water, and
placed near the marriage milk-post. The bride takes her seat on a plank, and the
bridegroom is carried on the shoulders of his brother-in-law, and conducted to another
plank. Three married women, and some old men, then pour rice over the heads of the
pair, while the following formula is repeated: “Try to secure four pairs of donkeys, a few
pigs and cattle; live well and amicably; feed your guests well; grow wise and live.” The
couple are then taken to the bride’s hut, the entrance to which is guarded by several
married women, who will not allow them to enter till the bridegroom has given out the
name of the bride. Within the hut, the pair exchange food three times, and what remains
after they have eaten is finished off by some married men and women. That night the
pair sleep in the bride’s hut, together with the best man and bridesmaid. On the
following day, a feast is held, at which every house must be represented by at least one
married woman. Towards evening, the bridegroom takes the bride to his hut, and, just
before they start, her mother ties up some rice in her cloth. At the entrance to the hut, a
basket, called Kolāpuriamma’s basket, is placed. Depositing a winnowing tray thereon,
the bride pours the rice which has been given to her on it. The rice is then transferred by
the bridegroom to the mortar, and he and the bride pound it with the pestle and crowbar.
The tāli is then tied by the bridegroom round the bride’s neck.

In connection with marriage, Mr. Fawcett writes as follows. “A girl’s mother’s brother’s
son has the right to have her to wife, and, if his right is abrogated by giving her to
another, he (or his father?) receives a penalty from the man to whom she is given. The
girl’s maternal uncle disposes of the girl. In the Coimbatore district, however, it is the
father who is said to do so; indeed it is said that the father can even take a girl away from
her husband, and give her to another for a higher bride-price. Prior to marriage proper,
there is the betrothal, accompanied by presentation of betel leaves and draughts of toddy,
when the maternal uncle or father repeats a regular formula which is answered word for
word by the girl’s party, in which he agrees to hand over the girl for such a price, at the
same time requiring that she shall receive no bodily injury or have her hair cut, and, if
she is returned damaged physically, payment shall be made according to a fixed rate. It
should be said that the betrothal sometimes takes place at a tavern, the favourite haunt of
the Koravas, where the bridegroom’s party offers a pail of toddy to the father of the girl
and his party. The emptying of this pail seals the marriage contract, and involves the
father of the girl into payment of the bride-price as a fine, together with a fine of Rs. 2
for every male child, and Rs. 4 for every female child that may be born. This penalty,
which is known as ranku, is not, as a rule, pressed at once, but only after some children
have been born. The day of marriage, generally a Sunday, is fixed by a Brāhman, who
receives betel nuts, cocoanuts, one rupee, or even less. He selects an auspicious day and
hour for the event. The hour selected is rather early in the evening, so that the marriage
may be consummated the same night. A few days before the appointed day, two
unmarried lads cut a branch of the nāval tree (Eugenia Jambolana), and throw it into a
tank (pond) or river, where it is left until the wedding day, when the same two lads bring
it back, and plant it in the ground near the dwelling of the bride, and on either side of it
is placed a pot of water (brought from the tank or river where the branch had been left to
soak) carried thither by two married women under a canopy. The mouth of each pot is
closed by placing on top an earthen vessel on which is a lamp. The bride and bridegroom
sit on donkey saddles spread on the ground, and undergo the nalugu ceremony, in which
their hands and feet are rubbed nine times with saffron (turmeric) coloured red with
chunam (lime). The elders bless the couple, throwing rice over their heads with crossed
hands, and all the while the women chant monotonously a song such as this:—

Galianame Baipokame Sobaname,

Oh, Marriage giver of happiness and prosperity!
The best oil of Madanapalle is this nalugu;
The best soap seed of Silakat is for this nalugu;
Paint yourselves, Oh sisters, with the best of colours;
Stain your cloth, Oh brother, with the best of dyes;
Bring, Oh brother, the greenest of snakes;
Adorn with it our Basavayya’s neck;
Bring, Oh brother, the flowers without leaves;
Adorn with them the hair of the bride.

Then the bridegroom ties the bride’s tāli, a string coloured yellow with saffron
(turmeric), or a string of small black beads. Every married woman must wear a necklet
of black beads, and glass bangles on her wrists; when she becomes a widow, she must
remove them. A feature of the ceremony not to be overlooked is the wedding meal
(pendlikudu). After undergoing the nalugu, the bridegroom marks with a crowbar the
spot where this meal, consisting of rice, milk, green gram, and jaggery (sugar), is to be
cooked in a pot called bhūpalakunda. A trench is dug at the spot, and over it the cooking
is done. When the food is ready, the bride and bridegroom take of it each three handfuls,
and then the boys and girls snatch the pot away from them. After this, the couple proceed
to the bridegroom’s hut, where they find a light burning. The elders sprinkle them with
water coloured yellow with saffron (turmeric) as they enter.”

For the following note on marriage among the Yerukalas of the Vizagapatam district, I
am indebted to Mr. Hayavadana Rao. A man may marry the daughter of his paternal aunt
or maternal uncle. The father of the would-be husband of a girl goes with ten rupees,
called sullaponnu, to her home, and pays the money to one of several elders who are
brought together. Towards evening, the ground in front of the girl’s hut is swept, and a
wooden plank and stone are set side by side. The bridegroom sits on the former, and the
bride on the latter. Two pots of water are placed before them, and connected together by
a thread tied round their necks. The pots are lifted up, and the water is poured over them.
Contrary to the custom prevailing among many castes, new cloths are not given to them
after this bath. Resuming their seats, the couple sprinkle each other with rice. An
intelligent member of the caste then personates a Brāhman priest, mutters sundry
mantrams (prayers), and shows a string (karugu) with a piece of turmeric tied to it to
those assembled. It is touched by them in token of a blessing, and tied by the bridegroom
on the neck of the bride. A feast, with a liberal supply of liquor, is held, the expenses of
which are met from the ten rupees already referred to. The younger brother may marry
the widow of an elder brother, and vice versâ. A widow is married in front of her
mother’s hut. The marriage string is tied round her neck, but without the ceremonial
observed at the marriage of a maid. If a husband wishes to secure a divorce, he asks his
wife to break a twig in two before a caste council. If a woman wishes for a divorce, she
elopes with a man, who pays a small fine, called ponnu, to the husband, and asks him to
break a twig.

The following story is current among the Koramas, to account for the tāli or bottu being
replaced by a string of black beads. Once upon a time, a bridegroom forgot to bring the
tāli, and he was told off to procure the necessary piece of gold from a goldsmith. The
parties waited and waited, but the young man did not return. Since then, the string of
beads has been used as a marriage badge. According to another story, the tāli was
prepared, and kept on the bank of a river, but disappeared when it was going to be
picked up. A man was sent to procure another, but did not come back.

I am informed that the Yerukalas of the Kistna district are divided into two classes—
sheep and goats practically. Of these, the latter are the bastard offspring of the former.
Illegitimate must, in the first instance, marry illegitimate. The offspring thereof is ipso
facto whitewashed, and becomes legitimate, and must marry a legitimate.

A custom is stated by Dr. Shortt219 to prevail among the Yerukalas, by which the first
two daughters of a family may be claimed by the maternal uncle as wives for his sons.
“The value of a wife is fixed at twenty pagodas. The maternal uncle’s right to the first
two daughters is valued at eight out of twenty pagodas, and is carried out thus. If he
urges his preferential claim, and marries his own sons to his nieces, he pays for each
only twelve pagodas; and similarly if he, from not having sons, or any other cause,
foregoes his claim, he receives eight pagodas of the twenty paid to the girl’s parents by
anybody else who may marry them.” The price of a wife apparently differs in different
localities. For example, it is noted, in the Census report, 1901, that, among the Kongu
sub-division of the Koravas, a man can marry his sister’s daughter, and, when he gives
his sister in marriage, he expects her to produce a bride for him. His sister’s husband
accordingly pays Rs. 7–8–0 out of the Rs. 60 of which the bride price consists, at the
wedding itself, and Rs. 2–8–0 more each year until the woman bears a daughter. Some
Koravas seem to be even more previous than fathers who enter their infant sons for a
popular house at a public school. For their children are said to be espoused even before
they are born. Two men, who wish their children to marry, say to one another: “If your
wife should have a girl and mine a boy (or vice versâ), they must marry.” And, to bind
themselves to this, they exchange tobacco, and the potential bridegroom’s father stands a
drink to the future bride’s relations. But if, after the children are grown up, a Brāhman
should pronounce the omens unpropitious, the marriage does not take place, and the
bride’s father pays back the cost of the liquor consumed at the betrothal. If the marriage
is arranged, a pot of water is placed before the couple, and a grass (Cynodon Dactylon)
put into the water. This is equal to a binding oath between them.220 Of this grass it is
said in the Atharwana Vēda: “May this grass, which rose from the water of life, which
has a hundred roots and a hundred stems, efface a hundred of my sins, and prolong my
existence on earth for a hundred years.” It is noted by the Rev. J. Cain221 that “at the
birth of a daughter, the father of an unmarried little boy often brings a rupee, and ties it
in the cloth of the father of the newly born girl. When the girl is grown up, he can claim
her for his son. For twenty-five rupees he can claim her much earlier.”

In North Arcot, the Koravas are said222 to “mortgage their unmarried daughters, who
become the absolute property of the mortgagee till the debt is discharged. The same
practice exists in Chingleput and Tanjore. In Madras, the Koravars sell their wives
outright when they want money, for a sum equal to fifty rupees. In Nellore and other
districts, they all purchase their wives, the price varying from thirty to seventy rupees,
but money rarely passes on such occasions, the consideration being paid in asses or
cattle.” In a recent case in the Madras High Court, a Korava stated that he had sold one
of his wives for twenty-one rupees.223 It is stated by Dr. Pope that the Koravas do not
“scruple to pawn their wives for debt. If the wife who is in pledge dies a natural death,
the debt is discharged. If she should die from hard usage, the creditor must not only
cancel the debt, but must defray the expenses of a second marriage for his debtor. If the
woman lives till the debt is discharged, and if she has children by the creditor, the boys
remain with him, the girls go back with her to her husband.” The conditions of the
country suggest a reason for the pawning of wives. A wife would be pawned in times of
stress, and redeemed after seasons of plenty. The man who can afford to accept her in
pledge in a time of famine would, in periods of plenty, require men for agricultural
purposes. He, therefore, retains the male issue, who in time will be useful to him. Some
years ago, some Koravas were convicted of stealing the despatch-box of the Collector of
a certain district from his tent. It came out, in the course of the trial, that the head of the
gang had taken the money contained therein as his share, and with it acquired a wife.
The Collector humorously claimed that the woman, having been obtained with his
money, was, according to a section of the Criminal Procedure Code, his property.

A woman who marries seven men successively one after the other, either after the death
of her husbands or after divorce, is said by Mr. Paupa Rao Naidu to be considered to be a
respectable lady, and is called Pedda Bōyisāni. She takes the lead in marriages and other
religious ceremonies.

It is noted, in the Census Report, 1891, that “if a man is sent to jail, his wife will form a
connection with some other man of the gang, but on the release of her husband, she will
return to him with any children born to her in the interval. The Korava women are
accustomed to honour their lords and husbands with the dignified title of cocks.” On one
occasion, a Korava got into trouble in company with a friend, and was sentenced to three
years imprisonment, while his friend got two years. The latter, at the termination of his
period of enforced seclusion, proceeded to live with the wife of the former, settling down
in his friend’s abode. The former escaped from jail, and, turning up at his home, claimed
his wife. His friend journeyed to the place where the jail was located, and reported to the
authorities his ability to find the escaped convict, who was recaptured, while his friend
regained possession of his wife, and pocketed twenty-five rupees for giving the
information which led to his rearrest.

The remarriage of widows is permitted. The man who wishes to marry a widow
purchases new cloths for himself and his bride. He invites a number of friends, and, in
their presence, presents his bride with the cloths. The simple ceremony is known as
chīrakattu-kōradam, or desiring the cloth-tying ceremony.

As a general rule, the Korava wife is faithful to her husband, but, in the event of
incompatibility, man and wife will announce their intention of separating to their gang.
This is considered equivalent to a divorce, and the husband can demand back the four
annas, which were paid as earnest money to his wife’s maternal uncle. This is said to be
done, whether the separation is due to the fault either of the husband or the wife. Among
other castes, the woman has to return the money only if she is divorced owing to her
own fault. Divorce is said to be rare, and, even after it has taken place, the divorced
parties may make up their differences, and continue to keep house together. In cases of
abduction, the father of the girl summons a council meeting, at which the offender is
fined. A girl who has been abducted cannot be married as a spinster, even if she was
recovered before sexual connection had taken place. The man who carried her off should
marry her, and the ceremony of widow marriage is performed. In the event of his
refusing to marry her, he is fined in the same amount as the parents of a girl who fail to
keep the contract to marry her to a particular person. The fact of a man who abducts a
girl having a wife already would be no bar to his marrying her, as polygamy is freely
permitted. In former days, an adulterer who was unable to pay the fine imposed was tied
to a tree, and shaved by a barber, who used the urine of the guilty woman in lieu of
water.

In connection with birth ceremonies, Mr. Fawcett writes as follows. “Difficulty in

parturition is thought to be due to an ungratified desire of the woman before she is
confined. This is generally something to eat, but it is sometimes ungratified lust. In cases
of the latter kind, the Koravar midwife induces the woman to mention her paramour’s
name, and, as the name is mentioned, the midwife puts a pinch of earth into the woman’s
mouth with the idea of accelerating delivery. The woman is confined in an outlying hut,
where she is tabu to all, with the exception of the midwife, for about ten days. As soon
as the child is born, incense is burnt in front of this hut, and there is an offering of
jaggery (crude sugar) to the spirits of the departed elders, who are invoked in the
following words in the Korava dialect:—‘Ye spirits of our elders! Descend on us, give us
help, and increase our cattle and wealth. Save us from the Sircar (Government), and shut
the mouth of the police. We shall worship you for ever and ever.’ The jaggery is then
distributed to all present, and the new-born infant is cleaned with cow-dung and washed.
A Brahman is sometimes consulted, but it is the maternal uncle upon whom the
responsibility falls of naming the child. This he does on the ninth day after confinement,
when the mother and child are bathed. Having named the child, he ties a string of thread
or cotton round its waist. This string signifies the entry of the child into the Koravar
community, and it, or its substitute, is worn until the termination of married life. The
name given on this occasion is not usually the name by which an individual is known by
his fellows, as persons are generally called after some physical trait or characteristic
thus:—Nallavādu, black man; Pottigādu, short man; Nettakalādu, long-legged man;
Kuntādu, lame man; Boggagādu, fat man; Juttuvādu, man with a large tuft of hair;
Gunadu, hunch-backed man; Mugadu, dumb man; and so on. In a few cases, children are
genuinely named after the household deities. Those so named are called Rāmudu,
Lachigādu, Venkatigādu, Gengadu, Chengadu, Subbadu, Ankaligādu, and so on. An old
custom was to brand the children on the shoulders with a piece of red-hot iron. Marks of
such branding are called the cattle mark, for it seems that children should be branded on
the shoulders before undertaking the ‘sacred duty’ of tending cattle. They explain the
custom by saying that Krishna, the God of the shepherds, allowed boys of his own caste,
and of no other, to perform the sacred duty, after the boy dedicated thereto had
undergone the branding ceremony. This ceremony is seldom observed nowadays, as it
leads to identification. Birth of a child on a new-moon night, when the weather is strong,
is believed to augur a notorious thieving future for the infant. Such children are
commonly named Venkatigādu after the God at Tirupati. The birth of a child having the
umbilical cord twisted round its neck portends the death of the father or maternal uncle.
This unpleasant effect is warded off by the uncle or the father killing a fowl, and wearing
its entrails round his neck, and afterwards burying them along with the umbilical cord.”

The practice of the couvade, or custom in accordance with which the father takes to bed,
and is doctored when a baby is born, is referred to by Alberuni224 (about A.D. 1030),
who says that, when a child is born, people show particular attention to the man, not to
the woman. There is a Tamil proverb that, if a Korati is brought to bed, her husband
takes the prescribed stimulant. Writing about the Yerukalas,225 the Rev. J. Cain tells us
that “directly the woman feels the birth pains, she informs her husband, who
immediately takes some of her clothes, puts them on, places on his forehead the mark
which the women usually place on theirs, retires into a dark room where there is only a
very dim lamp, and lies down on the bed, covering himself up with a long cloth. When
the child is born, it is washed, and placed on the cot beside the father. Asafœtida,
jaggery, and other articles are then given, not to the mother, but to the father. He is not
allowed to leave his bed, but has everything needful brought to him.” Among the
Kuravars, or basket-makers of Malabar, “as soon as the pains of delivery come upon a
pregnant woman, she is taken to an outlying shed, and left alone to live or die as the
event may turn out. No help is given her for twenty-eight days. Even medicines are
thrown to her from a distance; and the only assistance rendered is to place a jar of warm
water close by her just before the child is born. Pollution from birth is held as worse than
that from death. At the end of the twenty-eight days, the hut in which she was confined
is burnt down. The father, too, is polluted for fourteen days, and, at the end of that time,
he is purified, not like other castes by the barber, but by holy water obtained from
Brāhmans at temples or elsewhere.” To Mr. G. Krishna Rao, Superintendent of Police in
the Shimoga district of Mysore, I am indebted for the following note on the couvade as
practiced among the Koramas. “Mr. Rice, in the Mysore Gazetteer, says that among the
Koravars it is said that, when a woman is confined, her husband takes medicine for her.
At the instance of the British Resident I made enquiries, and learned that the Kukke
(basket-making) Koramas, living at Gōpāla village near Shimoga, had this custom
among them. The husband learns from his wife the probable time of her confinement,
and keeps at home awaiting the delivery. As soon as she is confined, he goes to bed for
three days, and takes medicine consisting of chicken and mutton broth spiced with
ginger, pepper, onions, garlic, etc. He drinks arrack, and eats as good food as he can
afford, while his wife is given boiled rice with a very small quantity of salt, for fear that
a larger quantity may induce thirst. There is generally a Korama midwife to help the
wife, and the husband does nothing but eat, drink, and sleep. The clothes of the husband,
the wife, and the midwife are given to a washerman to be washed on the fourth day, and
the persons themselves have a wash. After this purification, the family gives a dinner to
the caste people. One of the men examined by me explained that the man’s life was more
valuable than that of the woman, and that the husband, being a more important factor in
the birth than the wife, deserves to be better looked after.” The following legend is
current among the Koramas, to explain the practice of the couvade among them. One
day a donkey, belonging to a Korama camp, pitched outside a village, wandered into a
Brāhman’s field, and did considerable damage to the crop. The Brāhman was naturally
angry, and ordered his coolies to pull down the hut of the owner of the donkey. The
Korama, casting himself at the feet of the Brāhman, for want of a better excuse, said that
he was not aware of what his animal was doing, as at the time he was taking medicine
for his wife, and could not look after it. According to another version of the story, the
Brāhman ordered his servants to remove the hut from his land or beat the Korava, so that
Koravas have since that time taken to bed and shared the pollution of their wives, to
escape being beaten.

In connection with the couvade, Mr. Fawcett writes that “it has been observed in the
bird-catching Koravars, and the custom has been admitted by others. Directly a woman
is brought to bed, she is given asafœtida rolled in betel leaf. She is then given a stimulant
composed of asafœtida and other drugs. The husband partakes of a portion of this before
it is given to the woman. This custom is one of those which the Koravar is generally at
pains to conceal, denying its existence absolutely. The proverb ‘When the Koravar
woman is confined, the Koravar man takes asafœtida’ is, however, well known. Very
soon after a woman is confined, attention is paid exclusively to her husband, who wraps
himself in his wife’s cloth, and lies down in his wife’s place beside the new-born infant.
He stays there for at least some minutes, and then makes room for his wife. The writer of
this note was informed by Koravars that any one who refused to go through this
ceremony would undergo the severest penalties, indeed, he would be turned out of the
community. Nothing annoys a Koravar so much as to mention the word asafœtida in his
presence, for he takes it to be an insulting reference to the couvade. The worst insult to a
Koravar woman lies in the words ‘Will you give asafœtida?’ which are understood by
her to mean an improper overture.”

Some Koravas are said to believe that the pangs of labour are largely allayed by drinking
small doses of a mixture of the dung of a male donkey and water. A few years ago, when
a camp of Koravas was visited in the Salem district by the Superintendent of Police, two
men of the gang, who had petitioned for the removal of the constables who were
escorting the gang, dragged a woman in the throes of childbirth by the armpits from the
hut. This was done to show that they could not move their camp, with a woman in such a
condition. Nevertheless, long before daylight on the following day, the camp had been
moved, and they were found at a spot fifteen miles distant. When they were asked about
the woman, a hut slightly apart from the rest was pointed out, in front of which she was
suckling the newly-born infant. She had done the journey immediately after delivery
partly on foot, and partly on a donkey.

The Korava child’s technical education commences early. From infancy, the Koravas
teach their children to answer “I do not know” to questions put to them. They are taught
the different methods of stealing, and the easiest way of getting into various kinds of
houses. One must be entered through the roof, another by a hole in the wall, a third by
making a hole near the bolt of the door. Before letting himself down from a roof, the
Korava must make sure that he does not alight on brass vessels or crockery. He generally
sprinkles fine sand in small quantities, so that the noise made thereby may give him an
idea of the situation. The methods to be adopted during the day, when hawking wares,
must be learnt. When a child is caught red-handed, he will never reveal his identity by
giving the name of his parents, or of the gang to which he belongs. A girl about twelve or
thirteen years old was captured a few years ago in the Mysore State at the Oregam
weekly market, and, on being searched, was found to have a small knife in her cheek.
She declared that she was an orphan with neither friends nor relations, but was identified
by the police. The Koravas are adepts at assuming aliases. But the system of finger-print
records, which has been introduced in recent years, renders the concealment of their
identity more difficult than it used to be. “Both men and women,” Mr. Paupa Rao writes,
“have tattoo marks on their foreheads and forearms. When they are once convicted, they
enlarge or alter in some way the tattoo marks on their forearms, so that they might differ
from the previous descriptive marks of identification entered by the police in their search
books and other records. During festivals, they put red stuff (kunkuma) over the tattoo
marks on their foreheads.”

Their conduct is regulated by certain well-defined rules. They should not enter a house
by the front door, unless this is unavoidable, and, if they must so enter it, they must not
leave by the same way. If they enter by the back door, they depart by the front door,
which they leave wide open. They should not commit robbery in a house, in which they
have partaken of rice and curds. Curds always require salt, and eating salt is equivalent
to taking the oath of fealty according to their code of honour. They ease themselves in
the house in which they have committed a theft, in order, it is said, to render the pursuit
of them unsuccessful.

In a note on the initiation of Yerukala girls into the profession of fortune-telling in

Vizagapatam, Mr. Hayavadana Rao writes that it is carried out on a Sunday succeeding
the first puberty ceremony. A caste feast, with plenty of strong drink, is held, but the girl
herself fasts. The feast over, she is taken to a spot at a little distance from the settlement
called Yerukonda. This is said to be the name of a place on the trunk road between
Vizianagram and Chicacole, to which girls were taken in former times to be initiated.
The girl is blindfolded with a cloth. Boiled rice and green gram are mixed with the blood
of a black fowl, black pig, and black goat, which are killed. Of this mixture she must
take at least three morsels, and, if she does not vomit, it is taken as a sign that she will
become a good Yeruka or fortune-teller. Vomiting would indicate that she would be a
false prophetess.

When a wandering Korava dies, he is buried as quickly as possible, with head to the
north, and feet to the south. If possible, a new cloth is obtained to wrap the corpse in.
The grave is covered with the last hut which the deceased occupied. The Koravas
immediately leave a camp, in which a death has occurred. The nomad Koravas are said
by Dr. Pope to bury their dead at night, no one knows where. Thence originates the
common saying in regard to anything which has vanished, leaving no trace behind, that
it has gone to the dancing-room of the wandering actors. Another proverb runs to the
effect that no one has seen a dead monkey, or the burning-ground of a Korava.

In Vizagapatam, the Yerukala dead are stated by Mr. Hayavadana Rao to be burnt in a
state of nudity. A tulsi plant (Ocimum sanctum) is usually planted on the spot where the
corpse was burnt. The relations cannot follow their regular occupation until a caste feast
has been held, and some cooked food thrown on the spot where cremation took place.

In a note on the death rites of the Koravas of the southern districts, Mr. F. A. Hamilton
writes that, when one of the community dies, the news of the death is conveyed by a
Paraiyan or Chakkiliyan. At the burning-ground, whither the corpse is accompanied with
music, it is laid on dried cow-dung, which has been spread on the ground. The son of the
deceased goes thrice round the corpse, and breaks a new water-pot which he has brought
with him near the head. He also hands over a piece of burning sandalwood for lighting
the pyre, and goes straight home without seeing the corpse again. On the third day, the
son and other relations go to the burning-ground, heap up the ashes, plant either tulsi
(Ocimum sanctum), pērandai (Vitis quadrangularis), or kathalai (Agave Americana), and
pour milk. On the sixteenth day, or at some later time, a ceremony called karumathi is
performed. The relatives assemble at the burning-ground, and a stone is set up, and
washed with water, honey, milk, etc. On the following day, all the relatives take an oil-
bath, and new cloths are presented to the host. Sheep are killed, and a feast, with a liberal
supply of liquor, is held. Till this ceremony is performed, the son remains in mourning.

Concerning death ceremonies, Mr. Fawcett writes as follows. “A Tamil proverb likens
the death of a Koravar to that of a monkey, for no one ever sees the dead body of either.
Just as the monkey is thought to be immortal, the other monkeys removing the carcass
instantly, so the corpse of the Koravar is made away with and disposed of with all
possible speed. There is very little wailing, and preparations are made at once. If the
deceased was married, the bier on which he is carried is practically a ladder; if
unmarried, it is a single bamboo with pieces of stick placed transversely. The winding-
sheet is always a piece of new cloth, in one corner of which is tied a half anna-piece
(which is afterwards taken by one of the corpse-bearers). Only two of these are under
pollution, which lasts the whole of the day, during which they must remain in their huts.
Next day, after bathing, they give the crows food and milk. A line is drawn on the body
from head to foot with milk, the thick end of a piece of grass being used as a brush; then
they bathe. Pollution of the chief mourner lasts for five days. Half-yearly and annual
ceremonies to the deceased are compulsory. A figure of the deceased is drawn with
charcoal on a piece of new cloth spread on the floor of the hut. On either side of the
figure is placed cooked rice and vegetables served on castor leaves. After some time, the
food is placed on a new winnow, which is hung suspended from the roof of the hut the
whole night. Next morning, the relations assemble, and partake of the food.”

From a note on the Yerukalas of the Nellore district, I gather that, as a rule, the dead are
buried, though respected elders of the community are cremated. Married individuals are
carried to the grave on a bier, those who die unmarried wrapped in a mat. On the second
day, some cooked food, and a fowl, are placed near the grave, to be eaten by crows. A
pot of water is carried thrice round the grave, and then thrown down. On the ninth day,
food is once more offered for the crows. The final death ceremonies are generally
performed after two or three months. Cooked food, onions, brinjals (fruits of Solanum
Melongena), Phaseolus pulse, squash gourd (Cucurbita maxima), pork, and mutton are
placed on a number of castor (Ricinus) leaves spread on the floor, and offered to the soul
of the deceased, which is represented by a human figure drawn on a new cloth. At the
conclusion of the worship, the food is placed on new winnowing trays provided for the
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