Note 94 — K (continued 3)

The Kaniyans are practically the guiding spirits in all the social and domestic concerns of Travancoreans, and even Muhammadans and Christians do not fail to profit by their wisdom. From the moment of the birth of an infant, which is noted by the Kaniyan for the purpose of casting its horoscope, to the moment of death, the services of the village astrologer are constantly in requisition. He is invariably consulted as to the cause of all calamities, and the cautious answers that he gives satisfy the people. “Putrō na putri,” which may either mean no son but a daughter, or no daughter but a son, is jocosely referred to as the type of a Kaniyan’s answer, when questioned about the sex of a child in utero. “It would be difficult,” Mr. Logan writes,94 “to describe a single important occasion in everyday life when the Kanisan is not at hand as a guiding spirit, foretelling lucky days and hours, casting horoscopes, explaining the cause of calamities, prescribing remedies for untoward events, and physicians (not physic) for sick persons. Seed cannot be sown, or trees planted, unless the Kanisan has been consulted beforehand. He is even asked to consult his shastras to find lucky days and moments for setting out on a journey, commencing an enterprise, giving a loan, executing a deed, or shaving the head. For such important occasions as births, marriages, tonsure, investiture with the sacred thread, and beginning the A, B, C, the Kanisan is of course indispensable. His work in short mixes him up with the gravest as well as the most trivial of the domestic events of the people, and his influence and position are correspondingly great. The astrologer’s finding, as one will solemnly assert with all due reverence, is the oracle of God himself, with the justice of which everyone ought to be satisfied, and the poorer classes follow his dictates unhesitatingly. There is no prescribed scale of fees for his services, and in this respect he is like the native physician and teacher. Those who consult him, however, rarely come empty-handed, and the gift is proportioned to the means of the party, and the time spent in serving him. If no fee is given, the Kanisan does not exact it, as it is one of his professional characteristics, and a matter of personal etiquette, that the astrologer should be unselfish, and not greedy of gain. On public occasions, however, and on important domestic events, a fixed scale of fees is usually adhered to. The astrologer’s most busy time is from January to July, the period of harvest and of marriages, but in the other six months of the year his is far from being an idle life. His most lucrative business lies in casting horoscopes, recording the events of a man’s life from birth to death, pointing out dangerous periods of life, and prescribing rules and ceremonies to be observed by individuals for the purpose of propitiating the gods and planets, and so averting the calamities of dangerous times. He also shows favourable junctures for the commencement of undertakings, and the grantham or book, written on palmyra leaf, sets forth in considerable detail the person’s disposition and mental qualities, as affected by the position of the planets in the zodiac at the moment of birth. All this is a work of labour, and of time. There are few members of respectable families who are not thus provided, and nobody grudges the five to twenty-five rupees usually paid for a horoscope according to the position and reputation of the astrologer. Two things are essential to the astrologer, namely, a bag of cowry shells (Cypræa moneta), and an almanac. When any one comes to consult him, he quietly sits down, facing the sun, on a plank seat or mat, murmuring some mantrams or sacred verses, opens his bag of cowries, and pours them on the floor. With his right hand he moves them slowly round and round, solemnly reciting meanwhile a stanza or two in praise of his guru or teacher, and of his deity, invoking their help. He then stops, and explains what he has been doing, at the same time taking a handful of cowries from the heap, and placing them on one side. In front is a diagram drawn with chalk on the floor, and consisting of twelve compartments (rāsis) one for each month in the year. Before commencing operations with the diagram, he selects three or five of the cowries highest up in the heap, and places them in a line on the right-hand side. [In an account before me, three cowries and two glass bottle-stoppers are mentioned as being placed on this side.] These represent Ganapati (the belly god, the remover of difficulties), the sun, the planet Jupiter, Sarasvati (the goddess of speech), and his own guru or preceptor. To all of these the astrologer gives due obeisance, touching his ears and the ground three times with both hands. The cowries are next arranged in the compartments of the diagram, and are moved about from compartment to compartment by the astrologer, who quotes meanwhile the authority on which he makes the moves. Finally he explains the result, and ends with again worshipping the deified cowries, who were witnessing the operation as spectators.” According to another account,95 the astrologer “pours his cowries on the ground, and, after rolling them in the palm of his right hand, while repeating mantrams (consecrated formulæ), he selects the largest, and places them in a row outside the diagram at its right hand top corner. They represent the first seven planets, and he does obeisance to them, touching his forehead and the ground three times with both hands. The relative position of the nine planets is then worked out, and illustrated with cowries in the diagram.”