Watching the two whirling dancers' straw skirts aflame as they kept their balance under elaborate, 4-meter-high headdresses while circumambulating the central shrine of the village to the beat of drummers amid a buzzing throng, I did not expect a nudge from the local standing next to me as he said, "Watch ... now it becomes interesting."
A large number of women carrying earthenware jars with flaming wicks then joined the smoky procession of the theyyam dancers as the drumming grew more feverish, the crowds got even noisier, and attendants partially doused the flaming skirts with water to prevent immolation — but not going overboard.
The dancers began gyrating more spectacularly, entering another trance zone, summoning strength from their sinewy bodies as they boogied and spun under some 40 kg of costume, sweat pouring down their flame-licked bodies.