“Look out!” calls out farmer P Srinivasan and I move just in time to avoid a bull that was curiously sniffing my dress. “You have to be watchful here,” he chuckles. The Kannapuram Mariamman Temple Cattle Festival is not the usual village fair in which you stroll through carefree. Rearers and breeders of Kangayam cattle bring their animals to be sold at the famed annual festival at Olapalayam, a village in Tiruppur district, 82 kilometres from Coimbatore. People from across Tamil Nadu, especially Madurai, Theni, Ramanathapuram, Pudukottai, and Tiruchi visit the festival to buy cattle for jallikattu, agriculture and farm work, as well as for dairy.
The cattle fair is part of the temple’s car festival that is 15 days long. According to RP Palanikumar, a local seller who used to be in the temple committee, the festival can be estimated to be over 1,000 years old. On day four of the festival when we visit, there are over 10,000 cattle for sale displayed on 70 acres of farmland.
For the untrained, walking through the fair, tiptoeing around burly bulls and cows can be quite a task. But I gradually blend in, more so after I learn that the tempestuous stud bulls are usually tied up far from the crowd. N Mathiazhagan, a farmer from Periasooriyur village in Tiruchi, has just bought a bull for ₹1.20 lakh. The 55-year-old is a jallikattu bull rearer, and was a bull baiter in his younger years. “I hope he makes me proud,” he says, looking at the bull that thrusts its horns menacingly at anybody who approaches it. “If he does not become a champion, I will sell him off at some nearby santhai for any quoted price.”
People like Mathiazhagan spend several days at the festival, looking for the perfect bull. It is common to see dhoti-clad men walk in groups from one seller to another, who are seated on plastic chairs inside makeshift enclosures. They pause to size-up potential buys, studying their features. “A sturdy hump, shapely horns, long tail, bulging eyes, and strong overall build are indicators of a healthy bull,” points out S Mani, a seller who has brought five bulls.
Back home in Uthukuli, he takes care of his cattle with help from his wife. “It’s a lot of work,” says the 63-year-old. “I start my day at 5am, and milk my cows first,” he says. “I spend the entire day with them outdoors: I graze them, feed them... Country cattle require dedicated care. My cows do not eat if enclosures are not clean; and they will not let anyone else come near them, unless they wear a dhoti like me,” he laughs.
Sellers are mostly from the Kongu region, and transport their cattle in trucks, sleeping and cooking in the enclosures. They invest in calves, raising them through the year to bring them to the festival, and sometimes go back with a few more. “We will sell these once they are older,” points out 23-year-old M Yogesh, who is among the youngest cattle rearers at the event.
Tomato rice is being cooked nearby as seller M Palanichami is chatting with potential buyers K Alagar and N Raj. Alagar has already purchased four bulls and is looking for more. “I usually take my time; for the wrong bull can bring the household misfortune,” he says. Alagar is a man of finer details; he studies an animal down to the way its hair whorls are positioned. “It is believed that a bull or cow with a whorl at the knees will drag the owner to jail,” he says.
Some buyers, such as S Radha, are not that particular. She is here for a female calf to keep another one back home company. “I’m looking for a sevalai (brown) calf,” she says. This year, there are some horses on sale as well, apart from a few buffalos.
Dusk nears, and the atmosphere is more relaxed; families bring their children to show them around. There are ice lollies sold on bicycles; and sweetened coconut milk too.
The cattle coats gleam as they catch the evening sun, turning their heads this way and that, wondering what the fuss is about. While most sellers are not emotional about sending their bulls away, 60-year-old M Thangavel is. “I spend several months in their company, it is not easy to say goodbye,” he says. Which is why after he hands over the rope to the new owner, he looks the other way. “I cannot see it walk away,” he says. “I spend the next few days worrying if it will be fed well in its new home.” Cattle-rearing, sometimes, is an exercise in letting go, much like parenting.
