Pavalan plays Jallikattu
Pavalan did not name his poor son for seven years. Instead, he went to play Jallikattu during every Pongal festival.
Pavalan did not name his poor son for seven years. Instead, he sneaked in the ground to play Jallikuttu every year during the sacred days of Pongal, even when villagers did everything, they could to stop him.
But they were not wrong in their decision.
He had broken his left hand the first time he was allowed. The only barber in the whole village, every man had to sport long hair till he got better in three months.
The second year, Pavalan let the bull run out of the ground, and it could not be captured again. Last anyone had heard, the animal was seen twenty villages over. The Panchayat committee had to pay the angry owner with the yearly budget of solar street lights. He was cursed from the ditches in the dark, more by drunkards.
The third time, he was allowed to play as a team member and he made them trip all over each other. Only the village doctor was happy with the business that year as the best and youngest farmers of the village laid in cots with broken foots and jaws.
Safe to say, no one was safe around him. Thus, he was banned by the panchayat to play.
Pavalan took it as an insult. He couldn’t see the way his mother shook his head at him when he came home empty handed from the grounds. His wife had thrown away the dhoti he had bought for the game, and his son was mocked by his name.
Thus, began the process of sneaking in the game. The first year it worked smoothly. He went in as a spectator and quickly slid under the rope keeping the crowd back. Only to have the bull charge forward after stepping on his right foot. His wife had covered her nameless son’s eyes as soon as she lost sight of him under the bull. No child should see such an embarrassing sight.
The villagers smartened from the next year. They tried everything. He got better.
When locked in his own home, he jumped from the first-floor terrace by throwing down a mattress in the street. When they changed the date of the main event at last minute, he got there first by bribing the new bull owner himself. One time, they even begged his wife to take him out of the village to her own home. He travelled whole night in bus, played, lost and went back to her by evening with a banged-up head.
At last, his wife warned him to either win or let go of the obsession. Their son had to get admission in first grade. The school wouldn’t allow it without name. Till now, he had been answering to Palavan’s son. Some teachers didn’t take his attendance since he had no name in the register. Some left him for the last when he stood up on his own.
Pavalan assured his wife and everyone else that he had given up. He turned up to watch the game under the wary eyes of onlookers. He still swore to anyone who asked that he wasn’t about to jump in when the champion was in danger on the ground.
But he did, and managed to subdue the powerful animal. In the process, he took the horns and drove him away after a kick to stomach.
The crowd searched for the pouch in the hands of champion but Pavalan raised it with a grin and tears streaming down his face. His mother applied the healing paste for the first time to his injuries that she used on his father.
Pavalan was named after the bull his father had conquered in his first game. The old man had won till he played. He always came home with the gold coin tied to the horns, and he did it solo, just like his ancestors.
Pavalan was adamant on getting at least one to continue the family tradition. That night the mother and son threw a party for the whole village to name the child.
Pavalan’s son was named Jaggan after the angry bull.
If you smiled and enjoyed the story, like the post to let me know. It helps reach other readers when you share and restack the story too.
Liked the story of Pavalan? Read more of Quirky Indians.
He could turn up as the protagonist in a novel with a wild origin story to go with stumbling into a huge encounter involving a challenge he'd thought he would meet much less survive. Every writer has an original imaginationscape from which their stories emerge. But you already have a lot of stories and possibilities that keep showing up so us readers will stay tuned.
Agree. And when they succeed, you almost feel as happy as they do. And you remember them whenever it is rough.