Racing with the Oars of Tradition – Kerala’s Boat Races

Come August, the air begins to buzz with anticipation in Kerala. The boat race season is here! Known locally as vallamkali (literally, boat play), the sight of dozens of snake boats slicing through the waters, powered by hundreds of synchronized oarsmen, is one of Kerala’s most spectacular traditions. Shiny black boats stretching almost 100 feet, with rowers swaying to the rhythm of a vanchipattu (boat song).

The most famous of the boat races is the Nehru Trophy Boat Race, inaugurated in 1952 when Jawaharlal Nehru, then Prime Minister, was so captivated by the spectacle that he donated a silver trophy. Today, the Nehru Trophy on the Punnamada Lake in Alappuzha attracts international attention and has been featured on tourism campaigns worldwide. But across the state, from Aranmula to Champakulam, local communities host their own races, each with its own traditions and lore.

Innovation on the Water

One of the most interesting aspects of the boat races today is how technology has crept in—not to diminish tradition, but to amplify it. While the boats themselves are still crafted the old way, using Anjili wood and painstaking carpentry handed down through generations, innovations have entered the training and organization.

Rowers now undergo scientific fitness regimes, with physiotherapists, nutritionists, and even sports psychologists guiding teams. GPS trackers and drone footage help coaches analyze synchronization and speed—things once left only to the naked eye and instinct. Live-streaming and 4K broadcasts take the drama of the races across the world, making it a truly global event. And traditional boat songs as well as new ones are now available on Spotify playlists.

Women at the Oars

But what about women? For long, the snake boat races were a male preserve, embodying sheer physicality. Yet, in recent years, there has been a quiet but important shift. Kerala has begun hosting all-women boat races—a recognition that strength and stamina are not male monopolies. In 2022, the first Vallamkali exclusively for women was held, with teams of fisherwomen taking to the waters.

Even in mixed-community celebrations, women’s teams are increasingly visible, particularly in the Kettu Vallam (smaller decorated boats) races. It is still early days, but the image of women rowing with fierce determination underlines how traditions evolve without losing their essence.

More than a Race

Preparing a snake boat involves dozens of families. Training the oarsmen requires food, lodging, and encouragement from entire villages. On race day, the banks are filled with people singing, cheering, and celebrating. Divisions of caste, class, and creed dissolve.

There is also a spiritual dimension. The Aranmula boat race, for instance, is tied to temple rituals, where the boats are offered as homage to Lord Parthasarathy. Here, winning or losing is less important than participation.

The Kerala boat races are not just about the boats—they’re about the teams, each carrying the pride of their village or community. In recent years, the competition has become so professional that many villages now run their own “boat clubs,” with dedicated squads training year-round. It’s a bit like football clubs elsewhere—loyalty runs deep, rivalries are fierce, and victories are celebrated across the community!  A few of the most celebrated teams are:United Boat Club (UBC), Kainakary, Police Boat Club, Kollam, Jawahar Boat Club (JBC), Kollam, St. Pius Boat Club, Alappuzha, Karichal Chundan (Alappuzha), Champakulam Chundan, Veppu Vallams of Aranmula.

Congratulations to the winner of this year’s 71st Nehru Boat race held last week, the boat Veeyapuram Chundan of Village Boat Club Kainakary. The winning team which was one among 75 competitors, touched the finishing line in 4.21.084 minutes.


And Happy Onam to all
!

–Meena

Pic: nehrutrophy.nic.in/

High-tech Barriers to Heritage

In between the first COVID wave and the second ongoing one, we were tempted to get a little adventurous. We scouted around for sites which we could visit on day-trips.

It is in this process that we got to know about a beautiful Hoysala-style temple situated in Somanathapura, which lies about 130 kms from Bangalore. This is the Chennakeshava Temple built by the Hoysala commander, Somanatha, in 1268 A.D.

And we made our way there with some friends.

It is an astounding structure, made completely of sandstone, with the most intricate carvings, built at the peak of Hoysala architectural excellence.

Chennakeśava means ‘handsome Keshava’, and the temple is dedicated to three forms of Vishu—Keshava, Janardhana and Venugopala. The main temple is on a star-shaped platform with three garbagrahas, each dedicated to one on the three forms. Besides this, there are 64 corridor shrines, set in magnificent pillared corridors. The main temple is surrounded by a pradakshina patha, all along which are carvings from the Ramayana, Mahabharata, Bhagavata Purana etc., which unfold as one undertakes the pradakshina.  The ceilings are decorated with intricate sculptures depicting different stages of the unfolding of a lotus. The massive stone pillars supporting the inner shrine were turned in ancient animal-drawn lathes.

The temple took several decades to build, but was in worship for only 60-70 years before it was sacked by invaders. Since the statues and the structure were defaced and broken, worship could no longer take place there, as per tradition.

It is a wonder that such an old and disused structure still stands in such good shape today—it is nearly 700+ years after it stopped being an active temple. It is in the hands of the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI), and one must appreciate their efforts to have the site in such good shape, standing in such well-maintained grounds. Even the toilets are fairly functional and clean.

But….

And it is a big BUT.

It is plagued by some problems which many of our heritage sites suffer from. For instance, we did not see a single signage anywhere on the roads telling the passers-by of the existence of such an amazing monument close by. Or to direct those who were looking for it.

Within 25 kms of the structure—leave alone on or near the premises—there is not a decent restaurant or even a picnic ground for those who had their own food.

But for the first time we came across a tech-challenge in such a place!

When we reached the gates of the monument and looked around for a ticket window, there was none. Instead there were a few flex posters, informing us of the rates (Rs 20 for online tickets), and a barcode to scan and pay. There were about six groups of tourists, all desperately trying to scan but no one was successful. After about five minutes, the helpful security guard came up to us and told us that it was not working. He suggested we should try to log into the ASI site, pay online and get our tickets. We all tried dutifully. But the signal was at best patchy and the site slow. My friend could get in. The names of each one of the group had to be entered. And the Aadhar or PAN of the person doing the booking. When she tried to pay, it got into a loop which there was no coming out of. We looked around, and many other people were in the same soup. We asked the Guard if he could not just take the money and give us tickets, but he told us that was not allowed. By this time, one person from another group was successful in getting his ticket from the ASI site. So using typical Indian jugaad, we begged him not to exit, but to do our ticketing online, and that we would pay him the Rs. 20/head in cash. He obligingly did this for some of us.

The whole process took us about 20 minutes and was pretty stressful.

And then we went in to visit the monument. Which fortunately was amazing enough to make it all worth while.

But it left us wondering what the point was. Does anyone who wants to visit a heritage site HAVE to have a smartphone? In a country where literacy, let alone digital literacy, is not to be taken for granted, should lack of these prevent a person from such basic access (never mind that it is a barrier even to COVID vaccination!). Is there an inherent age-discrimination–many older people are uncomfortable with all these scan-and-pay modes.  If the wifi does not work at a site, are people to go back the 150 kms they came to visit the monument? And why is the name of every visitor needed for buying entry tickets? Why is Aadhar or PAN information needed? Where does this information go, and what becomes of it?

If the purpose of technology is to make life easier for citizens, then this is surely not the way! The system is good in that it provides a nudge for digital payment (if you scan and pay it is Rs. 20, and if you could buy a physical ticket it is Rs. 25 per ticket). Nudges are good for bringing about behavior change. But taking away options is discriminatory and against basic rights. As is seeking information which is not relevant to anything!

Why does something like a visit to our own heritage sites have to become a battleground about rights?

–Meena