Medaram: The roar of Adivasi self-respect
By modifying the natural setting of the Gaddelu, we risk drifting away from our roots
Deep in the forests of Mulugu, a powerful phenomenon is unfolding that challenges the rigid rules of institutionalised religion. The Sammakka-Sarakka Jatara is not merely a festival; it is a roaring assertion of native culture.
As millions congregate to bow before the Gaddelu (the two wooden poles representing the warrior goddesses), they send a powerful message to the world. However, this massive reverence has often unsettled the guardians of Vedic orthodoxy.
In the recent past, controversial remarks by prominent spiritual figures—questioning the divinity of these deities for “not descending from Brahma Loka” and dismissing them as mere “village spirits”—exposed a deep-seated cultural arrogance. These comments were not just theological critiques; they were attempts to delegitimize a power that unites millions.
Critics often try to label Sammakka and Sarakka as just “tribal deities” to compartmentalise them. However, the reality at Medaram shatters this narrow definition.
While the custodians are Koya Adivasis, the devotees are universal. It is a spiritual union that defies state borders. Today, these deities are not owned by one community; they are mothers to the multitudes. People from all castes—BCs, SCs, OCs, and others—flock to Medaram with unwavering faith. At the Gaddelu, the distinction of caste dissolves. A Brahmin stands shoulder-to-shoulder with a Dalit and an Adivasi, all offering ‘bangaram’ (jaggery) with equal devotion. This proves that these mothers have transcended the forest to become the supreme power for the common man.
For most Adivasis, the criticism from the elite arises from a “Manuvadi” lens that validates divinity only through Puranic lineage and stone temples. But the Medaram worldview is different. Sammakka and Sarakka are not mythical avatars descending from the heavens; they are historical martyrs who rose from this soil to fight tyranny. To the devotee, divinity is found in ‘sacrifice’, not in rituals.
As an insider of the community, one sees the profound difference in spiritual stewardship. Unlike Vedic priests who rely on written scriptures and rigid timings, our Koya Vaddes (priests) rely on instinct and the signals of nature. When they bring the deity from Chilakala Gutta, it is not a ritual of chanting mantras; it is a ritual of raw spiritual energy. Similarly, the holy dip in Jampanna Vagu is not merely to wash away sins, but to honour the legend of Jampanna, whose blood turned the stream red while fighting for his people.
The ultimate vindication of this indigenous power is now visible in the highest corridors of power. Recognizing the greatness of these deities, the State Government has moved beyond tokenism to active prioritisation. In a historic move, the government sanctioned a massive Rs 251 crore for the jatara, with Rs 150 crore dedicated to infrastructure and Rs 101 crore specifically for renovation of Gaddelu. Furthermore, the decision to hold a state Cabinet meeting directly at Medaram signals that the administration is bowing to the sanctity of the soil.
However, amidst this celebration, the completion of the Gaddelu renovation has sparked a deep cultural concern among Adivasis. While the government’s intent was development, we must ask: at what cost to our tradition? For countless generations, the Sammakka-Sarakka deities have stood under the open sky. This was not due to poverty; it was the very soul of Adivasi tradition. Our gods are not confined by walls, domes, or Gopurams; they are one with the wind and the forest.
With the renovation now complete, there is a genuine fear that we are losing the originality of the Adivasi way of worship. By modifying the natural setting of the Gaddelu with modern structures, we risk drifting away from our roots. If this trend continues, future generations may never know the raw, nature-bound spirituality of their ancestors.
We must ensure that in the race for ‘development’, the unique identity of Medaram is not erased. The future of our faith depends on respecting the open-air sanctity that has defined us for centuries.
The silence of the critics is loud compared to the beating drums of Medaram. The attempt to belittle this culture has only galvanized the faithful. The huge crowd and the state’s reverence are the final answer to those doubts.
The Sammakka-Sarakka Jatara proves that the indigenous “Mulavasi” culture does not need validation from anyone else. The geography of faith has changed, and the gods of the glade have claimed their rightful place in the hearts of all people.
