To be like a kite — to probe the vast ether, to dally with the illusion that the sky is, yet remain tenderly tethered to earth. That is the belonging you witness in those Kodavas who return, year after year, to the Kavadi Bhagavathi Temple festival no matter where life has carried them or where their present ‘home’s now stand. They are cosmopolitan hearts with feet that remember the rhythm of return to their beginnings. Their quiet pride in the soil and the spirit they come from can stir in you a yearning — a call to seek your own roots in novel ways.

A mere glance at the car number plates lined up in the temple parking lot tells a quiet story – of journeys traced from distant cities, from different parts of Karnataka and beyond. Here, in the heart of Ammatti Naadu (hobali), the scattered children of Kodagu ( Coorg ) find their way home once more, converging to honour their radiant Goddess Bhagavati every April. What begins as a casual look at metal and numbers becomes an unexpected revelation – of belonging that refuses to fade, of devotion that never knows a dull moment.

For an annual festival of about 10 days, which has endured for over 600 years with scant documentation on its origin, the devotion with which people gather summer after summer is little short of wondrous. The Kavadi Bhagavathi festival is a living testament to the power of oral traditions. Stories passed on from generation to generation through the seemingly simple acts of ‘telling’ and ‘listening’. A tradition — among those universal, exquisite truths about human existence — that sets us apart from other creatures we share this planet with.

This is a festival during which the world seems to pause in the Ammatti Naadu — no other celebrations (not even weddings) rise beside it. It is a time when people turn away from meat, embracing Earth’s green offerings. No leaf is plucked, no branch disturbed; even the gentlest touch of harm to living green is unthinkable. And in the sacred span of these days, no one leaves the ooru — these villages hold their people close, calling back even those whom life has scattered afar. They all return unfailingly, drawn by an invisible cord of belonging, woven with strands of faith.

Then there is everything that is tangible — the unmissable, aesthetically stunning traditional Kodava costumes; their tasteful way of adorning their temples; their unique music — a world of obvious but ceaselessly splendid details that make the Kodavas distinctive. And all of this, set in the gorgeous geography that Kodagu is, beaming its emerald smile with its forests and its coffee estates.

According to the legends narrated by elders about Kavadi’s Bhagavathi, she is a goddess who chose this very soil as her abode – a gift born of Lord Shiva of Baithuru’s promise to the people of this land. Long ago, as the stories drift through time, a dispute arose that led both the Amma Kodava and Kodavapeoples to abandon the worship of Mahadeva in the distant village of Bilagunda, to which they once journeyed with devotion. Deprived of a temple and a divine presence to revere, the elders turned to Shiva in earnest prayer, seeking a sign, a solution. Moved by their plea, Shiva spoke through an old man — his voice now carrying the god’s own — and assured them that Bhagavathi herself would come to dwell among them.

And so, on a destined day, when the village elders gathered beneath a tree, a bird descended – its cry sharp and strange, like a celestial summons. When it finally took flight, the people followed its path until it vanished over a spot that would become sacred ground – the Garbhagudi of the present temple. There, through the voice of an elder from the Machimanda family, the goddess revealed herself. Speaking through human breath, she declared that a temple must rise upon that very soil, for this was to be her sthaana – her eternal dwelling place.

It is this sacred abode that now awakens each year to the rhythm of drums and the blare of trumpets – the music of dawn and dusk processions honouring the beloved Goddess Bhagavthi and her divine counterpart, Aiyappa. From near and far, Kodavas of every generation return to bow in reverence, their shared devotion rising like a single, living pulse – powerful enough to make even the most steadfast skeptic pause and reconsider the mysteries of faith. And for those who open themselves with humility and vulnerability to the unseen currents that flow through such moments, something ineffable enters – a quiet, potent force within, as elemental as wind or fire. It lingers long after the last day of the festival, a reminder one can summon in darker hours – a flicker of that same sacred thrill, urging the spirit gently forward.

In a world that seems to be becoming so homogenous that it forgets the richness of regionalism, in terms of cultural manifoldness among other things (not to be mistaken for differences leading to divisiveness), the Kavadi Bhagavathi festival is a kind of returning to one’s roots that keeps the promise of acceptance by a village, a town, a city intact. Intimate constellations of people bound by what is uniquely theirs. Their particularities add to the variedness of this world, making it that much more myriad than the pale monotony of things. The very existence of such human-world details offers the promise of never depriving us of diversity. A vow of variety.

Sourabha Rao

Sourabha Rao is a professional writer, poet, translator, former freelance columnist and voiceover artist, with literary proficiency in English and Kannada. She deeply cares about producing stories primarily on nature and wildlife, social issues, history and art. She strives to write truthfully and creatively in an earnest attempt to create content that educates and entertains, has impact, and mobilises positive social change. She has written op-eds and photo-stories for leading Kannada and English newspapers, and has collaborated with filmmakers in wildlife conservation and water conservation. Sourabha lives in Bengaluru, while a big chunk of her heart has stayed back in Mysuru, her forever-muse.

Returning to One’s Roots

Sourabha Rao