As a sports photographer in Delhi, I am used to capturing high-intensity action — wrestlers colliding in mud arenas, polo players mid-gallop, athletes pushing their physical limits. But in October, my journey took me from the sports fields of Delhi to the sacred temple grounds of Kannur, Kerala, to witness one of India’s most powerful ritual art forms — Theyyam.
What unfolded was not just performance. It was history, resistance, mythology — and fire.
Theyyam originated over a thousand years ago in North Kerala. During a time when lower caste communities were subjected to rigid caste oppression, Theyyam became a spiritual and social equalizer.
Men from marginalized communities embodied divine figures — and even upper caste devotees would bow before them. It was art, yes — but also defiance.
Today, there are over 450 known forms of Theyyam, each with distinct legends, costume structures, choreography, and symbolism.
For a photographer in Delhi like myself, accustomed to documenting human endurance in sport, this was endurance of another kind — spiritual, historical, and physical.
I reached Kannur Railway Station around 10 p.m., where I was meeting my friend Ramgeet — a fellow photographer from Kannur. We first met at a birding camp in Tattekaad, and since then our friendship grew through wildlife expeditions and photographic journeys.
Ramgeet has a personal mission: to document all 450 forms of Theyyam. Though currently tied to a corporate job, he continues chasing this dream whenever possible.
But that night, something unexpected happened.
October in Kannur is not known for heavy rain — yet suddenly, it poured.
This was worrying. Kandanar Kelan, one of the Theyyams scheduled that night, performs on burning coal. Continuous rain would mean cancellation.
We waited. Silent. Hoping.
After 30 tense minutes, the rain stopped.
The fire would burn.
When we reached the temple, the crowd was still manageable. Kudal Veeran had just completed part of his ritual and was wearing the magnificent mudi — the towering decorative headgear.
Unlike many Theyyams, Kudal Veeran performs Kalari Payattu before wearing the mudi — showcasing martial discipline before divine embodiment.
Though I missed the Kalari segment, I documented him in full regalia — sword and shield in hand, stance powerful and grounded.
Concise Legend:
Kudal Veeran represents the valor of a warrior who upheld justice.
His Kalari performance symbolizes physical mastery before spiritual ascension.
(Image below: “Kudal Veeran Theyyam wearing mudi with a shield in Kannur Kerala”)
Kandanar Kelan was scheduled for 3 a.m.
We positioned ourselves early, respecting the temple boundaries drawn for photographers and devotees.
But just before the ritual began, the crowd surged forward. Many crossed the designated lines for better angles. I chose to remain professional.
That meant losing front position.
But discipline is part of both sports photography — and cultural documentation.
Kandanar Kelan’s story is one of death and divine transformation.
Concise Legend:
Bitten by two snakes and killed, he was reborn into divinity.
The two snakes painted on his chest symbolize that moment of death before transcendence.
We were barefoot. The coal radiated intense heat. Coconut leaves fed the flames. At times, we accidentally stepped on stray embers.
Then he ran.
Across the burning coal. Again. And again.
The moment was electric. The chants. The fire crackling. The divine expression in his eyes.
As a sports photographer in Delhi, I chase peak action. But this was something else — action fused with belief.
(Image below: “Red hot burning coal bed before Kandanar Kelan performance in Kerala temple”)
(Image below: “Kandanar Kelan Theyyam dancing with snake symbols on chest”)
At around 6 a.m., after Kandanar Kelan concluded, Vayanatu Kulavan followed.
Traditionally, Kandanar Kelan’s performance is always followed by Vayanatu Kulavan, because it is believed that Vayanatu Kulavan granted Kelan divine power.
Concise Legend:
Born through the blessings of Lord Shiva.
Gifted silver eyes by Shiva, though imperfect — hence the torch symbolizing borrowed light.
(Image below: “Vayanatu Kulavan Theyyam with silver eyes and torch at sunrise in Kannur”)
His performance was elegant and controlled — a contrast to the fury of fire that preceded him.
This experience also pushed me technically as a photographer in Delhi working outside my usual environment.
The rituals happen at night and before dawn.
A kit lens is simply not enough.
Non-negotiable gear:
f/2.8 or wider aperture lens
Camera body that handles high ISO exceptionally well
Flash was not allowed — and ethically, it shouldn’t be used in sacred performances.
You must rely on:
Available firelight
Ambient temple lighting
High ISO performance
Sometimes professionalism costs you the best front-row angle.
But it gives you something more important — credibility.
Eventually I purchased a Nikon D850 for superior ISO performance and a 35mm prime lens
A wide aperture prime lens is a non negotiable while trying to capture Theyyam. I failed miserably with my kit lens. Also with flashes not been allowed in Temple premises I also wished for a camera capable of managing higher ISO
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If you’re looking for a photographer in Delhi who captures not just images but the very essence, intensity, and story behind every moment — whether in sport or sacred ritual — let’s create something powerful together
Jithin Thomas is a Delhi-based sports and wildlife photographer with over five years of field experience. He has been an accredited photographer for the World Para Athletics Championship (2025) and the W35 Women’s International Tennis Tournament (2025). As the official photographer for the Harish Sharma 3x3 Basketball Tournament, he specializes in capturing decisive sporting moments under real-time pressure, delivering editorial-quality imagery with same-day turnaround capability