Ever since I began my journey as a cultural photographer, I've always been drawn to the colder parts of the world — places like Mongolia, Russia, and even Tibet. However, as my work started gaining more attention, I found myself repeatedly asked the same question: "So… when are you going to India?" Honestly, despite India’s reputation as a visually stunning country, I never felt compelled to travel there. The idea of visiting a place where almost every photographer I knew already traveled to just wasn’t appealing to me. But as I was researching for new cultures to add to my ‘Successors’ project — it all changed. I stumbled across a unique ritual called Theyyam, and after seeing just a few images and some shaky smartphone footage, I knew I had to see it with my own eyes.
I traveled to southern India, to a state named Kerala. This tropical region is full of unique cultural elements that can’t be found anywhere else in India. My focus was to find a particular culture known as ‘Theyyam’.
Theyyam artists, or dancers as they are often called, perform a series of ancient rituals that predate Hinduism itself. Covered in vivid red paint, ancient markings, and armor-like ornaments, these artists conduct rituals that combine religious chanting, ecstatic dancing, sword fighting, and the sacrificing different offering.
These rituals, which can last from a few hours to several days, allow the Theyyam artists to achieve a temporary embodiment of a divine being. This transformation turns their bodies into vessels through which the local villagers can access that being and seek a deeper understanding of their gods.
And if this isn’t spectacular enough for you, many believe that the beings embodied by these Theyyam dancers are drawn from the legendary pantheon of Hindu gods themselves.
After teaming up with a local guide, we started scouting for Theyyam ceremonies held in small private communities and remote villages, hoping to avoid the touristic version of the culture in favor of a more traditional understanding of the ritual and the real culture surrounding it.
After a few days of searching, our guide led us deep into the forest, to a small village that had been preparing for weeks for a Theyyam ceremony held only once every 80 years - It was definitely a night to remember.
By nightfall, it seemed as if the entire village had gathered around a Theyyam artist as he danced through a corridor of wild fire. Screaming and kicking flames in every direction, the Theyyam artist seized full control over the crowd, commanding the attention of the villagers as they screamed in ecstasy into the dark night sky, watching his every move as he performed the ancient rituals.
Both as a spectator and photographer, I was completely mesmerized by his commitment to his craft. There were moments where the artist's helpers, known as Theyyam priests, thought he had lost control and attempted to stop him from getting too close to the great fire burning at the center of the ritual.
But whenever they got close to him, the Theyyam artist would violently push them away, throwing himself again and again into the eye of the fire—determined to complete his spiritual transformation and embody the god he had summoned.
Following that night, my head was full of questions about what it takes to become a successor of such a unique and powerful tradition as Theyyam.
We decided to go meet the same Theyyam artist from the night before, hoping he would agree to introduce us to the Theyyam culture and share some of his personal views on his art. This is how we met Vino, a celebrated Theyyam artist known across many villages in his area.
I told him about my particular interest in his traditions and my desire to learn more about what it takes to become part of the new generation of Theyyam artists. Excited by this unorthodox perspective, Vino agreed to introduce me to the world of the Theyyam dancers and his 12-year-old successor, Abinav.
Even the path to becoming a Theyyam artist is enveloped in mystery and myth, as only a select few are allowed to attempt mastering this lifelong journey.
While most young kids are completely terrified of the Theyyam dancers and the fiery characters they embody, Vino was different. He told us how, ever since he can remember, his dreams had been filled with visions of these the characters of the Theyyam ceremonies. Unlike his friends, he wasnt afraid of the red gods—he was fascinated by them. Often spent days on end observing the ancient rituals trying to decipher their meanings.
Only kids like Vino, who are madly interested in the Theyyam art and feel drawn to witness the wild red characters perform, will be accepted as apprentices by another Theyyam artist. This is because many believe that kids like these are being spiritually guided into the Theyyam arts by the gods themselves—calling them to serve their communities.
After being accepted as an apprentice to an accomplished Theyyam dancer, the young successor will spend years learning about the ancient texts, chantings, martial arts, and rituals. Each step of the way pushing him to both master the Theyyam arts and learn which god was the one drawing him into this art form.
Only four castes have the exclusive right to perform the Theyyam arts. Surprisingly, these castes are some of the lowest-ranking in the local caste system. Their social standing is so low that, in the old times, they were not even allowed to enter the homes of others.
But once these Theyyam artists were called upon to perform the ancient rituals and embody the divine beings, all of this would temporarily ignored. All the villagers would come and bow down to them—from the lowest beggar to the highest priest of the community—begging to win their blessings.
We were exceptionally fortunate to learn about the Theyyam arts through Vino, as he was no ordinary artist—he was a Master Theyyam. Masters like Vino are distinguished from the others by a shiny golden bangle worn on their wrist. A symbol of their mastery can only be earned after years of performing and being recognized as an exceptional artist by the community.
However, as Vino explained more about what it took for him to receive his golden bangle, my perception of the Theyyam art changed completely.
You see, despite being able to control the essence of the gods, a Theyyam dancer’s ability to perform depends entirely on the community around him. Golden bangle or not, it has always been up to the villagers to summon and allow a dancer to perform for them.
This means that, in their attempts to win the favor of the villagers and receive their golden bangle, Theyyam dancers devote a huge portion of their lives to perfecting their mastery of the art. Constantly remaking different parts of their costumes, perfecting different rituals, and adding new ones as they attempt to expand the reservoir of gods they can embody if summoned to perform.
This dedication and constant need for approval pushes Theyyam artists into leading a very difficult lifestyle—one full of hard work and sacrifice.
Vino explained to us how his dedication to his art, alongside the fact that he must always be available for ceremonies when called upon, prevents him from even maintaining a regular job. And since, traditionally, Theyyam artists receive very little pay for their performances, Vino's only option to provide for his family is by borrowing his brother's rickshaw and driving it around a nearby town whenever he gets the chance.
While accomplished Theyyam dancers are respected and loved within their communities, after talking to Vino’s successor, Abinav, and his parents, we learned that many modern parents do their best to avoid having their kids step into the Theyyam world.
They worry, rightly so, that this practice would doom the performer’s family to perpetual poverty and ultimately demolish any chance of having an additional careers in the modern world around them.
Since Theyyam dancers spend their lives serving their communities, one could almost say that their lifestyle and art are forever confined and controlled by the 'cultural chains' of the community around them—binding them to sacrifice their future in favor of tradition.
It might just be the kid in me, or the shiny golden bangle on Vino's wrist, but the Theyyam artist's lifestyle reminded me of the ‘Genie in the lamp’ from Disney's Aladdin. The fictional character of the all-powerful genie had one hauntingly similar attribute to the Theyyam artists—despite their immense powers, both the Genie and the Theyyam artist are forever chained to serving those who summon them.
This evoked a question that stayed in my head for many months after completing this photography project—a question I wish to leave with you as we end this story:
The cultural and spiritual depth Theyyam artists accomplish through their rituals seems to be truly powerful and one of a kind experience, an experience that only dedicated performers like Vino and his successor Abinav would fully experience and understand.
However, if you were offered the power to embody the divinity of a god and its essence, would you be willing to pay the price of their golden chains?
This image series and storyline is part of my long-term project ‘The Successors’. There are many unique and extraordinary cultures worldwide whose future lies in the hands of their modern-day successors—young individuals whose decisions and personal journeys will determine the future of ancient arts and traditions, shaping the world of their communities for thousands of years.
Join me as I explore more of these stories of succession and try to uncover the future of these relics of the human experience.
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