Photo by vijvijvij.

How To Make A Kolam

Front porch, jasmine flower, sandstone powder, interdependence of all beings, sunrise.

For the women of Tamil Nadu, India, sunrise heralds the creation of kolams. Kolams, also called rangoli, are cosmic welcome mats, made up of geometric designs made of dots connected with curved lines. Drawn on the ground at the entrances of homes, they are believed to be auspicious.  Kolam–making is an ancient art symbolizing grace and harmony. The curved lines of the kolam are believed to prevent evil spirits from entering the home.

Everyday kolams are simple. Holiday and festival designs are more complex. So widespread are kolams in South India that the home lacking one stands out as experiencing a recent death or illness. When I was twenty, I spent time with an Indian host family in Tamil Nadu. My host sister, Devi, 19 at the time, had been named after the Divine Mother in Hindu culture and in her family’s home, she was the kolam-maker.

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It was still dark when I met Devi on her concrete doorstep for instruction. She wore a salwaar-kameez with long, flowing scarf called a dupatta. Her long hair has been braided and pinned with a freshly cut jasmine flower. She was a student at the local college, so her family had already begun the search for an appropriate husband. Soon she would spend her sunrises making kolams on the front porch of her new husband’s home. She could not say when, exactly.

The street was alive despite the early hour. Motorized rickshaws scooted past, enroute to downtown offices, puffing noxious diesel fumes. Chai-wallahs carried samovars of hot, sweet tea. Oxcarts ambled past, loaded with sticks and branches. The musky smell of morning meditation incense wafted from neighboring homes.

Devi swept the remnants of yesterday’s kolam from the doorstep. Once the step was clear, she wetted it down. Kolams adhere better to a damp surface, she explained. We waited. She fluffed a container of ground sandstone powder, the preferred medium of expression. Rice powder, eaten by ants and other insects, traditionally used for kolam-making, represents the interdependence of all beings.

With a single, deft movement, my host sister connected the dots with curved, meandering lines and squiggles. The process is considered a form of yogic meditation as well as an outlet for creativity and expression. I stepped out onto the street, noting the many kolams blooming before my eyes. As the hours advanced, the blowing wind, moving feet and meandering insects would take their toll. Tomorrow, at sunrise, the process would begin anew.

—Marthe Weyandt