FIGHT FOR SURVIVAL: Selvam has passed on his skill to nearly a thousand men

Three men armed with youth and bamboo sticks advance menacingly towards a man shrunk with age. There's palpable tension in the the swelling crowd. But just as the sticks come raining down, a radical change comes over the puny old man. Throwing off the veritable camouflage of the grey hair, he ducks, blocks and shoves off the aggressors with lightning agility that belies his 80-odd years. And in his movements are grace and rhythm that have sustained through nearly a thousand years.

It is a demonstration of silambam, the traditional martial art of Tamil Nadu whose origins may have been lost in antiquity, but whose future a little old man is bent on securing. For 62 years now, Sellasamy Thevar alias Selvam has been practising, and more significantly helping preserve the dying art of silambam. A harmonious blend of deft moves, silambam is a defence skill now, a dance the next. While the other well-known martial art form of south India, Kerala's Kalaripayattu, involves bare hands and swords, silambam is essentially a stick fight that a committed student can master in about three years. Silambu, as the stick is called, is made from a special type of bamboo known as kalmoongil and transforms into a deadly weapon in the hands of a master wielder.

"I must have trained more than a thousand youth," says Selvam. He, however, believes not everyone is cut out to pursue the martial art; for some the glamour wears thin after a while, the others lack patience. The steps are not too difficult "but some youngsters are so impatient that they want to rush ahead without knowing the basics. Perseverance is a requisite if you want to learn silambam", says Selvam as he readies for another round of demonstration. This time, the combat is more furious. Five minutes into the defence-offence foray Selvam freezes mid-action, his silambu inches away from the young trainee's face. "Delayed reaction such as this can cost you your life. Now you know why you should practise regularly," he admonishes the student.

He should know. Born in Puliyankulam village of Sivaganga district, Selvam started learning silambam at 18. He completed the basic training the same year under Periyaambillai, a renowned trainer in Virudhunagar district. He soon excelled in the combat form and at 22 began offering lessons to other young men-though women are not barred, it continues to be an essentially male domain. By 30, his expertise had spread to southern districts with landlords and village chieftains vying to engage him as their security chief. After serving under several established landlords, Selvam took up a job in Thanjavur to train the youth in the region. He moved to Madurai only about five years ago where he now owns a petty shop.

But the silambam expert refuses to dispense with his skill for propagating needless aggression. "This combat form can help you defend yourself against a hundred armed people but I will not teach it to those who want to use it to assault people," he says determinedly . "For me, silambam is the sacred art of self-defence and mind control," he explains. "It hurts me when I see it being used for violence or when it is performed on political platforms as part of the stop-gap entertainment."

Paradoxically, silambam helps not just to enhance concentration and sharpen reflexes, but also give, unlike other martial arts, peace of mind, avers P. Pandyan, one of Selvam's students. "I was extremely short-tempered and believed martial arts made one more aggressive. But learning silambam has changed me completely," he says. "I am not through with my training yet but don't get worked up so easily now. Besides, Selvam has infused in me an urge to preserve this dying martial art."

The inspiration follows from example. Despite the measly Rs 500 the state Government grants him as pension for promoting the martial art, Selvam's devotion is complete. His disciples pay him Rs 200-300 per month as fees though he never insists on it. And age is no barrier. At 80, Selvam is going strong: he stands erect like his silambu, does not use spectacles and flashes a healthy set of teeth after flooring a young trainee. He neither smokes nor drinks, and any free time is spent acting in dramas and singing devotional songs. For now though, Selvam is busy rolling a fresh betel leaf-a forgivable indulgence-and chewing it hard, readies to train the next batch.