Kolam, the dotted patterns or floor art drawn by Tamil Hindu women, has been more than an aesthetic tradition. It is an ancient practice embedded in spirituality, discipline and cultural identity. Tamil women, often referred to as manaikku vilakaagiya vaanudhal, meaning “lamp of the house” in Tamil literature, begin their mornings by drawing kolams to welcome Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth and prosperity. Beyond its religious aspect, kolam also has a social, environmental, and even mathematical sense, requiring patience to connect dots to create fabulous patterns.
Traditionally drawn using rice flour to feed ants, birds and other tiny creatures, it has evolved beyond being a household ritual. It is not only drawn by Tamil Hindu women but other religious people. This tradition is followed in many parts of India with different names – in Tamil Nadu, it is Kolam, Jhoti in Odisha, Rangoli in Karnataka, Sathiya in Gujarat, Mandana in Rajasthan, Aipan in Himachal Pradesh and Muggu in Andhra Pradesh. The rice flour or the Kolamaavu (powder used to draw kolam) is taken in between the index and thumb fingers and drawn on the ground by drawing lines and dots to create those beautiful patterns. Maakolam is a wet paste of rice flour, another way in which a piece of cloth is dipped in it and drawn by squeezing it, through which the damp paste flows in the fingers and patterns drawn with it. It is also adorned with Kaavi (red paste of the powder of bricks) and Manjal (turmeric paste) to add more elegance to the Kolam on special occasions. Today, it serves as a silent but powerful means of protest. From the Jallikattu protests in 2017 and COVID-19 pandemic awareness campaigns to every Maatu Pongal, the festival honouring cattle, social media buzzes with trending cow-themed kolams, showcasing different artistic interpretations of cows. These modern adaptations reflect how kolam is continuously evolving and it has transitioned into an impactful medium of expression.
The scientific and meditative significance of kolam
Kolam is more than just an artistic tradition – a form of mind calculation, much like a form of yoga. Sitting down and cautiously deciding which dot to connect next requires patience and concentration, similar to a meditative state. This traditional art also has a scientific significance.
According to sociology professor Mr. Rajesh, kolam is deeply intertwined with circadian rhythms. Particularly during Margazhi month (December – January), considered the most divine month in the Tamil calendar, transforms temple towns like Srirangam into a serene sight, when daylight hours are shorter than other days, the streets are decorated with bright kolams drawn by women who rise before dawn to create awestruck designs in front of their homes, dressed in madisar. This practice exposes them to the early morning sun, providing vitamin D and regulating the body’s internal clock, not only to women but also to the group of men who sing bhajans of devotional songs in the streets of Agraharam. The air is filled with the fragrance of flowers; the aroma of filter coffee and the sound of Thirupaavai (hymn by Goddess Andal). The spiritual energy, combined with the artistry of kolams and also the health-conscious practice, makes Srirangam – a divine heaven, symbolising Tamil Nadu’s deep-rooted cultural and religious heritage.
A bonding experience across generations
Kolam peaked in the ’90s era when this traditional art form saw widespread practice and enthusiasm. Kolam practice books sold in large numbers with high demand, which included step-by-step instructions for both simple and complex designs that made beginners master the art at their own pace. At that time, in many neighbourhoods groups of girls would gather in the early mornings and evenings to practise kolam in their streets which also acted as a time for them to spend together as moments of bonding and laughter, beyond the societal restrictions they had then which limited them inside houses. Many of them preserved their notebooks filled with kolam sketches as a memory and also as treasured keepsakes of their childhood memory and there won’t be any Tamil house without a kolam book.
Many local television channels recognised kolam’s popularity and began hosting competitions, especially during Margazhi month, which drew in high viewership and encouraged public participation, sparking renewed interest in the traditional practice. Women from different backgrounds showcased their artistic skills, often incorporating innovative designs that blended classic motifs with modern interpretations. Beyond homes and television screens, Margazhi also transformed the streets into colourful canvases of creativity.
Streets turned into open galleries as women, young and old people, competed to create the most elaborate kolams. These competitions were not just about artistry – they symbolised cultural pride and the enduring relevance of a tradition that had been passed down for centuries. The nostalgia surrounding the ’90s kolam culture remains alive in the minds of those who grew up with it and the patterns once drawn on the streets and documented in old notebooks continue to inspire new generations to keep the tradition alive.
A silent protest: From Jallikattu to Hindi imposition movements
One of the most remarkable evolutions of kolam has been its role in protests. Tamil Nadu has a long history of integrating art with activism and kolam is no exception. During the Jallikattu protests in 2017, people used kolams to voice their demands, drawing large kolams with slogans like “We Need Jallikattu and veera vilaiyaattai nesipom” in front of their homes and sharing them on social media. This high-powered mode of expression drew national attention.
Also during the COVID-19 pandemic, households across Tamil Nadu used kolam to spread awareness about handwashing, wearing masks and maintaining social distance. The act of drawing such messages created a positive sense of social connectivity and collective responsibility. In 2019, when police denied permission for an anti-CAA protest, women in Chennai took to the streets and expressed their dissent through kolam. They drew patterns with messages like “No to CAA” and “Reject NRC” to make their voices heard in a peaceful, non-violent manner.
A more recent instance of kolam as a protest was witnessed in Tanjore and even in Mylapore against the imposition of Hindi and the New Education Policy. This unique protest method drew media attention and highlighted kolam’s potential as a feminist tool for resistance. Sociology professor Mr Rajesh believes that kolam, traditionally considered as a feminine activity, which was like a wake-up alarm for women to start their day. Women have predominantly been the torchbearers of this art form, but in recent years, men have started breaking those stereotypes by participating in kolam competitions and street kolam events. ‘More than just a cultural practice, kolam has also empowered women by giving them a voice in social issues and it could be a starting point for greater female political participation,’ he observed.
In Tamil Nadu’s socio-political landscape, kolam has fostered community bonding, encourages environmental responsibility and serves as a peaceful means of protest. The evolution from drawing lotus, stars and other simple patterns to a thematic protesting tool is commendable.
An evolution blending tradition and social change
Mahatma Gandhi believed in non-violence and Tamil women have incorporated a similar philosophy through their kolam protests. Whether advocating for farmers’ rights, gender equality or environmental issues, instead of raising their voices in rallies, they have found a medium through which they can express their objection without uttering a word, they let their kolams do the talking – simple rice flour designs into powerful political statements.
Kolam has long been a symbol of Tamil women’s resilience and creativity, it also remains as an integral part of religious and festive traditions, its transformation into a tool for protest speaks volumes about its evolving role in society. The ability to merge traditional art with activism reflects the strength of cultural heritage as a means of peaceful protest. It is no longer just a morning ritual – it is a statement, a connection to nature, a scientific practice and most importantly, women’s form of silent protest. The illaal (woman in Tamil literature), or “queen of the house,” who once decorated her doorstep for the gods, now uses the same patterns to make her voice heard. And in doing so, she keeps alive a tradition that is as powerful and beautiful as her.
