While Kalari has a wide range of weapons, from the dagger to the spear, it never feels violent. One of the first lessons you learn is that it’s a practice rooted in self-defence, not aggression. Strength has its responsibilities, and Kalari isn’t about power trips. In fact, a beginner’s journey starts with the Vandana Chuvadu, a step that salutes the opponent. It’s a gesture of respect, a silent request to avoid a fight.
Here’s a mouthful of sageness, I think. Can I be the bigger person? Can I still see the people who hurt me as human, as flawed, as layered as anyone else? As Michaela Coel once said in an interview, ‘See the brother in the enemy’?
And so, Kalari begins to alter me. I become more forgiving, more compassionate. And yet, I’m almost mule-headed when it comes to defending myself—brazen, unflinching and armed to the teeth when I stand up for myself. I am on my own team. “Our bodies store emotions in different ways,” my therapist explains during one of our sessions. “Expressing them through art forms can make it easier to let them out and handle those emotions better, especially when talking feels too much.”
Of course, there are days when I’m not in love with Kalari. Days when my body aches so loud, I just want to be oiled like a baby and left out in the sun. Days when I grumble about waking up at 6am, wondering why I can’t just stay in bed longer and doom-scroll. Days when I’m not ready to chase my urumi-wielding warrior princess fairytale, because honestly, I’d rather be a sloth stretched out on the couch, eating pazham pori (banana fritters) and nerding out over a good book. After all, some would say Kalari isn’t even relevant anymore. And in a way, they have a point. It has evolved from a combat discipline into a performance art, something to be showcased on stage, at cultural festivals or competitive games. For those who measure value in money or tangible outcomes, Kalari may seem quite useless.
But at the core of this martial art from Kerala lies ancient wisdom that is quiet, steady and irreplaceable. When I pick up my long staff to fight, I’m also learning how to stay calm under pressure. I realise that the real weapon is not what I hold in my hands, it’s me. The composed mind, the deadly stare, the unwavering focus, the knowledge of marma points that could still anyone—these are mine to carry, mine to alchemise.
