A Journey to the sub-continent

My Indian Adventure

Back in the mid 80’s, I created Australia’s martial arts magazine, ‘Blitz’.
It was a successful venture and allowed a martial arts rat like me, to eke
a living doing what I most loved to do. I had previously had many dozens
of training trips to South East Asia – many for months at a time – but I
had only visited the sub-continent once; and I was keen to do a deeper
exploration. The magazine provided a perfect excuse to undertake the
trip and so bags were packed and along with an old friend of mine, I
boarded a flight to New Delhi.

After a few days in Delhi, visiting several of the more famous Indian
wrestling schools (Akhada’s) where locals trained in the common
grappling style of Kushti; my good friend Ron and I decided to head south
to the desert, in search of a very particular and infamous combative art
known as Vajramushti.

So off we went; and via a series of planes, trains and automobiles, we

came to the city of Baroda in the state of Gujarat. I arrived with a very
clear sense of purpose.

I had acquired in my previous visit a very rare book from the state
reference library in New Delhi. The book had no real monetary value, but
as only 500 copies had ever been published, and those back in the
1960s, it would be difficult, if not impossible, to obtain for any who sought
it. The name of the book was the Mallapurana. I have copy number 174
and have a corrupt security guard to thank for it. In my defence, I do
treasure it and am convinced I have saved it from a dusty and lonely
existence in an unvisited room in the bowels of the New Delhi state
reference library. Enough said.
 The Mallapurana

This special book, the larger part of which is written in the ancient
Sanskrit language, describes an art called Vajramushti. This is an art that
was once practised by a family known as the Jesthimallas. What makes
this art so distinct and so very special is that it even survived at all.
Vajramushti is a grappling-based art but differs from other styles in that
the combatants are required to employ the use of knuckledusters during
their contests. There are very few rules in the Vajramushti contest. It is a
no-holds-barred affair that that at one time was declared illegal in India,
because of its singularly brutal nature. Wrestlers would fight with
knuckledusters tied to their right hands and could deliver blows to any
part of the adversary’s body. The contest was over only when one fighter
was rendered unconscious or gave a verbal admission of defeat.
The art is unique in that it combines grappling and striking techniques
with the use of weaponry in a no-time-limit, no-rules contest; a brutal art
by either ancient or modern standards. I was determined to talk to
someone who was at one time connected with this amazing form of
combat.

I had two leads to go on. The first was the fact that I knew the
Mallapurana was originally published in the city of Baroda, albeit back in
the 1960s. The second was that I knew that the members of this clan
were known as the Jyesthimalla, an unusual name by all accounts. Ron
and I stepped off the train and onto the dry, dusty streets of Baroda with
a strong sense of excitement.

At that time, the city of Baroda had more than one million inhabitants. I
had the name of the family I was looking for as well as two old photos
that were published in the original book. The photos of these fighters
showed them to be perhaps in their late forties or so; knuckledusters
strapped to their hands, competing in front of a crowd of cheering
onlookers. If they were still alive, they would have to be mid to late
seventies by now. I was not put off however, as I did seem to have some
knack for ferreting out the things that other people seemed to difficulty in
finding.

Challenge accepted.

With Ron in tow, I went straight to the university. I walked around the
university for half an hour until I found a young student that had both the
time and inclination to accompany me for a day in the capacity of
translator. He spoke excellent English, was intelligent, and seemed
fascinated that a foreigner had come to his hometown in search for
something he assured me did not exist. In fact, when I showed him my
treasured copy of the Mallapurana, he was astounded that such a thing
could ever have existed. And so, we had our team.

The other thing that I had guessed at was that the members of this
Vajramushti fighting family were originally Vaishnavas, that is,
worshippers of the god Vishnu. I ascertained that this was the case
because in both photos the Jyesthimallas had their heads shaven, except
for the ponytails that Krishna and Vishnu worshippers usually sported. It
was the only other clue I had. So, I asked my translator to take me to the
oldest, most renowned temple of Vishnu in the city. After an hour or so,
we found our way there. The temple was old and dusty, as most
everything else seemed to be in Baroda. We took off our shoes and went
inside; the cool interior was a relief from the oppressive desert heat that
we had been baking in for the last hour.

Upon my request, my translator asked one of the old priests if he had

ever heard of the Jyesthimalla family. The old man looked at me, didn’t
seem so happy about the whole thing, and in turn told us to go and ask
at the house across the street. So out we went and knocked on the old
green door of a small house not forty yards from the front of the temple.
A few seconds went by before it was opened by a large man; a man in
his seventies. A man with a lot of scars on his face.
Sri Sitaram – Jyesthimalla Caste
 Sri Sitaram sporting the Vajramushti – tool of trade with original
Jyesthimalla fighters.

My translator made a gurgling noise, and I wouldn’t be surprised if my

own mouth hadn’t dropped open. There he was the man in the photo!

The fact that the third person I had met in a city of over one million people
was the one of three people photographed for a book published some
twenty years earlier, was a mild surprise to me. I have had similar
experiences on many occasions and can no longer put it all down to luck.
Firstly, I had to find the book, which I wouldn’t have done had I not had
the desire and passion to further educate myself. I had to know a few
things; obviously, I had to know enough about religious practice to
understand that these fighters were Vaishnavas. Further, I needed to
have enough intelligence to know how little I really knew and hire myself
a translator-guide. And then of course, I had to ask the right questions.
But I do not see any of this as luck. I think that it is largely about noticing;
about noticing and having the passion to follow through.
I spent the rest of that day and some of the next talking, through my
utterly astonished translator, to this remarkable warrior. At the end of that
conversation, he agreed to give me some rudimentary instruction in this
amazing combative style … I felt very, very privileged.

The old fighter’s name was Shri Sitaram and he had been one of the
greatest fighters in the modern history of India. He seemed extremely
happy that someone was still taking an interest in what was obviously his
life’s work. He took me on a small excursion from his house, and after
tramping down a couple of narrow alleys, we came to a door closed shut
by an old-time English padlock. Shri Sitaram put a huge cast-iron key
into the old lock and after a bit of jiggling, opened it and the door that
had obviously not been used for a long time. We were then ushered into
a large room, in the centre of which was dug a round wrestling pit. At the
end of the room was a large statue of Nimbajadevi, an Indian goddess.
Perhaps a dozen or more small alcoves or niches were built into the walls
surrounding the pit. Each of these niches contained the treasured
weapon of the Vajramushti fighters, the knuckleduster carved from
buffalo horn.

The Vajramushti

Each weapon, Shri Sitaram explained to me, belonged to a champion of

the Vajramushti arena, many of which had been there before he was even
born. The Jyesthimallas, he said with tears in his eyes, were the greatest
and most fearless fighters to have ever walked the earth. It was plain to
see that this belief ran to the very core of his being and I find myself
moved deeply when I recall that moment with him even now.

Later that day, he summoned his younger brother, who was even then in
his late forties to join us in my first training session. I felt extraordinarily
privileged to be able to share such an experience with these amazing
warriors.

We spent time wrestling in their sacred pit, wearing cloth wrapped around
our hands (dipped in red ochre) to simulate the use of an actual
Vajramushti (the knuckleduster). Over the week that followed, I was
guided each day through the fundamentals of this art.

Suffice it to say, many of their takedown techniques were similar to those

employed by Kushti wrestlers; but with an added emphasis on controlling
the weapon-bearing arm of the opponent. They employed a strange
guard for protection against the obviously dangerous blows – one similar
in some respects to that ‘long guard’ used by Muay Thai fighters. They
held their forward hand in a weird way, with fingers and thumb held apart
and ‘sighted’ the opponents head through the gap between thumb and
fingers, waiting for an opportunity to strike with their weapon. In a way,
the forward hand was used like a kind of ‘gun sight’. That was one of the
unique elements of the style that stood out to me.
 Yours truly - JBW

The other thing that was strange, at the time, was that unlike Kushti
fighters, they seemed to embrace the idea of fighting from their back on
the ground; something abhorred by most wrestlers but of course,
common to the art we now know as Brazilian Jiu Jitsu.

Over the course of the week, Sri Sitaram took me through several striking
drills, several clinching techniques, some takedowns and some basic
groundwork, which included some joint locks and submission
techniques. One of the techniques that I struggled with at that time
(because I had yet to ‘discover’ Brazilian Jiu Jitsu’) was the technique
now known as ‘Omoplata’. This was executed from ones back, against
an opponent in between our legs (in our ‘Guard’) – and I recall thinking it
was complicated I the extreme. Now though, I look back and wish I had
a time machine and could visit again, knowing what I know now! Without
doubt, they knew what they were doing; I can only wonder at the skill
some of the Vajramushti fighters must have had, in their prime.

After some of the training sessions, we sat and talked; and I was treated
to several in-depth accounts of some of their more famous bouts.
According to Shri Sitaram, the Jyesthimalla clan was feared throughout
India. Even the iconic Indian wrestler, Gama, publicly declared that the
Vajramushti style was far too dangerous for the public and that only their
family should be allowed to continue the tradition. So, in the end, they
were reduced to fighting each other, which they did on special occasions
and public holidays, needing time in between bouts to recover from the
many serious wounds.

This huge, scarred, yet proud warrior had a deep sadness to him. His art
had all but died out; he was a man living in a time that neither understood
nor respected the art he had lived for. As I left his house for the last time,
I had tears in my eyes. I think Ron did as well.
That visit remains as one of most deeply moving experiences of my
martial arts life thus-far. Many people have since asked me to elaborate
on my Vajramushti experience; and so, my motivation to share not only
my own intersection with Sri Sitaram of the Jyesthimalla caste – but re-
publish the text itself for the benefit of any and all interested in ancient
Indian combative culture.
I only have a few pictures, of very poor quality, as these were the days
before the advent of digital cameras. My old friend and travelling
companion, Ron O’Brien has since passed away – and most of his
belongings, including the original photos of this trip, have been lost or
thrown away. Apologies for the bad quality images supplied.

Sri Sitaram and yours truly

Vajramushti today

After the in-depth conversations I had with Sri Sitaram back in the 80’s –
who assured me there were no longer any current practitioners of the art
left alive – I must conclude that Vajramushti has all but died out.

Some people have since told me that it still exists (but in secret) – and
these claims, I pop into the same file as sightings of the Loch Ness
monster. Some people have also pointed to the demonstrations at the
Mysore Palace – put on by the Royal family on Holi days and on the
Dasara festival (such demonstrations can be found easily on YouTube);
but again, anyone with any knowledge of serious combatives can see
that these ‘players’ have neither grappling (Kushti) experience nor
striking/defensive ability. Additionally, the matches are immediately
halted by the referees when they go to the ground – and this was most
definitely not the case in the original form. Besides, if the Royal Family –
people deeply committed to the preservation of Indian culture and art –
had genuine Vajramushti fighters on hand, they would in my view, most
definitely utilized them in this prized and important festival.

So no, I still do not believe that genuine Vajramushti is any longer

practised. Sri Sitaram himself was deeply saddened that these terrible
pantomimes of the original art were being touted as the ‘real thing’ – and
that was way back in the 80’s.
I, for one, require definitive proof. When someone plonks the corpse of
the Loch ness Monster on my driveway – I’ll believe it. Until then, I can I
remain a sceptic.

India has a remarkable history and my one wish, if I could have such a
thing, would be to have use of a fully functional time-machine. What
wonders we could witness.

With Sri Sitaram’s younger brother

Indian Clubs: used to develop shoulder strength and dexterity
Gaekwad's Oriental Serles
Pnblislied under the Authority of
the 11aharaja Sayajirao University
of Baroda.
General Editor :
B. J. Sandesara,
:M,A•• Ph,D.

No. 144