Onam is a feeling, many feelings

I have heard that before. And it felt right too. Now I agree with it —wholeheartedly. Well, it is a feeling of fullness, on the one hand. Of the stomach. 😀Kidding. But seriously, I had the good fortune to celebrate Onam with my mother and my sister’s family this year. It was perfect in every way, with the exception that some family members were absent, and one special one will never be there again. In fact there was some anxiety right before the day, as I hadn’t celebrated one for the last 10 years. My last Onam was the one we celebrated with my father. And exactly one month later, he was gone. And coincidentally, this year’s celebration fell on a September 6th, a Sunday, same as back then. A sensitive, disturbing time.

Like I said, it was a wonderful Onam. That little niggle of worry disappeared. Talked a lot, laughed a lot. Good times. Then as we were driving back to my place, the feelings started coming - in waves. It was a collage of memories, flashback scenes of old Onams, faces that were dear to me, the sheer happiness that seemed to envelope me. Onam is a feeling.

Memories

The brown checked border on my pattu pavada (long silk skirt) and the check blouse that my dad bought for me and my sister, as onakkodi. My baby sister was not born yet. Wonder what my brother was doing amidst all this! Like in a Hindu household, we started making pookkalam (flower design in the front yard) on Atham day. 10 days before the main day- Thiruvonam. We got up early, showered, picked flowers from the yard, wild and garden, and made simple designs enthusiastically. Meanwhile quarterly exams lent a different kind of excitement. Onam is the longing. For freedom, for good times, for gatherings. The anticipation.

The rains will have stopped by the time vacation started. That last day of the exams was the best, that feeling was the best! Smiling from ear to ear, we threw our bags down and set out to enjoy the season. The sun was shining, the world was bright and green. In the countryside, harvest season was in full swing. The heady aroma of harvested rice, going through the process of being threshed, boiled, dried.... .Ponds and little streams were overflowing and little fish jumped up and about. While little white “thumbappoo” and yellow mukkutti peeped shyly on the banks. And the dragonflies! They zoomed around like busy choppers and we chased them with abandon.

And on Onam day, the grand design of flowers that we planned on a notebook paper at first and then on the ground. And the memory of my mom letting us know, “ that’s enough of picking all the flowers in the yard, Appachan will get you flowers from town.“ And every year, he got us piles of flowers from the flower market,for Onam day. Marigolds, chrysanthemums, amaranths, ...we made our pookkalam. Our mother will be busy in the kitchen. Like a little whirlwind, she will be doing her magic shouting orders, directing others, and cooking away. Onam is family. The ideal.

And then the sadya. We sat on woven palm leaf mats and ate from banana leaves. My parents, my siblings and a few relatives. My father’s face as he smiled at my mom, at us.It was heaven. Contentment. All is well with the world! Carefree. Idyllic. That all encompassing feeling of loving and being loved. Safe and secure. Of belonging and being a part of something wonderful. It was Onam. The feelings of Onam. Onam is love. It is home.

And the lying around afterwards. As usual, mom would have gone overboard with the sadya items. (My mother who stood young and tall!) And we have a sneaky Onam on Good Friday, which , I hear , is now frowned upon by certain church authorities . Anyway, before all of today’s extreme pieties, we were fortunate to have had those days. So after lunch, we children lounged on the cool floors, tummies full and hearts bursting with joy. For a few minutes, then we were off jumping around again till tea time. As I sat in the car reliving those days again, I realize how dependent all that happiness was on my parents’ efforts! How they made it all so special for us. How hard they worked to make it so. And how we missed those days, and how we missed our father! I felt immense gratitude to them. Onam is a feeling - of gratitude. A blessed feeling.

Onam has its roots in Hindu mythology, but it is our national festival. Each Malayali regardless of caste and religion, wherever they are, observes it, celebrates it one way or the other. In awaiting our great King Mahabali, we are one. For me the last ten Onams were a blur. Somehow I pretended I was busy otherwise, and deliberately ”forgot” about it. But it was there at the back of my mind. In my heart. Maybe that is why it was so intense this time. I can never forget it altogether, as it is part of who I am, and how I feel. Such a feeling. Even without the sadya, or the new clothes, the Onam in my heart will evoke all kinds of warm feelings. Of wistfulness, of hope, and of love. And have to add, Appachan would have loved this Onam too.