Onam, the festival of unity

Onam lands on September 8th this year, and every Malayali heart wherever it is, will skip a beat that day. It’s a nostalgic season which takes us back to our childhoods, to the country lanes, swings hung on the branches of mango trees, green rice fields, blue skies and clear streams hugging coconut palm groves. Here’s the story behind it, a story close to our hearts.

Once upon a time  Keralam was ruled by the perfect Asura/demon King Mahabali /the Great Bali. During his reign all were equal. No cheating, lying, or thieving or plundering. No wars, diseases or famine. Happy, content, the people loved their King. The gods/devas got jealous, and worried that they maybe forgotten, rushed over to their chief, Maha Vishnu. A plan was devised to exploit the king’s famed generosity. Vishnu took the form of a dwarf Brahmin/Vamana, went to Bali, and asked for three feet of land, which Mahabali granted. The Vamana grew huge, as he measured all of earth with one step, and the heavens with the other. He looked at the king for the third, by then the King knew who this person was. The King bowed his head before the god, and Vishnu placed his third step on the King’s head. Before he was sent to the netherworld, Mahabali asked for one thing - could he come visit his people once a  year? Vishnu agreed. 

So every year on Onam day, Mahabali or Maveli returns. No matter how hard their lives are, people present  happy faces to their king. Onam is our harvest festival.The heavy rains gone, the harvesting will be ongoing, the roadsides green, heavy with wild flowers. Dragonflies assume their drone duties. Decked in  traditional outfits, we prepare our world for Mahabali. Depicted as a jovial, big bellied, big mustached man, in a yellow dhothi and wooden slippers, a golden crown on his head, a palm leaf umbrella in his hand, the return of the King, is the magical bittersweet foundation of the season. Following the Malayalam calendar, the festivities begin on Atham day, and on the tenth day, the grand finale of Thiruvonam occurs. Pookkalams, designs with fresh flowers appear in yards, along with clay Thrikkakarappans/Father Onams representing Vishnu. As the end of quarterly exams coincides with Onam vacation, children participate joyously.

Laughter, games, dances, and sadhya, the elaborate vegetarian lunch served on banana leaves. The star of the sadhya is our own brown streaked plump matta rice, accompanied by a number of  dishes, most embellished with coconut in various forms- ground, grated, dried, fried, milked, and spiced. A place is set for the King. We begin dipping daintily into parippu and neyyu/ daal and ghee, followed by a frenzied nosedive into Sambar, Aviyal, oalan, erissery, koottucurry, to a steady glide over kaalan, mezhukkupuratti, thoaran, injanpuli, varavukal, wading in pachadi, kichadi, pappadam, ripe plantain, coming up for air with banana chips, in several avatars, pickles/achar, relishes, a  gentle splashing in spiced buttermilk, and  rasam, and end in an exhilarating plunge into the  sweet oblivion of payasams. 

Apart from the sadhya, each region, each temple, and each Hindu family  has its own traditional rituals. Aranmula temple traditions come to mind, for instance . Pulikkali/tiger dance, Kummattikali, Onatheyyam are some of the various folk arts performed during Onam. Vallamkali, Kerala’s snake boat races, accompanied by its rhythmic vanchipattu/boat songs is a staple.

The paradox that is the story of Onam, where the good demon is  punished by  the good gods, is intriguing. And while Malayalis celebrate the return of our King, other Indians celebrate Vamanjayanthi, victory of Vamana/ Vishnu, the god over the demon. Kerala Hindus worship  Vishnu and Vamana, but they also celebrate Bali. We all do. And we don’t just give the devil his due, grudgingly, we give it wholeheartedly, gleefully, proudly.  Food for thought.

Significantly, now I am aware that things aren’t idyllic at all behind the scenes. Not sure if there was a real King named Mahabali, if the myth was real. I hear there is an Emperor mentioned in the Bhagavad Gita, on the banks of the Narmada named Bali. That his flaw was his great pride in his goodness, for which he was punished by the gods. Then I hear that Thrikkakara in Kerala was where his palace was, and that is where Vamana appeared. And then there is the other side. The Onam story, as with many romanticized holiday origin stories, has some legitimately sinister, very real hurtful, ugly truths behind it, the consequences of which are still experienced by many. History/her stories of domination and plundering of the indigenous people of a land, by newcomers. Whatever the story is behind the myth, I prefer the part of the story where we, as one, wait for our great and good King, showing our best sides to him. 

And While acknowledging all that pain and anger of the displaced and the dispossessed , and knowing that we have a long way to go to reach that perfect world, with love and respect, during Onam, we focus on our collective intermingled cultural and genetic ancestry. A culture that evolved out of a coexistence spanning over thousands of years. Bringing people together, Onam is a symbol of hope- for a better, equal world for all.

Happy Onam, everyone!

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.