What Onam Means To Me

On Monday the 27th of this month Onam festival will be celebrated with usual gust and pomp by the Malayalee families irrespective of caste and religion in Kerala, the southernmost tip of India.Onam is a harvest festival and the most important event for the millions of Malayalees (people of Kerala) all over the world.

According to the legend, Maveli or Mahabali, a mystical king of Kerala was a epitome of happiness to his subjects in Kerala. He was known for his large heartedness in helping the poor people that no one returned empty handed from him. The gods got worried over his wise rule and that he was becoming too powerful. They approached Lord Vishnu ( the god of preservation) for help to curb his power. Lord Vishnu, disguised as a dwarf Vamana, came to Mahabali asking for boon. Vamana asked him to grant to three pieces of land wherever he placed his feet. Mahabali agreed to his wishes. Thereupon Vamana from a dwarf suddenly became a giant. He first placed his feet that covered the whole sky, the second was over the whole of the earth and he could not find place for his third stride. Thereupon Mahabali placed his head under the giant's feet. Lord Vishnu was so impressed with his noble act that he granted Mahabali one wish. He wished that he be allowed to visit his beloved state once in year to see his subjects.

On Thiruvonam, the Malayalees rise early morning and take a oil bath. Later they don newly purchased dress with men attired in spotless white mundu (Cloth wrapped around the waist till the feet) and a jubba on top (neck less shirt). The women wear cream coloured saris with gold weaved border. Their hair is decked with jasmine flowers.

Outside in the courtyard, different coloured flower petals in various designs are laid out. An oil lit lamp takes centre stage as girls decked in traditional dress sing and sway in circles to the Onam folk songs.

At noon all are treated to a feast of onam sadya (lunch) which comprises of rice and an assortment of vegetables and then is washed down with sweet payasam (broth).

I belong to malayalee parents and was born outside Kerala, yet for thousands of people like me, Onam links us with Kerala. In the global tourist map, Kerala is commonly known as god’s own country as it is considered a paradise in earth. Onam day always holds a special moment in my life. I get nostalgic about my childhood days spent in Kerala during the summer holidays. When school closed for summer vacations, my parents would take me to Kerala for a month long holiday. Staying in the city of Mumbai, I always felt cut off from my distant relatives and cousins so visiting Kerala was always a joyful occasion to meet them.

In those days, the journey to Kerala was long and tedious, having to spend two grueling nights holed up in the cubicle of a rocking Jayanthi janata train. Throughout the journey, I would remain glued to the window, looking out and savoring the boundaries of meadows, mountains, plains and rivers disappearing past me. Early in the morning of the third day, I would get excited as the train would run along the coastal belt of Kerala. As I rolled up the rust-laden window shutters, a gush of cool wind would hit me. I would close my eyes and take a deep breath, wafting in the wet soil of the earth from the overnight drizzle. The rest of the journey would be a feast for the eyes, seeing the farmers tilling the green paddy field, rows of boats heaped with coconuts husks sailing in the glittering rivers, Chinese fishing nets dangling from seabed, tiny villages with thatched houses hidden amidst the swaying palm trees, and women spinning long threads of husk in a rope coir factory.

Once I reached into the comfort of my tiled home it was an altogether different experience. The smell of fire soot emanating from the kitchen would hit my nostrils as women puffed air through the short narrow round pipe to light a fire in the clay stove. The women folk would sweat it out standing near the heated kitchen, busy preparing the morning breakfast for a large household.

Breakfast consisted of a southern delicious preparation of idlis ( rice cakes) and dosas (wet rice and gram paste flattened and heated), served with hot piping sambar and crunchy coconut curries. At lunch and dinner, boiled rice was served with curries. Mangoes and jackfruits were the delicacies of the season.

I would savor my breakfast and lunch under the watchful and warm presence of my granny while the aroma of jasmine flowers wafted through the window. In the evenings, we cousins would play hide and seek, running atop the rain soaked slippery tiled roof, and at times due to our weight, the tiles would cave in and our feet get stuck. This incident would be a well kept secret to avoid getting a thrashing from our uncles till the next rain would bring the water leaking through the wooden ceiling. The nights were so dark and in the pin drop silence, the wall clock would hammer tick tick so loudly. At times, the sound of the big house rats scurrying around the rooftop would make me petrified. In the middle of the night, when I got up to piddle outside the house courtyard (then the toilets were detached from the main house) I would get over the act fast, fearing the looming shadows of the swaying palm trees. Cows tied to the shed would never get tired of repeated mooing all night when hungry.

Out on the lush green paddy fields, walking through the narrow hedges of the water canal was a tricky balancing act. It was a thrilling experience lying below the palm tree enjoying the evening breeze and to listen to the drums beating and hymns emanating from the nearby temple. The deep throated humming of the brown kites from treetops and the sound of the passing bullock driven rickety carts were music to the ears.

I am not much of a religious type, yet I enjoyed visiting temples in Kerala; the inner ambience of the temple and the smell of the soot emanating from the oil lit lamps would stir my thoughts.

Sadly today I find much of the past Kerala missing, thanks to rapid urbanization taking place there. The lush green paddy fields are fast disappearing, due to lack of labourers and youth unwilling to take up farming. The forest land is fast depleting to hotels and lodges. The state boasts of 100 percent literacy but unemployment is one of the banes of the society. The state is lagging far behind in industrial development due to the fear of business community to invest in the state thanks to the Communist-driven militant labour policy. Hartal (strikes) and protest marches on the streets is the order of the day. Its fractured election mandate sees the state ruled in turns by either the Congress or Communist-led coalition governments. Today the state economy is managed from the thriving tourist industry and from the millions of petro-dollar remittance sent by tens of thousands of expatriates toiling hard abroad.

So on Onam day, when Mahabali visits the state of Kerala, I wonder what would be his impression of this once prosperous and happy state.