CHENNAI: Whether you are a Malayalee or otherwise, Onam calls for full-fledged celebrations. It doesn’t take ethnicity and roots to appreciate a good kasavu sari, the crisp white mundu with the karai, the elaborate sadhya and the signature pookalam. The younger generations might even add a favourite Mallu movie in the mix.
With the harvest festival having become more cosmopolitan, much of the festivities have taken a whole new avatar for Malayalees themselves. And with it, the idea of prosperity — an element that goes hand in hand with the festival that celebrates the arrival of King Mahabali to his lands — has changed over the years too. It’s even more so for Malayalees far from home, it seems.
Migrations and the Malayalee spirit
Nothing compares to celebrating Onam back home in Kerala, begins Rajalakshmi, whose father Achuthan Nair moved to Chennai in search of a fresh start at the tender age of 12. By the time Rajalakshmi (his second child) was born, he had a thriving restaurant set up in Choolaimedu. Leaving that behind to visit their hometown in Kerala was not an option when she was a kid. But, they were able to make merry with the whole band of relatives in the city and that made up for it pretty well.
“Pookalam was a big thing back then. Those days, there was no Koyambedu market but there were a lot of trees in our neighbourhood. We’d go about picking the flowers that were available and come back home to make the kolam. There was a lot of garden space in the house too. It’s not so anymore. We have to make do with a kolam inside the house,” she narrates.
To her late father, by all means the head of the whole family unit, Onam was all about being able to provide for the family — be it good food, new clothes for the kids or gathering everyone under one roof. Preparation would start a month in advance. But, that role has changed for the subsequent heads of families, suggests Chandrasekar, Rajalakshmi’s husband. “In those days, Onam was just a family affair. Even our neighbours didn’t know much about it. By the time we were married, the celebration included the neighbourhood. We would visit them and give sweets and chips. In the next generation, even the market was ready for it,” he says.
For Susan Thomas, who was raised in Thiruvananthapuram and spent a good three years in the US before settling down in Chennai, the festival called for newer traditions than those from her Kerala days; ones that she shared with her Hindu neighbours.
“As a Christian, Onam was celebrated with the Hindu families of the neighbourhood, who would provide us with sadhya and gifts that we reciprocated on Christmas. We looked forward to the day, saving our best attires to match the new clothing of our peers. We hung out the oonjal (swing), collected flowers for pookalam and eagerly awaited the feast,” she recounts.
But, years since that migration, their celebrations have become far more nuclear. They have moved to cooking their own sadhya; became a part of the Kerala Catholic Society for its many events. “Now, people celebrate within their friend circles. My sons, who live in the USA, send me pictures of them in mundu and jubba and my daughters-in-law in half saris bought for Onam,” she points out.
Locals vs the diaspora
While the rules of the game have constantly been changing for people of Rajalakshmi’s and Susan’s generation, the change has been much more stark and rapid for their children and beyond. For Maryann Thomas, having lived in the UK for a while, the festivities have filtered down to focus just on friends and food. “There are similar Malayalee communities here; however, I am not personally involved. For us, the celebration of Onam has continued through friends and food. We get dressed up, get together and bring traditional dishes for a feast. There is still a bond between the Malayalees here but more through food than festivities,” she says. Her children — five-year-old Ishaan and two-year-old Anya — are not used to the sadhya flavours yet.
For the generation that is still Chennai-bound, things went in a vastly different direction, it seems. For one, sadhya got more and more elaborate, says Rahul, Rajalakshmi’s son. “Ironically, people in our family moving out (of the grandparents’ house, some even to other countries) happened during the liberalisation era. It was when we moved to our own house in the 90s that we came to know about the Koyambedu market. Then, without the constraint of just what was available in the neighbourhood, the pookalams became a very grand affair.
The market offered more vegetables to the mix; so, sadhya also became very grand. A lot of this was also influenced by the cable TV revolution that happened in the 90s. We were able to see on Asianet that Mahabali was coming ten days before Onam (how many people know that Onam is a 10-day affair?), there were programmes and all of this had a cultural impact on Malayalees outside Kerala,” he explains. This is where organisations like the Kerala Samaj and the Malayalee Samaj (they were members of the latter’s Choolaimedu chapter) began playing an active role in the festivities too. The Onam chanda (market) allowed for such a communal celebration, he says.
While Rahul’s children — Aashrith and Anugraha — are only toddlers, his older brother’s seven-year-old, Dhwani, looks forward to the pookalam part of the day — much like her grandmother had. She also feels that she is grown up enough to be seated at an elai by herself and have the entire sadhya autonomously.
And from his vantage point, his US, UK and Canada-based relatives are more invested in the festivities, given how much distance has deprived them. “Much like last year, this time too we hope to catch up with our relatives abroad over a video call. The custom is to show our flower decoration to them and they will show theirs to us. The folks in Kerala stop with just a “Happy Onam” message. The spirit of the festival is stronger among people who have migrated out of Kerala,” he remarks.
Customised traditions
Dhanya Ajay reports that their family has managed to preserve their version of Kerala-ness through the years. Living in the same apartment as her parents and sister’s family (each on a different floor) certainly seems to have helped. Her father, V Mohanan, had moved to the city of his wife Latha Mohan a few years after their wedding. A marine engineer by profession, he began his career in Guruvayur as a ship repairer and sailor. He moved to the city when sailing was no longer feasible and now trains youth for the merchant navy as the CEO of the Maritime Foundation. His memories of Onam consists of celebrating farmers and feeding them in exchange for their paddy at the temple.
“We have tried to teach our children what we have learned from our parents,” he remarks. Dhanya, on her part, adds that her parents have tried to keep them in touch with their Keralite background. “No matter what, dad would ensure that we put pookalam. My sister and I also make sure that we and our kids do so at least for the last three days of Onam,” she says.
Her 21-year-old son Siddhanth emphasises, “While in my grandmothers’ stories they had a huge tharavadu with 50-60 people staying under one roof, our comparatively small household still celebrates together, sometimes inviting friends and relatives.” Keeping traditions alive has still given way to small changes. All-day celebrations at home with elders now feature events at the Malayalee Club in this family too; Dhanya and her siblings would participate when they were young.
Speaking of what has changed and what hasn’t, Latha says, “Nowadays, people order in sadhya instead of making it at home and you can’t blame them, they are busy. But, in our family, we make sure to cook as much of the sadhya as possible and everybody in the family helps out. We have a proper traditional, vegetarian meal in the afternoon, sometimes followed by a little bit of non-veg to satiate the children. But, by and large, there has been little change. It is important for us that our children and grandchildren are aware of their roots.”
And so it goes, another year of Onam brings with it a whole range of festivities tailormade to everyone’s liking. With Netflix and Hotstar to boot. Perhaps the generations to come will add their own iteration to it. Until then, Onam ashamsakal!