An Onam odyssey beyond borders

On the streets of Nagercoil, the days before Thiruvonam once meant hurried visits to crowded shops to buy Onakodi (Onam outfit). Writer Nanjil Nadan, who grew up in Nanjil Nadu, recalls that set- mundu or silk was beyond their means. We wore manja mundu (yellow dhoti). Most people were farmers, and we could not afford silk. Even getting three meals a day was a struggle, he says. Still, new clothes marked the festival, however modest. For us, Onam was always more important than Deepavali, he adds. That personal memory is reflective of how Onam travelled across borders and state lines. Nanjil Nadu, once part of Travancore, became part of Tamil Nadu only in 1956 after years of political struggle. Its people carried their Malayalam culture with them food, worship, language, and festivals. Onam endures as a marker of that history, still celebrated in border districts with a distinct flavour. Looking back into the history of Onam is a bit tedious, as there is no specific origin to this festival mentioned in history notes. Sociologist AM Kurup writes in The Sociology of Onam , The earliest known reference to Onam is found in Madurai Kanji, a Sangam poem from the 2nd century CE. It describes seven days of celebration in Madurai oblations to temples, duels and games, feasting, and a royal assembly where warriors, poets, and chieftains received gifts. Later inscriptions reveal how local assemblies institutionalised the festival. By the 16th century, travellers like Bartolommeo noted that Onam, celebrated over eight days, was dedicated to securing prosperity for the year, with people putting aside old pots, donning new clothes, and sharing food. Over time, power shifts transformed its religious landscape. Saivite sites gave way to Vaishnavite temples, and the presiding deity of Onam came to be identified with Vishnu. Kanniyakumari: A grandeur For Uma Sudhir, daughter of KT Sudhir who was once the president of Kanyakumari Malayali Samajam, Onam has become quieter with time. She recalls her childhood memories that involved gathering at her grandmothers house in Ernakulam, cousins laying pookalam together before the sadhya . Now, Onam is celebrated in individual homes. At the Samajam, we mark it on a convenient day, with competitions for schoolchildren, cultural programmes in Malayalam, and sometimes Pulikali on the streets. We also usually order in sadhya . Especially after Covid, things have become laid back. If there arent children at home, the pookalam is often skipped, she says. For Nanjil Nadan, Onams deep-rooted cultural connections remain strong through food. These days, everyone in Tamil Nadu just calls it payasam . But for us, its pradhaman . Ada Pradhaman, Paal Pradhaman theres always some kind of pradhaman . We dont make just any dessert for Onam. Also, we dont make non-veg for Onam, but we make it for Deepavali, he shares. Celebrations also spilled into the community. Under the tamarind trees, swings made of thick coir rope carried children and grandmothers alike. That marked the beginning of the festival. During Onam, theyd show some great Malayalam movies, he recalls. It was a rare chance for us. Thats how we got to see films like Oru Vadakkan Veeragatha . Music also filled the houses. We sang Maveli Naadu Vaanidum Kaalam , he adds. Today, the writer lives in Coimbatore. Ive lived here for 36 years. Onam is such a joyful festival. The citys diversity shapes its celebrations. About 35% of the people here are Malayalis, and the remaining are Telugu and Tamil speakers. So, its pretty cosmopolitan. Its not a distinctly Malayali festival. Basically, everyone celebrates it. Coimbatore: A porous border Artist Jitha Karthikeyan sees Onam in Coimbatore as inseparable from Kerala. From here, Valayar is just half an hour away. People go to Palakkad even for lunch, if they crave a Kerala meal, she says. The proximity keeps the culture alive in everyday life, not just during Onam. Now, she is struck by how porous the festival has become. I see Tamil and Telugu households making pookalam . Hotels are full with sadhya bookings from people who arent Malayalis. Festivals are no longer confined everyone celebrates what they find beautiful. Palakkad: A floral memory On the other side of the border, in Kalpathi, Palakkad, postmaster MN Lathadevi remembers the colours of the flowers that dominated houses. We used to put poochedi poovu , mukkutti poovu , thumbappoo , chembarathi , roses, and nithyakalyani . From Atham , we put pookalam for ten days. On Pooradam , we made matheru (small conical clay idols), on Uthradam three matherus , and on Thiruvonam we placed Maveli, she says. Each stage carried meaning. Pooradam is childrens Onam, Uthradam the elders, Thiruvonam everyones, and Avittam is for the married daughters who return to their homes. Today, marigolds from Tamil Nadu dominate, filling the absence of native blooms. Chennai: The many Onams In Chennai, Onam unfolds through associations and apartments. Pankajam Jayaram, who moved from Kannur 50 years ago, sees the contrast. We have to buy flowers and ingredients here. My mother made everything herself in Kerala, but in Chennai, we often order sadhya . Still, we share payasam with our neighbours. For businessman Manoharan Nambiar, the festival is a community stage. We celebrate in our apartment complex with about 50 Malayali families. Theres pookalam judged by celebrities, Mahabali goes around all the towers with chenda melam, and there are plays in English. We also serve free food to our housekeeping and security staff, he says. Meanwhile, Kudumbashree member Rejani Manohar recalls, Since ours is an all-women team, we made a woman Mahabali. In her household, Thalassery roots mean that the second days meal includes chicken biryani and date pickle served on banana leaves. Functionally, Onam plays a prominent role in the social integration of Keralites, irrespective of caste or creed. The rulers and the ruled, the employers and the employees, the landlords and the serfs, the high and the low all endeavour to achieve a common goal, share a common dream, and reflect the same aspirations, writes Kurup. Perhaps thats why Onam never sat still. It reappears in new places. For Jitha, what endures beyond geography or ritual is a shared ethos. Basically, it is about welcoming whether its a king in the legend, or simply a guest at the door. You may live in a tiny house, but you still clean the entrance, lay flowers, and serve food. That is our culture of hospitality. Let us take the spirit of oneness from it and celebrate, she concludes.