The Back Home Blog: Onam's Sunday (BH:D39)

September 11, 2011

Tara and Ajith left this morning for Bengaluru on the 7:20 flight. We drove to the airport around 5:45am to see them off. It was still dark and the roads were slick from the all night rain. The drive seemed long. It was definitely longer than the time it took for me to come home after landing on August 4th. Turns out the international terminal and the domestic terminal are 3 to 4 kilometers apart. We had to stop at one point to ask the people who were sheltering themselves from the morning drizzle under the narrow overhangings of the roofs of the shuttered shops.

Right before reaching the domestic terminal, the road passes by the Shanghumukham beach. I haven't seen her since 2002. Millions of waves have attempted to wrinkle her face since then, but this sea, in the faint morning light, looked just as full of youthful vigor as ever. The beautiful, blue Arabian sea.

Very few passengers at the domestic terminal. The ones who were there looked like they had been dragged out of bed. One girl looked like she genuinely hated the trip she was about to make. It took me a while to realize that she was not a girl but just a short young lady. Lucky the realization came before I tried to make funny faces to cheer her up. A gray-haired father figure had come to drop her. Quite possibly she was going back to her lessons in Bangalore after the Onam holidays.

A husband, wife and their young son were being sent off my the husband's friend. Must have been a very good friend for though the wife only shook his hand, the husband repeatedly kissed him on the cheeks (facial). I don't think the friend quite appreciated the repeated scrubbing with Bulgan beard that his cheek was receiving. The common public displays of affection here happen to be of the same sex kind.

Our own newly married couple seemed happily relieved to get away from the hectic schedule all the traditions and visits had put them through. Once they checked in, we left the airport.

On the way back, we parked by the beach for a few minutes. The sea has claimed a lot of the land. In the 33 years of my life, it has advanced at least 33 meters inland. An old sea-side palace of the royal family, in which Indian Coffee House now operates, stands hardly 50 metres from the breaking waves today. In 50 years, it will begin submerging. Perhaps royal families anticipate the ultimate victory of the sea over their dynasty when they decide on the placement of their beach resorts. Legend has it that Parasurama created Kerala by throwing his axe into the sea and cleaving out the land. The opposite of the popular deodarant Axe effect. Every day the sea has been claiming back her land, patiently, indiscernibly but tirelessly!

Today is the day of Chathayam, famous as the birthday of Sri Narayana Guru, the enlightened spiritual and social leader of Kerala who can claim a place in the pantheon of revolutionaries like Buddha and Jesus. He established educational institutions here and famously installed a mirror in the sanctum of a temple instead of the usual idols. "One caste, One religion, One god for all mankind" is his famous slogan oft repeated by his followers who have claimed him to belong to their own caste and have established "exclusive" organizations to spread his message of love, equality and compassion.

Watching India vs England one day cricket match on good old Doordarshan. The commentators still believe they are on radio and keep stating the painfully obvious. After each over, ads come on to remind Indian women that they should aspire for the complexion of the erstwhile colonial overlords to have any value in this apparently independent country..

Today being the Sunday of the state Onam celebrations, we decided to visit the main centers of attraction. More importantly, rain was staying away. The whole city seems to have had our sentiments. Amma and I left home first. Our ultimate destination was a concert (Gaanamela) that was set to start at 7pm. Achan was to join us there. On our way to the main road that would be closed for traffic, there was a little boy walking in front of us holding both his parents' hands. That would have been me 25 years ago.

With this growing sense of nostalgia, I reached Kanakakunnu palace, the main hub of celebrations.

It was an ocean of people!

In hundreds, in thousands, in tens of thousands, men, women and children, flooding the streets.

It was overwhelming.

It was emotional.

All the past 15-16 years, it was the immensity of the crowd that was missing in all my Onam celebrations.

I stood there for a while remembering all the friends in Mumbai and in the USA who had substituted for this quantity with the quality of their friendship making each Onam memorable.

It was the most unexpected memory in that moment for me. Laughs and smiles from the last decade and more flashing by.

Life is all about people, isn't it?

We walked to the Museum. Thousands were already seated on the lawns and benches there. Children running around with balloons and balls. Groups of friends establishing their reign on the road, walking side by side, covering the width. Nuclear families with almost always the dad carrying the child and the wife hurrying behind. Couples barely holding hands. Lonely old men.

In front of the Band stand, Neyattinkara Agasthya Kalari Sangham were preparing for a martial arts display. There was some time before they started, so we walked around the museum grounds. Girls were enjoying the swings hung from the trees.

There was a surprisingly long queue at the portable potties (porta-potties) which had hoardings of pretty models dressed in Jayalakshmi silks on either side. Perhaps the line here was long because the permanent museum urinals were housed in a building that carried a huge board announcing the building as "Urinal Block". That certainly doesn't sound healthy.

The women queuing was understandable, but the men! Even while walking to the museum this very evening, I had seen a couple of moms train their little boys to urinate behind the trees. This is the 'po-tree' (go to the tree) training most boys receive along with potty training here.

I heard snatches of conversations in several languages. Half the crowd, especially youngsters, looked more Tamilian than Malayalee. That should explain the hitherto inexplicably large number of actor Vijay fan clubs in the city. There was Hindi and Telugu being spoken. An old man with long, gray hair wearing a kurta and dhoti with a cotton bag over his shoulder was guiding two small boys through the crowd. All three of them sat on the ground to watch the Kalaripayattu (indigenous martial arts). They spoke a language I couldn't identify.

There were two manual laborers, mere skin and bones, from somewhere in northern India dressed in what must their best polyester shirts with embroidery, were walking hand in hand. I am glad Onam spirit caught them too. I hope they had a good meal on Onam.

After watching Kalaripayattu for a few minutes, we walked over to the Public Office building where a stage had been erected for the concert. The street illumination had come on and the roads were closed for traffic. Rivers of people flowed on either side of the road.

This was the less glamorous concert of the evening. On Poojapura grounds, national award winner Madhu Balakrishnan was singing. The concert we went to featured Akashavani (state-owned radio) singers and a couple of others who were famous through TV shows. It was a presentation of old Malayalam and Tamil songs led by Mr. M. Radhakrishnan.

While we walked in, Radhakrishnan sang "Ormakale kayyvala chaarthi varu vimookami vedi" (Memories, come wearing your bangles to this silent street) Except for the streets were anything but silent, the song perfectly fit my mood.

This wonderful rendition was followed by the beautiful Leela Jacob singing "Thiruvona pularithan..."(Onam morning's..).

Then the first Tamil number, "Nee paathi naan paathi kanne" ('Me half, you half, my eye'...go figure!) started. There were a couple of hundred red plastic chairs put on the Public Office grounds to seat the audience. But hundreds of folks with fear of commitment were standing by the gate or watching over the wall. "Nee paathi naan paathi" brought them all flooding in through the gate. Just when this gesture of appreciation had raised the spirits of the singers, Murphy struck.

Audio glitch. Couple of minutes of delay. With the audio restored, the singers started where they had left off without missing a note. Talent!

Actually the speaker system was too big for the area, so it each beat landed deep inside me and resonated. Wonderful experience.

Couple of more Sreekumaran Thampi-penned songs. Then a popular TV serial actor came on stage to render "Ennodu paatu paadungal". He was energetic and did a good job. Amma and I started clapping along with the song. Rest of the Malayalees didn't think much of the singing, I think. So their hands were busy on cellphones, inside their pockets, rocking the nearby empty chairs or digging for the Padmanabha treasuries buried deep in their left jaws (tongues weren't enough, fingers had to assist).

Without support for our applausive enjoyment of the song, we pretended to be killing mosquitoes with our claps.

Achan showed up when the romantic duet, "Ezhilam paala poothu" (Alstonia scholaris has flowered) was making the audience happier. But the audience voted with their feet when Shammi Kapoor tribute, "Deewana hua baadal" (Cloud became mad) was sung next. Tamil songs are one thing but Hindi song during Onam was a bit too much, I guess! Or may be it was the indignation at singing a Hindi song while the brochure mentioned only Malayalam and Tamil. For many, this was a troupe who couldn't be trusted anymore. What if they sang something in English next inspiring immoral activities in the younger generation?! Better to leave!

I noticed the danger in my feet tapping enjoyment a little late. The girl sitting right in front of me had long springy hair that were touching my knees. The vibrations of my enjoyment had a high chance of reaching her brain through those strands via my knees. Before I took corrective knee-bending measures, she left. Her place was taken by another girl with equally long hair, but this time straight and well-oiled. Much better damping.

In the audience, in front of me was a little boy glued on to his Achan's shoulder, turned away from the stage, with the expression of really badly wanting to go home. In contrast, few seats to the left was a little girl, seated on her Achan's shoulder dancing to the songs.

"Achan wants to leave after the next song," Amma whispered to me about my own Achan. I had no choice. So the last song for the night was the sexy, ghostly, horror-movie number, "Ee kaikalil..." .Perfection from Leela Jacob.

We joined the people river flowing towards Vellayambalam. The three elephants in front of Kanakunnu palace were still patiently standing for the crowd. When we were crossing the traffic barrier at Vellayambalam, I heard someone speak with the distinct Thrissur accent, "Enthutta ithu koottam!"(What a crowd!)

Three elephants and the geographically scattered festivities in this city are nothing compared to the immensity and intensity of the internationally renowned Thrissur Pooram. Yet, I replied in my mind, "Thrissurkare, ithu Ananthapuriyude pooram! Koranum kuberanum onnichu rajavedhiyilude verum Malayalikalayi ozhukunna pooram!" (Thrissur folks, this is Thiruvananthapuram's Pooram. The Pooram in which the poor and the rich rub shoulders just as Malayalees on the royal road)

It must have been the romantic duets at the concert, before reaching home Achan and Amma reminded me that tomorrow is their wedding anniversary.

Links:

Some of the songs mentioned in this note.