TIRUVANANTHAPURAM: How do the non-Malayalam speaking people celebrate Onam in the city? With equal intensity, fervour and sense of unity, avers a cross-section of the linguistic-minority population in the state.
Over the years, Onam has evolved into a cosmopolitan festival. Everyone feels happy in his own way irrespective of the language, religion or caste, says Muhammed Rafi, a member of the Tamil community and law officer at the State Life Insurance Corporation.
The genial officer hints at the foreign tourists who join the Onam Week celebrations to emphasise his point.
Tamilians, who form nearly a quarter of the city population, take pride in the fact that Onam is a part of the Tamil Sangam traditions. “Onam is a festival of the Tamils too. It’s referred to in the Tamil epic Chilapathikaram by sage poet Ilango Adigal,” says Thankaraj, a Tamil translator in the State Law Department.
Putting the festival in a historical perspective, he says, “In fact, in times of yore, Onam was celebrated all over the South comprising the Chera, Chola and Pandya Kingdoms. The festivities ultimately concentrated on Cheranad (Kerala), because the kingdom was fertile and arable. As the soil and climate of Kerala are ideal for agriculture, the festival came to symbolise the state’s harvest in the place, especially in Kuttanad, Kudanad, Venad, Poozhinad and Kouthanad of the erstwhile Chera Kingdom.”
It’s a fact that the Tamil population in the city, mainly at Chala and East Fort, celebrates two harvest festivals a year viz Thaipongal and Onam. “But what makes Onam distinct is the traditional onasadya served on plantain leaf,” says Thankaraj.
It’s not just Tamilians, Konkanis, Telugus, Kannadigas and Tulu-speaking communities too partake the essence of Onam without missing any of its key elements.
“Onam is a secular festival in which we have total involvement,” says R Panduranga Rao, a member of the 300 family-strong Konkani speaking community in the city.
“In a sense, we come under the spell of Onam long before others do. We renew our sacred thread on the Avani Avittam Day, a fortnight ahead of Onam. This day actually creates the Onam mood in us,” elaborates Rao, whose ancestors fled Goa and settled in the state following the Portuguese attempt to convert Goans into Christianity.
Even as he emphasises his love for onasadya, the vivacious DTP operator does not fail to take a dig at the fashion of arranging onasadya from caterers or hotels in kits.
For the Tulu-speaking Brahmin community, Onam is special for more than one reason. They carry out the annual renewal of their sacred thread on the Thiruvonam Day.
“We gather at the Hanuman temple at Sreevaraham early on Thiruvonam morning and renew our sacred thread. At noon, we take the onasadya with all family members and guests,” says K V Devarajan Potti, a Tulu-speaking hotelier. His only complaint is that he has no facility to fix a swing in his flat.
Rafi agrees, “In our coastal village, local people used to spin strong cable out of coir and tie a swing, with the piece of the sturdy stem of the coconut fond forming the suspended seat.” Rafi turns nostalgic about ‘Onapanthu’ (ball game) played during this season. “The ball is usually spun out of waste linen. Since it does not rebound, players have a tough time feeding the ball to the rivals as quickly as possible to make them tire out,” he says.
The Kannada minorities give a new twist to the Onam myth - Mahabali does not visit them on the Onam day. “In fact, the Chakravarti visits us on Deepavali. Our Mahabali is a benevolent king who loves to visit his subjects annually and be a witness to their happiness. The question of Mahabali being paced down at paadalam has no place in our myth,” sums up Ratnavathy, a government employee from Kasargod.
The minuscule Kannada working population go home during the Onam holidays and if they are followers of Kerala’s tradition, they celebrate Onam at home.
There is no mistaking that Onam is for Keralites - a festival that integrates the cross-section of people in the state.
Over the years, Onam has evolved into a cosmopolitan festival. Everyone feels happy in his own way irrespective of the language, religion or caste, says Muhammed Rafi, a member of the Tamil community and law officer at the State Life Insurance Corporation.
The genial officer hints at the foreign tourists who join the Onam Week celebrations to emphasise his point.
Tamilians, who form nearly a quarter of the city population, take pride in the fact that Onam is a part of the Tamil Sangam traditions. “Onam is a festival of the Tamils too. It’s referred to in the Tamil epic Chilapathikaram by sage poet Ilango Adigal,” says Thankaraj, a Tamil translator in the State Law Department.
Putting the festival in a historical perspective, he says, “In fact, in times of yore, Onam was celebrated all over the South comprising the Chera, Chola and Pandya Kingdoms. The festivities ultimately concentrated on Cheranad (Kerala), because the kingdom was fertile and arable. As the soil and climate of Kerala are ideal for agriculture, the festival came to symbolise the state’s harvest in the place, especially in Kuttanad, Kudanad, Venad, Poozhinad and Kouthanad of the erstwhile Chera Kingdom.”
It’s a fact that the Tamil population in the city, mainly at Chala and East Fort, celebrates two harvest festivals a year viz Thaipongal and Onam. “But what makes Onam distinct is the traditional onasadya served on plantain leaf,” says Thankaraj.
It’s not just Tamilians, Konkanis, Telugus, Kannadigas and Tulu-speaking communities too partake the essence of Onam without missing any of its key elements.
“Onam is a secular festival in which we have total involvement,” says R Panduranga Rao, a member of the 300 family-strong Konkani speaking community in the city.
“In a sense, we come under the spell of Onam long before others do. We renew our sacred thread on the Avani Avittam Day, a fortnight ahead of Onam. This day actually creates the Onam mood in us,” elaborates Rao, whose ancestors fled Goa and settled in the state following the Portuguese attempt to convert Goans into Christianity.
Even as he emphasises his love for onasadya, the vivacious DTP operator does not fail to take a dig at the fashion of arranging onasadya from caterers or hotels in kits.
For the Tulu-speaking Brahmin community, Onam is special for more than one reason. They carry out the annual renewal of their sacred thread on the Thiruvonam Day.
“We gather at the Hanuman temple at Sreevaraham early on Thiruvonam morning and renew our sacred thread. At noon, we take the onasadya with all family members and guests,” says K V Devarajan Potti, a Tulu-speaking hotelier. His only complaint is that he has no facility to fix a swing in his flat.
Rafi agrees, “In our coastal village, local people used to spin strong cable out of coir and tie a swing, with the piece of the sturdy stem of the coconut fond forming the suspended seat.” Rafi turns nostalgic about ‘Onapanthu’ (ball game) played during this season. “The ball is usually spun out of waste linen. Since it does not rebound, players have a tough time feeding the ball to the rivals as quickly as possible to make them tire out,” he says.
The Kannada minorities give a new twist to the Onam myth - Mahabali does not visit them on the Onam day. “In fact, the Chakravarti visits us on Deepavali. Our Mahabali is a benevolent king who loves to visit his subjects annually and be a witness to their happiness. The question of Mahabali being paced down at paadalam has no place in our myth,” sums up Ratnavathy, a government employee from Kasargod.
The minuscule Kannada working population go home during the Onam holidays and if they are followers of Kerala’s tradition, they celebrate Onam at home.
There is no mistaking that Onam is for Keralites - a festival that integrates the cross-section of people in the state.
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