MORE ONAM MEMORIES

The Onam holidays started just after the quarterly examinations in the school and went on for next 12 days. There were plenty to eat, plenty to do, plenty to play in addition to the rehearsals for the drama for the cultural programme, which was part of onam celebrations by the village community. Apart from drama, there were dances by the school children and many other programs. I was part of the drama for every celebrations. I and some of my friends used to do female roles, as girls and ladies were not allowed to act in dramas those days in the village). The rehearsals were started a few days earlier, but we started attending them only after the exams. This meant that we had to catch up a lot, memorise the lines and so, the rehearsals extended till late night.

In the mornings again we would get up early and go out to get the best flowers for decorating the courtyard with Pookkalam.

Overall, it was very hectic, to say the least and we just did not know how time flew.

A difference about the Onam one of the years, from the previous couple of Onams I remember, was that the presence of my Grandpa’s brother was very conspicuous. Previous year when my Grandpa was still alive, his brother (I used to call him Muthabhan) was insignificant in the hierarchy. Grandpa would gift us  with ‘Onappudava’ – a cloth with golden coloured borders and some coins - which used to be a high point in our celebrations. Muthabhan had another wife outside the Nambudiri community (another grandma for me actually) and that was where he would go to sleep during the nights. In that marriage, Muthabhan had three sons and three daughters.

Two of Muthabhan’s  sons were very active in the cultural programs and the younger one would act in dramas. He was a specialist for old mothers’ or grandmas’ roles.

I was not very sure what to call them. They should be my Muthassi, my aunts and my aphans. But we were never encouraged to call them that. Once when I asked Grandma what to call them, she reprimanded me, ‘Don’t call them anything. Why do you want to call them something at all?’

I was a bit confused and moreover, I could not avoid the issue with Muthabhan’s youngest son as we were acting in the drama together.

So, I asked him directly, ‘What should I call you. You are actually my Aphan, and if you don’t tell me, I will call you Grandma, as in the drama.’

Finally, we decided between ourselves that I would call him Ramesettan. Somehow, this stuck and later, I always addressed him thus.

The Onam celebrations by the village community during those days were an all-night-affair.

For us children, the program starts with enthusiastically observing the fixing up of the curtains. It was fascinating how the curtains opens to both sides by just pulling at one rope. Then the next interesting item was lighting the petromax lamps (it was an era without electricity in the village). Though we had seen this many number of times during marriages etc, it was always interesting to watch.

Participants would finish an early dinner and would be ready to put on their makeup. The villagers, family by family would arrive before 9.30 night. Even the chief guest would arrive before time, unlike a few chief guests nowadays, and the programs would start by 10 sharp. There would be a couple of tea shops who sells tea, dosas, parippu vadas and there will be some guy selling balloons, whisles etc. People like us who were taking part in programs would get a tea and a Parippu vada each.

The programs invariably consists of dances – some classical and some folk dances – ‘villu thayampaka’, mono act, a mimicry, kaikottikali etc and then a drama. The Drama is where yours truly would take part as either the heroine or heroine’s sidekick. Ramesettan would be hero’s or heroine’s mother.

By the time the drama was over, the dawn would be breaking in the eastern sky. Next day, we children would walk around and play, proudly displaying half of the makeup still on our face.