My Kasavu

It is that time of the year again, Onam, the cultural festival of Kerala . The much awaited time of boat races, pookalam , thriruvathira ,not to forget the sumptuous Onam lunch, with family and friends.

Men and women, at gatherings in the traditional dress of kasavu mundu and saree, impeccably draped, a cynosure for all who behold . But alas, though a Malayalee, in my possession there is no kasavu saree !

Growing up in an orthodox Christian family, away from the verdant God’s own country, Onam was not considered a festival in our household, nor a time for celebration. Leaving home for the faraway cities while still young, maybe the custom and significance of Onam faded from my parents’ mind . There were no pookalams, no dressing in kasavu, nor visits to, or from extended family.

Often Onam came and went, with no notice. Just another day, an ordinary day, with work for adults and school for the children. There was no special Sadhya, but the everyday sambar & thoren, with an additional Avial or payasam, to mark the occasion, arrived on the table, for dinner. And no one really missed the elaborate vegetarian meal or the celebration that we never knew.

So it was, until some years ago, when an invitation for an Onam Sadhya landed on me. I was sans the Kasavu , sans the knowledge of pookalam, Thiruvathira or any of the trappings of the celebration. As it was a pot luck lunch, we each had to bring a dish. Armed with some store bought chips, wearing my regular party best, I arrived at the venue, to quickly feel out of place, not like a Malayalee . The decision was made, to remedy this remiss immediately, by getting a kasavu and being better prepared, for the following year.

From then on each year , out came the kasavu from its packing , to be draped on self, but must add none too gracefully, for the exciting gastronomic treat and fun filled, Onam experience . Then five years ago it was deigned once again, to be not a Christian tradition and thus not to be celebrated . Strange this seesaw of belief, about a cultural festival, a harvest festival in the land of plenty. Now my kasavu has slipped into the dark recess of my wardrobe, never to see the light of day, never to be worn, until the tide changes again.