Ramblings on an Onam Day

Me and the blog, as promised spent a quiet couple of days celebrating Onam in our own way. Both of us are introverts. As such, it was more about sitting back with a cup of coffee and remnicing about the past.

Lot of memories flashed through the mind. No, it is not about Onam alone. But some picture frames frozen from the childhood.

The earliest memory is about me, as a toddler, sitting in the neighbour aunty's house in Vaikkom on the floor eating my daily quota of pappad while others ate. Why, this alone is etched in my mind I dont know.

I remember, walking down the flight of steps from the main road to my house, holding an Aluminium school box. I also remember, our neighbour, Ramans mother, calling me over to drink raw, fresh cows milk, the moment she has milked her only cow, everyday. This was in Vadakara, where we moved to when I was 4 years old.

The paddy field behind our house, the pond adjacent to the house, the search for 'retta mainah' viewing of which brings happiness, the owl that had nested above the second floor bedroom window, the long balcony in the first floor, and above all the rickety sound of the handlooms are vivid memories. I had just started schooling then.

We always made it a point to have onam pookkalam on all the ten days. Simple to start with, but massive ones on Uthradam and Thiruvonam. The servant used to get us the flowers required. We also helped out by plucking thechi, chembaruthi and kasi thumba. The task of getting the more difficult aambal, thamara etc were left to our hard working and enthusiastic servant. Mother used to put the base 'kolam' and father sits near us in an easy chair giving directions. He was the planner and we were the executioners. But as we grew older, he started delegating even the task of planning and designing. But always stepped up with one key suggestion so that he also had a stake in the final outcome. In short, it was nothing special. Just, what happened in thousands of middle class homes every onam those days. Mother, of course was a superb cook. But there again, it was the father, who could barely cook (unlike me who is a superb cook - one up on him), who used to plan the menu and help her by cutting vegetables and being with her in the kitchen giving moral support.

Most importantly, the schools were closed for 10 days. That itself made us look forward to Onam.

How did I spend this Onam? At home, alone, doing a bit of cooking and as usual reading. Just another day. Any regrets? I dont think so. I have always been a guy who takes life as it comes. I dont have any expectations. Hence, I dont have any disappointments too.

Life goes on