Sajith Kumar P.K. (39), finance professional
Since 2006, I have been celebrating Onam in Dubai with my family and staff members. Back home, in Tripunithura, my hometown, it is a ten-day affair. Here in Dubai we have a multicultural environment and it is great to see everyone participate in the day’s events — from making the athapoo (flower mat) in the morning to relishing the onasadya (grand feast) later on. This year we are planning to make a large flower mat as well as install a six-feet tall onathappan (long pyramid-like sculpture symbolic of King Mahabali) at our office in City Tower 1, Shaikh Zayed Road, Dubai.
Nisha Varghese (37), artist and sociologist
Onam, looking back reminds one of the first-term examinations in school, which were a prelude to holidays, and of dear ones and fun. Twenty-five years ago, urban areas did not face the plastic deluge, there were spring flowers to be plucked on the wayside and kids irrespective of religion made sure each one’s front porch had a fair-sized athapoo on it.
Nowadays, one feels Onam has become posh and branded, even stereotyped. But Onam has always been special, with a definite nostalgic ring to it, something very 'Malayali', simple and sweet… it is Kerala’s USP after the ‘God’s own country’ hype mellows down.
Anurag Ram Chandran (17), student
“Ten days of unrivalled fun, the flower mats in front of every house, games, traditional food, grandmother’s tales… (sigh!)” It might have been great fun! Listening to my mother’s enthusiasm, all I can do now is try and visualise the wonderful celebrations back in her time.
Today Onam is a single-day celebration with only the traditional lunch being followed. We must revisit our wondrous past and preserve its spirit.
Hyma Varun (23), accounting student
I was born and brought up in the UAE and I associate Onam mostly with the feast. I have also been to Kerala twice during Onam — it is of course a much bigger celebration there. Those were rare occasions when I had met plenty of relatives. Here, I have participated in thiruvathira (traditional group dance performed by women) organised by Silsila, a cultural association of families.
Many of my childhood friends and cousins have moved away from the UAE to different places to study and work, so this time Onam will be quiet. But I look forward to fun and good food.
Mini Shiva Kumar (43), teacher
These memories are decades old. Invariably, on Onam mornings, I used to wake up to the ultimatum from one or the other of my brothers: Are you coming with us or not? I’d scramble out of bed, running behind them to pick flowers. From hibiscus and marigold to moss scraped off the walls — we used them all to make pookkalams (flower
mats), in front of our house. In the afternoons, the women in the entire neighbourhood used to gather in one house and participate in onakkali (Onam-special games)
and perform thiruvathira (group dance) and sing onappaattu (folk songs). There would be garlands in their hair, and the air would be thick with ‘women jokes’ and we (my friends and I) used to feel very ‘grown up’ and important, being a part of it all.
If only I could go back and visit all that once again.
Prashobhini Babu (75), homemaker
I can speak non-stop about Onam because my fondest memories of my childhood involved celebrating this grand festival. The springtime transformed the entire state, the hills, sidewalks. In the 1950s, just a couple of years after India got its independence, our tri-colour was the new rage. We would run with Indian flags on Onam holidays too — a fun way to gather all the kids in the locality.
Now the scene has changed a lot back home with families migrating to different countries. But I feel that in Dubai they do it better than in many cities in Kerala. Maybe small panchayats there still have some true fervour.
Shalu Chandran (30), journalist
My Onam memories take me back to my childhood days in Bahrain. My parents ensured that we enjoyed Onam in all its glory, while living so far away from home, complete
with sadya served on the traditional banana leaf, (a feat, since we had no LuLu, and so i t was never as easy to find them) followed by a social gathering with fellow Malayalis at the Kerala Samajam.
Now living alone in Dubai, Onam unfortunately does not hold the same festive spirit. While I cook for my colleagues one year, if I’m not with my family in Kerala, it’s usually lunch with friends at one of the many restaurants in Dubai, that serve a mean onasadya — and then it’s back to work.
Remadevi Jodish (48), homemaker
The most wonderful Onam memory I have is of the swings in my ancestral home, far away from Kochi, where my father was employed with Cochin Refineries. We used to stay in the company’s residential colony, where again
Onam was celebrated in great pomp and show.
Now Onam is quite different. It is no comparison to the fun we had while growing up in Kerala. When I was younger, I managed to make a sadya, complete with payasam for 50 to 55 people — here in the UAE. But now, I feel it’s a better idea to call up and order for a packed sadya!
