Festivals and Celebrations

What is it about festivals that make people look forward to it- wait for it for months…so many factors, I guess- new dress, lots of delicious eats, meeting friends, relations…having lots of fun in short.

And I wonder why I don’t look forward to festivals? May be because my definition of fun is different, may be because festivals mean lots of work and I’m Laziness personified. I do like new dresses, but not enough to wait for a festival.

Eating- yea, ok, I do like some of the eats- but better if I don’t have to cook them. Festival cooking to me means getting the kitchen messy- the cleaning up afterwards…

Meeting people- hmm…I like that too- but then I’d like to attach a few clauses to it- I enjoy meeting people when there is no burden of too much responsibility involved- one should be able to relax without having to worry about how well the dishes have been cooked- perhaps I sound a bit self centered? Yea, I too think that sometimes- but I can’t help it- that’s how I am…

However all this does not mean I do not participate in such activities- I do, I mean I have to at times – it’s a part of the socio- familial culture that one is a part of. And I do my best on such occasions- but I admit that all the while I’d be waiting to get it over with and get back to my own space and company!

How did I become like this? I have often asked myself this question because I realize that things would have been so much easier if I enjoyed such activities a bit more. Believe me, I’ve tried to, but somehow have not been able to make it a part of my personality.

Whenever I see all the festivities around me, I am unable to appreciate the “enjoyment” factor. I’m able to see only the toil, effort and work involved. The comments, the mess, the cleaning up and restoring of the home afterwards, the exhaustion…I ‘m aware its my attitude that’s to blame, because I have seen other people enjoy these very aspects . I am amazed, because I just cannot find the same anticipation, excitement in me.

As a child, we did have our share of festivals and celebrations- but since I grew up outside India, it was relatively muted- the paraphernalia was restricted, the elaborate feasts were of course very much there but I don’t remember looking forward to it eagerly. We had friends and relatives joining in the celebrations and I enjoyed the company of my friends. As for the cooking and cleaning up I never noticed. However I do remember how the toilets and the bathrooms became dirty. Looking back, I realize amma must have handled everything single handedly!

Then during my growing up years, when we came to Kerala for vacations, there used to be a couple of family get tog ethers at least. I never enjoyed those. Well meaning “Karanavars”- elders would remark unkindly about my dressing, express disdain at my clumsiness at eating off plantain leaves, especially slurping the free flowing payasam. That I did not know how to serve the seated guests and clean up the floor later. My cousins who were years younger than me were experts in such tasks and comparisons were inevitable. Though I realize that no one meant harm, it did haunt me forever.

There were so many rules like serving with the right hand, not to touch the leaf, not to kneel while serving, wash the hands after serving rice/ghee/curds each- no eating pappad with the left hand, and serving dishes in its assigned place on the leaf- misplacing was sacrilegious. The elders seemed to believe that my mother ought to have made me practice all these abroad! Those days I slinked away from the scene with brimming eyes and a mortified soul, but today I seethe in the memory.

While in college, my grandmother did try to train me in such etiquettes, but I skillfully avoided serving guests whenever I could. Needless to say my inefficiency was attributed to my NRI status and lack of parenting skills on my mother’s part.

After my marriage, one of my first “certificate courses” in housewife skills was tested during the Birthday celebrations of the eldest Karnavar in my husband’s family. It was a tradition to make the latest recruit- i.e.: the recent most bride serves the batches of guests- I can only see this as a sophisticated mode of “ragging”. However, I managed to pass the test with flying colours, for which I’m grateful or my parents’ image would have been eternally tarnished.

Even today, the tradition continues, and I hate it. But I must add that perhaps I’m the only person who seems to take all these so seriously- most others just skim through all these and forget about it. I am still trying.

While living in a joint family, the daily discussion would always revolve around dishes that had been cooked, that which was being cooked and that which was to be cooked – about how vegetables could be cut in different shapes to bring about variations in flavour- about how different households cooked the same dish differently and how the said household was un questionable the superior most in its mode of cooking the said dish! I would sit through these highly exciting and enlightening discussions passively.

Festivals, celebrations and guests turned to become a terror- but I just went through all the actions and activities like a zombie. Perhaps I did learn a lot of things- but they were definitely not pleasant memories- I remember we used to have feasts at least five days of the week- and each dish had to prepared in more than one way- because some of the elders had BP, cholesterol, diabetes and recipes were modified again and again accordingly. Curds had to be of at least three types- just set, medium sour, and very sour. The food items had to be served to the males straight from the stove- a slight delay in the proceedings invited a discourse on how women should not talk in the kitchen- One could not even dream about luxuries like sitting down, reading or listening to Music.

Once I forgot to bring the water jug to the table- and the events that followed ensured that I would never forget my duty ever again. I was “taught” to pour Idli batter into the idli mould without a single drop overflowing- even today as I pour idly batter smartly into my very own moulds, I remember the apprehensions of my “probation” period. But I must grant that everything was done with the best intent!

My MIL, mother and all the other ladies in the family did undergo such experiences, but they did not develop any trauma afterwards. Only I nurtured this phobia to celebrations. In fact my MIL underwent such terrible experiences that it is a wonder she remained sane. Had I been in her place I’d be serving sentence for massacre!

However, I survived all these because the women in the family were quite sympathetic.

When I came to trichy, every alternate day is about festivals and rituals in my neighbourhood-
One is constantly questioned about
The absence of the “kolam” (rice flour rangoli) at our doorstep-
Not offering “kumkum” (vermillion) to the sumangalis as they leave our home…

But I have learnt to look beyond all these expectations and compulsions and only appreciate the acceptance and affection of our friends and neighbours here.

The last few days saw me all trussed up in silks dug up from the depths of the almirah- and go around to the various homes- see the “golu”- (the artistic array of dolls of various sizes and shapes arranged in various attractive themes), belt out a couple of recycled bhajans, collect “chundal” (made from chick peas, bean sprouts and coconut) and “vettila pak” (betel leaf, betel nut). I still cannot claim to enjoy it all.

I find the rituals and rules stifling at times. When the puttars fell ill with chicken pox a few years ago, I was told by a lady neighbour (who works in the collectorate incidentally), that I should not permit my relatives into my home, while my husband’s relatives had the sanction….I said nothing…

However, I never get into arguments- I don’t see the point- neither me, nor they are going to get converted, then why simply waste time and energy? Besides it only creates a bitter aftertaste. And anyways, I have all this space in cyber world to vent to my heart’s content!


During Onam, we cook elaborately, and distribute the various food items to our friends- and though I like giving them, I’m afraid I cannot say I enjoy the cooking and cleaning up…I’m so exhausted, and I feel even worse if they’re showing some good movie on T.V –

I remember during one Onam- there was a leak in my kitchen tap- and my kitchen floor was overflowing- it was such a mess- I wanted to scream- I like to see my kitchen spick and span most of the time with minimum clutter.

This year, we celebrated Thiruvonam at our grandmother’s home- and so on the Uthradam day; we made the goodies and gave to our friends.

At grandma’s place, vallyamma (MIL), sculpted the images of Lord Mahabali, the Brahmin and his wife cooking the Onam delicacies- a few kitchen accessories, and tiny figures of vegetables and fruits- with red mud and decorated it with rice flour, and flowers. She enjoyed doing it she said- and though I appreciated the beauty and artistry of her efforts, I’m afraid I do not have the patience or inclination for the same! Just me, I guess….