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Onam: A Journey Back Home

 

Onam has always been more than just a festival. For me, it has always been about being at home—with family, friends, and loved ones. The flowers, the laughter, the new clothes, and of course, the grand sadya—it was never about just traditions, but about the feeling of togetherness.

When I think back to my childhood, my first memories of Onam take me to Mavelikara, my mother’s home. I can still recall the open spaces filled with countless flowers, the playful chaos of cousins running around, and the joy of slipping into brand-new dresses. Those days had a vibe of their own. Later, in Kottayam, Onam turned into a more intimate affair, but the spirit remained just as strong. After the festival, all of us cousins would gather at my great-grandmother’s house—a yearly reunion that we cherished deeply.



My great-grandmother was the pillar that held our family together. She was a woman of wisdom and warmth, with a childlike charm that drew us to her. I remember her slipping small amounts of pocket money into our hands, sketching little drawings, teaching me the art of stitching, and above all, giving us her time. That time with her was priceless. After she passed away, those family get-togethers slowly faded, surviving only in the form of weddings or other occasions. Somewhere along the way, the closeness we cousins once shared gave way to distance.

Today, things look so different. Yes, Onam is still celebrated grandly, but it has shifted into the digital era. Instead of meeting in person, we share sadya pictures in WhatsApp groups. Instead of gifting money in hand, we send it over GPay. Instead of sitting together after lunch and sharing stories, we video call. It’s efficient, yes, but is it the same? Deep down, we know it’s not.



As children, Onam meant waiting eagerly for the release of new films, falling into a happy nap after payasam, or sitting on the balcony, breathing in the scent of flowers and hearing the chatter of cousins. Today, those simple joys feel like luxuries. Nostalgia pulls us back to those times, and it makes us realize that what we miss the most isn’t the grandeur—it’s the togetherness.

This is why, for me, Onam is always about going back home. Not just the physical home, but to the people and moments that make us feel like home. Festivals should remind us to pause, to reconnect, to experience the warmth of being physically present with one another.

Onam is about unity, peace, and happiness. People have the freedom to celebrate wherever their heart feels at home. So this Onam, my message is simple: be with your most favorite people or in your most favorite place. Try to meet face-to-face, cook the sadya together, share stories over banana chips, and let the house echo with laughter again. Festivals are not about how grandly we celebrate, but about the joy, peace, and happiness we feel in our hearts.

May this Onam take you closer to your loved ones and even closer to yourself.
Happy Onam!


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Location: 32/293, Thrippunithura, Kochi, Ernakulam, Kerala 682306, India

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