The light of oil lamps fills the sanctum sanctorum before daybreak. The abode of the Gods is infused with the fragrance of sandalwood, ash, and camphor. The tender pealing of the Idakka drum awakens the Gods and the surrounding households.
The morning breeze rustles through the paddy fields at dawn. The Golden Rain tree is set aflame, blazes in brilliant yellow. Its branches droop with the weight of the konna flower bunches. Women emerge from the houses in off-white kasavu saris, sandalwood and vermilion on their foreheads, flowers adorning their long and dark tresses, kohl lining their deep dark eyes, anklets and bangles jingling, and traverse the paddy fields making their way to the temple. They cross paths with the temple elephant, which merrily strides across the paddy fields to the river. The pachyderm wades into the churning waters like an excited child, swaying its mighty trunk and spraying water on the squealing children capering about and around it. In the distance, the express train on the railway bridge blows its horn, announcing the arrival of loved ones from faraway towns and cities.
Ceaseless chatter, sounds of laughter and merriment, the cavorting of children, clangour of utensils, the aroma of jackfruit and coconut oil and jaggery, and whiff of fresh paddy waft out of houses. Plantain leaves are laid out, sadya meals are served. Banana chips, tamarind and mango pickles, crispy pappadoms, avial, pumpkin and gram and raw banana curries, red rice soaked in sambar and daal and ghee and yoghurt, and palada and jaggery payasams.
It is this Kerala that I miss a lot. Happy Vishu everybody!
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