A Bureaucrat’s Playbook: M.K.K. Nair’s Legacy from Fertilizer to Fitness

M K K Nair
29 Dec 1920 - 27 Sep 1987

In the mosaic of Kerala’s modern evolution, where lines between tradition and transformation constantly intersect, the name M.K.K. Nair stands etched not as a mere footnote, but as a resonant theme. He was a builder of factories and of futures, a man who read blueprints and epic poetry with equal intensity. His life was not confined to ledgers and logistics, though he served as one of India’s finest public administrators. It moved with equal ease through temple corridors where Kathakali artists rehearsed in silence, and across sunlit sports grounds where young men leapt toward glory. M.K.K. Nair’s journey was not divided between duty and passion; it was a seamless fabric woven from both.

Born in Thiruvananthapuram in 1920, M.K.K. Nair was a first-rank graduate in Physics from the University of Madras, a mind sharpened by science and tempered by discipline. He began his career in Travancore’s civil service under C.P. Ramaswami Iyer, later joined the British Ordnance Factory in Secunderabad during the war years. By 1949, he entered the Indian Administrative Service, mentored by V.P. Menon. On the advice of T.T. Krishnamachari, then Minister of Industries and Commerce, Prime Minister Nehru entrusted Nair with the responsibility of commissioning the Bhilai Steel Plant - a landmark achievement in India’s industrial history. Following this, he was appointed Chairman and Managing Director of FACT, stepping into Kerala’s industrial heartland with a vision that extended far beyond fertilizer. He remained in that role until 1971, when he was appointed Joint Secretary in the Planning Commission of India.

In the hush of Udyogamandal’s early mornings, where factory sirens once marked the rhythm of labor, a quieter revolution stirred, one not of machines, but of muscle, movement, and merit. M.K.K. Nair, with the mind of a planner and the heart of a patron, looked beyond chimneys and chemical vats. He saw in the township’s soil the promise of play, the pulse of sport, and the poetry of collective pride. Under his watch, FACT became more than an industrial outpost, it became a republic of recreation, where every child could dream of a podium, and every worker could lace up for a match after the shift.

Playgrounds bloomed like court yards of hope. Football fields stretched wide beneath Kerala’s monsoon skies - three in number, each echoing with the thud of boots and the roar of the community. Basketball and volleyball courts, five a piece, stood ready for twilight tournaments and weekend rivalries, with three of each floodlit to extend the spirit into the night. Five badminton courts, polished and precise, hosted the Sesha sayi Trophy from 1961 onward, a tournament that became both tradition and testimony. Indoors, the hum of half a dozen table tennis tables and the quiet focus of billiards filled the halls, while a health club and swimming pool shimmered like promises of vitality and leisure. A dedicated sports hostel rose nearby, not merely a shelter, but a sanctuary for those who trained with fire in their veins.

This was no ornamental indulgence. Nair built an administrative spine to match the athletic muscle. The FACT Sports Association, functioning with the autonomy of a state council, was governed by discipline and merit. It moved with the independence of a republic, organizing tournaments, managing facilities, and selecting athletes with the foresight of a strategist and the compassion of a patron. No minister’s nod, no nepotistic whisper, only the echo of merit bouncing off floodlit walls.

To lead this quiet revolution, Nair chose a man of many games, Thomas Koshy, who had danced with footballs, dribbled through basketball courts, and wielded cricket bats with equal grace. Appointed as FACT’s first Sports Officer, Koshy became the steward of this new order, the bridge between policy and play. His post was not a ceremonial gesture, but a cornerstone of institutional purpose, a signal that sport was no longer pastime, but priority.

And then came the players, not merely recruited, but revered - drawn by Nair’s faith and FACT’s fields. Balagopalan Thampi, the first Sesha sayi Shuttle champion of 1961, was invited by M.K.K. Nair to join FACT High School as Games Teacher cum Librarian. For three seasons, he trained young minds in the art of shuttlecock, blending discipline with delight. Thambi later joined Kerala Sports Council as the first shuttle badminton coach of Kerala. Eminent badminton players like Noreen Padua and Jessie Philip sprang from FACT’s courts. Balan Pandit, among the first Keralites to play County cricket; S. Ramanujan, Kerala’s Table Tennis Champion for a decade; and Kesavan Nair, who later became the national swimming coach, all found their footing here. Simon Sundararaj, Olympian and the last Indian to score in Olympic football, discovered not just employment but purpose within FACT’s fold. T.D. Joseph, fondly called Pappan, rose as a volleyball legend, his spikes echoing through the township’s evenings. Mani, Kerala’s football captain, etched his name with a hat-trick in the Santosh Trophy final, a feat that, too, began with Nair’s faith and FACT’s fields. These were not just athletes; they were architects of a new identity, where industry and inspiration walked hand in hand.

Thus FACT, under M.K.K. Nair, became a township that played. Not at leisure alone, but in legacy. Not in pastime, but on purpose. And every whistle blown, every match won, every child who ran barefoot across those fields, became a verse in the long poem of Kerala’s sporting soul.

In the township where fertilizer fed the fields and chimneys kissed the sky, M.K.K. Nair sowed a different kind of seed, one that sprouted not in soil, but in spirit. He knew that sports, like industry, needed scaffolding. Not just courts and grounds, but a conscience. And so he built not merely playgrounds, but a system, an architecture of fairness, where talent could rise without tugging at political sleeves.

Nair’s vision extended across every court, track, and turf where Kerala’s youth chased excellence - it extended into the very soul of Kerala’s artistic heritage. Beyond FACT’s gates, Nair’s vision spilled into the region. The Udyogamandal Sports Federation took shape, stitching together athletes from neighboring industrial units into a tapestry of competition and camaraderie. Thus, within the hum of turbines and the rhythm of assembly lines, a new rhythm emerged, the beat of boots on turf, the whistle of referees, the cheer of township crowds. It was administration, yes - but it was also art. A choreography of fairness, discipline, and joy. And in every match played, every athlete recruited, every rule upheld, M.K.K. Nair’s playbook turned policy into poetry.

And yet, even as sports fields rang with cheer and exertion, the air at FACT also echoed with the notes of classical ragas and the measured footfalls of Bharatanatyam and Kathakali. For Nair, culture was not an ornament of governance but its foundation. He believed that no nation could call itself modern if it did not also remember the grace of its past. With that belief, he extended patronage not only to festivals and performances but to institutions and individuals who carried the torch of tradition. His name is inseparably linked with the mid twentieth century revival of Kathakali in Kerala. He offered support, not just financial, but emotional and logistical to some of the finest artistes of the time. Kalamandalam Krishnan Nair and Kudamaloor Karunakaran Nair, among others, found in him a steadfast patron who understood their art not superficially, but with reverence and clarity.

One of his most enduring legacies was the founding of the Lalitha Kala Kendra within the FACT campus, a space where art was not merely taught but lived. Music, theatre, dance, painting, all were made available to the workers, their spouses, and their children. In the cultural calendar of FACT, performance and participation were not afterthoughts, they were built into the rhythm of life. It was, perhaps, the first such experiment in India where a public sector undertaking formally embraced the arts as part of its corporate character. While other PSUs focused on output and efficiency, M.K.K. Nair added another metric to success - human flourishing.

M.K.K. Nair defied categories. He was not content to be remembered merely as an administrator, nor did he chase the labels of cultural icons. Yet he was both and more. He bridged world without losing balance. He showed Kerala that one could build chimneys and stages with the same hands. That industry could generate dignity, and art could be organised with rigour. That sports could create solidarity, and culture could rebuild confidence. Scholars like Malayattoor Ramakrishnan and U.C. College physical educationist C.P. Andrews lent their minds to the mission, ensuring that the organisation was not merely functional, but sportive and philosophical.

He left behind no monuments carved in stone, but movements etched in memory. In the book of Kerala’s modern memory, his chapter should not be tucked into the margins of policy or performance metrics. It must be read aloud, in full, where young readers may learn that public life can be both purposeful and poetic. M.K.K. Nair left behind no slogans, but he left behind a living legacy: a township that sang and played, a state that remembered its soul, and a nation still learning from men like him.

This article is not merely a remembrance of legacy, but a rekindling, so that the present generation may know that greatness once walked among us, building chimneys and dreams with equal conviction.

Yesterday, 27th September, marked his death anniversary - not a date of silence, but of remembrance, where memory becomes a bridge between what was built and what must endure.

References

1. G. Sreekumar. M.K.K. Nair – A Centenary Remembrance.  
2. Nair, M.K.K. The Story of an Era Told Without Ill-Will. FACT Publications, 1986.  
3. Nair, M.K.K. A Momentous Journey.  
4. “M.K.K. Nair.” Wikipedia. (Accessed 2025).  
5. Sanil P. Thomas. “Mathrubhumi Archives,” dated 29 December 2020.  
6. Personal interview with Balagopalan Thampi, conducted in December 2023.

Coming up in SUNDAY FIELD & FLAME – 05 October 2025: Major General Dr. C. K. Lakshmanan - India’s First Malayali Olympic Athlete and Healer in Uniform

How Britain Shaped the Games We Play

In the winding lanes of medieval England, long before stadiums roared and jerseys bore corporate logos, sport was a communal ritual - raw, chaotic, and deeply embedded in local rhythms. Villages clashed in violent games of mob football, sticks swung in village duels, and skittles sang in tavern corners. These were not sports as we know them today, but expressions of identity, festivity, and resistance. They were seasonal, often tied to agrarian calendars, and governed by custom rather than codified rules.

Yet by the mid 19th century, Britain had become the crucible of modern sport. Golf, cricket, horse racing, boxing, football, tennis, badminton, and table tennis - now global phenomena - were formalized, institutionalized, and exported across continents. This transformation was neither accidental nor purely recreational. It was shaped by the tectonic shifts of industrialization, urbanization, moral reform, and imperial ambition.

Golf

Among the earliest sporting traditions in Britain was golf, which finds its roots in 15th century Scotland. Though its exact origin is debated, the game was played on coastal links using rudimentary clubs and balls, often by shepherds and townsfolk. By 1764, the St Andrews Society of Golfers was founded, later honored as the Royal and Ancient Golf Club in 1834, and its rules gradually shaped the game into the structured sport we recognize today. Golf’s evolution was slow and aristocratic, with its spread largely confined to Scotland and elite circles until the 19th century.

Cricket

Cricket emerged in southern England during the 16th century, likely as a children’s game that gradually gained adult participation. By the 17th century, it had become popular among rural communities, and by the Restoration period (post-1660), it was already attracting wagers and spectators. The formation of the Marylebone Cricket Club (MCC) in 1787 marked a turning point, as it became the custodian of the game’s laws. Cricket’s appeal crossed class boundaries, with both aristocrats and commoners embracing it, and its spread to the colonies made it a symbol of British cultural identity.

Boxing

Boxing, or prizefighting, flourished in the 18th century, evolving from bare knuckle brawls to a regulated sport. A significant event was the first recorded bare knuckle fight on January 6, 1681, between a butler and a butcher organised by the Duke of Albemarle, which sparked public interest. Jack Broughton, a former champion, introduced the first set of rules in 1743, including bans on striking a downed opponent and a timed recovery interval. Boxing was deeply tied to working class identity and gambling, and its popularity surged in urban centers. By the late 19th century, the Queensberry Rules further refined the sport, paving the way for modern professional boxing.

Football

Football, in its earliest form, was played as mob football, a chaotic, unregulated game involving entire villages. These matches, often held during festivals, had few rules and were notorious for their violence. The game was gradually tamed and structured in the 19th century, particularly within British public schools. In 1863, the Football Association (FA) was founded in London, establishing standardized rules and rejecting practices like “hacking,” which eventually led to a split from rugby. This moment marked the birth of modern football, which quickly spread across Britain and its empire, becoming a global phenomenon.

Basketball, Volleyball, and Skating

While Britain formalized many of the world’s foundational sports, two American inventions - volleyball and basketball - took a different path. They were born in the quiet halls of American gymnasiums, shaped not by tradition but by intention. Basketball was created to occupy restless students during winter, while volleyball offered a gentler rhythm for older participants. Their journey across continents was carried not by empire, but by outreach, through YMCA chapters, missionary educators, Peace Corps volunteers, and international schools.

These games did not demand conquest or codification. They invited participation, adapting easily to new cultures and communities. Even recreational forms like skating, once distant spectacles of Western youth, have found their way into schoolyards and city parks, embraced by those drawn to motion and freedom. Together, they reflect a shift in how sport travels, not as inheritance, but as invitation.

Tennis

Tennis, began as jeu de paume (game of the palm) in French monasteries, where monks would hit the ball with the palm of their hand over a net. The game in its modern lawn form, was developed in the 1870s. Major Walter Wingfield patented a version of the game called Sphairistiké (meaning "ball playing") in December 1873, adapting it from older indoor racket sports. The world's oldest annual tennis tournament took place at Lamington Lawn Tennis Club in Birmingham in 1874. The game quickly gained popularity among the British elite. Lawn tennis was seen as a gentle alternative to more rugged sports and became a staple of summer leisure.

Badminton

Badminton, though influenced by older shuttlecock games played across Eurasia, took its modern shape in the mid-19th century. British army officers stationed in Poona (now Pune) in India introduced a net to the traditional game, creating a more structured version known locally as “Poona.” When this game returned to England, it was played at Badminton House in Gloucestershire by the Duke of Beaufort’s guests, giving the sport its name. The Badminton Association of England was founded in 1893, and standardized rules soon followed. From colonial clubs in British India to Southeast Asia, badminton spread rapidly, less by conquest than by affinity, becoming a favourite among players of all backgrounds.

Table Tennis

Table tennis, or ping pong, began as a parlour game in late 19th century England, often played after dinner by the upper classes. Using books as nets and corks or champagne stoppers as balls, it was a lighthearted indoor pastime. By the 1880s, manufacturers began producing standardized equipment under names like “Gossima” and “Whiff-Whaff,” eventually settling on “Ping-Pong.” The sport evolved rapidly, and by 1921, formal associations were established in England, merging into the English Table Tennis Association in 1926. That same year, the International Table Tennis Federation was founded, marking the game’s rise to global recognition.

Women and the Sporting Landscape

While many of these sports were initially shaped by male institutions, public schools, military clubs, and aristocratic circles - women gradually carved out their own space. Lawn tennis and badminton, in particular, were embraced by women in the late 19th century as socially acceptable forms of exercise. Over time, women’s participation expanded across disciplines, challenging norms and reshaping the sporting narrative. Today, their legacy is visible not just in elite competition, but in schoolyards, coaching circles, and community leagues across the world.

Sport as Cultural Transmission

Each of these sports, though rooted in local traditions and leisure, was shaped by Britain’s unique social transformations. Industrialization introduced time discipline and urban concentration, creating the conditions for regularized play and spectatorship. Public schools codified rules and infused sport with moral purpose. The rise of print media and railways allowed for regional competitions and national followings. And the British Empire carried these games abroad, embedding them into colonial education and military recreation. The journey from folk play to global sport was not merely about rules; it was about identity, power, and cultural transmission. Britain didn’t just invent games - it shaped how the world plays.

Reframing the Origins

Recent scholarship, especially by Mike Huggins, challenges the notion that modern sport began solely in the Victorian era. Huggins argues for a Georgian genesis, pointing to the commercialization and associativity of sport in the 18th century. Horse racing, cricket, and boxing were already structured, monetized, and widely followed before Queen Victoria ascended the throne. This reframing is crucial. It shows that modern sport was not a sudden invention, but a gradual evolution, shaped by social, economic, and cultural forces over centuries.

The story of modern sport in Britain is not just about games, it’s about transformation. From muddy village fields to manicured stadiums, from folk rituals to global tournaments, sport became a mirror of society. It reflected class tensions, moral aspirations, industrial rhythms, and imperial ambitions.

Reference Books for Further Reading

1. Sport and the British: A Modern History by Richard Holt/ A foundational text exploring how sport shaped British society, class, and empire/ General Histories of Sport
2. The Oxford Handbook of Sports History by Robert Edelman & Wayne Wilson (Eds.). / A global survey of sport’s evolution, including British and colonial contexts/ General Histories of Sport
3. The Evolution of English Sport by Neil Tranter / Traces the transformation of British sports from folk games to organized institutions/ General Histories of Sport
4. From Gym to Global: The YMCA and the Spread of Sport - Various contributors on Basketball & Volleyball
5. Leveling the Playing Field: The Story of the Women Who Changed Sports by Kristina Rutherford /A narrative-driven account of female pioneers in sport, suitable for outreach and public engagement

Coming up in SUNDAY FIELD & FLAME – 28th September 2025: A Bureaucrat’s Playbook: M.K.K. Nair’s Legacy from Fertilizer to Fitness

Ashtami Rohini – When Play Becomes Prayer

The Night the Divine Arrived

On a quiet night in Chingam, under the light of the Rohini star, Kerala waits with folded hands and open hearts. It is Ashtami Rohini, the birthday of Krishna - the playful, powerful, and profound child of Indian mythology.

It’s a night of celebration, but also of reflection. A moment when childhood play becomes a spiritual rhythm, and when every home prepares to welcome not a king - but a child-Bhagwan.

Welcoming Krishna into Every Home

As dawn breaks, tiny footprints made of rice flour appear at the entrances of homes across Kerala, marking the imaginary path of little Krishna, walking in from the outer world into the sanctum of the home.

Temples dedicated to Vishnu and Krishna come alive with people - women in kasavu sarees, men in mundu, children in festive dress. Hymns and Bhajans float in the air, mingled with the fragrance of incense and oil lamps.

The child Bhagwan is here - not as a distant presence, but as a living memory, a guest of honour in every heart.

The Streets Bloom with Little Krishnas

The true charm of Ashtami Rohini is seen on the faces of children - boys and girls dressed as Krishna and Radha. With flutes, crowns, bangles, and mischief in their eyes, they parade through schools, streets, and cultural venues in groups led by Balagokulam and local temple committees.

This is more than cute. It is community storytelling in motion, where myth becomes memory, and tradition is passed on not through lectures, but through costumes, songs and laughter.

Uriyadi – The Game of Leaping Faith

A highlight of Ashtami Rohini is Uriyadi, the daring game where boys try to break a hanging pot - just as little Krishna once did.

The pot swings high, tied between tall poles. Boys form human pyramids or leap on their own to strike it. Cheers erupt. Music plays. Faces shine with joy.

But behind the game lies meaning. Uriyadi is more than fun - it teaches teamwork, courage, rhythm, and the spirit of leaping towards something higher. In every jump, there's a reflection of our own spiritual search.

The Warrior Beyond the Flute

Krishna is remembered for his divine mischief and enchanting flute, but he was also a warrior-sage - skilled in wrestling, swordplay, and archery.

At the gurukula of Sage Sandipani, he trained in both scriptures and strength. He lifted mountains, tamed serpents, and faced demons - not with anger, but with graceful force.

Krishna showed us that the body, too, is sacred.
It must not be denied, but disciplined - and then offered.

The Gita’s Call to Action

Later, as the guide to Arjuna, Krishna gave us the Bhagavad Gita - a call to act, to move, to serve without attachment:

“Perform your duty, without desire for the result.

That is the way of wisdom.”

In Kerala, where people dance in temples, wrestle in kalaris, and row boats in devotion — this message still rings true. Movement is not always about performance. Sometimes, it is prayer.

A Festival that Lives and Breathes

In Guruvayur, Ambalappuzha, Parthasarathy Temple at Aranmula, and hundreds of village shrines, Ashtami Rohini is not just observed - it is lived. Families gather to sing bhajans, chant slokas, and share stories of Krishna’s divine play.

It is not just a memory of a sacred birth. It is a living celebration of values we hold dear - joy, fearlessness, humility, and divine playfulness.

From Mahabali to Madhava

As Thiruvonam fades into memory, Ashtami Rohini arrives to remind us: Kerala’s month of Chingam carries more than one hero.

Mahabali ruled with humility.

Krishna ruled with humor.

Both upheld dharma in their own way.

Their stories remind us that truth and righteousness come in many forms - sometimes wearing a crown, sometimes crawling in butter-smeared limbs.

Conclusion: The Eternal Child Within

Kerala’s culture - with its games, its songs, its processions, tells us again and again: the body is not a burden. It is a bridge.

On Ashtami Rohini, we remember this truth. That leaping for a clay pot or dressing a child like Krishna are not just gestures of devotion - they are acts of remembrance, of connection, of divinity in motion.

So today, let us play.
Let us leap.
Let us act with joy - And find the child-Bhagwan smiling within us.

References:

1. Srimad Bhagavatam, Bhagavad Gita
2. Cultural Symbolism of Uriyadi – Kerala Folklore Series, Vol. 2
3. Oral sources from Balagokulam volunteers and temple elders

Coming up next: SUNDAY FIELD & FLAME – 21st September 2025: “How Britain Shaped the Games We Play”

Aranmula Vallasadya

Aranmula, a village nestled on the banks of the sacred Pampa River in Pathanamthitta district, is known across Kerala for its ancient Parthasarathy Temple and its awe-inspiring ritualistic feast  -  the Vallasadya.

Here, ritual meets rhythm, and devotion flows like the river itself.

The Name and the River: A Tale of Origins

The name Aranmula carries the fragrance of myth and memory. One version says Bhagwan Sree Krishna arrived here on a chadakudam (raft) made of six bamboo poles - “aaru” means six, and “mula” means bamboo in Malayalam. Another explanation stems from the term Thiru Aarum Vilayil - “Thiru” denoting sacredness, “Aaru” for river, and “Vila” for fertile land.

The sacred Pampa River, revered in Hindu traditions, flows as the lifeline of this land. It is along its banks that the village flourished - culturally, ritually, and spiritually.

When History Wears the Garb of Myth

Like most traditions rooted in time and faith, Aranmula’s legacy is not a straight line. History and mythology mingle here like tributaries in a river - inseparable, flowing together.

During a historic conflict between the kingdoms of Kayamkulam and Chembakassery, King Devanarayan of Chembakassery turned to a legendary craftsman - Kodipunna Venkida Narayanan Assari. Based on the ancient text Sthapathya Veda, the craftsman designed a remarkable war vessel: the Chundan Vallam - long, sleek, and built to glide like a serpent.

Measuring between 100 and 138 feet, the boat’s rear towers nearly 20 feet high, while its front narrows to a pointed elegance. Built with 83 foot long planks precisely six inches wide, these boats, with their centuries-old blueprint, are still built exactly the same way, living testaments to Kerala’s mastery of sacred engineering.

The Story Behind the Feast

Behind this majestic legacy of oars and water lies the legend of the feast.

In the Mangattu Illam of Kattoor, a tradition called Kalukazhikichooti was observed on Thiruvonam day - washing the feet of Brahmins and offering them food. One year, not a single Brahmin came. Distressed, Mangattu Bhattathiri prayed fervently. Then, a young Brahmin boy appeared, and the host fulfilled the rituals.

That night, Bhagwan appeared in Bhattathiri’s dream and said, “From now, bring your feast to Me at Aranmula.” Thus was born the tradition of carrying the Onasadya to the Parthasarathy Temple via the river, in a boat called the Thiruvona Thoni.

The Sacred Boat with Garuda on Its Bow

The Thiruvona Thoni is no ordinary boat. Adorned with a figure of Garuda, the divine vehicle of Mahavishnu, it begins its journey from the Kattoor Mahavishnu Temple, located about 12 kilometers from Aranmula. Each year, it departs on the Uthradam day, reaching the temple by dawn on Thiruvonam, bringing with it all the provisions for the sacred feast.

One year, the vessel was attacked mid-journey by robbers. But local snake boats came to its defense and rescued it. From that day onward, community escort boats joined the sacred mission - a tradition that grew and grew. Today, 52 Karas (village regions) send their boats to escort the Thiruvona Thoni - a flotilla of faith, gliding in synchronized reverence.

The Oarsmen: Disciples in Disguise

The men who row the Palliyodams - the sacred snake boats are not just athletes or performers. They are ritual participants, entering into a sacred discipline before taking to the water. This discipline is known as Vridham, a sacred vow that includes:

Abstinence from meat, liquor, and sensual indulgence

Purity in body, mind, and word

Obedience to temple traditions and elders

These men live together in simplicity, rising early, engaging in prayer, practicing their boat movements in sync. Their strength is not aggressive, it is meditative. Each oar stroke is a surrender; each movement, a form of prayer.

This is Tapasya - austerity in motion. The body becomes the first temple. The act of rowing becomes an act of worship.

Body, River, and Ritual - A Harmony in Motion

The beauty of the Aranmula tradition lies not just in spectacle, but in its inner meaning. From the vow of purity to the thundering rhythm of the snake boats, to the divine feast, every step is part of a ritual choreography.

This is not feasting after fasting.
This is feasting as fasting where service, discipline, and community lead to collective fulfillment.

The feast is not a reward for pleasure. It is an offering born of restraint, a sacred circle where body, community, and divinity meet in celebration.

Growing Glory: From Local Ritual to Global Attention

Today, Aranmula is celebrated far and wide - not just for its Onam rituals, but also for its Aranmula Kannadi (the famed metal mirror), which has received the Geographical Indication tag for its uniqueness.

With each passing year, the number of devotees and cultural admirers grows. The name Aranmula is now a symbol - of devotion, discipline, tradition, and living heritage.

Vallasadya: The Sacred Feast

The Vallasadya is a grand, ritualistic feast offered to Parthasarathy, organized by devotees and boatmen. It is conducted on several auspicious occasions, mainly:

Ashtami Rohini Vallasadya

Held on the day of Sri Krishna’s birth, this version of the Vallasadya is open to all - a true annadanam, where every devotee present is fed with love and reverence. It symbolizes Krishna’s divine hospitality and generosity. On the eve of Ashtami Rohini, Aramula waits in devotion and anticipation. The boats rest upon the Pampa, the temple readies it's lamps, and the village prepares it's heart for Krishna's joyous day.

Onam Season Vallasadya

During Onam, the Vallasadya is offered especially to the Palliyodakkar - the oarsmen - and selected invitees. Devotees can register and sponsor this offering. Although the names differ, the spirit remains the same: offering to the Bhagwan by serving His people.

The feast is served on banana leaves after the Ucha Pooja (noon ritual) in the temple, with over sixty-four traditional dishes. Each leaf becomes a sacred canvas, painted with the colors, tastes, and textures of Kerala’s culinary heritage.

References:

1. Parthasarathy Temple Festival Records
2. Oral Narratives from Aranmula Oarsmen (Palliyodakkar)
3. Kerala Folklore Academy Notes on Vallam Kali
4. Cultural Ecology and Ritual Feasts of Kerala, Anthropological Survey of India, 2022
5. Sacred Geography of the Pampa River, University of Calicut Folklore Dept., 2017
6. Journal of the Anthropological Survey of India
7. Menon S. A Survey of Kerala History (1967), Sahithya Pravarthaka Co-operative Society
8. A Study on Aranmula – The Land of Six Bamboos by Sreekanta Parida, Amrita Vishwa Vidyapeetham

Coming up tomorrow (14 September 2025): Ashtami Rohini – The Divine Birth of Krishna and Kerala’s Celebrations