THE GOLDEN STEP THAT BEGINS THE JOURNEY IN THE HEART OF KERALA
The Sacred Beginning
As the fresh breath of Chingam deepens, Kerala awakens to Atham, the day that signals not just the start of the Onam season but the return of a deeply loved presence: Mahabali, the Asura King, whose memory has never faded from the Malayali heart.
On this day, every home lays down its first Pookkalam - the floral carpet that blossoms at the doorstep like an open invitation to the noble king’s invisible footfall. It is not a ritual of show, but one of remembrance and quiet reverence. The earth is made fragrant not just with flowers, but with feeling.
It is said that Mahabali begins his descent to Kerala on Atham - not from the sky, but through the corridors of love, memory, and longing. And so, with petals and prayers, the people begin preparing for his arrival, step by step, day by day.
And in this land once ruled by Mahabali, we still sing:
"Maveli Nadu Vazhum Kalam, Kallavumilla Kalavumilla"
When Mahabali ruled the land, there was no theft nor dread of thieves. Honesty of purpose and probity of character were the guiding lights of every heart. Joy and abundance flowed freely, untouched by deceit or fear.
Athachamayam – The King’s Procession Through Time
Atham is not only spiritual, it is spectacular.
In the town of Thripunithura, the day opens in vibrant grandeur with the celebrated Athachamayam, a cultural procession that weaves together history, art, and folklore into a moving mosaic. But few know that this spectacle has roots far deeper than modern celebrations - it once belonged to kings.
According to historian K. P. Padmanabha Menon, in History of Kerala, Vol. IV (1937):
“The Cochin Raja and the Zamorins of Calicut celebrated on Atham day a ceremony known as Athachamayam. On that day, both these Rajas set out in procession with pomp and glitter of Oriental panoply... This is said to be indicative of the start usually made by these Princes in early days to attend the festival at the temple at Thrikkakara.”
In those days, the Raja of Cochin would begin his ceremonial journey on Atham, moving in regal procession toward the Thrikkakara Temple, believed to be the spiritual seat of Mahabali. The event was filled with courtly splendour - elephants, parasols, drums, and dance - and symbolised the king’s alignment with the spirit of Onam: humility before divinity, royalty before the divine dwarf.
But with the reorganisation of princely states and the arrival of democracy, these royal traditions faded from power only to be reborn as public cultural festivals. Today, Athachamayam is sponsored by the Government of Kerala, but retains the charm of a forgotten age. It is a day when almost every traditional art form of Kerala takes to the streets. Kathakali, Mohiniyattam, Theyyam, Pulikali, Kummattikali, Panchavadyam and Chenda Melam transforming the town into a grand theatre of heritage.
It is no longer the king’s procession; it is the people’s inheritance.
A Festival Begins at Home
Even far from Thripunithura, Atham is celebrated quietly but meaningfully across Kerala. Each morning, courtyards are swept clean and then sprinkled with cow dung mixed with water, a traditional act of sanctification still followed in many rural households.
The first Pookkalam is laid in courtyards and verandahs with yellow flowers, especially Thumbappoo (Mexican Marigold), which is believed to be most auspicious on this day. As the days progress, more colours and complexity are added. But Atham’s flower design remains the simplest because every journey must begin with the first step.
Children, often the sincerest celebrants, wake early to pluck flowers, laugh under the morning dew, and race back with their collections. But their joy does not end with blossoms. Even the youngest of them find delight in Gotti (marble games that sharpen hand and eye coordination) and Pambaram (spinning tops that train wrist control and focus). In their laughter, the legacy of Onam lives on, not just as memory, but as motion.
In modern times, schools and villages come alive with the spirit of Onam. Children prepare for Pookkalam contests, cultural programs, and playful competitions, filling the air with laughter and tradition reborn.
The mood is set. The stage is ready. The legend is stirring.
A Glimpse into Traditional Play – Introduction Begins
As part of this ten day journey, we shall introduce one traditional game or play activity every day, not necessarily tied to the day itself, but reflective of Onam’s spirit of community, vigour, and joy.
Today, let us look at Athachamayam itself, not just as a procession, but as a communal performance where play and pageantry meet. The rhythms of Chenda, the agile movements of folk dancers, the roar of the crowd, all reflect the ancient joy of physical expression rooted in Kerala’s cultural soil.
Atham – A Golden Threshold
Atham is not a climax, it is the threshold. It is the first ripple that leads to a flood of festivity. It is a moment poised between history and myth, ritual and reality.
In the footsteps of kings and the silence of Mahabali’s promise, Atham teaches us to begin again - simply, sincerely and with joy.
Let the petals fall, let the procession begin. The king is on his way.
References:
- K. P. Padmanabha Menon – History of Kerala, Vol. IV, 1937
- Census of India 1961, Vol. I – Monograph Series: Onam – A Festival of Kerala
- Interviews and local records on Athachamayam, Thripunithura
- Kerala Government Archives – Onam Festival Circulars
- Malabar and Its Folk by T. K. Gopal Panicker, 1900
Your piece on Atham is a masterclass in cultural storytelling. With lyrical grace and historical depth, you’ve captured not just the spirit of Onam’s beginning but the emotional heartbeat of Kerala itself. The way you intertwine Mahabali’s mythic return with the vibrant spectacle of Athachamayam is both evocative and enlightening. I especially appreciated the reference to K. P. Padmanabha Menon’s historical account, added scholarly weight without losing the warmth of your narrative.
ReplyDeleteThe imagery of children gathering flowers, the simplicity of the first Pookkalam, and the transformation of royal processions into public celebration, all beautifully rendered. You’ve made Atham feel like a golden threshold, not just to a festival, but to a shared memory that continues to bloom.
Looking forward to the rest of your Onam series. This is heritage writing at its finest.