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

Anizham – When the Festival Finds Its Flow

The Turning Point of Onam

Today is Anizham - the fifth day of Onam.

The festival, once budding in whispers and petals, now flows freely through courtyards, kitchens, and riversides. The air thickens with purpose. The land listens. The people respond.

Children, barefoot and bright eyed, scatter across fields and gardens, collecting mukkutti, thumbappoo, chethi, and thetti. Their hands speak the silent language of flowers. Their laughter drifts between hibiscus hedges and jasmine vines.

The Pookkalams, once small yellow circles, now spread like living mandalas, layer upon layer, colour upon colour. In each home, the design has deepened, just like the feeling.

Chithira – The Ground is Made Ready

The day after Atham is Chithira, a quiet but essential step.

In homes across Kerala, courtyards are swept, cleaned, and sanctified. A thin film of cow dung mixed with water is spread across the earth, a traditional act of purification still practiced in many rural households.

With this, the second ring of the Pookkalam is laid. More flowers, more colour, more joy. What began as a simple yellow bloom now unfolds like a story.

The heart of Onam is beginning to stir.

Choti – The Festival Gains Texture

On the third day, Choti (Chodi), the preparations grow bolder. While some consider this a domestic day, where families gather utensils and household items for the days ahead - it is also when traditional games and early rituals begin appearing in community spaces.

Children continue plucking flowers. Elders supervise the thickening Pookkalam. Anticipation builds - but still, the festival holds its breath. The sounds of celebration are near, but not yet here.

Vishakam – When the Celebration Roars

By Vishakam, the fourth day of Onam, the hush is broken. The land begins to sing and shout.

In Thrissur, roads come alive with the wild rhythms of Pulikali.
Men paint their bodies like tigers, yellow, black, and orange stripes and dance through the streets to pounding Chenda Melam. This folk-theatrical art form blends muscular movement with primal energy. Children gasp. Drummers thunder. Crowds roar.

Pulikali is not just performance - it is catharsis. It channels the spirit of masculine play, of public spectacle, and of ancient pride.

Elsewhere, temples host Kummattikali performances, and masked dancers parade through lanes, scattering joy and blessings. This is Onam leaping from verandahs to village squares.

The Kitchen Awakens, Onakkazhcha Begins

Vishakam also marks the culinary awakening of Onam.

Markets swell with activity. Banana leaves, pumpkins, yams, red chilies, and tamarind fill baskets and counters. Women begin preparing pickles, roasting spices, drying papadams. The Onasadya, though days away, now begins to breathe.

It is also during Vishakam and Anizham that an old agrarian custom returns: Onakkazhcha.

In this time honoured tradition, tenants bring offerings to landlords - rice, fruits, vegetables, and the best yield of the season. These were not mere gestures of loyalty but obligations built into leases and land arrangements. In return, the Janmis would provide a sumptuous feast before the festival ended.

Every village artisan, too, paid homage to the Karanavar of noble tharavads.

• The carpenter brought a handmade wooden toy.

• The blacksmith offered a small knife.

• The potter rolled in with new vessels.

These were accepted with dignity, and returned with gifts of cloth, rice, or curry goods. It was an economy of respect, not commerce but kinship.

Anizham – When the River Begins to Move

Now comes Anizham, the fifth day. The river joins the celebration.

In the backwaters of Kuttanad, Champakulam, and Aranmula, men gather around their gleaming chundan vallams, the legendary snake boats of Kerala. The air is filled with vanchipattu - boat songs rising like prayer. Oarsmen chant, stretch, and test the waters. These are not yet races. But they are more than rehearsals.

Anizham is when the water remembers its rhythm.

At Aranmula, where the Parthasarathy Temple watches from the banks, the river becomes a theatre of reverence. The boats are decorated like deities. The men who row are not just athletes, they are custodians of a sacred tradition.

Games of Strength and Spirit

On the temple grounds and village greens, another rhythm emerges.

Thick ropes are uncoiled for Vadam Vali, Kerala’s form of tug-of-war. Teams grip with calloused hands. Bodies lean. Ankles dig. Cheers rise.

In parallel fields, an ancient ball game comes to life - Thalappanthu, the ancestral play of strike and rhythm. With no nets or goals, players slap the ball with open palms, each strike a burst of laughter and skill.

And these are only two among many.

Across Kerala, traditional games like

• Kutu Kutu (Kabaddi),

• Kayyankali (a combat-style wrestling),

• Kilithattu Kali,

• and Ambeyyal (archery)

return to schoolyards, village greens, and temple arenas.

These are not imported sports. They are games rooted in soil, memory and muscle.

As early as the 1700s, the European missionary Fra Bartolomeo recorded these martial traditions:

“The men, particularly those who are young, form themselves into two parties and shoot at each other with arrows... These games have a great likeness to the ceralia and juvenalia of the Ancient Greeks and Romans.”

But these games, of course, predate even Bartolomeo’s accounts. They are legacies - threads in Kerala’s long tapestry of play, discipline, and joy.

Voices Rise, Lamps Glow

As evening falls, the festival retreats gently into its homes.

The nilavilakku is lit. Shadows dance on the walls.
Women in kasavu sarees begin their Onappattu, songs of harvest, homecoming, and Mahabali. Their voices rise, carried by wind and memory.

Children gather to hear again the story of the noble King, the just ruler who lost his kingdom but won a place in every Malayali heart.

Elders tell it not like a tale but like a truth.

And the land listens.

Conclusion – When Joy Finds Its Flow

From the doorstep to the river, from the petal to the paddle, Onam now flows freely.

• Chithira readied the earth.

• Choti gathered texture.

• Vishakam roared with drums, drums, and Pulikali stripes.

• Anizham stirred the rivers and called the boats to rhythm.

This is the moment where ritual becomes celebration, where preparation becomes play, where memory becomes movement.

Onam is not just remembered. It is rehearsed, relived, reawakened.

References:

1. Fra Bartolomeo – Observations on the Malabar Christians, early 18th century
2. Census of India 1961, Vol. I – Monograph Series: Onam – A Festival of Kerala
3. T. K. Gopal Panicker – Malabar and Its Folk, 1900
4. Kerala Government Archives – Land Tenure and Agrarian Customs
5. Local oral histories from Thrissur, Kuttanad, and Aranmula

Coming Up Next on 3rd September – As the Feast Nears, Joy Finds Its Voice
(Thriketta, Moolam & Pooradam special)