Thriketta - The Sixth Day: The Ember Beneath the Bloom
As the sixth dawn of Onam rises, the festival softens in roots, rituals and remembrance. The noise of games settles slightly. In its place comes a gentler rhythm - a return to ancestral soil and sacred memory.
Return to the Tharavad: Where Bloodlines Breathe
Long before cities rose, the tharavad - the ancestral home - was Kerala’s heartbeat. On Thriketta, families begin to retrace their steps to these ancestral abodes. Children rush into wrinkled arms. Women revisit storied rooms filled with castor oil, jackfruit, and faded black-and-white photos.
The elders wait quietly with sandal paste, oil lamps, and silence heavy with blessing. A bowed head meets a raised palm. A moment of contact becomes the most sacred of rituals.
Kitchens as Temples of Taste
By mid-morning, kitchens burst into choreography. Coconut is scraped, cumin roasted, turmeric warmed in oil. Banana chips are fried with meditative precision.
Each stir, each taste, each act of preparation becomes a sensory ritual, training the mind to focus, and the body to serve without distraction. These are not tasks - they are offerings.
Games of Rhythm and Muscle Memory
The younger generation gathers for Nanthuni Kali, Thalam Kali, and spontaneous games of rhythm, clapping, and mirth. Boys engage in arm wrestling and balancing games. No scorecards here - only pride, laughter, and the thrill of motion.
These are the earliest rites of physical culture, seeded in joy.
Sham Battles and the Echoes of Ancient Boxing
British officers like Fawcett and James Forbes documented sham fights and boxing contests during Onam. In fields led by jenmies (landlords), tenants would engage in symbolic yet spirited combat.
The boxing Fawcett observed in Malabar was astonishing - its stance, agility, and execution reminiscent of Roman pugilism. Fighters stood bare chested, fists raised, feet grounded, echoing the ancient Roman cestus fighters.
Could these forms have traveled through trade?
Indeed, from 30 B.C. onward, Roman ships visited Muziris for pepper and pearls. Roman influence on Kerala’s coastal culture is not myth but recorded history. Even Alaric the Goth’s ransom of 3,000 lbs. of pepper in 410 A.D. likely came from these very shores.
The Kayyankali and indigenous boxing games of Malabar may carry not only cultural essence but transcontinental echoes, transmitted through bodies, not books.
Moolam – The Seventh Day: When Generations Dance Together
On the seventh day, the festival matures. Children no longer dance alone; elders step into the circle. From this day, the spirit of Onam becomes one of intergenerational celebration.
It is often said:
“Kanam vittum Onam unnanam.”
(Even if one must sell land, the Onam feast must be served.)
Sadya as Sacred Practice
Temples serve miniature sadhyas - simple meals that carry the full weight of tradition. In homes, kitchens echo with rehearsals.
Payasam is sampled. Tamarind is soaked. Bananas are steamed.
Each act of cooking becomes a spiritual preparation.
Elders and Strategy
Games of Chathurangam, dice, and cards begin to unfold in quiet courtyards.
Wisdom is no longer spoken - it is played.
A well-placed move is not just clever - it is inheritance in action.
Attakalam: A Sand Circle of Honour
In village compounds, Attakalam is played. One team inside, one out. Rules simple - outwit, outlast, and push the opponent from the circle.
It is not brute strength, but strategy, balance and discipline that determine the winner.
Kaikottikali and Soaring Swings
Women in cream kasavu sarees gather under jackfruit trees, forming soft circles. Kaikottikali begins with a song, followed by synchronised steps, folded hands, and smiles shared across generations.
Beside them, coir rope swings sway. Girls and women fly, push, and giggle. It is not escape - but a vertical prayer, a moment between earth and sky.
Pooradam – The Eighth Day: Where the Clay Speaks
On Pooradam, the festival slows to a sacred rhythm. After seven days of outward expression, the focus shifts inward - to the clay, the lamp and the living room floor.
Onathappan: Clay Pyramid, Eternal Presence
Families gather to mold the Thrikkakara Appan - the clay pyramid representing Mahabali and Vamana. These are not opposing forces, but coexisting truths: humility and dharma, sacrifice and grace.
Children, now called Poorada Unnikkal, decorate the figures with flowers and rice flour. Their small hands carry forward a thousand years of silent continuity.
Behind every Onathappan, tradition places bows and arrows, a practice often overlooked today. These weapons were not of war but of reverance, honouring Vamana’s courage and Mahabali’s nobility.
The Sacred Archery and Onavillu Tradition
In southern Kurumbranad, archery contests using bamboo bows and plantain targets were common. The cheppu (target) sat atop a mound, and victors - those who struck true, claimed every fallen arrow.
This wasn’t mere sport, it was mental focus, physical precision, and community pride. These echoes survive even today.
In Thiruvananthapuram, the Onavillu ritual continues in royal tradition. On Thiruvonam morning, the Travancore royal family receives, from temple priests, an ornate bow (Onavillu) painted with scenes of Vishnu and crafted as sacred heirlooms. It is a reminder that valour and virtue walk hand in hand.
Markets, Kitchens, and Collective Joy
Pooradam also marks the final preparation day. Markets bustle with last minute purchases - fresh banana leaves, jaggery, coconut, turmeric, and new garments.
Kitchens echo with the music of picking and frying. Grandmothers begin making sharkara upperi, naranga achar, puliyinchi, and uniyappam not from written recipes, but from instinct passed down like family jewellery.
Even the poorest homes prepare something because Onam is about dignity, not wealth.
Circles of Story and Shared Wisdom
At nightfall, elders gather the children. Under the light of one lamp, stories unfold.
Proverbs, riddles, Akshara Slogam, and small contests of wit bloom in verandahs.
Here, Mahabali becomes more than myth.
Pooradam – The Still Point of the Festival
Pooradam is a sacred pause.
It is the point at which myth becomes memory and memory becomes clay.
It is the day when Mahabali is no longer awaited, he is present, in every act of love and readiness. In the great journey of Onam, Pooradam is the inward step, the whispered welcome, the final note before crescendo.
References:
- Fawcett, F., Nayars of Malabar, 1901
- James Forbes, Oriental Memoirs, 1813
- Census of India 1961, Vol. I, Monograph Series – Onam: A Festival of Kerala
- Kerala Government Archives – Festival Records & Circulars
- Malabar and Its Folk by T. K. Gopal Panicker, 1900
- Interviews with families in Palghat, Thiruvananthapuram, and Kurumbranad (2022–2024)
- Travancore Royal Family Chronicles, Government Publications Division
Uthradam – When Joy Crosses the Threshold
