Onam is a tradition I hold close to my heart.
Growing up in Lakshadweep, we always celebrated it — hunting for flowers all over the island with friends, creating pookalams from atham day onwards, and building up to a full-blown Onasadya on Thiruvonam. It was a season of joy, colour, and togetherness.
Even after marriage, I made it a point to keep that tradition alive. The girls grew up looking forward to pookalam-making, and of course, the grand feast on Thiruvonam day.
We managed to celebrate Onam for three years even after moving here. But eventually, it all became a bit too much. The guilt of not being able to visit Mom weighed heavily on me. Without her by my side, something felt missing — and slowly, I stopped celebrating. The sadya pots stayed in the cupboard. The flowers never made it to the floor. The festival lost its spark at home — and I let it.
But this year, something shifted.
If there’s one thing recent events have taught me, it’s this: life is meant to be lived — not someday, but now.
So here it is. A small step. A gentle return to the tradition I love, in my own way, in my own time.
Onam is back at home — and so is a little part of me.
