𝑨𝒎𝒎𝒖'𝒔 𝑴𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔!

Onam Ponnonam Memories from my childhood. Onam is a special time in Kerala where everyone no matter what caste, religion or nationality they are, come together as one to celebrate the arrival of King Mahabali for his annual visit to see his subjects. My personal memories of Onam were during the Onam holidays at my grandmother’s house. Flower carpets were my favorite. Flower carpets gave women in the house a chance to use their artistic skills to create beautiful floral patterns over a ten day period. I was assigned the early morning "flower collection" job with Narayani or Kali (my grandmother’s helpers), to the large parambu (yard) that my grandmother had, and collected many different types of wild flowers every day. The collection of wild flowers that would bloom during that time was awe inspiring!   Hibiscus was a constant reliable source, along with a small purple flower called Ona Poovu that would bloom during Onam in a purple carpet all around the yard. Thum

In the late 1920's K. Madhavan Nair, K P Kesava Menon, Kurur Unni Namboodiripad, U Gopala Menon, and other  leaders fought hard to remove  the caste system and untouchability in Kerala. They formed the Kerala anti-untouchability committee to  eradicate this bane of the Hindu comm unity.  K Madhavan Nair was the president of the Kerala Province Congress committee at that time and a dynamic leader who took upper hand in all matters related to its work. He worked tirelessly with others to let lower-caste students into Zamorin’s college, Kozhikode; organized scores of events to encourage inter-dining upper and lower castes; and fought for accessibility for lower castes to public places including temples .  Tali Temple The roads in front of Tali temple in Kozhikode were closed for lower castes until Madhavan Nair along with other leaders decided to walk in front of the temple with a close friend, Mr. C. Krishnan, a successful thiyya lawyer at the Madras high court and other members of l

We all have someone in our lives who invokes special memories, don’t we? A warm, fuzzy feeling when you think about them? For me it is my maternal grandmother. She has always been someone I look up to. Many a time and even now, when I need to make a crucial decision or find myself in a difficult situation, I would think, “What would Valiamma do?” Even though Ammama is the usual term for a grandmother, Valiamma is what her grandchildren called her. She was strong yet quiet, soft-spoken, gentle, and kind. She wore her hair in a bun and was always clad in the whitest veshti/mundu (traditional Kerala attire) that was starched and dipped in indigo water. No matter how much she worked in the kitchen it would never get dirty. She would be busy all day taking care of the household. Valiamma was an expert in making spicy pickles, snacks, and different kinds of tasty dishes. She knew how to use oil and other ingredients sparingly, and was very conscious about wastefulness and would advise us all

Mangoes… As I was eating the juicy mangoes that my husband bought from Costco, a memory just popped into my mind. An interesting incident happened one year when I hired a taxi. Taxi drivers in India are a fascinating group of people with tidbits of captivating information and anecdotes. They see so much on their trips, taking various people to various places. Sometimes, conversations with them can be very interesting, if they are willing to share. There was one driver, who I hired once in my hometown. Murali was a young-looking man, very shy and soft-spoken.   He was stout, clean-shaven with curly black hair, slicked back with coconut oil. His shirt was well pressed, and he was wearing a nice white dhoti and rubber chappals. As we passed a certain area, I told Murali that this is where my family used to live many years ago. Murali said his house was close by too. In his shy soft voice, he asked me exactly where my home was. I told him the location. He asked me if it was the house

  Above is a photo of my father with his siblings ( standing) when he was about 12.  He was born in 1917. I have very fond memories about my father but looking at this photo I started wondering, what it must have been to be a son at that age?  To have a father who was probably one of the most famous people in the state of Kerala then, to have a father who went to jail for 6 months when he was just 4 years and then again in 1930 when he was just 13 for standing up against the British rule. First one in Kerala to go to jail. Once when I started asking him about my grandfather  (achachan), he said “Ammu do you know, I never knew my father; he was never there for us”.  Now when I think about it, I feel it was words of a loving son, a little boy who missed his father immensely.  From the time my father was 4, Achachan was always working or travelling. If he was at home, he was busy with his leadership role as the head of the Congress committee (just an institution for the Freedom strugg

Vishu is just not a celebration for me. There are many memories attached to this ritual of a bygone era, a time of utmost happiness and contentment, full of nostalgia from my childhood and much more.   Vishukani   Vishu has always been a very important holiday in our immediate and extended family. In my younger days the two months of summer vacation (April/May) were usually spent at my maternal grandmother’s house in the outskirts of Kottakkal town in Kerala where Vishu was celebrated. My grandmother would wait for all of us to go to bed and then start decorating the altar with fruits, vegetables, mirror, jewelry, money, Konna flowers, a grandham (a book. usually Bhagavat Geetha), Vishari (a fan made out of starched wooden cloth with a gold border), pictures of Guruvayoorappan and broken coconut with cloth lamps in them decorated in beautiful shiny urulis (Uruli is a traditional cookware extensively used in Kerala, commonly made of clay, copper and bronze). And plenty of trad