Onam – A Celebration of Heritage, Unity, and Memories
- Manoj Ambat, Lawyer/ Editor in Chief, Strategic Vanguard
- Sep 5
- 3 min read

As Kerala prepares to welcome Onam once again, I dedicate this blog to the festival that is woven into the very soul of every Malayali. Onam is not just a harvest festival—it is the cultural heartbeat of Kerala, celebrated by people across religions, castes, and communities with equal fervor.
The Legend of Mahabali and Vamana
To the uninitiated, Onam—or Thiruvonam—commemorates the annual visit of Mahabali, the mythical king who once ruled Kerala. His reign was said to be a golden era—without hunger, poverty, or inequality. People lived in prosperity and happiness.
Such was his popularity that Lord Indra grew envious and sought the intervention of Lord Vishnu. Answering Indra’s prayers, Vishnu incarnated as Vamana, a humble Brahmin boy, and approached Mahabali during a sacred ritual. As tradition demanded, Mahabali promised to grant Vamana’s wish—three feet of land.
To everyone’s astonishment, Vamana began to grow until he encompassed the universe. With one stride he measured the heavens, with the second he covered the earth, and for the third, Mahabali humbly offered his head. Vishnu, moved by Mahabali’s selflessness, banished him to the netherworld but granted him the boon of returning once every year to visit his beloved people. That day is Thiruvonam, the essence of Onam.
Onam as a Harvest Festival
Traditionally, Onam also coincided with the completion of the harvest. Fields would be abundant, homes would be filled with joy, and families would celebrate together. It was a time when agriculture was central to life in Kerala, and the festival reflected that deep bond with the land.
Childhood Memories of Onam
Growing up, Onam was one of the highlights of the year. My father, who worked as Deputy Chief Engineer in a PSU, seldom had long vacations. But for Vishu, Onam, and Christmas, we always made it a point to travel.
For us, Onam meant going to my father’s ancestral home in Thrissur, where cousins, uncles, aunts, and grandparents gathered. The house would come alive with laughter, games, and traditions. My grandmother’s birthday, which fell on Uthradam (the day before Onam), added another layer of celebration.
I fondly remember my sisters creating intricate Pookalams (floral carpets), each day adding new flowers and designs. The temple visits in Thrissur remain etched in memory—Vadakkunnathan, Paramekkavu, Thiruvambady, Shankaran Kulangara, Kottapuram, and of course Guruvayur, the abode of Lord Guruvayurappan.
Then there was Pulikali (the tiger dance) and Kummatti Kali, both unique to Thrissur, where artists would visit homes and perform. But nothing matched the grandeur of the Onam Sadhya—the traditional vegetarian feast with dozens of dishes served on a banana leaf. The payasam, of course, was the highlight for us children.
As I look back, those times seem so simple yet so fulfilling. Today, with the demands of work and life, Onam often passes by quietly, and nostalgia takes me back to those carefree days of joy and togetherness.
Onam in Today’s Kerala
Over the years, Onam has changed. Many of the traditional practices—like children collecting flowers for Pookalam or women performing Kaikottikali—are rarely seen today. Modern celebrations often revolve around TV specials, shopping festivals, and online gatherings.
Yet, the spirit of Onam endures. It remains a festival that unites Malayalis across the globe, reminding us of our roots, our stories, and our values.
As we adapt to new lifestyles, let us also preserve the timeless traditions that make Onam so unique. For in celebrating Onam, we celebrate not just a festival, but an identity that transcends generations.
Wishing everyone a Happy and Prosperous Onam!



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