- Prema Jayakumar
Onam is a festival where it is not the God who won, but the Asura who lost, who is celebrated by the people, who is sung about, who is welcomed with flower carpets. Of course there are temples to the God who appeared on earth to send the Asura to the netherworlds, but the celebration is for the king who was defeated. He is the one who visits his people, people in this small corner of his kingdom, which covered the heavens and the earth, the whole universe.
The present colourful celebrations seem to have evolved over the years, perhaps with the Government seeing an opportunity for encouraging tourism and brought it out into the public space. There are the symbols of prosperity in the celebrations, the gold-bordered clothes, the abundance of flowers and the tasty feasts that are prepared. Though here there is a caveat. The festival earlier only meant that everyone got new clothes, not that they got flashy, expensive, clothes. And the feast was not one of a great many dishes, but the day was probably the only one where a poor household ate its fill. The present celebrations err on the side of lavishness and garishness to me. Because the celebrations were for the family in my earlier memories, and for people who worked for any particular household. The preparations took days but that was also a part of the festivities.
Willingness to give at whatever cost. Though warned by his guru that the young brahmin boy was Vishnu in disguise, Bali decides to ‘give what he had decided in his heart to give’, and faced the consequences. Is it any wonder that we welcome him not only with flower carpets and feasts, but with all our hearts?
As for the pot-bellied figure of fun to whom we have reduced the valiant King of Asuras, born in a great lineage, the grandson of Prahlada, the conqueror the many worlds in the universe. Perhaps at some time, along with all the other insignia of prosperity, the pot-belly was also added as a signifier of plentiful food. But in all the noise and colours of the celebrations, in the dances and the feasts, we seem to have lost sight of the figure of the king who not only gained the whole world by conquest, but lost that world cheerfully, without a murmur of protest. Vanquished by subterfuge of the gods (I have always imagined that Vamana did not want to defeat the valiant Bali but used a trick instead) he gave in with grace. The festival, to me, is a celebration of that giving, of giving without caution, of giving so much that a man who owned the wealth of the universe became a pauper. Very few people have the capacity to give whole heartedly, without holding back, be they princes or poor people. Gifts gain lustre when the giver has nothing left to give. The Bible says that ‘You should give what you have decided in your heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.’ And you could not find a more cheerful giver than Bali.
I don’t know if you remember the story of the half-gold mongoose who came to the venue of the Rajasuya yaga held by Yudhishtira after the victory of the Pandavas over the Kauravas. The yaga had been magnificent and all the guests had received lavish gifts. When asked why it had wandered into the sacred yagasala, the mongoose said that it wanted to see if it could turn completely gold. It had turned gold in places that had touched the water that had washed the feet of a visitor in a poor home whom the household had given all their food to. There wasn’t enough water to cover the whole body and so only the parts washed by the water turned gold. It had come to the palace in the hope that the water flowing from washing the feet of the guests would turn it fully gold. Of course it was disappointed. The stories of the greatness of those who gave without thought of themselves are legion in all religious books. There is Karna who gave away the armour he had been born with, though he knew that to do so was to invite death.
That is what defines Bali. This willingness to give at whatever cost. Though warned by his guru that the young brahmin boy was Vishnu in disguise, Bali decides to ‘give what he had decided in his heart to give’, and faced the consequences. Is it any wonder that we welcome him not only with flower carpets and feasts, but with all our hearts?
