For one reason or another, having Onasadya at home had become a distant memory. I would often sit helplessly, watching the family enjoy their feast over lunchtime video calls. It’s not that sadya or Onam are rare in the UK—with so many Malayalees around, there’s no shortage of celebrations—but nothing compares to sharing the meal with parents. As the old Mastercard ads used to say, “There are some things money can’t buy.”
This year, though, we finally got the chance to celebrate Onam at home. My lady insisted on a family picture in traditional attire (though the fashion diva herself went for a Rajasthani saree—one world, no borders!). I tried to push the idea to next year—there’s always that selfish part of me imagining an improved fitness routine leading me toward the six-pack hero from the Pardesiya song. But then came her vajrayudha: “I’ve been saying this for a while, and see, Amma isn’t here anymore.”
Achan, to my surprise, was completely compliant—after all, apart from the 70s, the only other time he wore a proper traditional mundu was for my wedding!
Long story short: it turned out to be the best Onam I’ve had in years.
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