This piece offers an intimate glimpse into how Tamizh New Year celebrated in Perumalpalayam, a village near Tiruchirappalli, Tamil Nadu. Through traditions passed down for generations, the day unfolds with rituals, food, music and a sense of togetherness that transforms the village into a hub of festive joy. Here is a personal account of the sights, sounds, and emotions that shape this cherished celebration by Nandhini A.
A brightly shining day, decorated by a few occasional drizzles, the auspicious day of Tamizh New Year begins, teeming with life.
The morning begins earlier than usual, commencing with the ritual of waking up to a mirror placed in a thambulam, filled with fruits, gold, and other items thought to bring good luck.
And thus, the day begins. Houses bustle with people, everyone too busy to stop and respond with a simple nod. A small fight or rather a quarrel amongst the cousins to see which one us gets to bathe first is not unlikely. A morning prayer is succeeded by a feast– a vast display of a variety of dishes including the legendary Mangai Pachadi, a dish with the seasonal raw mango as the main ingredient that enlightens your taste buds with a rush of all six tastes at once!
Following the feast comes a session of shuffling through the channels on the TV. Being used to OTTs, the traditional cable system often renders us a bit annoyed due to repetitive advertisements. Everyone gathers around to sit and watch the shows, especially the festive special movies that are telecasted on days like this.
I remember my father recollecting that despite these movies having been watched several times earlier, there is a different feel when you watch it on a festive day, trying to catch up in between the unceasing advertisements.
Meanwhile on the roads, the streets overflow with stalls offering food and drinks like buttermilk, rosemilk, and a special beverage called panagam. What a relief it offers from the scorching heat.
Fast forward to the evening, crowds of people march to the Sevvandhi Nadeshwarar temple to see the deity, among meeting other people of course. On the entrance one can see the temple chariot being prepared for the therottam in the night. A visit to the temple on an ordinary day might take just half an hour.
But today, it will gently stretch into however long you wish to stay – because you are not just there to pray, but also to reconnect, to meet familiar faces and to share warm conversations after a long time.
After dinner, parents hush their kids to sleep, so that they shall not be tired when the chariot arrives and graces the night. Legend has it that the elders do not sleep, rather chat their way through midnight.
Kids are woken up and practically dragged out of bed by their already-excited parents the moment the sounds of the procession music reach our ears. People of nearby houses crowd the streets as the temple chariot passes through.
The small idol of the deity is adorned by an intricate arrangement of flowers and lights. The streets fill with the ethereal fragrance of the flowers, turning it into a flower stall for the night. The sounds of the thavil and nadaswaram echo through the village, making sure to wake every sleeping soul.
Even in the darkness, faintly illuminated by the lights from the chariots, people recognise others and ask about their well-being. As the chariot approaches, one can visibly see people’s eyes widen and a radiant glow can be seen in their face. Nowhere can you find traces of sleepiness in that village. The flowers may have slightly wilted, but the liveliness seen in the people never dies.
As the chariot passes, people’s heads reflexively turn towards the direction it goes, their gaze lingering until it fades out of sight, a persistent smile etched across their face. The distant jingle becomes a lullaby, but sleep remains out of reach as the day’s events replay in our minds, with excitement still coursing through us.
I wonder if people will wake up the next day, their minds lingering on the memories of the day before. I wonder if the night that follows will feel strangely empty in its silence. But for all I know, this fleeting happiness is like a whisper, ephemeral and elusive – a day carved from tradition and pure bliss.
Cover photo: The illuminated pandhal
Photos by Nandhini A
Nandini has captured the essence of the celebrations through both camera and composition. It resonates with many of the experiences we have encountered and touches the chord of nostalgia. Given the fact this is written by someone who is nearly in the cusp of Gen Alpha, it goes to prove that tradition can never loose its charm.
It’s people like Nandini who will go on to keeps the charm of these traditions alive.
Kudos to you Nandini for your article and the subject matter choice.