Rajisha Vijayan
Actress
Rajisha Vijayan
Most of my Vishus growing up were spent in North India, in places like Delhi, Punjab and Pune, where was father, then a junior commissioned officer in the Army, was stationed. Every Vishu my parents used to go to much trouble to source the kanikonna, banana leaf, coconut and the like, by asking friends and colleagues travelling to Kerala to bring them for us and we’d always set up an elaborate kani. Half the fun was in sourcing the Vishnu essentials, come to think about it, especially in these days of instant kanis straight from supermarkets. Inside the Cantonments, all festivals are celebrated with much gusto and Vishu was no different. We’d make all our friends wear kasavu mundus and saris, and giggle ourselves silly as the men tried to hold on to the mundus for dear life! We’d light fireworks – never crackers – and have a sumptous sadya. Nowadays, Vishu is usually spent at home in Kozhikode and is equally special, with the requisite kani, sadya, and fireworks. However, the shine seems to have gone out of it a little now that I am all grown up and especially because I’m also expected to dole out kaineetam, instead of simply receiving it!
Gireesh Gangadharan
Cinematographer
Gireesh Gangadharan
The first thing that comes to my mind when I think of Vishu is focussing the camera on the brilliant yellow of the kanikonna. No leaves, nothing. Just the flowers. I grew up in Chadayamangalam, a little town in Kollam district. In that part of the state, Vishu is much more low key than what I have observed in the north of Kerala. We do have the kani, sadya and the tradition of giving kaineethams. No bursting of firecrackers, though.
That’s usually reserved for Deepavali. I was always tasked with plucking the kanikonna for the kani. I recall one particularly big tree in the compound next door, from which I would pluck them from. As it’s a holiday, my friends and I would head to Attingal and Anchal, the nearest towns, to catch the Vishu releases. It’s been years since I celebrated Vishu at home. Usually, it’s on a set somewhere.
Vineeth
Actor and dancer
Vineeth
I have strong memories of Vishu celebrations during my school days. It used to be summer vacations for us and I would come from Ooty, where I was studying, to my maternal grandmother’s ancestral house in Neeleswaram.
It would be a grand, well-organised festival and family together. My mother’s siblings would all be there and children from the neighbourhood and our workers’ children would all join in for the celebrations. Unniappams would be made in a huge uruli and on the day of Vishu, my grandmother would hand out one unniappam and a ₹one coin to each child. No partiality. But sometime, if my uncle was around, he might give us ₹ 101 and then we felt like we had won a million dollars!
The excitement would begin the previous night when each of us cousins would declare that we would make our way to the pooja room for the kani without opening our eyes. And once we made it to the pooja room, my grandmother would tell us to open our eyes and see the reflection of the kani in the mirror and then the figurine of Lord Krishna and finally our face. Only then would we see the kani directly. I believe that was a North Malabar custom. Then the sadya, fireworks... it was a festival to remember. Now, we celebrate Vishu in Chennai. This year, I will be in Dubai for a performance on the day of Vishu.
Meera Nair
Poet
Meera Nair
I can recollect golden coloured flowers, lit lamps, the feel of Amumma’s palms over my closed eyes and the smell of crisp notes. But here is a Vishu memory of an unexpected joy and random act of kindness. It was the Vishu of 2005. A flustered bride, I, and an even more flustered father of the bride, Achan, were on our way to the marriage hall. En route we stopped at the Ayyappan Temple, Thycaud, for a quick peek at the bachelor God and to take his blessings. As we entered the temple, we happened to run into an old friend of my Achan’s. Uncle looked at me and said, ‘Mole, I am sure no one has given you ‘Vishu kaineetam’ today.’ He took out a ₹ one coin from his pocket and placed it on my palm. Vishu for unexpected joys and random acts of kindness!
Peethambaran
Musician
Peethambaran
I had a blast celebrating Vishu with my nine siblings at Irinjalakkuda, my native place. We weren’t well off and so we children had our way of pooling money to buy crackers. There were many cashewnut trees in the area and so we would collect the nuts and sell it in the market. With that money we used to buy sparklers and crackers. The other attraction was obviously the Vishu kaineettam. We used to get 50 paise or ₹ one at the most. But that was a huge amount for all of us.
For breakfast we had Vishukanji, a gruel made with rice harvested from our paddy fields, jaggery and coconut milk. Although the Vishu sadya was not as sumptous as that of Onasadya, four curries were a must - mambazha pulissery, erissery, olan and inchithairu. Times have changed, so too the celebrations. Only thing that hasn’t changed is the Vishukkani.
Krishna Mohan
Businessman
Krishna Mohan
During my childhood days, my grandmother would take my four brothers and I to the pooja room, our eyes covered, to view the elaborate Vishukkani. I would also eagerly await the kaineetam from Achan. There’s always a sumptuous Vishu lunch at home, with mutton curry, fish fry and payasam, which we would all feast on together as a family. These days, my Vishukkani is usually darshanam at Sabarimala temple. My younger daughter, Gayatri, was born on a Vishu three years ago and nowadays we celebrate her birthday on the day too.
