by Thilaka V. Wijeyaratnam

Come August Holidays, all our homes would be a meeting place for our close relatives, who work outstations. For, the festival season starts in Nallur by mid August. That is the time we meet with our close and not-so-close relatives, renew our friendship and plan our programmes for the visit to Nallur Temple.

The festival takes a more conspicuous turn after the 10th day when God Muruga comes out in a beautifully decorated chariot called Manjam. We kids loved to see the gloriously lit - Manjam moving gracefully through the crowd of devotees with the incumbent deity an the centre stage flanked by his 'Sakthis' on either side. We gaze and gaze with wonder at this magnificent spectacle and go to sleep with the beatified parade haunting our minds. For even now after seventy long years that spectacular display is still imprinted in my mind.

When we were young, say about seven or eight years, we would trudge behind our parents on special days of the festival. Holding our hands our parents would push through the crowd thronged to see God Muruga coming out in all His splendour. Finally parents find a less crowded place where we would not be pushed or jostled about. Then father would pick me up and place me on his shoulder. Perched on his shoulder I would take an eyefull of the phenomenal vista. On one side, heads and heads and heads. On the other side God Muruga carried head high by His devotees _ beautifully decorated with flowers. With the Nadaswaram and thavil (drum), the procession makes slowly through the sea of heads - "Looks as though God Muruga is enjoying the music", I would think. Those who bear the pedestal on which the statue in placed move to music and God Muruga seems to sway to the strain of the Nadaswaram. This resplendent view has never left my mind. It's there always for me to recall and rejoice.

During the festival of 25 days, we kids have a grand time. My brother and male cousins of his age form their own group to go to the festival daily. Of course, they wouldn't take, their little sisters who would be a nuisance to them. So we depend on our parents, uncles or aunts to take us. During the festival each night, a scene from 'Kantha Puranam' is enacted. The next day my brother and friends decide to play the episode at home. Being the youngest and quite skinny, I was most suitable to play the part of Murugan. My brother and cousin would grasp each other's arms, and prop me up on this seat of flesh and bones. I would sit like Murugan with my right palm held up in the position of "Abaya Mudra" - granting haven for the surrendering devotee. All our younger set of cousins plus our neighbours' children make up the procession, with me beaming with pleasure. They will shout Arohara at a high crescendo as we go round and round the house much to the amusement of our parents and elder siblings. This goes on without interruption until another sound alerts them - a musical sound like the one played in the merry-go-round. The boys stiffen and I feel myself jolted.

Then all of a sudden someone shouts "notice cart". The cinema notice in those days was brought with a lot of pomp and ceremony in horse carriages with huge bill boards showing the picture of the cast and the name of the bioscope _ as known then, on it side "That's it - says one - My brother and my cousin loosen their grip and 'plump' I go down to the ground while all the boys and girls rush to the gate to get the notices - in blue, red, pink and orange leaflets flung at them by the advertisers. They had completely forgotten their procession and would be avidly reading the notice. I would limp my way to my little couch and slump into it. So ends the festival at home.

Nallur festival holds many attractions for kids and the young as well - Long before 'Munchee' came on the scene, those roasted peanuts and the round kadalai and kondai kadalai were our munchees - We follow the parents to the temple noting as the way the shops and the items they had - our elder sisters were not allowed to go to temples as in all orthodox homes. So they would tell us to buy some bangles for them. After watching the Poosai and worshipping God Muruga, we would impatiently drag our parents to the shopping area - with bags of kadalai we nag them for toys. Then we tell them about what our sisters wanted. Father would buy the glittering glass bangles of all hues and we then wend our way homewards.

There was a joke regarding the children going for the festivals - All bright and shining with powdered faces and eager eyes almost popping out of the sockets, they would march smartly. Should one ask where they were going, "To the Temple", they answer with enthusiasm. There at the temple, they would get pushed and jostled about and they would return perspiring, with one slipper on and one off with dull eyes and sagging lips parched as ever, they would drag their weary feet along the dusty road. "Where have you been?" asks somebody - They had hardly the strength to answer but they do - stuttering, "To the Thiruvila festival", they gasp.

It is just fantastic to watch the cavadi dance, vibrant, vigorous and almost they dance as if in a trance.

The Ther (chariot) festival is the most looked forward one. Hindus from all parts of the island pour in. It is a daytime event.

Boys are crazy to hold the thick rope to pull the chariot.

There are the devotees singing Thirupugal, the sacred songs praising God Muruga and men, women and children accompany Murugan, walking alongside the chariot.

The day after the Ther is the water-cutting ceremony where the deity is taken for a dip in the Temple pond. Not having seen it at any time, I went right down the steps to see the ceremony closely. As soon as the priests stepped into the pond with the deity, lo and behold! all the youngsters jumped in and started beating the waters, giving all of us a ducking. Drenched to the skin, I vowed never to sit closer to the area again.

A day or two after Ther, all our relatives would pack up to go to their home stations. The Jaffna Railway Station would be full of passengers plus those who had come to bid 'good bye'.