Pongal

Just when you thought the festival season was over, Pongal is upon us. This is a secular harvest festival, also known as Makar Sankranti and Tamizhar Thirunal (The Festival of Tamils). In Tamil, there is a saying, Thai Pirandhal Vazhi Pirakkum, that means "the birth of the month of Thai will pave way for new things." The festival lasts for four days, during which old clothes are burned in a bonfire, fresh milk is allowed to boil over (the literal translation for Pongal),and a bull-taming contest called Jallikattu is organized. People eat sugar cane and decorate their houses with kolam, and brothers are encouraged to give their sisters gifts of money.

In my novel RESCUING RANU, I set a scene in the third day of the festival:

Nela and Ranu looked out on a passing parade of decorated cattle, horns painted and covered with shining metal caps. Multi- colored beads, tinkling bells, sheaves of corn and flower garlands surrounded their necks. “It is Mattu Pongal,” the girl declared. “End of winter!”

“It is why we take oil baths,” Nela told her. The girl cocked her head. She had only learned the ritual, not the origins. Nela said, “Once Shiva asked his bull, Basava, to go to the earth and ask the mortals to have an oil bath every day and to eat once a month. But Basava made a mistake. He announced that everyone should eat daily and have an oil bath once a month! Shiva banished Basava to live on earth forever. He would have to plough the fields. This is why we appreciate him.”

Something, a detail, the half-glimpsed gesture, a particular scent perhaps, caught Nela’s attention just then. She did not answer Ranu’s stream of questions about the bull, but scanned the scene before her, narrowing her eyes to sharpen her vision. Nearly lost among the commotion of lowing beasts, shouting vendors, and rickshaws, she saw a disheveled man slumped in a chair. He was stirring his drink as if that small motion took all of his strength. His skin, waxy and hanging like steamed folds of fabric, looked feverish even from a distance. Nela’s body recognized him before her brain remembered his name. Gooseflesh rose on her arms.