My family always celebrates Onam. We make it a point to all be together, to the extent that we may delay celebrations so that no one will be left out. Which is what happened this year; we postponed the feast from a Wednesday to a Sunday so that my brother-in-law could join us after he returned from a work-related trip.

Every Onam (or any feast, for that matter), my mother painstakingly creates each dish from scratch. She doesn’t use any pre-mixed product of any kind. She cooks all of the ten or twelve dishes by hand, usually taking the entire morning. As her children who have lived and watched her work throughout our lives, we have learnt that she will accept only a limited amount of help. Beyond that line, she will consider your presence in her kitchen as unwelcome. She won’t be mean-spirited about it at all, she will simply suggest that you help in other ways since she’s “got her methods for the cooking.”

And so today, I cut the vegetables. A lot of raw bananas were involved (as I always say, never try to separate a Malayalee from bananas or coconuts -- no pun intended). And a lot of yam was involved, too. I had forgotten how they itch and cause rashes on your hands. I spent about thirty to forty minutes trying to calm my irritated skin.

My brother bought the ten banana leaves: one for each person and then two more, just in case. He set all of the leaves neatly around the dining room floor. Not at the table, since traditional Kerala feasts are eaten sitting on the ground.

Family arrived one at a time, everyone contributing in their own way. Sister brought dessert (paayasam), Brother-in-Law brought his appetite for all of the fish available in the house today. Sister and I served all of the dishes in small quantities to every leaf. Cousin brought his camera to document all of the madness.

The food was perfect. A completely traditional Kerala Sadhya can have as far as thirty-six dishes, but ours was ten in all, not counting the rice and paapad. This was the first year that I managed to finish everything on my leaf. But even with just a spoon of each dish, I nearly didn’t eat all of it. A few people managed to have second helpings of rice. Don’t ask me how they did, I have no idea. I can only tell you that I looked on in bewilderment.

But the best part of it all, over and above everything else, was the fact that this was a family meal. Yes, it was a feast, but it was also just a simple meal. Our family is close-knit, and being together always leads to fun and silliness. There were fights over who could get the last piece of fish, over if we really had to give away the last of the Tamarind-Ginger achaar to my sister, over her stealing the banana chips off my leaf. There was teasing as Brother-in-Law finished his first helping of rice before everyone else did theirs, as Mamma herself sneaked in an extra piece of fish for herself. There were today, as there always are, laughs all around.

As I type this out, not quite out of my food daze yet, I look forward to next Sunday when the family congregates again. No matter what the occasion, even if there is no occasion, I know we’re going to have a wonderful time together.