The sound of the drums, coupled with the ecstatic chant of “Arpo…irro, irro, irro” echoed through the Penrith Regional Sports Centre during Sydney’s first ever youth Onam festival as hundreds of young people welcomed “King Mahabali.” Whilst it is guaranteed that most of the audience members couldn’t care less about the mythological king’s arrival, much less know of his significance, everyone joined in for the cry. It’s a chant which because it means nothing, much like ‘hip, hip, hooray,’ it can be used in any celebratory context. For the young people who attended the Arpo Irro festival, it was a declaration of love for their culture.
Inside, flowers in orange, yellow and white decorated the stage, and Instagrammers were thrilled to find an equally flower-bedecked spot for their photographs. If you were to turn to the person next to you, you were as likely to come across someone from North India as you were to meet a Malayali.
Even more encouraging was the fact that people brought their non-Indian friends, who were also dressed in traditional clothing, in order to show them a part of their identity that often goes unseen.
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“I look forward to meeting new people and eating good food,” said attendee Jack, when asked what his expectations were for the event. “But more than that, as a Vietnamese and an international student, I think that this is a great opportunity to understand more about Indian culture and to interact with more people.”
On the other hand, the event was also an opportunity for Malayali international students to get back to their roots.
“I’m most looking forward to the Onam sadya (feast),” another attendee Sumati revealed, adding, “and the performances of course.”
Ask any Keralite and they’ll tell you that the sadya is one of the three central elements of Onam. The other two are Thiruvathira kali, and an enactment of the arrival of King Mahabali. But the Arpo Irro festival added an additional element; Onam games.
It’s safe to say that the festival, which took 9 months to organise, delivered on all four.
The fact that there was no prize for winning, except bragging rights, did not dampen the competitiveness of any of the contestants. The highlight was the vadamvali (tug of war) event. It was looking to be an unfairly male-dominated game, before eight women put their hands up, out of the blue. Even though all odds were against them, and especially so because they were draped in long, beautiful saris, they beat the boys in what might have been the shortest round of the games. The audience couldn’t help laughing and cheering.
Soon after the games, the sound of rhythmic drumming could be heard as the Sydney Melam band lined up to walk down the aisle to the stage, with none other than “King Mahabali” following. According to Hindu tradition, the King was exiled by Lord Vishnu after the Gods grew jealous of his popularity amongst his subjects. However, he was permitted to come back to Earth once every year on Onam day to spend time amongst his subjects. Mahabali’s Sydney avatar, whilst perhaps lacking his magnificence (picture a young man wearing a fake moustache and fake gold), kicked off the Onam performances as he sauntered down the aisle, waving to his thrilled audience.
No Onam celebration is complete without the Thiruvathira Kali dance. This dance is traditionally performed in a circle by women and is a celebration of femininity. The performers certainly met the brief with their grace and the obvious sense of kinship they felt amongst the other dancers.
It would be remiss not to mention the several mashup dance performances by various groups. Whilst it’s usual to see one or two performances which are sub-par in community events such as these, all of the performers at the Arpo Irro festival were energetic and brought something novel to the stage, whether it’s interweaving dialogue into their performances or doing a hip-hop and classical fusion.
These performances were the backdrop to the highly awaited sadya, which was served in traditional fashion (barring the plastic banana leaves), and was served by young volunteers. It was complete with seven to eight curries, coupled with sides such as banana chips and pickles as per tradition.
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The feast, more importantly, was an opportunity to bond with complete strangers about what they liked about their food, how they traditionally prepared their sadya, and to talk about previous Onam celebrations.
It would be fair to say that the Arpo Irro festival has achieved the feat of making Onam relevant to the youth. With references to hit films such as Aavesham (honourable mention goes to the smaller than life cut out of the lead of the film, Fahadh Faasil standing in the corner of the hall), to globally successful songs such as Hanumankind’s Big Dawgs, it fused tradition with what’s trending.
As someone who believed that Onam celebrations in all their excess would die with my parents’ generation, the Arpo Irro festival gives hope that the tradition will live on through decades to come.
Read More: Onam, Oz style
