The Evolution Of Onam: What’s Changed And What Still Remains

Come Onam, Kerala doesn’t solely celebrate a harvest—it tells a story of community, memory, and a way of life in sync with nature. The ten-day festival unfolds in a rhythm of rituals: families gathering around meals served on banana leaves, courtyards blooming with colourful pookkalams, and homes dressed up in simple, handmade décor. Long before sustainability became a lifestyle choice, Onam’s traditions were already rooted in mindful living, where nothing went to waste and everything came from the earth.

But festivals, like the people who celebrate them, evolve. Today, the Onam Sadhya is just as likely to be eaten off a paper plate in an office canteen as it is on a leaf at home. Flower carpets, once an exercise in neighbourly camaraderie, can now be pre-ordered from florists. The essence of Onam remains, but the way we gather, and what we hold on to, has shifted across generations. Exploring these shifts reveals not just how a festival changes, but how society itself does.

Sustainability Before It Trended

Long before sustainability entered lifestyle conversations, Onam celebrations in Kerala were quietly practising it every year. The grand Sadhya—an elaborate multi-course vegetarian feast—was traditionally served on banana leaves, a choice as practical as it was eco-friendly. These leaves were abundant, naturally biodegradable, and added a subtle aroma to the food. After the meal, they returned to the soil or were fed to cattle, leaving behind no waste. Similarly, homes and courtyards came alive with pookkalams, intricate floral carpets designed with petals, buds, and leaves collected from nearby fields and gardens. Each creation was seasonal, fleeting, and entirely compostable, celebrating beauty without a trace of plastic or permanence.

Equally striking was the approach to decoration. Instead of store-bought festoons or synthetic ornaments, families relied on what was at hand: handwoven coconut fronds, clay lamps, or colourful powders. Children joined in, gathering flowers and helping elders design motifs, turning sustainability into a communal act rather than an agenda. These traditions weren’t labelled “eco-friendly” because they didn’t need to be—they simply reflected a lifestyle where celebration and conservation went hand in hand. Onam, in essence, offered a template of mindful festivity long before the world began speaking the language of “green”.

Chef Harish Rao, brand chef at Hosa Goa, remarked that no one thought of the banana leaf as eco-friendly back then. “It was just natural, banana leaves were everywhere, easy to use, and added a lovely flavour to hot food. What we now call sustainable was simply how people lived,” he said.

Reflecting on sustainability, Rao said that Onam food is built on seasonality. “Families cooked with what was grown in their fields like pumpkin, yam, cucumber, coconut. Nothing fancy, nothing wasted. Even today, the simplicity of those recipes shows us how sustainable eating can be.”

Togetherness, Then And Now

Over time, though, the way people gather for Onam has shifted along with changing lifestyles. In earlier decades, the festival was inseparable from the idea of community—extended families, neighbours, and entire villages came together to cook, eat, and decorate. The Sadhya was prepared at home, often with everyone lending a hand, from chopping vegetables to arranging the dishes on banana leaves. Flower carpets were collective creations, each child contributing a handful of petals, each elder guiding the design. These gatherings were as much about belonging as they were about festivity, with rituals woven into the fabric of everyday life.

Today, Onam often reflects the pace of urban living. With many families now scattered across cities or working away from home, celebrations can feel more fragmented. Ready-made pookkalams from florists or supermarkets replace hand-plucked flowers, and caterers or restaurants supply the elaborate Sadhya. In office canteens and apartment complexes, paper plates stand in for banana leaves, chosen more for convenience than tradition. Yet, even amid these changes, the essence of Onam—the joy of eating together, of marking a season of abundance—remains intact. What has shifted is not the spirit, but the setting: from ancestral courtyards buzzing with relatives to modern dining halls, office spaces, and city apartments, each reinventing the festival in its own way.

“My earliest memories of Onam was of getting banana leaves from our field and making them clean and ready for the Sadhya,” said Punnen C Mathew, partner, Design Combine. “Everything in the Sadhya was made at home. Being vacation time it was always play time for us as kids,” he reminisced. 

Further retracing his childhood memories, Mathew continued, “Pookkalams at home were using whatever flowers we could find in the garden and in the wild. Nothing was bought. It was the kids’ responsibility to go around collecting flowers. I remember taking the vanchi (tiny boat) into the waters and plucking all water hyacinth flowers from the waters. Of course the pookkalams at home were not as elaborate as we see now. We also had pookkalam competitions at school with each section competing for the top honours.”

New age Onams with families scattered across happens through video calls and selfies. And of course, a bit of showing off as in who has the best preparations, said Mathew. 

Senior content editor Anu Narayanan recalled how Onam meant travelling between both his parents’ ancestral homes, where celebrations felt natural and handmade—meals on banana leaves, clay décor, and flowers plucked from the neighbourhood. New clothes from relatives, even if simple, were an exciting part of the festival. “On the first day we used only thumba flowers for the innermost ring. Each day the pookkalam expanded—two rings, three rings, and so on. The biggest one was on Uthradam, just before Thiruvonam. That day it was made only with leaves, and rituals were held to receive Mahabali,” he said. 

With families spread across the country and even abroad, travel costs and busy schedules have changed how often people can come. 

“In the old days, our uncles and aunts would come from Kolkata, Bombay or Aurangabad. Now most Malayalis are in Bangalore or abroad. Travel is expensive during the Onam season, but we still try to gather at our ancestral home. From Puradam onwards, different houses would host the Sadhya, and on Thiruvonam we always ate with our grandparents. It was a joyous, very family thing—and still feels nostalgic,” Narayanan said. 

FAQs

1. How is Onam traditionally celebrated in Kerala?
Onam is celebrated with grand feasts called Sadhya served on banana leaves, colourful pookkalams (floral carpets), boat races, traditional games, dances, and rituals honouring King Mahabali.

2. What is the significance of the banana leaf in Onam Sadhya?
The banana leaf is eco-friendly, adds aroma to food, and symbolises tradition and sustainability. It was a natural, biodegradable option long before sustainability became a trend.

3. How have Onam traditions evolved over time?
While earlier Sadhyas were homemade and pookkalams handcrafted with local flowers, today many use caterers, florists, and even paper plates in urban settings, reflecting lifestyle changes.

4. Why are pookkalams important during Onam?
Pookkalams are symbolic of joy, prosperity, and community. Traditionally, families and neighbours created them together using seasonal flowers, reflecting unity and creativity.

5. How is sustainability linked to Onam celebrations?
Onam naturally embodies sustainability through banana leaves, seasonal vegetables, and biodegradable decorations. Even as celebrations modernize, the festival’s eco-friendly roots remain strong.