The Sounds Of Onam: Exploring Kerala’s Traditional Boat Songs, Drum Beats, And Folk Music

Onam is often described through its colours and flavours. It is known for the bright Pookalam (flower arrangement), the feast spread across a banana leaf (Sadya), and the white and gold of traditional clothes (Kasavu). But if you spend Onam in Kerala, you quickly realise that the festival is also something you hear. The splash of oars, the deep roll of drums, the songs sung in courtyards and the wild percussion of Pulikali all come together to create a soundscape that is unmistakably Kerala.

For a festival rooted in harvest, community and the legend of King Mahabali, music is not just entertainment. It brings people together, sets a rhythm for work and celebration, and keeps old stories alive.

Vanchipattu: Songs That Move With The Oars

Few sounds are as closely associated with Kerala's backwaters as Vanchipattu, the traditional boat songs sung during Vallam Kali, or snakeboat races. The songs are built around rhythm. A lead singer, or Vanchippattukaran, begins a line or couplet and the rowers answer together. With dozens of people rowing at the same time, this call-and-response pattern helps keep everyone moving as one. The sound of wooden oars hitting the sides of the long boats adds another layer of percussion.

Vanchipattu has a practical history too. Long before it became closely associated with boat races, such songs were used during journeys on Kerala's waterways. Singing helped make long hours of rowing less tiring while giving the crew a common rhythm.

The songs are traditionally composed in the Nathonnata metre of Malayalam poetry, a form that lends itself to collective singing. Their lyrics can celebrate kings, deities, Kerala's landscapes and the simple beauty of life along its waterways. During a race, however, it is the rhythm that takes over. As the oars rise and fall together, the song becomes almost physical. You do not just hear it; you feel it in the boat and in the water around you.

Chenda Melam: When The Drums Take Over

If Vanchipattu gives Onam its rhythm on the water, Chenda Melam brings it to temple grounds and processions. At the centre is the Chenda, a cylindrical drum traditionally made from wood, including jackfruit wood, with animal-skin drumheads. But the Chenda does not perform alone. A traditional Panchari Melam can bring together a large ensemble of percussionists, along with instruments such as the Elathalam, a pair of bronze cymbals, the Kuzhal, a traditional reed instrument, and the Kombu, a curved metal horn.

The result is powerful. The Chenda creates the main force of the sound, while the bronze cymbals help maintain the rhythm and the wind instruments rise above the percussion.

What makes a Melam especially exciting is that it builds. The musicians move through different stages of rhythm, gradually increasing the intensity and speed. By the final stages, what began as a measured performance can turn into a thrilling rush of sound. It is highly structured, but it never feels static. The musicians work together with remarkable precision, building anticipation until the whole performance seems to vibrate around them.

Onappattu: Songs Of Mahabali

Not all Onam music is loud. Some of its most enduring sounds come from simple folk songs passed down through generations. Known as Onappattu, these songs are closely tied to the ten-day festival and are often sung at home or in community spaces. They are part of everyday celebrations rather than formal performances, making them an intimate part of Onam.

Many Onappattu celebrate the reign of King Mahabali, the legendary ruler whose return to Kerala is at the heart of the festival. One of the best-known songs, Maveli Nadu Vanidum Kalam, looks back at a time when Mahabali ruled the land.

Its picture of his kingdom is one of equality, honesty and prosperity. There is no discrimination, no cheating in trade and no hunger or suffering. Nature is abundant and people live together peacefully. That is perhaps why these songs continue to resonate. They are not only about a mythical past but also about an ideal society people continue to imagine and celebrate.

Pulikali: The Wild Side Of Onam

Then there is Pulikali, which changes the mood completely. During this colourful folk performance, dancers paint their bodies with tiger stripes and patterns and take to the streets, moving through crowds to the beat of percussion. It is playful, theatrical and wonderfully loud.

The music is driven by instruments such as the Thakil, a loud double-sided drum, the Udukku, an hourglass-shaped drum, and the Kanjira, a small frame drum.

The Thakil provides the heavy, cracking beats, while the Udukku, an hourglass-shaped drum, adds a sharper and more flexible sound. The Kanjira fills out the rhythm with quick beats.

The percussion follows the action. A slower beat can accompany a tiger stalking its prey, while a sudden burst of drumming can signal a pounce or a mock battle. The dancers respond to these changes, making the music and movement feel like one performance.

The Rhythm Of Onam

The sounds of Onam come from very different places, but they share something important. They are collective.

A boat song needs a crew. A Melam depends on many musicians playing together. Onappattu survives because families and communities keep singing it. Pulikali comes alive through the exchange between performers, musicians and the crowd.

That is what makes Onam's soundscape so special. It is not music meant to be experienced from a distance. It is woven into the celebration itself. Whether it comes across the backwaters, rolls through a temple courtyard or fills a busy street, the sound of Onam is ultimately the sound of people celebrating together.

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