“Anju! Come!” Sharmi clutched my hand tightly as we walked together with our eyes closed. It was Vishu. Vaithili miss, Sharmi’s mom had prepared a kani* for us.

“I’m not even Hindu!” I whispered in her ear, afraid that I’d be making some sort of grave mistake by seeing statues of Vishnu and Krishna in the morning. After all, aren’t these rituals all holy?

“So..?”

Obviously she didn’t get my point. Sharmi. My best friend. And this, my first memorable Vishu in first grade in the BestPlaceInTheWorld, my version of Kansas, of Eden, of Utopia.

Here, that day, I learned that you don’t have to be Hindu to celebrate Vishu. To wake up seeing a kani* or to get a kaineettam**. To make a symbolic journey from darkness into light. Here, I learned to believe in myself and my goals. Here, I learned to trust people and truly celebrate their differences. Here, I learned unity, truth and righteousness. Here, I strived to be the epitome of perfection. And most of all, here, I was me and I was comfortable. I celebrated, cried, laughed, dreamed, leaped.. and perhaps, even fell but always with a hope of getting back up. Perhaps it was the age but leave me to convince myself that it was all the place.

The next Vishu, I went to the temple. There was an assembly and the headmistress had  called all the Hindus who celebrate Vishu. They were being taken to the temple. We had a whole gang of Malayalee teaches up there in BPITW; a group of the best teachers in the campus. I still remember how they’d run to their quarters after dinner, forever addicted to Sthree*** (the first one). So anyway, these wonderful teachers of mine complained that day that Vishu was not just a Hindu celebration but a Malayalee one. It was about being a Keralite. So, the whole big Malayalee crew (that is paradise-language for a handful) walked to a small temple. Wood. Yellow. And a deep scent. And a man with a beard who gave me something. Jokes and laughs along the path; the only chance we had ever had to walk anywhere. Utterly perfection.

The next year, my Vishu died. And I’ve never celebrated it since. Now, April 14th is just a day for me, like any other. Perhaps it was then too. Perhaps it was just the fact that all my days then were more extraordinary. But then, on the April 14ths of my life, I had celebrated; today, I mourn. The death of my Vishu. The death of my BPITW. Of my best friend. Of her mother. Of those Sthree-addicted misses. Of those walks. Of that man. Of those tea bushes. Of those fogs. Of those horses. Of those neverending hills. Of that plant near my window, who knew all my secrets. Of those wooden bunk beds, with a particular smell. Of those boys in the back of the bus, constantly singing ‘we will, we will, rock you!” Of those long-awaited train rides, the best journey of all. Of Ammachi’s mango tree, in full bloom by the time I come home. Of Appachen’s students, to whom I would always be introduced to as the first rank-holder from BPITW (with a background music of ooohhh ahhhh atheyo?) Of childhood. Of the only India I knew. Of the only home I know.

Happy Vishu, my dear Malayalees. May today present you with a better tomorrow. May today help you let go of yesterday (which as you can see, is almost impossible for me). May today take you by the hand and lead you into light, into wisdom, happiness and success. Happy Vishu indeed!

*Kani: Tradition on Vishu is that you should wake up seeing something good, as like an omen for your year. This normally consists of a few figures and pictures of Gods, fruits, gold coins, musical instruments.. symbols of wealth, happiness, love, morality and success.

** Kaineettam: Tradition of the older people giving money to the younger ones. =] Always a treat!

***Sthree: a soap opera which was extremely, extremely popular! They tried to elongate its success with other parts.. but nothing reached the heights of the original.