Yo! 🙋 So there I was in my native, Devakottai, Tamil Nadu.

Our temple has a week-long tradition before the main fest. For seven days leading up to it, a different group of families took responsibility for dinner each night, deciding among themselves what to cook. I arrived on day five.

Around 7 pm that evening, people started gathering near the temple. A minute later, firecrackers went off in the sky. The call for everyone to come. My mom, my brother, and I made our way there. The tradition for these six days went like this: the temple priest carried a decorated pot filled with water and walked around the temple three times, with everyone following behind. After the three rounds, he came inside, cleansed the idol, and began the pooja. Dinner came after.

My plate came loaded: idlis, pongal, chutney, a sweet for dessert, and veg puffs. It didn't go entirely smoothly, though. Heavy wind kept cutting the power on and off right through dinner. When the lights finally stayed on, sitting down to eat felt like a sign from god himself.

The next day, our guests arrived. My aunt and her family came in. My cousin Akshitha got slightly jealous the moment I greeted her mom before I even noticed her. We always fight. That's just how we say hello. They came with a cake that read "Congrats Vishwesh 490/500," a whole plan to celebrate my brother's 10th board results. After the celebration, it was back to the routine: temple visit, then home to a night of cards. The core entertainment at every family reunion.

Then came the day of Pal Kudam, which was also the day my family had to serve dinner. It started with a visit to Veerapathirar Kovil, a nearby temple, where we prayed and broke a coconut. Back home, the Pal Kudam procession had already started. Everyone was dressed in full yellows, and the little kids carrying small pots on their heads, with family hands steadying them from the sides, was something else entirely.

Somewhere in between, we found a pond near the house and took a bath. Damn, that brought back every summer holiday memory in one shot. Two hours in the pond, every single day.

For dinner, we had planned biriyani and idiyappam. It went well, except we ran out of gravy. People had to eat the biriyani plain. That one still stings.

The last special day was the play night, where the village stages a folk performance after seven straight days of vegetarian food. Everyone cooked non-veg, and families and friends got invited over. Our plates had mutton and chicken gravies with parotta and rice. We also made sure to invite the people who had set up the stage and lights.

The next morning, I headed back to Bengaluru. The rest of the week comes in the next weekly.