Onam: less Hindu, but more exclusive?

For context, this is from a large apartment community in Bangalore, with residents from many states and linguistic backgrounds.

I want to acknowledge upfront that this is anecdotal. I am describing what I have seen in my current apartment, and to some extent in a previous apartment as well. I am not claiming that this represents Malayalis everywhere. I am posting this precisely because I want to know whether others have noticed anything similar—or whether I am reading too much into a couple of personal experiences.

What struck me was the contrast between different communities celebrating festivals in the same apartment.

The recently concluded Rath Yatra organised by the Odia community was unmistakably Hindu—Jagannātha at the centre, with pūjā, ārati and prasāda. Yet the cultural programme was open to everyone. People did not have to be Odia to participate.

The upcoming Ganesh Chaturthi organised by the Marathi community seems to follow much the same model: openly Hindu, with pūjā, ārati and prasāda, while cultural participation is open beyond the Marathi community.

More broadly, I have noticed something similar with Odia, Marathi and North Indian communities here in general: they seem quite comfortable keeping their festivals visibly and confidently Hindu while still making the larger celebration inclusive.

Our Onam celebration seems almost the reverse.

The explicitly Hindu dimension of Onam, particularly Vāmana, is barely visible. What remains is pookkalam, entertainment, sadya, and often a caricatured, almost comic portrayal of Mahābali—reduced to a pot-bellied mascot rather than treated with the dignity the figure deserves within the tradition.

Yet while the Hindu element is toned down, the Malayali boundary around participation is much stronger.

This became very concrete because of my eight-year-old daughter.

During Rath Yatra, she performed a dance with a group of four girls—two Odias, one Malayali and one Marathi. They even jokingly called themselves the “MOMO Kids” because of that mix.

The girls had a great time choreographing, practising and spending time together, and naturally wanted to perform together again for Onam.

When I approached the person handling the Onam cultural programme, however, I was told not to include the non-Malayali girls.

My daughter herself was welcome. She was asked to join another group of Malayali girls who were already preparing a performance. Her Odia and Marathi friends, however, were specifically not to be included.

We were even expected to “handle the exclusion delicately” with the children.

That was what bothered me most.

These girls had just performed together during Rath Yatra without anyone caring whether they were Odia, Marathi or Malayali. Their little “MOMO Kids” group had come together naturally because the celebration allowed children from different communities to participate together.

Now we were supposed to explain to the non-Malayali girls that they couldn't participate, while my daughter should leave them and join a Malayali-only group.

My daughter decided that if her friends were being excluded, she wouldn't participate either. What struck me was that, despite being only eight, she had a very clear and instinctive sense of fairness: if her friends weren't welcome, she didn't think it was right to simply leave them behind and participate without them.

I was glad she took that stand.

So in the same apartment, I see this contrast:

Odia/Marathi/North Indian festivals: strongly and visibly Hindu, yet socially inclusive.

Malayali Onam: less explicitly Hindu, yet culturally more exclusive.

Why?

What I find strange is this selective inclusivity.

The Hindu character of Onam seems negotiable—Vāmana can disappear, Mahābali can be reduced to a caricature, and the religious dimension can be pushed into the background.

But the Malayali identity of the celebration is treated as non-negotiable, to the point of excluding non-Malayali children from the cultural programme.

The religious boundary is weakened, while the linguistic/cultural boundary becomes stronger.

One possible explanation I have been thinking about is whether modern Malayali identity has undergone a kind of “Abrahamisation”—where the older Hindu religious foundation becomes less important while a more bounded Malayali cultural identity takes its place. Kerala's political and ideological history, including communist influence, may also have played a role.

But I am not wedded to that explanation. In fact, part of the reason I am posting this is to ask:

If “Abrahamisation” is the wrong framework, what is a better explanation?

Again, I realise this is anecdotal. One apartment proves nothing. But I experienced a broadly similar dynamic in a previous apartment as well, which is why I am wondering whether there might be a wider pattern, particularly among Malayali communities outside Kerala.

Have others experienced anything similar?

Why do the Odia, Marathi and North Indian communities here in general seem perfectly comfortable being explicitly Hindu and simultaneously inclusive, while our Malayali celebration is less Hindu but more exclusive?

Or is what I am seeing simply apartment politics with no wider significance?

TL;DR: This is anecdotal, but in my Bangalore apartment, Odia Rath Yatra, Marathi Ganesh Chaturthi and Hindu festivals organised by North Indian communities tend to remain explicitly Hindu—pūjā, ārati, prasāda—while participation is open beyond their own communities. Our Onam celebration has very little visible Vāmana/Hindu element, often reduces Mahābali to a comic mascot, and restricts cultural performances to Malayalis. My eight-year-old daughter had performed at Rath Yatra with two Odia girls and a Marathi girl—their group called themselves the “MOMO Kids.” For Onam, she was welcome but her non-Malayali friends were excluded, and we were expected to “handle the exclusion delicately.” She felt it was unfair to leave her friends behind and chose not to participate. I've seen something broadly similar in a previous apartment too. Is there a wider pattern here, and if so, what explains it?

reddit.com
u/knam1987 — 1 day ago

Why is Vāmana disappearing from modern Onam celebrations while linguistic exclusivity remains?

For context, this is from a large apartment community in Bangalore, with residents from many states and linguistic backgrounds.

I want to acknowledge upfront that this is anecdotal. I am describing what I have seen in my current apartment, and to some extent in a previous apartment as well. I am not claiming that this represents Malayalis everywhere. I am posting this precisely because I want to know whether others have noticed anything similar—or whether I am reading too much into a couple of personal experiences.

What struck me was the contrast between different communities celebrating festivals in the same apartment.

The recently concluded Rath Yatra organised by the Odia community was unmistakably Hindu—Jagannātha at the centre, with pūjā, ārati and prasāda. Yet the cultural programme was open to everyone. People did not have to be Odia to participate.

The upcoming Ganesh Chaturthi organised by the Marathi community seems to follow much the same model: openly Hindu, with pūjā, ārati and prasāda, while cultural participation is open beyond the Marathi community.

More broadly, I have noticed something similar with Odia, Marathi and North Indian communities here in general: they seem quite comfortable keeping their festivals visibly and confidently Hindu while still making the larger celebration inclusive.

Our Onam celebration seems almost the reverse.

The explicitly Hindu dimension of Onam, particularly Vāmana, is barely visible. What remains is pookkalam, entertainment, sadya, and often a caricatured, almost comic portrayal of Mahābali—reduced to a pot-bellied mascot rather than treated with the dignity the figure deserves within the tradition.

Yet while the Hindu element is toned down, the Malayali boundary around participation is much stronger.

This became very concrete because of my eight-year-old daughter.

During Rath Yatra, she performed a dance with a group of four girls—two Odias, one Malayali and one Marathi. They even jokingly called themselves the “MOMO Kids” because of that mix.

The girls had a great time choreographing, practising and spending time together, and naturally wanted to perform together again for Onam.

When I approached the person handling the Onam cultural programme, however, I was told not to include the non-Malayali girls.

My daughter herself was welcome. She was asked to join another group of Malayali girls who were already preparing a performance. Her Odia and Marathi friends, however, were specifically not to be included.

We were even expected to “handle the exclusion delicately” with the children.

That was what bothered me most.

These girls had just performed together during Rath Yatra without anyone caring whether they were Odia, Marathi or Malayali. Their little “MOMO Kids” group had come together naturally because the celebration allowed children from different communities to participate together.

Now we were supposed to explain to the non-Malayali girls that they couldn't participate, while my daughter should leave them and join a Malayali-only group.

My daughter decided that if her friends were being excluded, she wouldn't participate either. What struck me was that, despite being only eight, she had a very clear and instinctive sense of fairness: if her friends weren't welcome, she didn't think it was right to simply leave them behind and participate without them.

I was glad she took that stand.

So in the same apartment, I see this contrast:

Odia/Marathi/North Indian festivals: strongly and visibly Hindu, yet socially inclusive.

Malayali Onam: less explicitly Hindu, yet culturally more exclusive.

Why?

What I find strange is this selective inclusivity.

The Hindu character of Onam seems negotiable—Vāmana can disappear, Mahābali can be reduced to a caricature, and the religious dimension can be pushed into the background.

But the Malayali identity of the celebration is treated as non-negotiable, to the point of excluding non-Malayali children from the cultural programme.

The religious boundary is weakened, while the linguistic/cultural boundary becomes stronger.

One possible explanation I have been thinking about is whether modern Malayali identity has undergone a kind of “Abrahamisation”—where the older Hindu religious foundation becomes less important while a more bounded Malayali cultural identity takes its place. Kerala's political and ideological history, including communist influence, may also have played a role.

But I am not wedded to that explanation. In fact, part of the reason I am posting this is to ask:

If “Abrahamisation” is the wrong framework, what is a better explanation?

Again, I realise this is anecdotal. One apartment proves nothing. But I experienced a broadly similar dynamic in a previous apartment as well, which is why I am wondering whether there might be a wider pattern, particularly among Malayali communities outside Kerala.

Have others experienced anything similar?

Why do the Odia, Marathi and North Indian communities here in general seem perfectly comfortable being explicitly Hindu and simultaneously inclusive, while our Malayali celebration is less Hindu but more exclusive?

Or is what I am seeing simply apartment politics with no wider significance?

TL;DR: This is anecdotal, but in my Bangalore apartment, Odia Rath Yatra, Marathi Ganesh Chaturthi and Hindu festivals organised by North Indian communities tend to remain explicitly Hindu—pūjā, ārati, prasāda—while participation is open beyond their own communities. Our Onam celebration has very little visible Vāmana/Hindu element, often reduces Mahābali to a comic mascot, and restricts cultural performances to Malayalis. My eight-year-old daughter had performed at Rath Yatra with two Odia girls and a Marathi girl—their group called themselves the “MOMO Kids.” For Onam, she was welcome but her non-Malayali friends were excluded, and we were expected to “handle the exclusion delicately.” She felt it was unfair to leave her friends behind and chose not to participate. I've seen something broadly similar in a previous apartment too. Is there a wider pattern here, and if so, what explains it?

reddit.com
u/knam1987 — 1 day ago

Vamachara Sri Vidya

From the comments on another post, I came to understand that Vāmācāra Śrīvidyā is considered quite rare today. That surprised me because where I am from — Kannur in North Kerala — the Śrīvidyā traditions I have personally encountered are predominantly Vāmācāra.

I personally know of at least three families that have been practising this form of Śrīvidyā for four generations or more, with the tradition being transmitted within the family.

There are also some interesting accounts associated with these lineages. In one family, an Aṣṭamaṅgala Praśna reportedly revealed that a deceased former head of the family had received darśana of Lalitā Devī during his lifetime.

In another family, the grandmother is said to occasionally see a small girl whom nobody else can see, and members of the family understand this as the presence of Bālā.

Of course, I realise that experiences of this kind belong to the faith and oral traditions of the respective families, rather than something that can be independently verified. I mention them mainly to give some context for how living and deeply rooted these traditions still are locally.

This made me curious about the larger picture: are there other surviving Vāmācāra Śrīvidyā lineages elsewhere in India?

I would especially be interested to hear about traditions that have maintained an actual guru-śiṣya or hereditary transmission over several generations, rather than modern attempts to reconstruct Vāmācāra from texts.

Would also appreciate any information on their geographical distribution, sampradāya, or historical background.

reddit.com
u/knam1987 — 3 days ago

Should I focus on one Tantra path, or continue learning in two traditions?

Namaste and praṇāms to the sādhakas here. 🙏

I’m currently learning Tantra through two different streams.

In a Dakṣiṇācāra tradition, I am one among roughly 400 students learning through an online class. Separately, I have developed a personal guru-śiṣya relationship with a Vāmācāra/Kaula Śrīvidyā Guru, who teaches me directly one-on-one.

I value both, but as I progress I’m beginning to wonder whether learning two systems simultaneously is the right approach. There are naturally some differences in paddhati, approach and practice, and I don’t want to end up mixing traditions or progressing superficially in both.

For those who have been in a similar situation: is it better to eventually choose one path and go deeply into it, especially when one has a personal Guru? Or is it perfectly reasonable to continue learning and practising both traditions while keeping their respective methods separate?

Would appreciate perspectives from experienced sādhakas who have navigated multiple sampradāyas.

reddit.com
u/knam1987 — 3 days ago