Today, February 18th was the day many many years ago (actually, not so many), that I was introduced into a world, after stepping into which there was no question of stepping out. This was the day in the year I was less than a year old that I was initiated into the realm of gastronomical panoply.
This was the day of my ‘choroonu’, the malayalee equivalent of ‘annaprasana’ wherein a baby is fed the first grain of rice along with tiny morsels of all items in the traditional feast served on a banana leaf. The rather inexperienced taste buds of the baby which was until then granted only milk and equivalents, on that day get to decipher and register for the first time a taste of all flavours from the hands of all the seniors in the family.
This event of choroonu is so significant among most of the communities that it is most often held at some temple seeking the Lord’s blessings for the child’s healthy and everlasting appetite. Moreover, to leave no room for any chance of malnutrition in the child’s life, a most auspicious moment –the muhurtham- is chosen for the ceremony usually consulting some astrologer or a panchaangam (containing the astronomical data in tabulated form with their interpretations) at least.
It was (is?) apparently believed that a child could be given his first grain of rice without seeking a muhurtham if it happens to be the birthday of someone in the family. It so happened that that year ( I believe you must have guessed by now that I am not going to tell you which year it was) February 18th was chosen by mom to serve me my first official lunch, as this happened to be the birthday of not just one, but two elders in our family. That day, the birthday of my paternal grandmother by the Gregorian calendar coincided with the birthday of my maternal grandfather according to the Malayalam calendar. So the day was doubly auspicious for me. Now, you can’t blame me for nursing such a ravenous appetite.
My choroonu was special not just due to the date, but for the manner and place as well. My elder sister’s chorronu was held at a famous temple in a grand manner within my parents’ means on a very auspicious day according to the astrologers; but alas….she proved them all wrong. She has been reported to having been an impossible kid when it came to eating. A fuss pot, much to the desperation of my mother, who then decided that her second child’s choroonu will be according her own chosen manner, place and time. Let me, at this juncture, bring into your kind attention that my sister in her later years has successfully made up for all her lost chances reestablishing the credibility of the astrologers. Now she is as much a bottomless pit as I am.
Anyway, suffice to say that 18th February was chosen for my choroonu without consulting any astrologer or panchaangam and the venue was our residence in the Naval Quarters in Mumbai. The same day was chosen for my naamkaran, i.e., naming ceremony as well. Here again my mom made the decision learning from her experiences in the case of my sister. It had so happened that she had chosen a name for her first born which was (mercifully) vetoed out by her brothers-in-law, our uncles. This hurt her mom-ego so much that she was well-determined to name her second one without consulting or informing anyone – not her in-laws, not her own family, not even her husband!!
Yes, my choroonu and naamkaran was conducted and attended exclusively by my mother without the knowledge of my father who was out at work and my sister who was away in the kindergarten. She happily and proudly informed him of the event when he was back in the evening. In case you are wondering how he reacted, I can only tell you that I am wondering the same, as I never bothered find that out from my mom. I suppose he must have just ignored the whole deal as a big joke, possibly laughing to himself over the fact, without the knowledge of my mom, he had already fed me tiny morsels from his lunch and snacks weeks before this big nautanki- a firm non-conformist that he was. So each of them had happily believed all their lives that he/she was the one who performed my annaprasana though I feel only God would know how long before that I must have grabbed something and had my fill on my own – a precocious eater that I have always been.
So, that is the story of how I was fed my first meal and named Surya…this day…that year.
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