MEMORIES UNDER A GOLDEN SHOWER

EVERY April, just before the sun prepares to blaze through, a quiet ritual begins in various corners of the city. In flower markets that burst with jasmine and roses and the occasional, accidental marigold, a few Malayali women begin the annual search.

- DIYA MARIA GEORGE

They are looking for something quite specific; konnapoovu, the blossoms of the Cassia fistula tree. If flowers were fictional characters, the konnapoovu would be that golden, soft-spoken grandmother, 'Nostalgia' from Inside Out 2 who shows up occasionally, demands no attention, and asks us to search for those forgotten memories.

Unlike in Kerala, she (Konnapoovu) isn't filling namma roads with its golden charm. You'll find them—these women—pausing with hopeful eyes, lifting wilted yellow florets, asking flower sellers if they've seen the real deal. They walk through neighbourhoods, searching for a building that houses the konna tree. And stroll through the busy lanes of Koyembedu market, negotiating prices.

Having performed this ritual for 33 years in Chennai, Rejani Manohar, who is still tethered to Thalassery's rhythms, describes the search. "Kanikonna is the most important part of Vishu, and we need to get it a day prior to the celebration. So we either buy it (That is if we find it in stores), or pluck it in bulk from areas like Shanthi Colony in Anna Nagar or Mogappair and then circulate it among the friends who haven't got it already. We spray water on those flowers, keep them in the fridge and lay them out on the big uruli (vessels) in the morning for Vishukani."

The kani—the Vishu arrangement of auspicious items seen first thing on the festival morning—is an act of visual storytelling. "In Kerala, it is a sunlit composition: golden kanikonna, cucumber, mirror, coins, grains, and the glowing face of a Krishna idol," shares Rejani. In Chennai, it's more like an act of keeping up with the traditions.