“We are so caught up with what’s broken that we forget to celebrate what’s working,” says author Anjana Menon

The room with a view that kept Anjana Menon in touch with the world gave the mediaperson and writer a different perspective to see Nature and the people around her. Quarantined in her parents’ house during the lockdown in Kerala in 2020, it was the ordinariness of everyday life that became extraordinary for Anjana.

At her home in Thrissur, she saw two worlds mingle, an old way of life gradually, and, mostly gracefully, giving way to a new, brisker but still caring community.

Portrait of a lockdown

Strangers turned friends and taken-for-granted activities such as a stroll in the garden became luxuries when Anjana found herself confined to the first floor of the house. A blog that she began writing during the period evolved into a book Onam In A Nightie,Stories From A Kerala Quarantine, (HarperCollins) filled with lively anecdotes and thoughtful observations about life in a small town and its people, a modern-day Malgudi.

The author writes in an email, that the lasting image of the quarantine would be the resilience of the human spirit despite the hardships.

The title of the book came about when Anjana went to meet her relatives for Onam in her traditional finery and found them lounging around in ‘nighties’.

Cover of the book ‘Onam In A Nightie, Stories From A Kerala Quarantine’
| Photo Credit: Special Arrangement

“Both, Onam and the nightie, are a part of Kerala’s psyche. The title sets the tone for the book, which, is light and humorous.”

The pragmatic business journalist is not overly nostalgic about the traditional clothes of Kerala almost disappearing from the daily wear of many Malayali women. She feels that “the advantage, perhaps, is that the nightie is a functional single-piece garment that you can easily slip into, wash, dry and wear. At the same time its shapelessness affords it a certain modesty that appeals to many women. It is a garment of convenience. Of course, it lacks the elegance of the sari or mundu veshti!”

She recalls in great detail the summer vacations she used to spend with her grandparents in Thrissur and the adventures she had on trips to their village, which included catching tadpoles and watching her grandmother interact with workers. “I’m a hopelessly nostalgic creature when it comes to Thrissur. I like it the way it is!” she says while writing about Swaraj circle, popular restaurants, the Thrissur pooram and Vadakkunnathan Temple.

Humour and pragmatism

Onam In A Nightie… takes in the changes in society, evident even in villages with dollops of humour and pragmatism. For instance, immigrant labourers who have become a part of Kerala’s landscape are as much as home in the State as their own villages elsewhere. Anjana muses: “The human condition of migration is about seeking better prospects for oneself and securing a more prosperous life for one’s family.”

She feels that as Keralites seek better prospects abroad, those who come from other states are filling in the void. “Some of the most vibrant places in the world, be it New York or London, are full of immigrants who have contributed much to their appeal and prosperity. As an optimist, I can only hope that the outcome will be similar for Kerala.”

Unlike many non-resident Malayalis who often rue the lack of anonymity in small towns, Anjana insists one can fly under the radar even in places like Thrissur unless one is a celebrity. “Basically, we belong to groups and communities wherever we are and once we are out of that circle, we are anonymous.”

For readers living in Kerala, Anjana’s book holds a mirror to people and places that are often missed by residents. At times, it seems she misses the warts the locals moan about. Nevertheless, Anjana asserts that her experience in Kerala during her seven-month stay was a happy one and so her book is an honest narrative.

“That said, people, places, circumstances, all have multiple shades. Kerala, too, has its drawbacks and I’ve captured some of it through my prism whether it is about a greying state, alcoholism, or the high dependence on government jobs and pensions.”

Her parents, she says, love the book. “They were delighted to read heartwarming stories that capture what often goes unappreciated in a small town.”

According to her, the book cherishes what is worth holding on to — “small gestures of kindness, community spirit, resilience, and happy memories. These are the things that often keep us going, and it is important to chronicle them.”

She points out that as an author she had to be true to her narrative style and tone. “Often, we are so caught up with what is broken that we forget to celebrate what is working.”

At the end of the lockdown, Anjana, who has never lived in Kerala for more than a month prior to the lockdown, says she finally felt she “belongs” and feels at home in Kerala.