Valiya means big.
Kulam means river.
Kara means shore.
From the past 4 years during Shivarathri, something deeply personal unfolds. The Valiyakulangara Devi temple uses my property for anna danam — the sacred offering of food. Across the village, food is served in eight to ten places, And one of those places is mine.
And every time I think about it, I feel a strange mix of humility, gratitude, and reflection.
Because this property carries a story.
I took a top-up home loan to repay my brother's debts. It was not a logical decision. It was not financially wise. It was emotional. It was family. It was helpless love.
That same year, my mother transferred her property in Alappuzha into my name. She was worried about my future. She feared I might remain unmarried. In her own way, she was trying to secure me against the uncertainties of life.
At that time, the loan amount was more than double the value of the property. It felt suffocating. Heavy. Almost unfair.
God was writing something else.
What once felt like burden has now become offering.
What once felt like pressure has now become purpose.
During Shivarathri, as lamps are lit and people gather to eat on that very land, I quietly watch. Strangers sit together. Food is served without judgement. Gratitude flows freely.
Our life is not random.
Our journey is not accidental.
God decides the turns, even when we resist them.
In 2016, I saw debt.
Today, I see destiny.
Every year, the idol of Goddess Maha Kali is taken out in a sacred procession. She travels through the village, arriving at each place where anna danam is offered, blessing the gathering before returning to her temple abode.
The space is also used to build temple chariots.
Maybe that is what Shivaratri whispers to me each year — that destruction, struggle, and surrender are part of transformation. That what we carry as weight today may become someone else’s blessing tomorrow.


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