Saturday, October 6, 2012

Ganpati celebration- How we sent him off a week ago


It is getting dark now,  time to get him ready.  The priest wearing top to toe white, burns a small wick in  a small pot.  Ganesh sits on this throne proud, happy with all this attention among fresh red rose petals. There is another smaller version of him placed on the altar too, getting his fair share of love.  First grandfathers, uncles, grand mothers, big sisters, big brothers, every body in the house one by one come and hold the tray with fire giving prayers to him. One after another everybody goes and takes their turn in front of him. This is serious stuff, ‘Ganpati babba mor ya’  Ganpati baba come early next year’  repeated  constantly,  the tray changes hands, little faint clouds of smoke rise from the little wick.    When Ganpati saw us all, the elders of the family carefully, gracefully cradle him in their arms and start visiting the rooms of the house. There are two drummers by the door and by deafening drumbeat he is transported to each and every room starting from the temple room, kitchen, upstairs, downstairs. We wait for him in the living room to come back. When he is seen again the drums beat even louder. He is draped in a new red shawl, glistening with his every movement with the drumbeat he goes down to his chariot.

  Zeus the god of gods did not have a chariot like this himself! There are 7 stallions with head decorations, ready to full throttle, ready to take him home. The whole chariot is covered with saffron coloured marigolds on strings and with every breeze of this late September evening they shiver.  He is placed on his chariot, under the parasol; there are more drummers ready by the street.  Cymbals with long yellow tassels, small drums, big drums, a man hitting a metal disk with a hammer, which hits a note right in my head between my ears and behind my eyes, have been waiting for him, everybody starts dancing, cheering, two little boys do the best twisting, moving their every single joint in their bodies, not missing a single beat of the drums and cymbals.

 Lovingly, with great care they place him on the chariot; He sits there in full glory, with a calm smile, very happy, a bit embarrassed with the attention he is receiving, his heavy lashes shadow his eyes. We move slowly. First the cymbals, then small drums and big drums, the man with the bell, then us, children, mothers, aunties, sisters, the men of the house in crispy white long tunics, walk in small steps, dance, raise arms, chant, slowly form a big crowd in front of the chariot and flow like a big noisy, cacophonous, roaring wave towards Juhu Beach. Grandparents and babies follow us in cars decorated more lavishly than wedding cars. We meander slowly for two hours.  Firecrackers, fire works accompany us with drizzling rain.

Near the beach the roads are full with people.  This congregation is thick, and condensed. It is more crowded any very crowded place you have ever seen. If you have been to Hyde Park on New Year’s Eve, it is more crowded than that. If you have taken part in a demonstration, in a big concert, in any crowded place where there is a flow of people from everywhere, when it is so occupied with human beings, with bodies of men, women, children of every age, shape and colour that   they become a living mass.   The end of the world would  be like this.

There is the roundest of the full moons with Krishna blue skies, the crowd shadow the moon, people move in silhouettes.   We go down the sandy beach and find our area to make a little well, light a small fire, place Ganesh in front of it and do the final aarti. The air is balmy; it smells of fire, kafuru, millions of burning incense, salty sea, and wet sand and excited people.  The tide comes in, touches our ankles and reaches Ganpati’s feet. The Arabian Sea is warm, moves in filling the sandy beach. The tray of fire is passed through us, we chant ‘come back early’ with tired voices and the men of the house carry their Lord towards the sea. There are other fathers, other brothers, uncles, and grandfathers carrying their gigantic, modest, ambitious Ganpaties to water. Everybody is busy with their own devotion, people in the mass do not cross other peoples paths. They carry the idol with hope, with confidence, with blessings to the latest point they can carry him , leave him into the water and come back from the dark, water dripping from their hems and their hair, salt glistening in the moonlight.  They walk with the pride of people who are content and happy with themselves.   There are hundreds of men around us  going into the darkness, coming back wet,  people dancing in knee deep sea, little fires here and there, small groups chanting, gathered in this big mass to offer their prayers.

 It is over for us now.  He was a guest in the house for ten days, gave everybody his blessings, his protection, his cheeky wisdom to over come difficulties. He has gone to meet his mother.   We go home too.  I reach home after midnight. The sounds from the street go on until very early hours in the morning.



Tomorrow, the houses need to be cleaned, rose petals, marigold, lilies, sweet smelling jasmines will need to be swept away until Durga – the Goddess comes. Girls will wear long round skirts, put Radha make up, decorate their hair, henna their palms and their soles, they will have the biggest nose rings, ear rings, toe rings, finger rings and bangles which will tinkle with every dance movement. I am ready for that celebration too.



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