Festivals

Kala Ghoda Festival ’09

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The Kala Ghoda Art Festival of Mumbai beckoned. Kala Ghoda ( Black Horse ) is the name of that area. (Named after a statue of Prince Edward astride on a black horse, which incidentally is long gone) .

Read the details of the festival here.

A festival, to my mind, is a swarm of people, a riot of colour, a ring of happiness, sounds of cheer, loads of music, tonnes to see, and of course leaves you with a ring of joy. That’s what happens at the Chitrai festival in Madurai.

That’s what happens at all festivals. That’s something that was abundant at the Kala Ghoda Festival too. Make no mistake though, each has a different character and ring to it !

Here are some pictures from the Kala Ghoda festival !

The Entry Arch !
Art out of bottles, buckets and such other ‘water carriers’ ! The amount of plastic and waste that we use seem to be going sky high !

We seek to look upto the sky for some answers !

This stall both educated and appealed to the people with toilets at home. And sought to remind that there are many without that facility. And what a way to do that ! This one stayed with me.
The stage backdrop

A clothes stall with puppets in front.


Of course. The symbolism was hard to miss. As i stood outside, looking at other sights, the missus was inside !

A flute vendor


I wonder why they don’t give some flute lessons along ! The chap plays flute so well, that you are tempted to buy it with the hope that the magic is in the flute. And that you too would be able to pull off such mellifluous music from thin air.

Alas. When the flute comes to my lip, all it could produce was a vague gust of air and some strange sound that was almost like a fire alarm.

A wire made man walking a narrow strips !

Art from metal was captivating ! And captivating was just not the word. I stood there for a long while. Just to revel in the ingenuity of the human mind. And wondered why we seem to go in tangents so very often.


There are faces on the wall. They seem to be saying something. And that’s there on all walls of the world ! Aren’t there !?!

Empty well arranged bottles that had a people squinting, jostling and keen to look at what was inside ! And all the jostle had more people jostling to take a look ! Curiosity value gets some takers ! But this Osmosis was quite a sight !!
A kathak performance that we watched. Enthralled. Standing. Jostling. Yet, eyes rivet ted on the synchronous movement of legs, arms and body, to create a delight for the eyes and the ears.

And when we walked away at the end of it all, there was no mistaking the thrill that was there in our hearts !

Happy Pongal !

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Happy Pongal !

Tomorrow is Pongal. Wikipedia informs me that Pongal is akin to Thanksgiving. I only know that it is a festival of harvest. It is a festival of a new beginning, of sugar, of jaggery, of decorated cows and of course of pristine joy! Perhaps a flowing over the brim of all of these !!

Wikipedia also informs that the Tamil Nadu government has decided to announce that from this year on, Pongal will be Tamil New Year ! I guess they wanted to become Julius Caesar or somebody by changing the calendar. (Ah. I have given a word to my missus : No politics on the blog. Ok. So, i stop there. Right there). Thats a different issue.

Back home, Pongal meant four days of holidays. And those wonderful dishes that amma made. The prayer and the offering to the Sun, in the spacious courtyard of home ! And of course, sugarcane ! Endless sugarcane !

Pongal. Madurai ’06

This is a picture from the album. Pongal celebrations at home. 2006 ! My taste buds are already active, when i look at the offerings on the leaf. And of course, you cant miss the sugarcane. Those long, thick purple hued delights.

Pongal brings to mind a different time. And makes me miss home. And when you miss home, you miss home and the glorious times that were part of home ! Parents. Friends and the times !

Tomorrow however, the missus will wake up early in the morning, and make Pongal (the dish). And we’ll have a prayer standing in our apartment kitchen, from where we hope to catch a glimpse of the sun, and say a quiet thank you. And then, i run away to work and and she goes her way !

In that space would escape a thousand memories and a few techni colour memories peppered with longing for recreation and renewal to a far away land that’s close to a migrant heart.

Sugarcane. Pongal ’08

The one material thing that i would miss, is the purple hued sugar cane. We went around shopping for sugar cane, and ended up with what you see. That size would make a home grown drumstick from Madurai beam with pride !!

On another note, i guess Pongal is about a new beginning. About acknowledging the forces of nature that sustain us. About peace. About happiness. About community. About sincerity of a wish for a better tomorrow.

And that sincerity is not dependent on where you are or for that matter, by the length of sugarcane in your region !

So here is a sincere wish for you ! A sincere acknowledgement for being there and a prayer + hope for a better tomorrow for all of us !

Happy Pongal !

A Diwali that was besides the point !

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Deepavali or Diwali. This year, it was markedly different for me. For us. For the first time in our lives, we chose to embrace the festivity with a ‘getaway spirit’ than a ‘stay and splurge’ spirit. So we chose to drive away into the mountain whorls of the Western Ghats. And headed to Mahabaleshwar.

The stillness of the morning air. The smooth chill. The green. The no-network coverage for mobile phones. The well laid out roads. Mother nature’s inviting green & pristine colours. And the need to just put a leg up in the air and reflect on whats been and what will be. The scent that the winds would carry in the near and far seasons perhaps need a quieter sniffing.

That to me was good. All good. Diwali after all is the spirit of victory of good over evil. Isn’t it. ( OK, I grant it. ‘Strawberry with cream’ is definitely EVIL. But that’s an indulgent evil, if that was some http://premier-pharmacy.com/product-category/asthma/ consolation !

Getting away for four days was good. But getting back to spots of road that are present amids roads of potholes, concrete ‘uprisings’, the computer, killer news ridden news papers et al has been quite an effort.

But the days spent in quiet hibernation seems to give me momentum. The open space, fresh air, star filled skies have evoked a spirit that says, ‘a difference can be made’ !

So, this Diwali, we were bereft of a slew of things. New clothes and calorie rich spirit and smoke ridden happiness and jazzy clothes and ever beeping mobile phones and ever growing ‘to-do’ lists.

But why am i feeling richer ? Is this really victory of good over evil ? hmm!! , i would like to think so.

But that really is besides the point !!! Or atleast, was besides many points. This Diwali !


Happy Diwali. Cheers for a great festive season !

Explosive memories !

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Clicked from home. Neigbourhood kids at Ganesh Puja.
Mumbai. Sept ’08

Deepavali as we used to call it, is here. Over here people call this festival Diwali ! And i guess this will be acceptable to the mo-text-gen. ‘Mobile phone – messaging – generation’ to the uninitiated !

A day filled with oil bath, prayers, new clothes, and fire crackers ! ‘Fire-Crackers’ then started sharing space with Television programs. But the essence of my recollections of Deepavali of the wonder years, revolves around fire-crackers.

They came in many shapes and sizes. Of inordinate length. And of course, the essence was to produce the loudest noise that had the potential of bringing the neighbourhood down ! Who cared about the neighbourhood, it had to be louder than the neighbours fire-cracker ! Looked forward to, with a great degree of excitement the purchase process brought endless levels of delight.

I don’t recall when the change started to set in. Mine and my brother’s interest in the fire-cracker started to wane. To a point, where every burst of a cracker was greeted with a grimace usually reserved for a divisive politician.

Today, when i see youngsters queuing up to set off fire-crackers, ( especially at odd times) an urge to talk to these kids emerges from somewhere. To talk to them about simple living, about good over evil, about pragmatic thinking, about making a difference, about having fun without causing inconvenience etc etc.

I guess i wear on my sleeve, whats on the mind. At least, that’s what the data indicates , from my wifes responses. And of course, she knows my pet peeves !

Today, as she serves dinner, she cocks her head and asks me, ‘what would you have done, if somebody told you to live a simple life etc etc, when you were all set to burst a cracker?’. I laugh and say, at that age i perhaps would have burst a louder fire cracker !

‘Old man, do you think we can afford more noise’ she asks. I get the hint. Suddenly whats on the dinner plate seems interesting.

Somewhere below, a fire-cracker goes off. I can hear it. Loud and clear. And that sound segues me into my wonder years. I see in my mind, vivid scenes. Of me setting of loud crackers in brand new clothes and raw happy energy.

Perhaps the kid who set off the fire-cracker will remember this night, many years laterr, just like i did today. Triggered by a cracker from somewhere, grimacing at the noise and smiling at the memory of his wonder years.

And of course, his wife’s dinner !

Diwali is here.

The Jealous BMW !

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There is a clamour around the decision to send taxis that have worked their wheels over 25 years, to the scrap yard !

The last word on the resilient Mumbai taxi is yet to be written. Perhaps it never will be. For all of Mumbai, Taxi means a black and yellow old world Premier Padmini. And thats not going to change in a jiffy !

Much has been said and read about the London cabbie. And some about the New York cabbie too. However, in my opinion, to have been a cabbie in Mumbai is indeed high in the pecking order of cabbies of the world ! It is not easy to have the forces arraigned against you. Always ! Thats one reason !

The old world engine that should long been buried, still turns the wheel and rubs off the road ! That should get Henry Ford twist in pride !

The door still locks, with a distinct metallic flourish. The radiator still needs physical water filling. The gear lever is on the steering shaft. There are two benches with backrests, that go by the name of seats.

A small pulley works on the window glass and closest that you could get to a seat belt are ropes that would bind your luggage to the boot or the roof grill! Read this. And air-conditioning..well, there is the ‘Mumbai air’ in a ‘certain condition’ that you are sure to get ! And that’s http://healthsavy.com/product/zithromax/ pretty much it !

But here is the bottom line. They get you from point A to point B. Sometimes they fleece. Other times they are ok. ( But the fleece tribe is part of the mainstream nowadays, arent they ?). You will get basic courtesy and experience the odd petulance. In the world of perennial ‘hurry dom’ it is but rare for people to expect more !

In the times of push button technologies, engines with horse powers that discredit horses and their powers and other material comforts that make cars almost a dwelling place, it indeed is nice to see the old taxi share the same road !

After all this romanticising, when the beads appear on the forehead when you travel in a ubiquitous taxi and the rough road says ‘hello’ more often than you would want to reciprocate, you understand that this car was a ‘luxury’ some years back !

On Dussera. Eastern Express Highway. Mumbai

And at Dussera, the taxiwallah adds his dash of pink to the number plate and the string of leaves across a dented radiator grill, and adds paper baubles from the bonnet to the roof, with a fervour and a passion that has to be seen to be believed.

I only wonder if the BMW with a million hoofs inside the bonnet, and zillion gadgets to keep you happy……feels a trifle Jealous !

Durga Puja at Powai !

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The week has been busy. For some reason the body disobeys the mind, and seeks rest and time for itself. The mind has been jumping. From one perch to another like a primate in the middle of day ! In the middle of all hectic activity, recollections of the Durga Puja Pandal at Powai dominate.

The last year, i happened to be in Kolkatta. There was a unique spirit in the air back then. You wouldn’t have much to dispute, if the whole town stops to give Ma Durga a deko ! In Mumbai, the essence of the Kolkatta air was ensconced at the Powai Padal. ( Earlier post is here).

You had all the ingredients. Bright lights ( i am told, brought all the way from Chandapur), a majestic Godess Durga in all splendour, numerous commercial establishments selling anything and everything from Mahindra Scorpios to Godrej washing machines to sarees to fruit juices to lottery tickets !!

Alka Yagnik performing

To cap it all, there is the annexure auditorium where ‘cultural events’ take place ! This to me, seems to be the heart of the whole Pandal engine. Many a night, i am told there were different cultural programs that happened here. On one evening, Alka Yagnik performed. I know because i was present ! ( Atleast a couple of other famous people performed. I am a neophyte in the entertainment space. So)

The immersion procession

My wife stood in the queue ( of one hour plus ) to have Bhog! The food was quite something, i am told . And oh, the immersion procession, was quite a sight ! Spontaneous dancing and having clean fun and exhibiting pride in being Bengali came to the forefront, not radically, but more socially !

A ‘Bong’ gentleman & his kurta !

Amidst big bindis, elaborately hand worked kurtas, intense discussions ( on something or the other), song and dance the spirit of ‘Bong’dom returned with fervour. This impalpable yet omnipresent spirit seemed to be the essence of Durga Puja ! To a southerner like me, it appeared that the Pandal was as important as the Durga there. Perhaps more. As though the Goddess herself was a ruse for the community to bond and get together !

kids and Alka Yagnik

Alka Yagnik sang song after song in Hindi. And when she moved to sing in Bengali, it was the kids dancing right next to the stage who had a problem with it. We sat there and watched, as the parents requested songs in Bengali and the kids kept asking for Hindi movie songs ! Do i construe it to be a ‘nothing-serious-mainstream-requests’ or is there an ominous sign of a storm, taking root in young minds ! I would tend to lean toward the latter.

For, it is a strange yet powerful spirit that gets woven into the Bengali mind more than the cotton sarees and flamboyant kurtas. And language is intricate & critical thread, that weaves the culture and produce that inescapable egalitarian spirit of the Bengali ! To see the ‘future’, restive about that thread, leaves the prospect of strong fabric in the future, that much more weaker !!

For our collective future, such threads and bonds must grow ! And when they grow soaked up in heritage and culture, the mind pushes its boundaries to accommodate others too. After all, Puja is best spelt with an ‘o’ ! But you know what, the puja this time makes us want more. We look forward to the Powai Puja of 2009 ! Err..sorry. Pujo..we mean !!

The drums beat !

D Company !

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The weekend saw us attend two very different events ! The first one being Dandia and the other Durga Puja ! Such occasions come up just to let you know that there seems to be an irrepressible spirit that is indeed far beyond all of qualms that are visible in the surface. Perhaps thats a wish. Best qualified by calling me a Pollyanna of sorts!

But tell me what would you think when a small child, decked up in finery, attempts to play Dandia with a spirit that tugs your heart and an impish charm that makes you wish that you could somehow capture that innocence in the palm of your hand and broadcast it to the world!


Pictures clicked at Dandia Celebrations at the apartment complex we live in

What would you make of a happy family, managing to create magic in an otherwise prosaic neighbourhood, which is much like an ant colony of people going to work and coming back in the evening !

Dancing on this day, the three of them went about creating happiness for themselves, without a bother of who was watching or who wasn’t !

*****

What would you make of the splendour of a Durga Puja pandal. I can spot the rich, the poor, the wannabes, the content lots. All there. Some are there to look. Some others to show. But there are those that dont seem to care. And they are there, it seems to me, to just be present. On this day, at the Durga Puja Pandal in Powai, this ‘absorbed in the moment’ set seems to dominate!

The Pandal itself is rather majestic and impressive to say the least. Add that to the ‘culture loving’ (as my friend calls himself) crowd you have a powerful concoction. The Durga deity is simply aweing to say the least !

Pictures clicked at the Durga Puja Mandal at Powai,
organised by the Powai Bengali Association

I come back with loads of impressions. And thoughts. And those that dominate seem to be ones that there is more to be done. It is possible. And people somewhere have goodness reside in them. We perhaps need to look for it !

Even as i type this, i wonder how i came to that conclusion. A few ‘diabolic’ questions get ready to come at me.

I think of the children & their play with reckless abandon, their laughter still rings in my ear. The visage of people engaged in simple conversation is still vivid, just as the Goddess seemed to smile on them ! And so many such images from the last two days engulf me.

I go no more. Between Dandia and Durga, the divine overruns the diabolic. Divine company, i think. I still can call it ‘D Company’ !

What say ?!?

The Length of Shadows

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Id from my balcony. Mumbai. 2nd Oct 08
The morning ushers with it a holiday on the occasion of Gandhi Jayanti. And Id. And as i part the curtains to draw in the morning air, there is an Islamic preachers cadence which floated through ! Rather noisy. That’s my first reaction for the day.

I stand there, soaking up the morning and all that it has to offer : the birds chirping, the first rays of the sun hitting the opposite building. And more importantly, the relative silence that a ‘holiday’ morning offered. Free from honks, bus engines and an inherent Sisyphean buzz.

In a few minutes, i became aware of young Muslim men, characterised by their caps registering in my eyes. They seem to be returning from prayer. Or wherever. Bright clothes and a sprightly walk characterise their today. Today is Id. After a month of fasting, today, is celebration time.

And as they walk towards in the direction of the Sun, i see their shadows lengthening. They segue from slow to a brisk walk. I wonder whats the hurry. Perhaps breakfast. I think.

I wonder how they feel, to be identified & labelled as a Muslim. Victims themselves. Either of terrorism, propaganda or bias. A lump sits in my throat. The birds continue to chirp.

The religion surely must be rich. And i am sure there must be dimensions of which the rest of us don’t understand fully. Maybe someone needs to demystify and help the world understand the Koran, i think.

We need to accept ‘them’ as one of ‘us’ i think. And then, a smile escapes my lips. ‘Us’ & ‘them’, my mind thought 10 seconds ago.

I ask myself, ” aren’t ‘they’, ‘US’ ?!?”

The lump gets bigger within. I wonder if the biases, that i think rests with the rest of the world, rests in me as well. Unconscious sleeper cells? I wonder.

And even as i wonder, i hope thats not the case ! A full minute later, the ‘sleeper cells’ are still introuvable. Thankfully. I hope they never existed.

Far below, the boys themselves, don’t seem to be bothered. With animated chatter, they are now sauntering on. And as the Sun’s rays get brighter, their shadows get lengthier.

In an hour, i am at my breakfast table. Muesli and honey. I wonder what the boys who walked by would be having for breakfast. A few images appear. My mouth waters. Many years back my dad told my mom, half in jest, ‘the way to a man’s heart is through the alimentary canal’.

Out of nowhere that comment makes a propitious appearance. And stays too. Silly. I think. But, it continuous to stay. I wonder why.

I saunter to the window. A new set of boys with the same caps walk by, on the same path. The Sun is up in the sky.

The shadows, however, are shorter. Much shorter.

Happy Id !

Ganpati Says Good Bye !

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‘Visarjan’ was a familiar term, i thought. I had heard that somewhere. But just couldn’t place that term correctly ! Nevertheless, that is a term Mumbaiites are very familiar with. Thats when the Ganapati festival comes to an end. Thats when the ‘elephant God’ is ‘immersed’ !


The fervour of the festivity is best experienced and not seen on TV. The TV may come to your living room, but its not quite there ! Thats a profound affirmation thats gotten reconfirmed after seeing Visarjan at the Powai lake !

There is colour. Noise. Music. Dancing. Synchronised bands. Festivity. Pious devotees. Vada Paavs. Policemen. Balloon sellers. Trinket sellers. All dot the landscape. Along with sundries like us.



Endless streams of lorries transport Ganpatis from their respective locations to water bodies and Powai being one of them, we go to experience Ganpati in all forms. The lorries and tempos have Ganpatis & some ‘prasad’ being distributed from the vehicle itself ! It was quite a sight ! There was a huge crane, presumably to lift the heavier Ganpatis and we saw a few of them too ! Each http://healthsavy.com/product/clomid/ lorry was preceeded with music and dancing ! This sure was an experience to remember !


And when Ganpati turned his back and faced the lake and the water, all set to be immersed, i am sure he must have wondered what i was looking in awe for ! And in that moment, those majestic eyes on the idol seemed to come alive and convey to me the inheritance of a culture. A way of life. Of sharing joy, food and perhaps a renewal of hope to face the days ahead.

And then, they hoisted him on the crane ! And he was gone ! Just then i remembered that Visarjan used to be a term used to say ‘Parade Dismiss’ ( & go home ) during my National Cadet Corps days. A few pieces of the puzzle seemed to fall in place !

And as the Powai lake seemed to take him in, he blobbed up one more time. Wet, yet regal in all finery and decoration. I wonder if it was to check if i got the message right!

A match with a sixer !

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An early morning of April saw us at a wedding. The reception was scheduled in the evening. Somehow, receptions seem to be tacky affairs with plastic smiles, extra make up and heaps of calories. We chose the ‘early morning’ wedding.

While the routines of a wedding continue, the sideshows / issues are of interest to me. Leading to the main question that people i am in the know of ask me, when will i ever focus on the ‘main’ issue ?!?! But that is, as they say, ignoratio elenchi. Besides the point !

At 6.40 am we got some hot coffee. The coffee was GREAT ! I guess it was filter coffee. No, not Bru. Filter coffee. The coffee itself was besides the point. It was the cup that mattered.

The handle was made of paper, and neatly folded along the curves of the cup itself. It took me a minute to unfold it and have the hot coffee in style. Which prompted a whole lot of others to follow suit. It felt good to be a pioneer! To catch something by the ear has been a long time. Especially so at someone elses wedding !

Weddings are also occassions to see democratisation of technology. Essentially photography.
Just as the mangalsutra was all set to be tied, out came video cameras, hand helds, mobile phones and every other recording instrument. As people occupied their vantage positions, it almost seemed like Roland Garros or Wimbledon. With all the lenses focussed on two or three people. The cameras went click, click, click.

Not so long ago,(and still prevelant) was the practice of ‘posing’ for the video camera that happens in our weddings. Where you stand still on the stage with the bride and groom, and video camera guy pans the camera. Agreed the video camera was supposed to capture movement. Somewhere, the emphasis of the movement of the subject (sic) got shifted to the emphasis on movement of the video camera!

After seeing everybody who had a somekind of a camera on them ( SLR, Camcorder, camera with a phone, phone with a camera…and the like) jostle for space to get the righ picture, i got up too. Fearing that i might be labelled as somebody who ‘did not care’, i whipped out my phone. And caught this image.

What do you think ?


Well, this is what i think.

Looks to me like the groom is a vanquished bowler just smashed for big hit, by you know who. The wicket keeper, although from the same team, looks a happy man. Perhaps happy with his match-fixing ! And btw, the 3rd umpire has signalled a six ! ( I promise i havent been watching the IPL matches. But this is what i think )!

Welcome to the married mans world Karthik !