I’ve been thinking of what to blog about for quite sometime now. So much has happened over the last 3-4 weeks that it seems rather inevitable that this post will be a free-wheeling one. So next comes the question of how to prioritize… should I talk about the madness of Mumbai house hunting, eleven month leasing, mad landlords and real estate insanity? Should I talk about almost getting laid? Should I talk about new new new house that I love love love? Should I talk about new job that is shrouded in mystery, NDA’s and controversy? Or should I talk about the 3 and a half hour fucking traffic that I battled meandering between truck loads of sloshed ebullient religious fuckers and their political fucking ganpati bappa morya!
I think you know what’s coming don’t you?
See, I don’t have anything against the pachyderm god. I don’t hate him, I don’t revere him, I don’t feel him. Of course I’m being rather mild here as I have too much going on in my life right now that simply cannot afford the wrath of the gods, anthropomorphic or not. But look at this past week and the week to come for crying out loud! It’s at times like these that I wish India was a tyrannical monarchy and not the mental democracy it is. I remember Ganesh Chaturthi as being this sweet festival, quite literally where mum made kozakatte’s (south Indian modaks) and we made the ganpati at home simply by mixing haldi with water to a paste and fashioning it into a 4-5 inch tall inverted cone. Once it dried, the pooja and oblations business would happen, the food would be pretend offered to the hand made god, my mother would desperately hold us back from grabbing the sweets for just about 5 minutes, torn between wanting us to enjoy the fruit of her labour but giving the god enough time to have his fill, that done the ganpati would be dissolved in water or we would immerse it in the neighbourhood well. And that was that. Short and sweet.
Ok so Lokmanya Tilak HAD to create the farce of the ganpati immersion in the pre-independence days, but why on earth are we still even attempting to celebrate what is only a political performance, albeit one that has smoothly ingrained itself as proper tradition as pretty much all things go nowadays in this country? I think I’ve answered that one rhetorically haven’t I?
All I know is that this fucking festival has left me in dread. Fearing the drunk mad mob dancing in front of the trucks, fearing the traffic jams, fearing the rising toxicity of the water with silver and neon coloured 50 foot ganesha’s happily sinking into an already fucked up sea, fearing the wrath of the god of prosperity that any pseudo confused agnostic idiot like me would…sigh