Column

The onset of this season in India is magical. It begins with the Ganapati festival and suddenly, the air is filled with a kind of festive fervour and approaching autumn.

The monsoon is reaching its end and even though that intense heat is about to begin, soon it will be over and then for a few months it all be “pleasant”.

But there is that ongoing debate about the “commercialisation” of religious celebrations in Mumbai. It was great fun during Janmashtami this year. Not only did the dahi handis move higher and higher up, so did the prize money. We also had sponsored events imported dancing girls.

Of course, the loud noise and arrogance of devotees – as if a journey to meet an inanimate manifestation of divinity gives you the god-given right to break rules and inconvenience others – is the same in all religions. Soon we will have upon us the Mount Mary Fair and later, the Urus at Mahim. Traffic and crowds will be unbearable.

But for now, it is Ganapati.

On the first immersion day, I saw a massive band going down Linking Road

near Khar. It was followed by a pair of handsome white bullocks, all dressed up right up to their magnificent curved horns.

They pulled an enormous cart, about as big as a limo for a rap star, all slivery and glittery. Enthroned in the cart was a tiny little bright Ganapati idol, enjoying this luxurious ride. Delightful.

Just behind the band was a small crowd of people dancing away. The band played the usual Hindi film music. This drives the purists insane. But I see it this way. In the Indian social context, we don’t really throw parties (a few unfortunate customs officers and former bar girls aside) where we throw our conservative caution to the winds, various sexes dance with each other, we have a sly drink or two and eat some nice chicken curry.

Some community festivals can provide a good op for that. Can’t really dance to bhajans, folk music is a bit boring to those brought up on it – now it belongs to the upper classes who can fuse it, blend it and mix it to their bleeding hearts’ content – so what does that leave? Filmi music. Of course, every posh disco in the city also plays filmi music so we are all in that same dreadful boat.

The purists may be right, in a pure sense. Me, I enjoy watching it. From a distance. With earplugs on. Heck, you got me there.

Pick of the week: In the space of three days, we went, on television, from ‘Oh my god, the government lied, the prime minister lied, the US has cheated us, the end of the world has come, we told you the nuke deal would never happen, deception, cheating, perfidy, the government is evil, the deal has taken away our sovereignty, we will be puppets, we will become worthless and toothless because of Manmohan Singh, himself the puppet of the US and a stooge of Sonia’s’ and so on to ‘India wins historic battle, we have arrived, we are great, Manmohan is great, the nuke deal is great’ and more. I think it is best to watch TV for fun and get your news and analysis elsewhere.

b_ranjona@dnaindia.net