BENGALURU : Every year on Ganesha Chaturthi, a clash of opinions is witnessed on social media. Environmentalists question if it is necessary to pollute nature by immersing Ganesha statues in a water body. Religious people counter-question —‘What about Eid/Christmas/Bar Mitzvah/Black Friday?’. Atheists (scared in a nation that is largely bending to the right) will put up a soft message saying ‘Find the god in you!’. And stand-up comedians like me sit on the sidelines and watch, bemused.
Opinions, you see, are like Aadhaar cards — everybody has one. I have realised with age that in some matters, my opinion really doesn’t matter. I find that my opinions are most useful when they pertain to matters in my immediate surroundings. The rest are simply opinions derived from my environment.
But Ganesha Chaturthi has always been a special festival for me. I have prayed extensively to the entire pantheon of major Hindu gods, but as an average student in school, I feel like I went for tuitions to Lord Ganesha. Before every assignment, unit test, and annual exam, I used to have intense heart-to-hearts with Ganesha — promising to sacrifice life’s banal joys in exchange for pass-marks in the exam. The most intense session I had with Ganesha was during my 10th standard board exams. Terrified of failing in Mathematics, I prayed day and night to Ganesha that he let me pass the exam. While my friends were steeped in Quadratic Equations, I was praying to the Lord with four hands. Upon discovering that I had scored 53, I couldn’t have been more thankful to the Lord for helping me not ruin my life.
As a teenager, I took great pride in being part of the local Ganesha pandal. The kids were entrusted with asking nearby households and businesses for ‘chanda’. When shopkeepers asked us to come on a later
date, the seniors of the colony would ask us to go for follow-up rounds. We also took great interest in blaring music off cheap Chinese loudspeakers, and giving our Ganesha a grand farewell — at the back of a Tempo. As one grows up, the equation with Lord Ganesha grows a little distant. As an adult, Ganesha Chaturthi is mostly used as a peg to mark the change of seasons.
Ganesha Chaturthi usually means the end of summers, and winter was around the corner. But the most enjoyable part was always the visarjan. If you love dancing, I would recommend you join a neighbourhood visarjan procession, where people across age and gender can be seen dancing with gay abandon. I have been invited to switch sides from one pandal to another — bribed with delicious prasadam. I have been garlanded by some pandals because they wanted me to continue dancing for them. I have walked with strangers, helped them immerse their Ganesha in the lake, and gone back home as friends! I have had Muslim, Christian and Jain friends dance all night with unknown pandal processions.
The pandemic has been difficult for craftsmen of Ganesha idols. The city’s municipality also imposed rules this year stipulating the height of the idols, and the duration that the idols could be placed in the pandals. The processions were restricted to designated ‘kalyanis’, and were not open to the general public. In mythology, it is said that Lord Ganesha lives with Lord Shiva in Kailasa — situated in present day Tibet. With the pandemic and border skirmishes, here’s hoping Lord Ganesha ushers in happier days this year. I, on my part, will be found dancing with strangers at a visarjan procession!
(The author’s views are his own)