Today marks the beginning of the eleven-day celebration of Ganpati, which honors Ganesh, the deity of new journeys, prosperity, knowledge, and affluence. Especially in Maharashtra, people go all out for the festivities honoring the undisputed favorite Hindu god of this state. From what I have heard, the first day of celebrations is nothing compared to the revelry of the last day, which has drum-heavy processions set against an amalgamation of vibrant colors and dancing in the streets in other words: pure jubilee. If today serves as any sort of testament, then the last day will be an unprecedented sight to witness because seeing the local processions today indicated a level of enthusiasm and stamina that I have yet to see in any sort of concert back in the states.
The morning began with a trip to the market to choose a Ganesh idol and collect other things needed for the Ganpati shrine. Many bazaars were selling Ganeshs of varying sizes and styles of embellishment. The multitude of possible colors combinations, level of adornment, including metallic and day-glo selections, were endless.
A growing problem with the availability and affordability of the rising consumerism in India is that is now affects religious celebrations. Tradition dictates that Ganesh idols be made of clay, or muti, so that when they are brought to the rivers the idols may return to the earth. Nowadays, however, a decent portion of the Ganesh idols made are from plastic and other non-biodegradable materials; thus, furthering polluting the rivers and waterways of India that already have to deal with constant influx of debris and sewage.
As soon as our Ganesh idol was chosen, my host father, Ramesh, placed a silk scarf over its head, which is not to be removed until a welcoming ceremony upon entry into the household, Afterwards, my host family set up the shrine to Ganesh, complete with garlands, an offering of any five fruits, sliver family heirlooms depicting other Hindu gods and a plate of dyes of which Ganesh is christened with and from which every member of the household receives some sort of christening as well. Following the completion of the shrine, the ancient chats giving thanks, adoration and benevolence to Ganesh was sung. These are the same Sanskrit chants that were sung several thousand years ago.
After the commencement of Ganpati, extended family members came over to partake in the special festival food, consisting of masala bhat, or spicy rice, mixed veggies, chickpea soup, and the sweet, moduchk, which was the favorite treat of Ganesh. Yet again, the portion sizes were tremendous and regardless of my refusal of additional servings, the insistence of my host mother proves to be mightier.
A few hours and a short nap was needed directly after lunch to regain functionality again, and the timeframe coordinated perfectly with the local procession that was about to begin at my host cousins’ flat in the city. As everyone else in my family was situated, it was only my host sister and I that went. On the way there, we had a discussion of music that began about a Michael Jackson song since one of his was on the mix she was playing. In making small talk, I asked if she like his music, which to she responded that it was only this song of his because the rest of MJ’s music was too “hard rock.” Preeti, my host sister, stated her favorite genre was “soft rock,” which I guess in her definition included the Backstreet Boys, the Police and “Walk like an Egyptian” all of which were other songs on the mix.
At last, after listening of the oddest assortment of music I have heard in awhile, we arrived at just the right time because the procession was playing right in front of apartment building of my host cousin. We entered a sea of gigantic bass drums and the accompanying snare drums, heard the small section of tambourines, and the gong kept the entire ensemble together. All sixty or seventy so musicians belonged to the same band that had been practicing for the upcoming festivities for the past two months, several hours a day. Talk about synchronization, all the drummers were mirror-images of one another, wearing the same white suit with orange scarf blowing not because of a breeze but because of the enthusiasm. The only distinguishing aspect, besides the age and gender, was the passion each musician demonstrated. The college-aged ones jumped and turned as much as was physically possible with such a large drum; the look on the older faces was one of pure concentration and enjoyment; the youngest faces exhibited a level of zeal and sincerity that was unmatched by any others the crowd.
On the way home, to interrupt my host sister’s humming to “My Heart Will Go On” I asked about the demographics of the musicians, remarking how inclusive it was of both age and gender. Preeti stated the presence of many of the female musicians was new this year because in years prior the traditional notion that, in her words, “ it was the men that were thought to have the strength and stamina to last thru such demanding performances.” By the exhibition I saw, the women had just as much, and for some more, heart as, or then, the men demonstrated.
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