Ganesha… and Memories!

The schools would’ve given the timetable for the term-end examination and studies would’ve started in earnest. Monsoon would be well into its second full month, and there would be frequent showers, accompanied with strong winds. Afternoons would pass doing homework in the muggy weather, with tube lights on in the living room to battle the darkness and gloom brought on by the rainy days. I can still smell the petrichor mingled with the fresh Camel Ink I would fill in my pen to write with… And in the middle of all this, would come one festival, that made all this bearable and more – the Gauri Ganapati festival! Celebrated with aplomb in Maharashtra, especially Mumbai.

Weeks before the actual arrival of Ganapati Bappa, preparations would begin at home. It would all start with visiting a shop (the same shop for ages!) to pick out the Ganesha idol we would eventually bring home. And then would start the cleaning of the house from top to bottom. Sweets would be prepared, fruits and vegetables would be arranged to be delivered. Flowers would be ordered. Bappa would come home for five days, and everything had to be just right for him! But all of this was what the adults took care of. For us children, it was the decoration, the Makhar for Ganesha that was of paramount importance.

For days we would agonise over the design. Check with friends and spy on relatives to see who was planning on making what for the decorations that year. And then come up with a unique idea that would be like none other! And then would begin the execution part – the buying of the materials, the painstaking building up of the Makar little by little, one pillar at a time, taking time out of the usual routine. And finally, the Makhar would be ready – having spent many a late nights sitting with Fevicol in hand or with the cello tape and a knife! I would sit peeling the dried Fevicol from my hands for hours into the night, as we sat helping with the Makhar and generally giving a helping hand in the preparations for the impending arrival of Bappa! And as we sat around, looking at the preparations at the ready, tired, but exhilarated; Mum would spend an hour, drawing the Rangoli around the decorations where Ganesha would reside. She would draw beautiful flowers and intertwining wines, and in the centre, would be a beautiful Ganesha depicted in all his glory!

And then, the glorious day would arrive! The day of Ganesh Chaturthi. The day when Ganapati Bappa would come home. We would all be woken up early and scrubbed and bathed and dressed to the T. Mum and Dad would have woken earlier and Mum, bathed and with a towel around her hair, would already be busy in the kitchen, working on Ganesha’s beloved Modaks! And Dad? He would go around the house, ensuring everything was just so, and then, just before it was time to leave for bringing Bappa home, he would have a bath, dress in freshly washed clothes, and get ready.

As we left, in his hand, would be a tray with a few flowers and a few Akshata, and a piece of cloth to cover Bappa’s head on his way home. We would already be jumping restlessly, waiting for the command to wear our shoes and accompany him. We would be fortified with raincoats, in case the rain Gods decided to crash the welcoming party of Ganesha, and we would also have a pair of clash cymbals with us (Taal in Marathi, or Majira) which we would make lovely jangling noises that we found enchanting!

On the way home with Ganapati Bappa, Dad would balance the Ganesha idol on the tray carefully and walk barefoot through the rain sodden streets, while we children played the Manjira and chanted ‘Ganapati Bappa Morya!’ There would be scores of families like us, bringing Ganesha home that day. With the father/the elder of the house holding the Ganesha idol and the children chanting ‘Ek Don Teen Char, Ganapati Cha Jai Jaikar!’ And so infectious was the energy around, that every passing family was greeted with an extra enthusiastic ‘Morya!’ as they passed other families carrying their Ganesha idols chanting ‘Ganapati Bappa…!’

With much fanfare, the Bappa would come home. With respect and reverence he would be treated for five whole days. Mornings and evenings there would be puja and arti and fresh offerings made. People would visit in scores, as would we visit others who had Ganesha residing in their homes. Schedules would be drawn. Mum, Dad and my brother would take turns deciding who will visit whose house, as in some homes Ganesha resided for lesser number of days, and in some homes, for more. And I, the recluse that I always was, was given the duty to stay at home to welcome guests who came for Ganesha Darshan. I would be a lovely host. Offer lemonade or tea and sweets and snacks to our guests. I would sit and chat with them if they wished to wait while one of my parents returned, or I would take their messages and send them on their way if they were in a hurry. And then there were the times when no one was home. My parents would be out, my brother would be out and there would be no guests. It would just be me and Bappa, and I would always feel His presence. That He was there, like a real living being, thrumming with energy.

Through the five days of Ganesha’s stay at home, we would still have school and homework and tests and projects to work on; but the energy in the home was very different. I would wait impatiently for school to get over so I could be home to be with Ganesha. It was a feeling akin to wanting to rush home from school when a favourite relative was visiting. The decoration, the incense burning near the idol, the arrangement of sweets, little decorative idols, even the flowers, that we would make around where Ganesha sat on his little makeshift throne in our home, was something I could spend hours stating at! And I probably did.

After five days, it was time for Ganesha to go back to his own abode. And that day was really a sad one. Our feet, that would’ve been restless with joy and anticipation just a few days back when we brought Ganesha home, would now turn to lead, as Dad would, after performing the Visarjan Puja, once again, take Ganesha on the tray, cover his head with a cloth, and set out to the pond where we would immerse the Ganesha idol. Once again a final arti would be sung just before we would hand over the Ganesha to one of the volunteers working at the immersion sites, who would immerse Ganesha once, twice and then for the third and final time in the water. We would return home with a heavy heart. It was like saying goodbye to a much-loved friend. Keeping our chin up by thinking only that Ganesha would come again next year!  

For two decades of my life, I have followed this routine. I have been a key player in helping out with the house cleaning, the making of sweets, and the making of the Makhar and the welcoming of the guests in Ganesha’s honour. I have been that girl who went out with Dad to bring Ganesha home with chants of Ganapati Bappa Morya! Mangal Murti Morya! I have cried when immersing Ganesha and coming home to only a Kalash filled with water and covered with a coconut, in the place where Ganesha had sat for five days.

Now, Ganesha still continues to come home. My brother and Mum and Dad still continue to follow the same routine for five days when Ganesha visits. But I am far away from home. In a different city. With a family of my own. Now, I try to keep my own traditions. I clean the house, make the Modaks, and I do the puja and the arti for Ganesha at my home with my little family. But in a different city, that atmosphere of my childhood isn’t there. They do chant Ganapati ‘Bappa Morya!’ here too, but not with the fervour they do with in Mumbai. And now, after the Arti, when I say ‘Ganapati Bappa….!’ and my little one chirps, ‘Morya!’ I always get misty-eyed.

Because ‘Ganapati Bappa Morya’ is not just a phrase, it is an emotion. A feeling so deep and profound, it can only be expressed through tears in the eyes and a smile on the lips!   

Pic courtesy: Rangoli at the Ganesha Pandal near home.