festivals

Diwali Rhymes

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diwali

It’s that time of the year again,
When the order of the day is all joy and no pain.

It’s the time for festivities and bright lights.
As they all gleam in reds, yellows and whites.

You’ve had your share of sweets, and yet there are more.
Eat just one apiece or it’s calories galore.

The nights are brighter than they’ve ever been.
The lights dance around and windows have a sheen.

Your relatives come in, and you have a good time.
You share a laugh with your cousins – your partners in crime.

A long lost friend drops in a cheerful greeting.
‘It’s been ages’, you say, and schedule a meeting.

And amid all the joy you hear a bang.
A hundred decibels! – your eardrums feel a pang.

For a minute or two, you can’t hear a thing.
The kid who lights another feels like a king.

The usual air is suddenly an all engulfing smoke.
Breathing seconds ago, you now begin to choke.

Your cringe and curse with both fists clenched.
‘I wish it rains’, you say, so his crackers get drenched.

The rain God laughs and mocks your desire.
You awkwardly look away; he’s fighting fire with fire.

Looking around you hope to find a sensible soul.
Saving the planet you realise, is a lonely role.

Endless amounts of trash strewn all over.
You hope and pray they wouldn’t stoop any lower.

You summon Lord Ram with a desperate yelp.
‘I am sorry’, he says. I am not a lot of help.

And looking down from your balcony, you helplessly sigh.
You hear nature whisper, ‘Stop or die.’

Vibes

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Mumbai ki na Delhi walon ki; Pinky hai paise walon ki, went the song. For a moment he wondered who Pinky was -and if she had anything to do with him. After much contemplation, he gave up.

“Maybe I am trying too soon. I should observe some more before I try to make sense of this”, he thought.

This wasn’t exactly supposed to be a party, but over the years it had slowly turned into one – sans the alcohol, but the music was unmistakable. A DJ with his setup was on a truck, pandering to the live audiences’ demands and gesturing them to jump with him.

It wasn’t his birthday, he wasn’t getting married and neither was he being promoted on a job, but the crowd directly in front of his eyes, dancing like there’s no tomorrow, suggested otherwise. He wished he could travel back in time. Overwhelmed by nostalgia, he closed his eyes and reminisced the days of old – less pandemonium, more purpose. He liked it that way. But not all of his modern day followers necessarily agreed.

He looked forward to this short visit every year. Most of all, he loved his people. Welcomed in millions of homes around the world, he admired some of them for simply believing in him – he who could slay every obstacle there was or could possibly be. With a heart full of gratitude, he eventually left – promising his followers to come back whilst also keeping an eye out for them from afar.

Not everyone could let him stay for ten days, and he understood. Life was way busier now than it was more than four hundred years ago – when a career wasn’t as pressing a reality as it is today. He was first welcomed by a ruler in the early 1600s –the ruler who was loved by his people then, and is fondly admired by his people even today.

Time flew when he was here. Ten days felt like a few fleeting moments.

As he made his made his way to the sea on each of the immersion days, he wondered if the floating objects were offerings he could take along.

“I don’t really need those.”

As idol after idol was immersed, he followed the trail to each of them. Floating flowers would return to the shore at high tides and make the beach look like an eyesore at low tides, he knew. And although he wished he could clean it all by himself, he feared that taking it easy on his people would only encourage them further.

“I should let them see the filth and decide for themselves.”

He was proud of most of them for using eco-friendly idols. But some didn’t, and in addition to a little money, they paid a price that seemingly didn’t affect anything or anyone right then. Little did they know that it would all come back to haunt them some day. The planet’s predicament would soon be appalling. It already was, but there was more on the horizon.

The God of wisdom was surprised by the lack of it here – dispersing it among an educated few wasn’t anywhere close to being a quick fix. A change in attitudes was the only thing that would really work.

“There will be a day when these people will expect me to save them from a calamity more self-made than natural. What will I do then? Will my principles still hold? What if lives are lost?”

It was unusual for someone of his stature to be in a dilemma. But he was in one now – all thanks to his unruly followers. They had already ruined the very waters at their shores, but an end was nowhere in sight. It was something they clearly saw, yet chose to unsee. Karma loomed large.

He spent the next 365 days missing his followers and hoping that the next year wouldn’t be as messy as the one gone by. They were mortals after all. And they could take more time to learn – certainly more than the average God.

As the 366th day dawned, he awoke with renewed hope.

He could hear some music in the distance. Excitedly, he jumped out of bed and called out to his mouse. Halfway through, he still couldn’t hear it clearly but it was louder.

ganesha-on-mouse

Straining his ears, he heard the words, DJ wale babu..

“Turn around”, he said, hitting his forehead with the palm of his hand.

“I would rather catch up on some more sleep.”

The Santa Thesis

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Toward a cottage in the middle of nowhere, he walked through the snow.

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Joe had been a student of the arts, and spent a majority of his time away from home –studying in college in the middle of a city far far away; following which he had taken up a job.Of course he missed his family. But there was something he missed even more.It was the feeling of being at home –at peace, in comfort, away from all the hustle and bustle,whiling most of his time away on the couch, cocooned in the warmth of a brilliant novel.Life in college made him a busy young man, with a social presence as lifeless as a dried carcass in the middle of a desert. He craved interaction, social meetings and simply spending time with his people.

It was holiday season and Joe couldn’t resist the idea of reuniting with his family. He stood on the porch outside, and knocked twice. He could barely move. It had taken thirty minutes of trudging to get to this place – and even as he was protected by multiple layers of winter wear, he could feel the chill.

Seconds later, his father was at the door –he hadn’t been expecting Joe and a knock on the door late in the evening had taken him by surprise. Needless to say, his father was pleasantly surprised. “What a remarkable Christmas this is already!” he remarked and gave his son the tightest hug. The upcoming week held promise aplenty for Joe and he looked forward to the New Year filled with optimism to the brim.

Celebrating Christmas at home had lightened him up considerably.The holiday season was nothing short of top notch.But he dreaded returning to college – to endless assignments, to a social life that was conspicuous by its absence, to missing his people, to wishing he could experience it all again, albeit without having to wait for another year.

“How I wish Santa was for real!” he thought to himself. “If I could ask him for anything right now, it would be a life as lively, colourful and refreshing as the Christmas tree.”

A week after Christmas, Joe packed his bags with a heavy heart and set foot to return to college. Throughout his return journey, he couldn’t stop obsessing about being taken over by the mundane again.As the bus he was in raced forward – destination bound in a relentless manner, he looked up through the window at the night sky. He couldn’t help but stare and wonder about the magnificence that was the universe.He had heard about the ‘thoughts become things’ theory all too often, but he had never given it a try.A supposed lack of a few things had made him somewhat desperate.He thought it was hard work –not physical, but mental.

The following week, he made a conscious effort to discard all the pessimism in his life. From thinking patterns to behaviours –every ounce of his mind would be subject to thoughtful reforms. He didn’t bother about whether or not it would work –he just went about doing his thing, hoping for the best.

A month later, Joe opened a large case that lay idle in his apartment for years. He didn’t remember what it contained and his curiosity got the better of him. Besides, it was the weekend and it looked like a good time to clean up.As he opened the case, his eyes sparkled.It was a six-string he had bought five years ago.

“Damn this thing. I haven’t touched this in years now.”

As he strummed the first notes on his old companion,he reminisced the last time he had used it –it was a Christmas carol in a church outside the city. “Those were the days”, he recalled. He had played it everywhere he went back then, and to anyone who insisted.

As he proceeded to clean all the nasty dust off his stringed pal, he realised that Santa existed. And although he didn’t always turn up in a red suit,he was always there – waiting for the slightest hint of faith to show up on his mind so as to make its way to the soul.You didn’t always have to wait for Christmas.

 

 

And Away He Went

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“Would it be sinister to wish it rained while people were out with their crackers and to pray that all their fireworks get drenched in the process?” Ram wondered.

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After a hard-fought battle in Lanka, all he ever wanted was a moment of respite, some time with his friends and family alongside some good food – after all, the exile didn’t have much on offer for the average foodie. But Ram’s return back home to Ayodhya was anything but that.

All he heard these days was a cacophony of fireworks. He was living in a haze, quite literally. And what about all the family time? Well, if only he could see them amongst endless plumes of smoke. Life post-war was miserable.

He headed outside for a walk the next morning. “14 years since I took a morning walk for leisure”, he thought. “I’ve looked forward to this day for so long.”

And as he set foot outside, a few appalling sightings awaited him. With bits of paper strewn everywhere, used fireworks scattered all over the place he felt sorry for all that had transpired the previous evening. Eventually, his mind drifted back to the battle with his ten-headed nemesis, the infamous kidnapper of his beloved wife, Lanka’s all prevailing ruler and his consequent triumph. He recalled how eager he was to come home and celebrate with his countrymen.

“Bloody hell! Something doesn’t feel right.” He had heard that victories were supposed to be sweet. But this win was bordering on nauseous now.

“How on earth am I supposed to explain this to people?”

An hour later, he was back home – still troubled by his thoughts. He was trying to think of a solution, but he couldn’t come up with one. He knew that for every argument he put forth, the public would have a counter – he had heard so from Maruti, a close friend who was in sync with the times.

Ram was old-school. Maruti was the exact opposite. He hated missing out on time at the gym, for fitness was his foremost concern. Besides, he was familiar with the perils of outrage on social media. He didn’t have any profiles online, but he’d heard and read enough to know it all. To add to it, intolerance had suddenly become the buzzword. “The last thing I’d ever want is for people to call this intolerance and add fuel to the fire”, Maruti had said.

They had begun to lose hope. They saw no way out. Leaving the country wouldn’t look good, they thought. People would call them traitors. But again, if they went out and made a name for themselves anyway, people wouldn’t have any qualms exclaiming that they were extremely proud to be their compatriots. The double-sided nature of everything in their homeland had set their heads spinning. At that moment, they looked at each other and nodded their heads.

Each knew what the other had meant to say. A week later, Ram packed his bags and prepared to leave with Sita in tow.

“Where to?” asked Laxman.

Ram didn’t answer continued to walk towards the door.

“Where the hell are you going?” Laxman exclaimed again – this time, a little louder.

“I don’t know. Call this a world tour if you like. I haven’t decided where I might stay. Until then, expect me to keep traveling till I see no traces of smoke, until real fog supplants the smog, until I hear no other cacophony than the calls of a hundred birds. All the unnecessary commotion here is not what I fought for. I beat the living daylights out of Ravan to confirm that good overpowers evil. That light transcends darkness – not smoke blinds one and all or random explosions deafen everyone”, Ram responded.

And just like that, Ram went back into exile.

Jollification (Or is it?)

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The festive season is upon us again. And the fervour is here to stay.

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You can sense happy vibes all around – the accompanying cheer is what makes them all so special, after all.

Growing up has changed my perspective on festivals in more ways than one. From being an out and out dancer in idol processions, to being my laid-back self now –a brief account of what has shaped these changes:

1. The Music:

So you need a reason to sing and dance? Let’s pretend to celebrate the next festival in line.

Drums would still be okay with me. But how on earth can you justify having a DJ playing an item song in an idol procession?

God doesn’t give two hoots about a Chikni Chameli or a Mary for all I know.

Seriously brothers, we need to reconsider this.

2. Contributions:

It’s an opportunity for every local to contribute to the celebrations. But let’s try to not make it seem desperate.

I personally believe that the amount to be paid is the sole discretion of the donor. Let them decide how generous they can be for themselves.

In the end, as long as they truly feel for the cause, no amount is small.

 3. Mass Inconvenience:

This is a special characteristic as far as my current locality is concerned.

The route to my place is a network of streets that are as narrow as they come. And when you decide to block one of them so that you can play garba/dandiya on the street, you’ve clearly lost your mind.

And being asked to take a U-turn and not go home just because your car won’t be able to get through is just the beginning. Hello folks? I live there for God’s sake.

4. The Consent (or the lack of it):

Bura na maano holi hai!

If you say this and expect me to not react when you throw a water-balloon at me, you would be very disappointed. If we are friends, we would probably still get along fine post this debacle.

But what if we aren’t even acquaintances, let alone friends?

5. Bans:

It’s your festival and you have every right to celebrate it. But, to force your commandments onto others is insensitive. Last time I checked, we were still a democracy. And to curtail others’ freedoms for no good is an attempt to try and move away from being one.

6. The Commotion:

I have never been a fan of all the commotion. Multitasking isn’t my strongest suit and blaring loudspeakers trying to distract me from any task at hand have always put me off.

To limit one’s to joviality to oneself is acceptable. Trust me. No one’s going to be mad at you. Not even God.

7.Traffic Snarls:

These are times when moving from A to B in your city can be a pain. You would rather just sit at home than be outside moving at a snail’s pace.

I know and appreciate that festivals are a part of the identity of our richly-diverse nation. They aren’t just opportunities to celebrate our culture but also for people to come together.

If only we had studied enough history, we would know it was all Lokmanya Tilak had in mind when he reformed and preached the idea of a Ganesh Utsav back in 1894 – he never thought about bans and mass inconvenience. Makes you wonder why all of this happening now?

Are festivals losing their true meaning amid all the hype?