Hi All
It’s been a while for some but here’s a bit of story from a recent trip to India where I was lucky enough to be sent to do some research for work (which is still in London for anyone who is wondering).
Enjoy
Ben
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The frenetic intensity of the pounding four man percussion band would have done any London dance club proud. For over five hours their hectic drum beating fuelled the feverish dancing and celebrations as my adopted family paraded their Ganesha mandel through the streets of Mumbai before ceremoniously immersing him in the ocean as part of their Ganapati festival celebrations.
The festival celebrates the birthday of Ganesha, the elephant-headed son of Shiva and Parvati, who is widely worshipped as the supreme god of wisdom, prosperity and good fortune by Hindis. The main ritual of the celebrations involves a family inviting into their home a Ganesha mandel (an ornately decorated plaster of Paris statue of Ganesha) and taking care of him for several days before parading him to the seaside where he is immersed in water and asked to return again next year. I was fortunate enough to be invited into a family’s celebrations by a local girl, Shifali, who I met on my travels.
The worshipping and celebrations started in the family’s small, two bedroom flat with a series of prayers and offerings (of which I timidly partook after much persuasion from the family), which had been ongoing for the previous three days they had welcomed Ganesha into their home. With much candle waving and incense burning the Ganesha mandel was ceremoniously carried out on the street where he was carefully placed onto a waiting wooden cart and surrounded by flower garnishings and food offerings.
Once the cart and Ganesha were ready the band begun the procession by starting its frenetic rhythmic beat on their drums. Matching the band’s vigour, the men of the group led the way down the street with their frenzied dancing (myself included whether I liked it or not), quickly working up a sweat in the oppressive humidity of the monsoon season. The women followed close behind pushing the cart and taking care of the Ganesha mandel ensuring that he came to no harm during his lengthy journey to the seaside.
Slowly, at a pace in contrast to the beating drums, the procession danced its way down the partially tarmaced and potholed streets. We started in the sparse dilapidated housing blocks on the outskirts of town, situated in fields littered with rubble, rubbish, makeshift tarpaulin shacks and fetid pools of water left by the monsoon rains. As we made our way into the nearby town the muddy streets became crowded with people, buses and motorised rickshaws, all trying to force their way through the somehow flowing chaos of day to day life on Indian city streets.
From time to time the band would have to stop as we had to negotiate a particularly rough patch of road. As the group guided Ganesha’s wooden cart over the potholes the silence would be filled with repeated calls of “Ganapati Bupta!”, to which the crowd would respond “Moria!”, a chant I’m told is roughly equivalent to Hallelujah – Praise the Lord.
In town, our procession was watched from shop fronts or through grated windows above by a sea of faces curious of the sound but knowing of its source. Although we caused a major traffic jam, nobody minded. Most onlookers were happy to watch the celebrations and enjoy the spectacle of our, at times, convulsive dancing.
From time to time we passed other groups of celebrators returning from the seaside where they had immersed their Ganesha mandel in the water. These groups were clearly marked by their pink tinted appearance created by the red dye powder used to both mark faces and throw in the air as part of the celebrations.
As day slowly became night the fairy lights decorating the streets took over, masking the poor condition of the streets and adding to the festive atmosphere. As we came closer to the seaside more and more groups of celebrators started coming together on the streets, until the normal street traffic was replaced by only dancing processions.
After hours had disappeared unnoticed to the dancing we reached the seafront to be confronted by a mass of people patiently waiting their turn to reach the water. Once final prayers and wishes had been whispered into his ear, the son of our family carefully carried Ganesha to the waiting crew of a boat. The crew then took him, along with dozens of other mandels, a short distance from the shore where, with a prayer, they ceremoniously immersed him into the water, bringing an end to the celebrations for this year.
Although I started the day a stranger invited in to their home by their daughter, after a few hours of dancing with them in the street I was considered a member of the family that they didn’t want to leave. I began the afternoon quietly sitting in the family lounge room as a stranger, watching a tradition completely foreign and unknown to me, trying to overcome the barriers thrown up by language and culture. In the end language became no barrier as it was lost amongst the intense thumping of the drums. Instead communication became based on the cross cultural language of dancing and shared smiles. Despite barely being able to conduct a conversation with many of them, by the time I left to fly home to London I had developed an intimacy and bond with the family far stronger then any that the spoken word could create.
A short video of the procession:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HhEtfegThh0
The usual photos of the day:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/bc_melbourne/sets/72157594481098613/
More info about the festival itself if you’re interested:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ganesh_Chaturthi