Diwali came and went leaving an unexplained void which always makes me uneasy as if I am missing the train. Difficult to pinpoint the things amiss but the feeling of something left done, lingers. Every year since childhood, like childhood I eagerly wait for Diwali a festival which satiates all your material senses, at least it was or is it still, supposed to, no guesses. But every passing year the lustre which was the hallmark of my childhood Diwali is getting lost in, is it cynicism, overzealous cry for the protection of environment or has it plainly lost its relevance?
Being Marathi and having spent my early childhood in Mecca of Marathi culture, Pune, the drums of Diwali used to beat for us well in advance as we used to have Diwali vacations for weeks together, ahead of Diwali. The plans used to be plenty. From making paper lanterns to build forts of Shivaji, to buy crackers from various stalls at extremely negotiable rates.
Ready-made Chinese lanterns were unheard then. To make your own lantern was the call of the day and it was carried out with full gusto! The typical Marathi Diwali lantern was made from bamboo sticks tied to each other with twine in such a manner that though made from many squares, the end result was a hexagonal skeleton of sticks on which semitransparent coloured papers were pasted. To add to the beauty and at the same time to hide the sticks, golden paper ribbon, cut like lace was pasted on the edges. No lantern was complete without that tuft of paper strips hanging from below making waves in the winds like unfurling flag! To hang it high, so that it could be seen from a distance, too was an act of joy, as it required the participation of many hands! The golden glow of the electric bulb hung inside, heralded the arrival of Diwali, festival the supreme!
Building the Shivaji fort, 'Killa' as we used to call it, had tremendous scope for boundless creativity in us youngsters. To bring bucketful of soil from the open ground nearby, to give the mound shape of the rugged fort, with ramparts and observing towers in tow, to make a thousand steps from base to the main gate with the help of half-torn matchbox was so engrossingly creative, that I and my like-minded friends used to get lost in time, even forgetting meals at times! Oh, what it did not have. Specially made roads, fences for houses, temples, a small rivulet flowing through the village with tiny bridges, oh it was picture perfect when the small toy, soldiers, postman vegetable vendors were put at right places with a small replica of Shri Shivaji enthroned on the top of killa, in his 'Darbar'. Models of houses, bungalows, schools, shops and cinema, everything made from cardboard paper along with either a small toy train or 'fat fat' boat plying in small lake specially made for it, for the company! No fort was complete without greenery. so the selection of seeds was most important. Millet like seeds used to grow fast, so fast that they used to drop their heads at the crucial juncture, in mid-Diwali as the stem used to be very delicate. The second option was the mustard seeds. They were preferred for their beautiful small leaves, clove-like in shape. But they too did not stand long. Most handsome looking were wheat sprouts, tall thin, sharp and tough, they held their regal ensemble throughout Diwali and looked graceful as tall grass. But wheat seeds took many many days to germinate so the timing to sow them, required meticulous planning, well in advance, otherwise, your 'killa' used to remain bereft of lush fresh greenery!
When kids were busy with their stuff, mothers had different battle to fight on the turfs of the kitchen. Practically from every household emanated crisp partly burnt aroma of chickpea laddoos being roasted in pure ghee for the special occasion. The waft of aroma used to shout from the rooftops ' What are you waiting for, Diwali is just around the corner, pull up the socks, hurry! Hurrey !' It was followed by pungent 'Chiwada' and melting in mouth 'Karanjis' .' Chakali' made by mixing many pulses and grains in exact proportions, was the queen of the savoury. The housewife who could roll out crisp, round, light brown chakalis with a hole running along its entire course was considered 'the Chef of Chefs' Diwali hesitated to step in the kitchen that was devoid of aroma of roasted besan. That household, in fact, was aeons away from the flavour of the festival! 'To order the entire dish from a sweetmeat maker at the corner' is a much much late development. To everybody his own, but I still long for that aroma!
If we take care of the pollution, all year round by curbing the taxis, the buses the trucks those emit smoke full with carbon monoxide and tar, we can definitely accommodate the minuscule pollution of Diwali. During a three day strike by dilapidated old taxis the pollution in Mumbai went down by a whopping 33 % and we have data to prove it. In fact, I, at one level am ready to buy the cry of the saffron brigade that it's now, as if 'Every Hindu Festival' is the biggest polluter, be it a Holi, or a Ganapati. What a Diwali without crackers! Tomorrow these zealots might ask us to stop breathing, we give out CO2 you know and use O2, depriving poor earth of it! Catch that fellow for pollution, who invented 'Fire'!
I miss the noise of sutali bomb, I used to burst at 3 o'clock in the morning that let every household in the vicinity know ' Hey Diwali is here, what are you doing, still sleeping? Get up Enjoy !' Electric Sparklers ignited while having the ceremonial bath on Diwali days lifted the beauty and happiness of the occasion to a different high altogether!
Marathi Diwali differs from Diwali celebrated elsewhere in India on many an account, It comprises of six days, unlike only two days, as in north! The day one is the day of Cow and Calf. In the temple near my home ', Mother-Daughter Duo' was specially brought by the priests to be worshipped by women having kids. A special offering made from Jaggery and chickpeas was offered after anointing the both with vermilion. After coming home, the mother used to prepare lamps made from dough that were lit facing south. They burned on till next night. This was in respect, paid to 'Yama' the god of death and was known as 'Yama Deepdaan'.
I come across many wandering cows even on Ghatkopar roads but this concept is lost somewhere on the same roads which are lost to the swarming crowds! The woman has left the home to be on par with man, in the outside world, but has left many of these traditions to languish in the annals of past just to be reminisced and leave them at that, with a passing chuckle! Why should I feel bad, I myself could not pass on these rituals to my own children!
When kids were busy with their stuff, mothers had different battle to fight on the turfs of the kitchen. Practically from every household emanated crisp partly burnt aroma of chickpea laddoos being roasted in pure ghee for the special occasion. The waft of aroma used to shout from the rooftops ' What are you waiting for, Diwali is just around the corner, pull up the socks, hurry! Hurrey !' It was followed by pungent 'Chiwada' and melting in mouth 'Karanjis' .' Chakali' made by mixing many pulses and grains in exact proportions, was the queen of the savoury. The housewife who could roll out crisp, round, light brown chakalis with a hole running along its entire course was considered 'the Chef of Chefs' Diwali hesitated to step in the kitchen that was devoid of aroma of roasted besan. That household, in fact, was aeons away from the flavour of the festival! 'To order the entire dish from a sweetmeat maker at the corner' is a much much late development. To everybody his own, but I still long for that aroma!
If we take care of the pollution, all year round by curbing the taxis, the buses the trucks those emit smoke full with carbon monoxide and tar, we can definitely accommodate the minuscule pollution of Diwali. During a three day strike by dilapidated old taxis the pollution in Mumbai went down by a whopping 33 % and we have data to prove it. In fact, I, at one level am ready to buy the cry of the saffron brigade that it's now, as if 'Every Hindu Festival' is the biggest polluter, be it a Holi, or a Ganapati. What a Diwali without crackers! Tomorrow these zealots might ask us to stop breathing, we give out CO2 you know and use O2, depriving poor earth of it! Catch that fellow for pollution, who invented 'Fire'!
I miss the noise of sutali bomb, I used to burst at 3 o'clock in the morning that let every household in the vicinity know ' Hey Diwali is here, what are you doing, still sleeping? Get up Enjoy !' Electric Sparklers ignited while having the ceremonial bath on Diwali days lifted the beauty and happiness of the occasion to a different high altogether!
Marathi Diwali differs from Diwali celebrated elsewhere in India on many an account, It comprises of six days, unlike only two days, as in north! The day one is the day of Cow and Calf. In the temple near my home ', Mother-Daughter Duo' was specially brought by the priests to be worshipped by women having kids. A special offering made from Jaggery and chickpeas was offered after anointing the both with vermilion. After coming home, the mother used to prepare lamps made from dough that were lit facing south. They burned on till next night. This was in respect, paid to 'Yama' the god of death and was known as 'Yama Deepdaan'.
I come across many wandering cows even on Ghatkopar roads but this concept is lost somewhere on the same roads which are lost to the swarming crowds! The woman has left the home to be on par with man, in the outside world, but has left many of these traditions to languish in the annals of past just to be reminisced and leave them at that, with a passing chuckle! Why should I feel bad, I myself could not pass on these rituals to my own children!
Yes, that's what I probably miss. My own children, I could not bring them in this fold of traditionalism to a great extent. 'What's the problem Baba what's the need to have a bath in those unearthly hours, I am not getting up. Whatever !'
I, probably our entire generation has failed to carry forward what our elders wanted us to do. Yes, I am guilty, and that bothers me! Definitely!
I, probably our entire generation has failed to carry forward what our elders wanted us to do. Yes, I am guilty, and that bothers me! Definitely!
