Of Shakti, Sundal and Golu

As I grow older, the religiousness of festivals appeals to me less and less, but I continue to love the sense of celebration, goodwill, excitement and bustle.

This morning, on Navami, we had a puja at our apartment complex in Coimbatore. We went down to be greeted by a series of beautiful rangolis or kolams as we call them here in Tamil Nadu. Intricate, in perfect symmetry and so joyful to anyone who stopped by.

Bannari, a housekeeping staff, had made it. Before she did, Muthu Lakshmi, Lakshmi, Selvamma, and Sarojini had cleaned the floor, sanitised it with cow dung, and hung marigold garlands on the many calendars of gods and goddesses in the office room.

Manickam, our ironing lady, was the mistress of ceremonies. She was in charge of arranging the puja platter, lighting the lamps and so on. They all waited, in neatly pinned, bright saris, for the residents to turn up.

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I felt ashamed complaining about having to wear a sari and going down, but here they were, these ladies, who spend every day sweeping, mopping and collecting garbage house to house. They come every morning by 9 am and work till nearly 5 pm. And today, they turned up in their best, bright-eyed and with beaming smiles.

They greeted us warmly, made sure all of us had the prasadam, agreed to be photographed with alacrity and saw us off happily.

Far away in Kolkata, where I grew up, my Bengali friends are sharing photographs of the Durga Pandals they have been visiting morning to night. I love how all of Kolkata turns up, braving the crowds and cacophony, and soaking up every minute of it.

I truly believe that for these few days every human is a manifestation of Durga and what she stands for — grace, compassion, a champion of good, and of course great food.

Closer home, in Bengaluru, my cousins are busy cooking sundal (chickpeas soaked overnight and boiled then tempered with mustard, hing, green chillies and garnished with coconut) and paaysam or barfi. They will serve them to guests who come to see their Golu.

Two or three days before Dussehra, dolls of various shapes and sizes are carefully removed from storage, unwrapped and arranged in steps. Stories from the puranas are depicted through figurines … of Rama, Lakshmana and Sita, of vanquishing goddesses, or Krishna and Radha…

Sometimes, as the kids get involved they recreate the Star Wars, or Jurassic Park or who knows, maybe Ponniyan Selvan…

Golu is something the entire family jumps into. I love how my cousins, their children, their parents, everyone plays a role. Whether it is grating coconuts for the prasadam, arranging the golu or lighting lamps and making kolams, it is a community festival. Visitors are given little goody bags with the auspicious turmeric and vermillion, a fruit, sometimes bangles, a small mirror and a comb.

Of course, these gifts have become more elaborate as has everything else over the years. When I was young, it was just the sundal and a banana or a musambi to bring back home with me.

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Those who can sing songs do and many of us join in however out of tune. No one minds, everyone laughs, catches up on family and friends and goes back home replete with goodwill and sundal.

Today it is also Saraswati puja for many. We worship the goddess of learning and pray she wipes away the darkness of ignorance and narrow-mindedness. We keep tools of our profession at our altar. So my diary in which I take notes for any report I file, Raju’s books on military history, assorted pens and pencils all find a place there.

For me, that is the essence of Dussehra. When we set aside our differences, stay off toxic rhetoric and truly imbibe the spirit of unity.