Prasannavadanam

Ganesh Chaturthi used to be a fairly hands-on festival. For a month beforehand, shiny toffee wrappers were earnestly collected and rubbed straight between bookleaves. A round umbrella base was carefully cut out of the cardboard cover of an old notebook (the circle was drawn with a ‘Natraj’ pencil) and be-glistered with the wrappers. Sturdy bits of broomstick were trimmed and wound with gota (silver) ribbon for the spine. Once a paper fringe was pasted round the rim and sealed with a length of red or yellow ribbon, why, all you needed as a finishing touch was the gold-paper filigree finial that had to be cut and tweaked just so on top.

This task always devolved on the children of the house, but it’s not an issue that no child today has the time for such quaint activities. No, what gets you wondering is the Lefty visitor to our office who says, “Religion should go. The gods are born out of fear.” You mean, like substitute that kind of fear with the fear of pogroms, of summary executions by ‘people’s courts’, deprive people of the right to wealth and reduce romance to a Soviet-style boy-meets-tractor film? You’d think these tired old debates were over, wouldn’t you? Except, this person muttered darkly, as he left us: “The Left will return.” God forbid! Not unless it humanises itself right out of Stalinist tracts and syncs with people’s real life aspirations. Not until it learns to respect the human right to fear and thanksgiving, and the deep need to express both. What does that have to do with Ganesha? Just that he combines both these human needs so perfectly.

It all goes back, say some, to the old days in the countries along the Eastern seaboard: Cholamandala, Trilinga, Kalinga, Vanga (Tamil Nadu, AP, Orissa, Bengal). Elephants and rats laid waste to our ancient paddy fields. So they deified the greater and, in evil jest, made the mouse its vehicle. However, the human recognition of a moral law — in this case, justice — seemed to animate our ancestors. True, they feared the elephant. But they also admired him. They pitted their puny strength against this mightiest of beasts and tamed him. And then it seems they were overcome with gratitude at the great beast’s cooperation and loyalty. Only a superhuman personality could have the grace to forgive his tormentors, carry them about and haul their logs. If this wasn’t Divinity in their midst, what was it?

And so, all these centuries later, our childhood umbrellas and Ganesha’s towering status in our lives. Who indeed can resist such a benevolent aspect of the Power? There’s loads we’d like to dump from the past, but I guess we’d want to hang on to Ganesha for always, wouldn’t you?