Ganesha and the nut

The elephant God is a design delight. Expressions based on him, his form, shape and size, emerge practically everyday in millions, pan India. The Shravan-Karthik season is a perfect time for innovative designs to emerge from the closet.

My most recent find was something I chose not to pick up, but just admire at the craft stall. Ganesha.

Look close. This Ganesha is special, because he looks every bit the kind who is not assaulted with chemical paint, but emerged creatively from nature's own gifts - traditional ones at that. It's the areca nut, or betel nut as it's lovingly called in the South, that finds its way as offering to married women during festivities. The entrepreneur's knack of using it to carve out divine shapes did not go in vain.

This set, is of Radha Krishna. Some beads and sequins have found their way to adorn the otherwise natural looking deities. Beneath them, is a tiny Ganesha. These pictures are not of best quality, but I loved the way this artist put together divinity with things so earthy you would love to have on your showcase. They have the tribal feel, spelling brains at work with devotion.


On my second visit to the crafts bazaar at Valluvar Kottam, they had all vanished.

``woh ek aurat aake sab kuch le gayi - dusshera ke liye. kuch bhi nahin choda'', said the stall owner. Good work does have its takers! Only wish there were more such pieces!

Pic Courtesy: M Radhika

Should worship mean grandeur?

It's a question haunting my mind always. Should prayer and worship be austere or spell grandeur? I mean, are not those people who feel closer to God, those who give up mundane pleasures in life? Are not such people what we would term, simple in their ways of life? Should devotion mean having to own crores of rupees and donate it to temple in lieu of some privileges such as darshans, poojas and the like?

It's something I have been thinking of always, but with the festive season pre-occupying our heads now, and the general `herded' feeling in the bargain, am battling the arguments in my head. These are times when display of devotion seems to matter more than devotion itself. While I do revel in the doses of creative expression of such devotion, obsession with the what pleases the eye, too much love for glitter - these are things that sooner or later put me off. We humans hanker a great deal after symbolism. It's fine. The problem is, when we judge people by it.

I faced such a dilemma the evening before one of those important poojas, for me personally. The Saraswathi Pooja. The day, that falls around the time of Vijayadashami, is when people decorate their vehicles, pull out their books, tools and worship the lot in all earnestness. In Chennai, there were times I'd gape at cycle rickshaws, the most common mode of transport two decades back. Their wheels would be decorated with festoons that you would envy.

Shocking pink, lemon yellow, white, red, orange...shining papers! My eyes that usually got stuck with the glitter-gold mirrors of sweet shops would feast on these wheels that looked so lovely when they moved! So much in contrast with the grave faces of people who rode them or travelled in them! And so smooth when the rickshaw man pedalled them!

Why would not one want to decorate their home too on a festive occasion of this sort? And why not go more organic? Need of the hour! Your responsibility towards planet earth! Time to press the pause button....Oh no! Guilt has its ways!


The organic dream got shattered though. It's not like I had enough money to spare for strung flowers whose prices dramatically shot up from Rs 10 a foot to Rs 20! Overnight! It's not like I had the energy to travel all the way to places where they sold banana leaves and coconut-flower festoons! Goddess Saraswathi deserves worship. But when your body's so weak, all you can do is with what is around home.

Worship with love. Yes it happened. Worship with the internet to aid you. True true - it's possible! A few dining table mats - fabric and bamboo, that rarely got used because we have not bought a dining table, found their way for decoration. A bunch of flowers that hubby bought the day before still stood fresh to welcome the Goddess! He did manage to get me some flowers, though a lot less against what I'd normally use. Still, I knew we did not need a cartload of flowers to display worship! I spent an hour making a rangoli too, with some old packets of colours, some rice flour, kumkum and turmeric.

Am not sure how pleased she was with me that day. I hope she was! One only hopes Gods are happy. No measure to indicate it! But something good happened that day. I cannot remember what. Thanks to her!

I've had my share of symbolic worship. And liked it too.

Here are some pics:

- underneath the pale mustard colour cloth, actually a blouse-piece, are books my husband and I hold to our hearts, and a newspaper

- kumkum and turmeric - my saviours, for the day!

- these beads, my favourite rosary ever since I picked them up at Shirdi, are a treasure for chanting!

My mind does not rest still -the question continues to haunt, long after the pooja - should grandeur in symbolism mark worship, or austerity? If it must be austerity, why do we humans end up killing each other in the name of God? Why do we judge our own dear ones by what they wear and how they wear, to worship?
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Chennai Diwali Season means `shopping nightmare'

Kolu and Deepavali season is when Chennai comes alive. It's that time of the year when setting foot, I mean literally setting foot in the T Nagar-Mambalam area becomes a challenge. It's the festival of lights, but even if lights are not many, clothes rain for more money.

It took my bhabhi and brother two and half hours to manoeuvre their way in and out of Ranganathan Street, for some garden and zoo toys that they needed for their toddler son's school project. I am not surprised.

Andheri's station walk-ways in Mumbai get overly crowded and take a few minutes longer to get you out too. But the crowd their is multi-purpose seeking. You have office-goers, housewives, students, shoppers, businessmen and a whole lot else. Chennai's T Nagar-Mambalam hopping crowd has a sole purpose in life, in the run up to Diwali - Shopping.

I remember one of my own adventures with my cousin some years ago, prior to Diwali. That day, we took a train from Chromepet to alight at Mambalam, only to realise that the stairs connecting the platform to Ranganathan Street were so packed, it took us half an hour to do that one minute distance!

A trip to RMKV Silks this weekend reminded me of that nightmare. Standing near the elevator at the ground floor, I saw the shop's long array readymade garments spread out before me. But not quite. Human heads occupied every inch of space available other than those inches meant for the garments. Families. By families I mean the Thaathaas, Paattis, wives, sisters, cousins, brothers, brothers-in-law, babies, toddlers, school kids, and their shopping bags from the other big silk and garment stores out there in that half a kilometer stretch on North Usman Road. Such a sight makes you gasp. Don't ask me if it's merely for air, wonderment, exasperation, or dismay at such craze!

Human beings love clothes. Human beings in Chennai love silk. They love to wear silk to temples, weddings, birthdays, friends' homes, and even when they're cramped in crowded buses. Despite the sweat and thirst.

Stepping out of the air-conditioned comfort of the silk store on to the very warm and humid air outside, I noticed a family, probably from outside Chennai, bag and baggage, and bold-print covers and bags of clothes from other stores.Sigh! Another family out on a wedding shopping excursion!

A few yards on, is Saravana Store. Yeah, the all famous Saravana Store of the Saravana family, that owns restaurants in so many cities outside of India! Till that moment, I had thought RmKV resembled a vegetable market, all the noise and chaos included. Saravana Store, draped in the IT-firm like glass and metal, was different. With those garish Diwali offer banners, it invited you over to what I'd not call a fish market, but a bee hive. Once in, I bet you'd find it hard to get out before midnight. Such was the crowd! Such was the melee.

It's a store I have wanted to visit for the last few months. The mere sight of that bee-hive I chance-glanced from outside has scared me off. Am not sure if I will visit it for a few weeks more now.

As for the traffic on my way back home, hubby and I had to grumble through Pondy Bazaar's crowd for about half an hour before we finally breathed near Mount Road. To shake off that frustration, we actually headed to Elliots Beach closer home. Guess what! Crowds and more crowds here too. For a minute, I did not miss Juhu Beach of Mumbai. It looked every bit like Juhu Beach, except that this one had more people, but was spread out longer too. Hawkers, ice-cream carts, dogs, fish-fry stalls, beggars, rich and poor, restaurants and stand-by astrologers...

Yeah, I did manage some sea air. And liked it too -- watching the sea shine under white moonlight. Relief.

Navaraatri South style - dolls dazzle

I miss the dazzle of dandiya nights in Mumbai, where every housing society goes overboard to decorate its premises, and people decorate themselves in colourful dandiya costumes for the navraatri revelry.

Nevertheless, I decided to soak in the homely elegance of painted dolls that mark the nine days' revelry on the east coast. Dusshera, Navraatri and kolu are synonymous with the south. Gombe Habba in Bangalore, Bommalakolu for many households in Andhra, and simply kolu in Chennai.

During those early years when I spent a week at my granny's place in Chromepet (suburb in Madras - the erstwhile name of Chennai), I'd visit homes of complete strangers in our street with granny to gape at the floor to ceiling magic of painted dolls - Gods, goddesses, kings, queens, men, women, even dogs, besides the `park' made intricately on the floor.

I remember how one such `park' had a beautiful pond with ducks floating on it, apart from the mandatory hill temple, road and house, all fixed on sand spread on floor to make a big rectangle. My guess is, they used a kid's big sized lunch box to create a swimming pool. That image stayed with me for a long time though. Those days, a lot of homes used wooden planks to form the steps in odd numbers - of three, five, seven or nine steps.

Times have changed. Slotted angle metal racks that come in bluish grey have replaced wood, plastic boxes have replaced the brass and silver utensils that women gifted with the `vettelapakku' or `tambulam', the size of such steps has come down with the shrinking size of rooms at homes, and the next-gen IT employed nomads cannot as much as dream of lugging mud dolls from city to city.

Still, a lot of people have held on to the tradition rather ferociously. This time, I had the opportunity to visit three homes with kolu. Not a great score that! But the experience was lovely. I went with the wonderment of a Mumbaikar and familiarity of a Bangalorean.

My dream: may dolls made of eco-friendly material dominate the collections as soon as possible.

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this picture above is of kolu at my neighbour's home. Lord Balaji and Padmavathy stand tall on the highest step, followed by goddesses Lakshmi, Durga and Saraswathi.

this doll is the charming Goddess Annapoorna looking lovely in her green saree. It is something I have not  found in the many homes that I visited so far. Notice Ganesha and his big sized mouse beneath her. A lot of times, Ganesha idols bought for worship during Ganesh Chaturthi make their way to become part of the doll crowd.

creativity overflows at this time of the year. this picture is of my neighbour's intricately made rangoli, with - can you imagine what? Salt crystals! Rub in a bit of colour and salt tends to absorb it. All you need is a packet of those myriad rangoli colours that sell in our traditional markets.

This set of dolls too, is something I have never come across - Ravana Sabha. It's the scene from Ramayana where Hanuman perches himself on his own long tail in the court of demon king Ravana.

The park set. An innovation. My sister and I would struggle at roads for the park. We'd think of charcoal, but who on earth in an urban defence colony would sell charcoal! Those days, felt paper, or velvet paper as we called it, was in vogue for craft projects at school, so a black velvet sheet did the trick for us. This set, at the apartment of my neighbour who lives opposite mine, has recycled plastic that does the job. Just spread sand over a sheet of cut garbage bag and be happy! The hill-mound has Lord Ayyappa perched on top, with the 18-steps leading to him made of gold paper stuck on to a pale yellow chart paper. Notice the all swanky car parking lot, belonging to the household's darling, a shy boy of five.

Pandaripur's Krishna and Radha have made their way to this Chennai home - actually at my aunt's place.

No kolu is complete without Chettiar and Chettiamma, flanked either by fruits made of mud, or household utensils and provisions. This set of the classic couple has a fridge to cool them in Chennai heat!

Ganesha made of leaves, either as pictures or idols, has grown common over the years. This one at my aunt's place, is a flower design - all earthy hibiscus at that.

Displaying dolls alone is not enough to celebrate the nine days. Women have to offer food such as boiled and flavoured beans, channa that is locally known as sundal, peas, sweets and other such delicacies to the Gods. They have to be worshipped every day. Of course, even in this worship, creativity rules.

Pic Courtesy: M Radhika
PS: More related posts to follow