Bhadrapada Shukla Chaturthi – the day when the festival of Lord Ganesha – the elephant headed son of Lord Shiva – is celebrated with grand fervor by people of all sects of the Hindu religion. Usually occurring during the months of August and September, it is literally the beginning of the festival season. Immediately after this comes the Dussera - or Navarathri or Durga Puja – the nine day festival of the Shakthi form of the Lord. This followed by the Festival of Lights – Deepavali. This also means that the mid-term examinations are approaching for the school going kids. All these make up for a festive and hectic three months. This has been the case for ages and will continue to be so.
The Ganesha festival also has a unique & important role to play in community life. This is a festival where the puja is performed both within the family and as a community puja within the locality. Pendals/ make-shift mantaps are set up at street corners and open grounds through contributions in cash – kind – labour – participation of the neighbourhood community. The main stay of the group would of course be the children. More than the participation in the puja, it would be the unhindered merriment for them. No elder would restrict the merriment on that day – may also be because they would be too busy with the festival activities inside the house.
The earliest such community festival that started in Devaparthiva Road was at the southern end – in front of Shivaram’s Cycle Shop, next to Dr. Krishnaswamy’s house. After the puja, cultural and entertainment programmes would be organized – Carnatic Classical (Vocal and Instrumental), Hari Kathas, Film music orchestra (mostly by the then upcoming troupe – Mohan-Kumar and Party). It would be a week long festival with lots of entertainment. Since most the organizing committee were cricket players (tennis ball cricket), we fellow cricketers would be on the so-called inside circle of the organization. The festivities would culminate in a grand procession through the streets of Chamarajapuram before heading off to Kukkarahalli Lake for the immersion of the idol.
This was one of the rare moments of freedom allowed by our doting grandmother – who otherwise would not allow us to venture out too far, never during nights! Of course with the stern warning not to venture near the water but to stay on the bund. The procession would start by around 7 PM and end at around 9.30 at the Kukkarahalli Lake with the immersion of the idol. Next would be the other important part – the prasadam. The prasadam would be Puliyogre (known locally as Hulianna) and Curds Rice (Mosaranna) served on plates of muttuga leaves (consisting of small round leaves of the muttuga tree stitched together with pieces of small sticks forming a larger round shape). This would be served on the road side at around 10.30 PM. We would all eagerly wait for this event and sit on the culvert waiting to be served. We would all return home at around 11.00 PM with a contented heart and a full belly eagerly awaiting of the return of the next Ganesha Festival – “GANAPATHI BAPPA MORYA”.
P.S. This was scheduled to be posted around Ganesha Festival but I forgot all about it due to a busy schedule at the work place.
13 November 2007
I am lucky to be alive - today
The Year 1969 - 70 turned out to be a very eventful year for both me personally and the family in general.
First I almost died in a road accident in Bombay (present day Mumbai) and then I sat – yes SAT – on a vessel full of boiling hot milk and had to lie on my stomach for nearly 3 weeks – understand why?
It was also during this year that the upanayanam of my brother was conducted and he had an incident with a gooseberry stuck in his throat.
So, overall, it was a both good and bad in that year.
Coming back to my brush with death, CFTRI School had declared 24th Dec. 69 to 1st Jan. 70 as Christmas Vacation. We, therefore, decided to travel to Bombay (I will continue to use the old name for antiquity sake!) during that period. We (my parents, elder brother and a paternal aunt) boarded the train from Mysore. The route was Mysore – Bangalore (Change Train) – Guntakal (Change Train) – Poona (present day – Pune – Change Engine) – Bombay. It would take two nights – two days to complete this journey.
My father who had previously worked and stayed in Bombay for about two years was our escort and guide. We visited the Gate Way of India, Mahalaxmi Temple, Juhu Beach, Marine Drive (construction of the flyover had just commenced then), Aquarium, King’s Circle Matunga, Mysore Gymkhana (where my father stayed during his working days), the Films Division studios (where we were shown the construction of the ‘Sets’) and a few relatives houses.
The incident occurred (as I vaguely remember) as we came out of the Aquarium and were crossing the double road towards the beach. My brother, being 4 years elder to me, ran across the road and safely reached the median. Seeing him run across, I too took off behind him – leaving the security of the elders. Then it happened. Right in the middle of the road between the footpath and the median – I FROZE WITH FRIGHT. A huge B.E.S.T double-decker bus was hurtling towards me. I stood rock still. I heard my mother’s shout. Everytime I remember the incident, even to this day, my palms sweat.
Then my guardian angel swung into action. In a blur of action, I was pulled out of the way and the next thing I remember is that I was in my mother’s hands. I realized that my father had swung into action. With great alertness and speed, he had rushed to the middle of the road, grabbed me and gone back to the side as the BEST bus hurtled past. It was a lesson I will remember for the rest of my life.
If not for the gentle hearted, alert and experienced ‘Angel’ – my father – I probably would not have been around writing this memoir. He also showed his valour in surviving a series of heart problems with his positive attitude until he could take it no more and passed on in 1981.
Thank you, Ramu (he never allowed us to call him by any other name). I hope I have lived up to your expectations and that your effort in saving me that day has not gone in vain. I am proud to be your son!
First I almost died in a road accident in Bombay (present day Mumbai) and then I sat – yes SAT – on a vessel full of boiling hot milk and had to lie on my stomach for nearly 3 weeks – understand why?
It was also during this year that the upanayanam of my brother was conducted and he had an incident with a gooseberry stuck in his throat.
So, overall, it was a both good and bad in that year.
Coming back to my brush with death, CFTRI School had declared 24th Dec. 69 to 1st Jan. 70 as Christmas Vacation. We, therefore, decided to travel to Bombay (I will continue to use the old name for antiquity sake!) during that period. We (my parents, elder brother and a paternal aunt) boarded the train from Mysore. The route was Mysore – Bangalore (Change Train) – Guntakal (Change Train) – Poona (present day – Pune – Change Engine) – Bombay. It would take two nights – two days to complete this journey.
My father who had previously worked and stayed in Bombay for about two years was our escort and guide. We visited the Gate Way of India, Mahalaxmi Temple, Juhu Beach, Marine Drive (construction of the flyover had just commenced then), Aquarium, King’s Circle Matunga, Mysore Gymkhana (where my father stayed during his working days), the Films Division studios (where we were shown the construction of the ‘Sets’) and a few relatives houses.
The incident occurred (as I vaguely remember) as we came out of the Aquarium and were crossing the double road towards the beach. My brother, being 4 years elder to me, ran across the road and safely reached the median. Seeing him run across, I too took off behind him – leaving the security of the elders. Then it happened. Right in the middle of the road between the footpath and the median – I FROZE WITH FRIGHT. A huge B.E.S.T double-decker bus was hurtling towards me. I stood rock still. I heard my mother’s shout. Everytime I remember the incident, even to this day, my palms sweat.
Then my guardian angel swung into action. In a blur of action, I was pulled out of the way and the next thing I remember is that I was in my mother’s hands. I realized that my father had swung into action. With great alertness and speed, he had rushed to the middle of the road, grabbed me and gone back to the side as the BEST bus hurtled past. It was a lesson I will remember for the rest of my life.
If not for the gentle hearted, alert and experienced ‘Angel’ – my father – I probably would not have been around writing this memoir. He also showed his valour in surviving a series of heart problems with his positive attitude until he could take it no more and passed on in 1981.
Thank you, Ramu (he never allowed us to call him by any other name). I hope I have lived up to your expectations and that your effort in saving me that day has not gone in vain. I am proud to be your son!
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