From Ras Garba to Disco Dandiya: Journey of an Indian Festival

I come from a teacher's family. I mean, my family has been in the teaching line (and later the business for something like sixteen years). Like all professions and services, even teaching has its own advantages, disadvantages, good things and bad. Let me put this in print for the record. There is no greater feeling than the one you get when you see one of your students you tutored in the fifth grade to write starting from the lower line to the upper, actually coming out with a book or a thesis of their own.

For that one moment, everything is forgiven and forgotten.

However, teaching is not without its bad moments, not without moments when you feel like throwing away everything and just locking yourself into your room and forgetting you ever wanted to teach.

Festivals – public festivals – public festivals in India, being one of them.

Do not get me wrong. I have nothing against festivals. I do not have anything against any festivals celebrated by any religion. I only get irritated when true devotion is overshadowed by commerce minded people for commercial gains. The main culprit ever is Navratri.

Navratri, or Garba Ras actually consists of nine nights of worshipping female divinity by dancing and singing around the idol of the said Goddess. Now, if you were a commercial minded guy, (like everyone and their brother back here), the operative words for you in the above sentence would be 'dancing and singing'.

Translate 'dancing and singing' into 'an almost disco do with blaring music where people have an entry fee a la Club Zonko' and you get the picture am currently painting.

I have lived in Bombay (now Mumbai) all my life, and I have a fair inkling of what Garba means to the common public in Bombay (now Mumbai). Let's get down to the basics of what this 'worshipping of female divinity' has actually degenerated into in India.

To have this 'worshipping of female divinity' in place, there are amateur, semi professional, professional and experienced 'event managers' who book a huge ground for the worshipping to actually take place. This said ground will have a idol of the said goddess in the middle of the ground, where a learned man (we call him a pundit) will worship the Goddess and then the devotees will sing and dance in pre constructed circles and go home and sleep. Am fine with this. I respect all religions, and I am a feminist (for want of a politically correct word) in a man's body, so even the concept of the festival is fine with me.

It's the blaring music I can't stand. And of course, I have a lot many questions about this event management of 'worshipping of female divinity'.

Why, should I save money all through the year to buy passes which cost the rations of a poor family to worship female divinity? Why should I bother whether my attire is the latest fashion, trend or the in thing to worship female divinity? Why should I throw money into a dancing class to learn the 'Popat' or 'Phagun' or whatever to worship female divinity? Why, should I make arrangements for a Mercedes or a BMW to reach the place where the 'worshipping of female divinity' is taking place when I don't even have the resources for a Maruti? Could you please ask the next person who is all geared up to go for the Navratri the names of the nine Goddesses they are about to worship all night?

This is from the normal guy next door's point of view. Now, from the teacher's point of view. Navratri falls in October. Which is a very important month in the academic year of a student, and therefore, the teacher. Years ago, in the incessant intelligence of the authorities, there were no curbs on till what time the Navratri could go on. So, we had our students dance and sing till six in the morning and come home for the tuitions at nine in the morning, with their examination a few hours ago.

How cute is that?

I had once met a grand old lady, sitting on a lonely chair and looking at all the youngsters dancing their hearts away to the sway of Enrique Iglesias' remixed songs at a Garba (am NOT joking), who took out the time to tell me what Garba actually meant.

It actually meant men and women of all ages dancing, without any music, or only with the music made available through whatever was available, barefeet, around the idol of the Goddess. That's it. No techno music, no disco dandiya, no $250 worth attire with a $100 shoe to match.

Pure Devotion. Give me that. Otherwise, what are we gonna have next, Trance Disco Dandiya?