Over the Top

The virtue of simplicity is lost on Indians. The more garish a particular something is, the more is its Indian Quotient. Everything is a riot of colour and music. While it is a wonderful celebration of life, sometimes celebration is unnecessary. Or rather, celebration that involves the auditory organs of the entire city is not always vital. Just as I sit here, pondering over how to put this without wounding our sensibilities (another innate Indian trait – sensitivity that does impressive overtime), a wedding parade marches past blaring its loud music; the obscene gyrations proclaiming to the world that these two wonderful, lucky people are going to be initiated into the world of marital bliss. The joy flowing through me at the thought almost makes me want to go join the party or at least start a wild head-banging in time to the beat. Only, I am not invited. I am just shown tantalizing glimpses of what I am missing. But the distraction is enough for me to lose my train of thought.

At the time of Ganesha Visarjan, when Lord Ganesha is bade goodbye after ten too-short days, one would expect mournful faces to be part of the processions in which Lord Ganesha is taken on the farewell journey. However, from my vantage point in my stranded car (the roads are blocked by delirious mourners) I can see masses of people dancing to chants of “Ganapati Bapa, Moriya!” and I am baffled. Ten days these people have devoted to this deity, whom they profess to love, there has been grand celebration, and now he is leaving them for a whole year, and joy abounds. There is colour in every-one's hair, in their clothes, on their selves, there is loud music, elegant dancing, camels, oxen (or bulls) and elephants; all in all, it is the Great Indian Party. When I shared this puzzle with like-minded people (little did I know), my astonishment doubled. For, my puzzlement was their puzzlement, and the subject of my puzzlement was a non-issue.

Festival times are excellent opportunity to cast silence to the winds and have an orgy of noise. I am sincerely surprised that we don’t see corpses doing the dandia and bursting crackers. But festivity during festivals is absolutely necessary, and if noise is part of the package, then so be it! I am honest enough to admit that my Indian blood boils at the thought of a quiet Navratri.

Anybody who has had the unique experience of trying to study for an important exam while two denizens of the same city are getting married will bear testimony to the impossibility of concentrating on anything other than your punctured ear drums. And the wedding doesn’t even have to be in your vicinity; if you are anywhere within a 10 kilometer radius, you will be an integral part of the auspicious occasion, a ring-side, seasons ticket holder.

Possibly this riot was justified when India was a bunch of villages. A wedding in one family probably meant that the entire village was enlisted to help out. Then this noise would not only be welcome, it would be inevitable. Now though the borders of the villages have broadened, decibel levels have stretched to accommodate the extra distance. One would expect the drumbeats to fade, but they just don’t.

Strangely enough, my idea of having a ground dedicated to weddings, where weddings can be conducted with as much noise as one wants, without making sure the rest of the city stays up with the happy couple, doesn’t have many supporters. And I still can’t see a flaw in the plan. Maybe there is and the noise over load has deadened my senses.

Well, whatever the discussion, the point still remains that noise is here to stay. So with a whoop and a holler, lets drink to the Great Indian Celebration!