Growing up in Mumbai came with several perks. Like embracing festivals from different religions. However, nothing comes close to the jallosh Ganpati brings. I have vivid memories of the festival from times I was 10 years old. Dolled up in ethnic wear on the morning of Ganesh Chaturthi and perched up on the building fence of our middle class residence, my brother and I would never miss witnessing idols of various shapes and sizes making their way to homes and public pandals, while voices chanting “Ganpati Bappa Morya”, along with the chiming of cymbals would fill the morning air.

My family never brought home the clay idol. But my mother would always pray with the enthusiasm of a little kid to the lord of wisdom by dressing Him up and offering the prasad of 21 steamed Modaks first thing in the morning. Gorging on those piping hot Modaks seemed my life’s mission on the morning of Chaturthi. And coming from a four sibling household, 21 as a number always kept us competing for every last morsel. I wonder if Mr.Bacchan and the producers of KBC got the idea of fastest finger first from us siblings.

I remember visiting homes in my building that would bring home Ganesha idols. Those homes shared some things in common. It was always a culmination of handmade decor to invite Bappa that would become the talk of the town, the wildly familiar and uplifting fragrance of strong incense mixed with fresh flowers, and the unbeatable aroma of mava modak prasad with a dash of cardamom; my main motivation for every house visit. Invitations were hardly formal. And one was free to enter any home in the neighborhood for darshan as long as you knew some member of the family. Collective singing of Aarti balanced with the acoustics of ghanti and other commonly found musical instruments in Indian homes would set the mood for devotion and social exchanges.

As we grew older, my friends and I would go Pandal hopping to enjoy the various exhibits created by the Sarvajanik or public mandals. Walking from one pandal to another for half a day, queuing up for darshan and coming out feeling amused by a plethora of themes became an annual ritual.

Visarjan or immersion that would mark the end of the festival would bring an entirely different level of Josh in the community. Road closures and mini night markets with lit up streets, the aroma of fried Indian street food and stalls by small time vendors raking in the moolah with hundreds, if not thousands of devotees making their way to Visarjan would pop up around beaches, lakes and ponds where immersion was designated to take place. There was briefly a time when we lived right opposite a sizeable lake that was the immersion ground for small to fairly big-sized Ganpatis on the day of Anant Chaturdashi. The street would be a chaos of sorts. But an endearing sight to behold. A mix of people from all walks of life, along with police, stall vendors, professional men designated to immerse the idol for a fee and mere mortals like me, there to take it all in.

Excitement levels would be at an all-time high. Stall vendors selling toys, coloured paper windmills, whistles and food would dot the edges of the long road sitting parallel to the lake. Mumbai Police would have a tiny podium-style stage installed at a couple of ends to manage crowd and make announcements on loudspeakers for trucks carrying the bigger idols to come in and go out. And inside the protective gates of the housing society where we lived back then, would be my group of girls and boys. Fascinated beyond reason to witness the immersion celebrations. I remember using pocket money to indulge in a toy or two along with Wada Pav and cold drinks. Running up and down the four-storey buildings were us, little kids with the excitement of a pet dog wagging its tail at the anticipation of the arrival of his master after a day of loneliness. In a bid to witness the maddening streams of crowds sometimes from the ground level and at others from the open terrace, while live music played by professional bands competed with popular Marathi songs blaring on electronic speakers, my group was always on the move. There was a method to that madness. Scores of people coming in groups, making their way towards the Talav for immersion, dancing, with live bands and Dhol, spluttering Gulaal in the air, lost in trance like there was no tomorrow would immerse the idol peacefully and declutter space as soon as possible. The place would convert to a fun-n-fair for that evening, running late into the wee hours of the next morning.

Growing up, we were fortunate the internet and other gadgets hadn’t take over. We had fewer distractions and very limited television exposure or packaged  and catered food choices. Our worlds comprised of simple lives and a social calendar that coincided with the mostly Hindu festivals on an annual basis. For every other day, we had school and college that promised good quality entertainment in addition to formal education. Parents never hovered over us. Nor were they eager to receive  minute by minute account of our whereabouts or fights with other kids. Our enjoyment was restricted to the festivities we enjoyed in and around the suburbs we resided in. We lived in the moment. Those moments that defined how a particular festival was celebrated. Those moments that created organic memories that are still etched into our beings.

Fast forward to the present times when we celebrate the festival in Singapore with equal if not more zest and fervour. Being married to a man who has always had his heart set upon the Lord since the early days of his childhood has come with its own merits. For the sheer love for the festival, we have been bringing home Bappa for almost two decades now. And each year, we find our love growing. There is excitement about the decoration, Moorti selection, pooja, prasad, airing our precious silks to dress up, friends coming over and even Visarjan. Of course, we send out formal invitations and friends bring home gifts for Ganpati as their token of love. But what we enjoy most are the moments we all spend revering the lord and getting together for a common goal. As the girls grow up, we cannot offer them the same experiences that came our way. But we are thrilled they love the Ganesh festival from the bottom of their hearts. They await it. They cry when we immerse the idol. I think their DNA has given them a headstart to love this extremely gorgeous lord of wisdom.

While we all know that age is inversely proportional to experiencing any firsts in life, this year we experienced a new first. Immersing the idol has been a rather private affair for most years for us. This year, we decided to be a part of an immersion service started by Peshwai, Singapore. We reached at the designated meet up point on the fifth day of the festival at the stated time; hubby, daughter number 2 and me. To our pleasant surprise, we came across plenty of families who had chosen to join in. Ferries had been arranged with due permission from authorities to bring us in the deep waters where we would enjoy a private moment with the lord before bidding Him farewell. All idols lined up on a bench before we boarded the ferry. Thanks to the Singapore weather gods, a generous shower of rains graced the island. And magically, right before we were destined to sail away, the rains stopped. The weather turned cool and breezy. A ten minute ferry ride from Changi Ferry Terminal brought us to the middle of nowhere, where one by one, all of us said goodbyes to our favourite god. The ride offered the same excitement and promise of an expensive holiday. It sure kicked in a dopamine surge. Those ten minutes turned out to be some of the most memorable moments of life. Surrounded by the cool of the wind, taking pictures of other fellow devotees, smiles plastered across all faces, no matter strangers we were to one another. But on that ferry, we felt a sense of deep connection. There was something we all shared in common – the love for Lord Ganesh. As we headed back home, we decided to take our chances for darshan at the Sarvajanik Mahashtra Mandal Ganpati fest set up for the first time in Little India.

What an invigorating environment! From meeting old time friends, to the sheer interest while singing Aarti and contagoius energy of the crowd while dancing to the beats of Dhol Tasha, the experience was one to behold. I danced to my heart’s fill, uninhibited, following only my heart and the beats of Dhol. As the day ended on a high, memories from the past came flying back. In a globally appealing country like Singapore, that is highly sanitized and manicured; that follows a strict rule book, I feel grateful, we have the permission to celebrate festivals the way we always have, since childhood. I feel blessed to have friends with similar mindsets and enthusiasm. And I feel most grateful that we have children who have inherited our Desi spirit of falling in love with our dear Lord Ganesha.

P.S. I feel immensely emotional as I write this post. This festival is a great reminder of the meaning of happiness. Something we have confused with achievements and money alone over the years. And this festival is an equally great reminder of the impermanent nature of life. Just like the temporary life of the Ganesha idol that we bring home. It springs to life with the very first pooja or sthapna, lives gloriously with the love of devotees from 1 to 10 days and goes back to take a year long break with immersion. Don’t our lives, life spans and it’s meaning metaphorically resemble the celebration we go through each year? So this Ganpati, let’s have a reality check on happiness and life. To everyone celebrating, Ganpati Bappa Morya! Pudhcya Varshi Lavkar Ya!