Today is a very special day here in south India.
Today, August 23, 2009 kicks off the great
Ganesha Chaturthi, the annual festival celebrating the divine remover of obstacles, the beloved and enchanting elephant-headed god – patron deity to travelers, writers, and travel writers! And supreme god of prosperity, good fortune, and wisdom!
Lord Ganesh is the son, the result, of union between Shiva and Shakti (Purusha and Prakriti), the archetypal, original parents of the manifest universe. Ganesha, also known as Ganapati, is always paid respects before beginning any new venture, rite or ritual. And he is, quite simply, exquisite and beautiful to behold. (Click
here to hear a short Ganapati mantra!)
Yes, it’s Ganesha Chaturthi – and the love and lights and flowers and fruits and clanging bells and cannons and crackers of fire, drums and dressed-up deities abound. Every home or community temple has adorned their very own statue, painting and primping and garnishing and ogling before the god. The sounds of "Om Namah Shivaya" and "Aum Gum Ganapathaya Namaha" spill out from loudspeakers round the clock, and all the shops are shut for a proper holiday…
I thought I’d burst into tears last night from sheer happiness: I was scurrying home from a friend’s house, dodging the raindrops as the second wave of monsoon – the receding monsoon – has come to town to quench our thirsts. Out the corner of my eye through a village family’s doorway I spotted a curious happening, one that I hadn't had a chance to witness before. The family – likely a joint family – had acquired two solid white Ganapatis, about a meter high each, and relatives of all ages sat around enjoying the good vibrations while the children mixed up their paints and turned the blank statues into colorful creatures – now they were transformed into gods that were alive! The double Ganapatis were pink elephants, of course, dressed in blues and reds and gems and jewels. I stood at the doorway watching the child artists, reminiscing on some of the American traditions of Christmas gatherings, such as decorating the tree and the hearth. It was just like that. As we say in Asia: same same, but different.
For five days, each family LOVES their personal Ganapati like there’s no tomorrow. Every morning and evening, the deity will be offered fresh fruit, flowers, prayers, songs and meditation. At the end of the five days, all that love is bequeathed to the void, the nothingness, the everlasting Divine: each statue will be taken to the nearest body of water – the sea, the lake, the holy bathing tank, the river – and submerged; some will remain for eternity, some will return to the home.
Today, I followed the beat of the drum like the beat of my own heart, walking to the main market area of the village. Bah-
BOOM, bah-BOOM-
BOOM, Bah-
BOOM, bah-BOOM-
BOOM. The thunderous rhythm of myriad morning Ganesha pujas pealed through the streets. I gingerly poked my head inside one home to see a large Brahmin family going to town in honor of the god: I could barely see Ganesha’s sweet little elephant eyes for the garlands piled so abundantly round his neck – but there he was, pink skin and painted trunk and broken tusk and sweet, small, wise pachyderm eyes peeking out just glimpsed above the floral wreaths.
The older Brahmins priests sat to the side of the altar in white lungis or loincloths, aging skin like an elephants hanging off from thin bones, while the children danced exuberantly around, banging their drums discordantly. The main priest, perched cross-legged before Ganesh, chanted prayers non-stop, his left hand ringing his large brass bell with perfect rhythm, his right hand circling a flaming candelabra round the deity. His wife, seated on a mat to his right, kept one hand on her husband’s arm the entire time, touching him lightly, tracking his action with her fingertips while he worked and prayed and gave it up for Ganapati. I got the message: the Shakti was in contact with the Shiva, the two are one, inseparable, for eternity.
Magic was in the house.
One small boy in the family was wailing loudly: the drums and clanging and hoo-ha were too much for his sensitive ears, so he cried away the puja throwing a tantrum on the floor. Not one person paid him any attention. He’d have to learn to enjoy the chaos like the rest of us.
Above the Ganapati idol, the family had created an arbor of abundance above his head. Bowers of fruit – apples, lemons, pineapples, jackfruit, oranges, pomegranates and mangos – and holy leaves, chunks of whole trees, huge clusters of coconuts and showers of streaming flowers strung up to protect, feed, nourish and honor the god. Now that’s adornment, I thought. Nature’s finest.
To Ganesha’s right – perched just before the priest’s wife – was a smaller deity, made of the same substance and design and also decorated to the hilt – gold wreaths and fragrant garlands. I immediately recognized her as Parvati: Shakti incarnate as Shiva’s own wife and consort, and mother to Ganesh. Devi, the goddess, was here in a physical form, for it is the Shakti as Maya who appears as a manifestation of consciousness: the female – mata, mother, matter – is seen so that she can be experienced, an object. In contrast, Lord Shiva (Ganesha’s father) is forever
in absentia – the crux of Shiva is that He is the 'consciousness at rest' aspect of duality, which no form could ever encompass. Always, there are indicators and clear reminders of Shiva’s presence: the sacred lingam, the mala
of rudraksh (108 beads known also as Shiva tears), even a visual depiction of Shiva’s incarnation as a yogi and man. But, at the end of the day, Shiva is Shiva is Shiva – beyond comprehension, beyond conceptualizing.
Shiva, Shakti (Parvati), and their child, Ganesha. These are the mysteries, the mythological realities of Hindu tradition that fuel this land, India. These are the stories that help a people, a person to understand, to grasp the nature of Truth.
From my self-taken perch in the back of the family prayer room, I watched, absorbed, experienced, and loved along with the rest of the tribe. A girl of about ten, dressed in a brightly-colored salwaar
kameez for the festival, pounded on her own drum with passion – whether or not she was banging boldly for love of the god or for the sheer enjoyment of condoned ruckus I knew not, until she surprised me by suddenly sitting herself down quietly, closing her eyes and entering her own meditation alongside her elderly relatives and pious parents – a girl of ten! I was reminded of my own self at her age, entranced with sheer love for the Divine, always up for chance to dance and make loud, good music.
Now that’s my kind of devotion.
Yes, today, August 23, 2009 is a very special day for lovable Ganesh – and for ME!
Today marks One Full Year that I've remained solely in India (the longest stint prior, from 2007-08, was nine months). I finally did it! Instead of returning back to the U.S. for summer as usual, I met my aim of one full revolution around the Sun in the land I call OM.
Yes, it finally happened! I survived – barely – through the entire Hot Season, long-delayed rains building up the pressure so intensely that I though my brain would implode. Concerned for my sanity but never one to back down from a challenge, I experimented to see how much heat a-body could handle.
And, since the salvation of late June’s cloudbursts bringing the first floods, I've been blessed with the completely unexpected beauty of my very first Monsoon… a gift in the most unforeseeable of ways – torrents of sheer natural power, unearthing treasures hidden down deep, in the dark and the difficult.
It is through the pummeling power of Mother Nature that I myself have evolved. The sweetness has sprung from the Source – like lovable Lord Ganesha – to manifest on the earth.
Yes, good things come in threes: the festival, the one-year anniversary, and… it is through these relentless weeks of rain that the bounty, the babe which has been so carefully nourished and hidden in my very own heart for the past seven years has, in fact, come down to earth in the very real form of a fully finished BOOK…!
My heart is happy, the baby is born!!!
Now, let’s see what happens when the words start walking and talking, toddling like precocious children to the desks of publishers, editors, reviewers!
And, I wanted you to be the first to know.
After all, my friends:
this book’s for you!
TO BE CONTINUED
Erin Reese
Ganesha Chaturthi
South India
August 23, 2009
