Chez Moi

What do you think of when you say ‘vathiyaar’ (purohit / Brahmin priest)? What image pops into your mind? Well, I generally think of this rotund person, poonool-ed, with an impressive kudumi (pony tail) and a carrying voice. Well now one can add ‘photo savvy’ and ‘inspired by Mani Ratnam’ to this profile.

Last Friday, I got up at the wee hours of the morn (what else would you call 3.00 AM?) to sit bleary-eyed at an Upanayanam (sacred thread) ceremony. That was the first time I learnt that some folks other than Brahmins also prefer the groom to be poonool-ed. Since I had always been under the surmise that doing so ensures their status as Brahmins, this seemed to be a pointless exercise for the non-Brahmins to get upto. But if I am getting a free meal and a chance to take one of my never-used-before collection of silk sarees out of the wardrobe, who am I to complain?

The vaathiyaar’s ringing voice at that ungodly hour (pardon the pun!) carried on for miles and woke up the crows sleeping in the tree outside, neighbours desperate to finish their 8-hour quota as well as P, sleeping soundly upstairs, who complained that some ‘loud voice disturbed him and woke him up’. Even as he bullied his hapless victims into tying their tongues into knots, pronouncing the various unfamiliar Sanskrit mantras, the ‘kalla poonool‘ (emergency thread for the renegers) addition didn’t seem to faze him an iota.

But what impressed me the most was his ability to judge the perfect camera shot and arrange the cast members accordingly so as to be assured of the perfect photograph.

“Maami, setha ippadi thirumbungo!” (aunty, please turn this way) admonished he, when an errant maami blocked self and the newly-anointed Brahmin with her ample behind.

“Maama, maamikki ippadi kumkum vechi vidungo!” (uncle, put kumkum on wifey’s forehead just so) on advised the chap with one maama decided to make use of his free left hand.

He was also the consummate multi-tasker. Armed with a mobile phone, he proceeded to take calls for future appointments whilst directing the main cast of members by miming, pointing and directing. One wonders what he would accomplish with the help of bluetooth and a Blackberry! Gen X vaathiyaars eh what?

…. let me tell you why I want to do so. I read this article in BBC News   website and admittedly, my first reaction was ‘what the heck does it matter when people are dying?’ But then, the sentiment behind the anger made vague sense to me. Whilst in the past I have often thought the whole world is bowing to Islamic whims purely because of the possible violent repercussions, I am going side with them in this. I can remember very well one New York Fashion Week a decade or so ago, when the models sashayed down the catwalk wearing sparkling sandals embedded with pictures of Ganesha and other assorted Indian gods. And what did we do? Nothing!  Maybe the VHP burnt a few effigies, I can’t be sure but Hindus the world over kept mum.

I do not condone violence in the name of religion. But I do feel that every religion, every faith, every belief demands respect. When you know that certain things are depictions of certain religions, either a. you make it a point to find out what it means and THEN use it appropriately or b. make sure you do not use it in any defamatory way. Why is this so difficult to grasp? Even if the blessed designer who put Ganesha on sandals would happily put the cross or Jesus Christ on shoe soles, it is no justification for the use of any other religious symbol.

Whilst the manufacturers of these offensive balls might have meant no harm, religion and use of religious symbols is a touchy topic. Why couldn’t they have got a simpler, easier way of connecting with the locals? Surely one can ‘connect’ without tramping all over their feelings, surely?

8:00 AM - lazy shuffle to the kitchen, grab a cup of coffee. Sip.

8.05 AM - snatch the morning papers from whoever’s got it. Open eyes.

“Blasts rock Hyderabad” - good morning India.

Why? Wha..? How? To what purpose?

All useless questions.

One humble request to the police and the stellar press photographers, like The Hindu’s Gopal: next time you click your front-page pix of these blast scenes, please think of the term ‘dignity in death’ and cover the dead before you start popping your flash bulbs. I am sure the hearts of the mums who opened Sunday papers to see the fruits of their loins spattered across the Lumbini Park grounds broke afresh on seeing it.

Varalakshmi Vrata is one of the biggest festivals that are celebrated during the Tamil month of Aavani (August - September). This is celebrated mainly by Tamil Iyers as well as Telugu and Kannada speaking folk. Every year, this auspicious day falls on the friday before full moon.

Coming from a hybrid family like I do, I did not have any such festivals to deal with while growing up. But as S is from the Telugu Vysya community that celebrates this vrata regularly, I end up being a part of the celeb whenever I go home to Chennai in August. This year too was no exception. This being my third year of doing it (albeit playing a very minor role), I think I have grasped the nous of this deal.

So here’s how it goes: well before D-day, the pooja vessels are given a rigourous spit and polish so they sit gleaming by the umachi side. On D-1 day, a perfectly oval coconut is given a shave so its sides are smooth like a baby’s bottom. Then the said coconut is given a thorough rub-down with turmeric paste. This forms the main part of the kalasa. The main pooja sombu (pot) is filled with water and this coconut sits on top of it. On a bed of new rice, this kalasa is fixed. Next, an imprint of the Goddess (made of silver) is tied on to the front of the kalasa and this becomes the moorti of the Goddess. Then it is time for one’s creativity to break out - you can deck the kalasa in grand silk skirts, decorate it and the pooja area with flowers and put gold jewellery around the neck of the kalasa.

The next morn, poojas are done to Lord Ganesha and Goddess Lakshmi by the women of the household. Offerings of sweet pongal, kheer, vada and a panchamirdam (roughly, fruit salad) made of nine fruits are given to Lakshmi. Pooja and aarati are done in the evening as well as the morning and evening of the following day, before the whole show is packed up till the following year. The water from the kalasa is poured into the nearby well; the rice is cleaned and used in the day’s cooking and the coconut is cleaned off its turmeric and made into any delicious item that doesn’t involve cooking.

One of the main part of the Varalakshmi vrata pooja is the telling of how the vrata came to be celebrated. Of course, with the whole proceedings generally being conducted in Telugu, much of it is OHT. So this year, I decided to read up on this so I knew what the deal was. And the story*, as I found out, is thus:

Long, long ago, there lived a devotee of Lord Vishnu called King Bathrasiravas, who lived with his Queen Surachandrika and daughter Shyamabala. One day, long after she was married and living in her sasural, Shyamabala landed on her parents’ doorstep to spend some quality time with them.

Then, the good Goddess Mahalakshmi, the giver of wealth, took the form of a poor, bedraggled old lady and entered the Queen’s palace. The old lady told the Queen, who was by herself, to perform the Varalaksmi vrata pooja. But the Queen flew into a rage for having been approached thus by a beggar, slapped the lady and threw her out.

Her daughter saw this and followed the old woman and inquired about the pooja. Then, she performed the pooja with due pomp and ceremony. Thanks to the power of this vrata, more and more gold and money was showered on her. But what of her unfortunate parent, who had chased the Goddess of Wealth away? Just as she threw the old lady away, the Goddess too took leave of Queen Surachandrika and the King and Queen were reduced to being penniless paupers.

A distraught Shyamabala sent over a pot of gold coins to her parents; but the pot turned into ashes the moment they touched it. Upon hearing of this, Shyamabala advised her mother to perform the powerful Varalakshmi Vrata pooja. A humbled Queen Surachandrika did so and lo and behold! all her riches were returned to her and the King and Queen lived happily ever after.

And it is said that whoever performs this pooja with utmost devotion and piety will be blessed with all the wishes one could ask for. If that isn’t incentive enough, I don’t know what is!

* - this has been translated from Tamil, so pardon the mistakes!

Long before my parents moved to Besant Nagar, Grand Sweets, Adyar has been our chosen venue when shopping for sweets & savouries. Murukku, cheedai, kuzhi paniyaram - you name it, you’ll get it. Every time I make a trip home, I will make sure I pay at least a couple of visits to the place, to get my fill of it. It is the only shop I know that looks more like your grandma’s sprawling bungalow than a prosperous shop. Every morning and evening, one of the workers would even wash the entrance area and decorate it with kolam.

The best time to visit the joint is around 3.00 PM, when the kitchen would be doling out made-that-instant thattais and murukkus. That is also the time when a harried lady would be bringing in plate after plate filled with donnais of free sweet pongal or kesari or some such. The resulting scrum has to be seen to be believed. Respectable old gentlemen and weedy maamis would abandon idle chatter at the sight of the freebie and make a run to the table. Some would have camped out there since the previous night. I have found myself front row centre on couple of occasions and all around me were thousands of elbow joggers who tried to shove five others out of their way to get their hands on a free spoon and a half of sweet pongal.

This time, I even heard a maama whine, “15 nimishama wait pannaromma!” while another wheedled, “idhu varaikkum oru cup thaan kadaichidhu“. The sight has to be seen to be believed. For those who cannot take a trek to the place, here are some pictures.