Happy Navarathri to everyone!
Every year around this time a couple of my posts on Navarathri and golu set up get a lot of hits.
This post is just a collection of these tips in one place:
I welcome you to our Golu this year. As they say in Tamizh, "Manjal kunkumam vaangikka vaango" (please come over to accept turmeric and vermillion"!
Let's start with the flowers:
The marrying folks, got married
.. and the Rajasthani quintet played along, while the displaced bricklayer, continued to be displaced!
On the other side of town, the Rajasthani immigrant couple had set themselves us nicely with a Chettiar store (yes, they are aware of the contradictions)
Meanwhile in the rural areas, it was business as usual:
with farmers ploughing the field
Cowherds, herding their cow:
More farmers plying their trade
Last year's harvest was so good, they even pitched in and bought a Spanish bull called Picasso
The hope was that the bull will prove useful in the fields.
But the bull turned out to only be interested in prancing, playing and dancing the tango!
You can see him hear, dancing behind the percussionists for the karagaattakkara troupe!
Although the karagattakkaras danced as per usual
the recent budget cuts meant that the props department was not functioning to full strength. The child artistes were not pleased.
Meanwhile.. in the nearby forest, the tribal folk had run out of most deer and were considering entering into trade agreements with the village folk
The town cricket championship was planned as per last year (see here), but last minute glitches implied that they had to play on some artificial turf. The match was proceeding well and in fact, a Bahamian Jazz duo were called in for the half time show
but... completely out of the blue, a disgruntled member of the football team from the nearby town, invaded the pitch and declared himself the winner of the match.
Imagine that! A football player the winner of a cricket match?? No amount of persuasion would make him sea reason.
All he would repeat was: You talkin' to me?
Most players were too stunned to say anything, but lay dazed, except for the bowler, who was literally too cut up about it!
The town folk decided that it will either have to be natural turf or nothing all, form next year on!
While all this commotion was going in the town cricket pitch, the ManEater of the local forest sauntered out of his lair and wondered: Now, which one should I pick for dinner tonight?
Watching all this, with Zen-like nonchalance was the main attractions, themselves:
Now, please partake of the goodies and see you all next year for the same festivities! Happy Navarathri!!
What kid does not want a park in their golu? Or a zoo? Or a cricket pitch? Every year, as a kid I used to fight for my rights to free space. In the context of golu of course, this would be a park, zoo, cricket pitch or all of the above.
When we were kids we used to use either whole moong (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mung_bean) or mustard seeds (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mustard_seed) soaked in water and then sowed in a shallow pan of soil. Water it lightly regularly and you will have a glorious patch of turf for your golu needs. In Chennai, these things did not take long to grow and was the best quick fix solution. In the cooler climes of north america, though, it might take a little longer to grow these.
However, there are other options for the North American golu aficionado.
Moong or Mustard seeds: just as described above
Actual grass seeds: available, usually at the start of the Fall season at any garden or big box stores. Read germination time instructions and sow in doors in a large shallow potting dish (punch holes in the bottom for adequate drainage). Usually germination times are about 2 weeks. Remember you need them to be a little taller than new seedlings, so give ample time.
Onions/ Garlic: Bare root onions/garlic are often available around this time of the year. They can be sown in a pot and are fairly quick to "show their green". They tend to be slightly thicker than what you would call grass, but on the flip side, you could potentially get a harvest out of it later.
Cat grass: If you are in a pinch and have forgotten to sow anything in time, these things can come in handy. Any pet store carries them practically year round. Looks like grass: here are some pics for you of this thing: google images for cat grass. You may even find it in the pet aisle in grocery stores.
If you use any of these tips to create your patch of green for golu, I would love to hear from you.
The month of Navarathri (here was my last year's Navarathri write up and the golu) and Halloween is here. Yet, my mojo is not! Whatever has happened, I wonder. But I did drum up some enthusiasm to at least glue the broken bommais ("dolls"/"sculptures") back together.
The husband bought me some "dolls" for golu this year to increase my repertoire, so to speak. But since the packaging wasn't quite up to par, some of these guys arrived broken! Boo hoo!
Same thing happened with this guy carrying a pot (presumably one more of the karagattam entourage!)
But the lady with the pot on her head was not so lucky. She lost her head and the pot with it. Even with gluing she is not going to look whole. But, isn't that part of the charm of golu? Each "doll" carries the mark of its history.
But what upset me most was this lovely (I believe Rajasthan made) brick breaker. He lost his thumb and his hammer and it is quite the challenge to stick that back! And some of his broken bricks are rolling loose and will need some way to stick them back.
I think even he is a bit saddened. Don't you think?
Every year, in the late September - early October time frame, Navarathri arrives as if to herald the upcoming Northeast monsoon, which to those living in parched Tamil Nadu is always a boon. To me, growing up in Chennai, Navarathri was the festival. Not Diwali. Not Pongal. Navarathri. When else do you get to wear pretty clothes for nine nights straight and strut about town? At night. When else did you get to see the entire neighborhood's creativity on display? When else were tone deaf maamis allowed to sing in public. OK may be, the last one is not quite as exciting for those who were stuck on the hearing end of the singing mamis!
Depending on which part of India you come from, the reason for celebration is different. The southern version is that of the Goddess waging a war for nine straight nights against a bull-faced tyrant and emerging victorious on the tenth day. To me, it was when everyone at home pitched in to decorate the seven steps (or was it eleven) that we set up at the beginning of the festival to display our "dolls" (as they are inappropriately called). Starting a few days earlier, the whole house would be abuzz with activities. My grandmother (with very helpful little elves) would start making colored paper garlands to be hung from ceilings and to be draped on the sides of the steps. My mother would supervise the annual Grand Bringing Down of the Steps from Storage and the Setting up of It! My Dad would design more paper decorations that we would help cut and shape and later, tack on to the steps.
When done, the steps soared all the way to the ceiling.
To reach the middle of the upper step of the golu, one would have to climb on to a stool. This is where the all important kalasam went which was carefully hidden from view by the larger pieces. This was Mom's territory. The larger pieces were always on the upper steps and dealt with themes from the Hindu mythology. Going down the steps, the tone changed to the more informal and that's where my Mom's plastic bead sculptures went, along with other interesting things like a set of dolls depicting a marriage scene. There were statues of freedom fighters that I am sure came from the pre-independence or even the immediately-after-independence era, and a brighter looking pair of Mother India with flags and all.
Each year we would ask to set up a "zoo" and a "park". Each year Mom would resist, "who is going to clean up all the sand ?" Each year this argument would be countered with an enthusiastic, "WE WILL!!" from the kids that normally feigned deafness when she asked for some help with the household chores. And yet, each year, the moong beans were soaked and moong sprouts enthusiastically planted in soil to build the "turf" of the park. Each year little plastic animals would be placed in the "zoo", with the zebra disproportionately towering over the giraffe and protected from the teeny tiger next door by a precariously tilting stick fence and an impossibly blue "rivulet". Each year, the master planners of the golu would redesign the zoo and the park amidst heated arguments of how it is impossible, really impossible, for this or that animal to be placed in close proximity to the other. Sometimes these arguments were taken to the "elders" to settle and sometimes they were settled mutually by way of a small fisticuff.
Each night we would run enthusiastically to the temple to see the way the Devi was decorated. Each day it would correspond to one of the avatars of the Devi. On the ninth day, she would be decorated all in white symbolizing the Goddess of learning. This day was bitter sweet for us kids, because it signaled that the party was nearly over, but it was also the only adult sanctioned no-studying day in the entire 365 days of the year (366 if it were a leap year)!! The only book related thing you had to do on that day was to bring out one textbook from each subject and set it up in front of the steps, where it was covered ceremoniously in silk cloth and duly worshipped. And you didn't have to study for a whole day, guilt free. On the 10th day -- the victorious 10th (Vijayadasami), you had to do a little second pooja, open up the books and read a single paragraph from each of the textbook. It made for the strangest readings of all. Within one hour there would be paragraphs read from Nicholas Nickleby to Graph Theory, stopping on the way at Tamil novels. Then everyone that was learning any fine arts in the house had to practice for a bit, while everybody else listened/watched. This included hoarse throated singing, screechy violins and a quick Bharatanatyam adavu. Anyone who wasn't learning any fine arts was enrolled in a class on that day.
It was also that night when the ustava murthys (the bronze temple statues that were meant for processions) were polished from 3:00pm by industrious neighborhood kids, decorated and taken out on a procession late at night. Several men, including Dad, were in the procession party, singing Vedic hymns all the way, carrying the three palanquins with the utsavars and walking barefooted through the entire neighborhood, stopping at streets to let people meet and greet the Gods as they went around town in a grand procession, with music, vedic chants and chattering kids and sparkling moms bringing up the rear. This is also usually when the Monsoon decides to rain on the parade. Literally. On one such procession several years ago, we were rained on pretty hard, to the point where the adults decided that the kids would have to be housed in other people's homes to wait out the rain, while the adults would continue with their procession all the way back to the temple. My sister and I were loth to leave the procession, but were told firmly to seek shelter in the nearby house. Shivering in our skins, we were offered boy's clothes by the "aunty" who had only sons. I remember being so disappointed at not completing the procession.
Last year, 16 years after I moved out of India, I set up my first golu. I had managed to steal a lot of my Mom's collection, but my golu doesn't hold a candle to the golu of my childhood days. Gone are the days, when you rush out the front door, barefooted, yelling over your shoulder to whoever is listening, "I am going to the temple" and spent the better part of an afternoon brushing and burnishing bronze statues. Today, before heading off to work, I must retrieve my golu padi from the garage. I may even have some time to dust it off. When I get back home, I can set it all up and decorate it. Wish I had all my grandmother's color paper garlands though! May be I will make some papier mache sculptures, one each year, to add to my display.
