At The Drop Of A Pranam

This April, Akshaya Tritiya seemed to have grown bigger, more flamboyant and frenzied than I could have ever imagined. It looked as if prosperity and good luck were getting offered at a hefty discount as screaming ads exhorted the world to buy—but nothing less than a condominium, an SUV, diamond-studded earrings or an LCD TV. There was nothing private about the celebration any more; it had moved out of the little puja ghar to play out in gleaming malls. If my grandfather were alive, he certainly would have been more than a little amused at an obscure date getting whipped up into a shopping carnival.

However, Akshaya Tritiya is not an exception but the rule—Indian festivals are not what they once used to be. Little-known ones are making their presence felt, regional favourites are getting a pan-Indian appeal and popular ones, like Holi and Diwali, are gaining in scale. “New-age festivals are getting manufactured, like a Valentine’s Day, forgotten ones are getting revived and the existing ones are getting amplified. Even weddings are becoming more like festivals than ceremonies,” says social commentator and adman Santosh Desai.

It’s a truth universally acknowledged that India celebrates more festivals than the rest of the world put together. Every religion, state, community and family boasts of an almanac of festivities. Be it mythology or the change of seasons, the reasons to celebrate are countless. No wonder we joke that if a holiday were to be declared for each Indian festival, India would be on leave 365 days a year.

It was true when India breathed free and it still holds true now. What’s changing is our mode of celebration, especially in urban and semi-urban spaces. For a country on the move, festivals are evolving so much that they could well be markers with which to delineate contemporary history and economic life, as well as our altering society and culture.

An increasing cosmopolitanism and intermingling of cultures has been the key to this transformation. So, in a Delhi housing society, Onam sadya (lunch spread) is a much-awaited feast for non-Malayalis as well, there are more than just Punjabis around Lohri bonfires and Rakhi becomes a friendship band than a pavitra bandhan. “Cosmopolitanism has been evident for a while in a festival like Durga Puja, in the way rock bands play at cultural functions after the evening artis,” says Desai. Now it’s spreading a lot wider. “In urban pockets where a diverse set of people coexist, these celebrations help to make everyone belong together in a group, they’re about taking time off work to mix and mingle,” says education consultant Mrinalini Batra.

According to 42-year-old Batra, a Bihari Kayastha married to a Punjabi, inter-regional marriages like hers have helped create and propagate a common pool of diverse festivities. She celebrates various festivals from both sides of the family—from Rakhi, Lohri, Teej and Karva Chauth to Janmashtami and Chhath. “It’s not so much religion but keeping the faith and traditions alive in kids, it gives you a sense of being grounded,” she says.

In these rootless urban jungles, migrants celebrate to stay connected with their roots. Bengalis have been celebrating Durga Puja and Maharashtrians have been going big with Ganesh Chaturthi for ages now. In recent times, it’s the huge population of Bihari migrants who have been asserting their presence through the rigorous, three-day Chhath puja performed for the sun god at a water body. From swimming pools in the suburbs of Gurgaon and Noida to the beaches of Bombay—Chhath is becoming more prominent by the year, becoming as central an expression of Bihari identity as the litti-chokha food stalls increasingly found outside Bihar.

However, more than identity and cultural issues, the emerging festivals are ultimately all about the market economy. “Festivals are getting built around the malls,” says sociologist Shiv Visvanathan. He calls them the “Hallmark” festivals, taking a swipe at the firm that sells cards for every conceivable occasion. “There seems to be a desire to create festive occasions, a need to find things to celebrate,” says Desai. No wonder a Teej mela springs up in malls, complete with mehndi, songs and swings. The larger idea is clear-cut—to make people spend. It’s more about exchanging gifts than following customs. “Consumerism is making traditions more assertive yet simultaneously flattening them. It’s making remote festivals more accessible across communities, yet the purity and purpose behind them are not there,” says Desai. Sociologist Mala S. Shankardass feels festivals are also bolstered by the fact that young Indians are seeking trendiness in the traditional. “It’s more a fashion statement than understanding the underlying values,” she says.

TV and Bollywood are only adding to that glamour quotient by relaying new, enticing images. “Karva Chauth is typified by the Karan Johar films—the moon and the channi (sieve) scenes,” says Batra. It radiates hipness and fun, a reason why non-Punjabi women are also embracing it. “You do it to be with it,” says Batra. It’s about the new sari and the kitschy jewellery that ‘goes’ with it. “It’s not about fasting but about the party after the moon comes out,” says Desai. Similarly, the rigorous fasting at the time of Navratri has been transformed from sacrifice into indulgence, the sumptuous special thali becoming a major selling point across cities. As Desai says, “It’s pleasure-seeking that is overwhelming everything else.” A festival is just another means to it than an end in itself.