Images from Janamashtami

It’s that time of year again in Mumbai – the papers tomorrow will be full of pics like the ones below (note – none of these pics are mine, have just copied them from various online sites).

For me, images very different from the ones in these pics define the dahi-handi festival in Mumbai. These are the large dahi-handis, where there’s huge prize money at stake and large crowds gather to watch the well-practised, almost- professional mandals break the handi. Sure, that has its own charm, but it’s too crowded and too organised. The fun is more in walking about in the typical Maharashtrian residential areas (think Dadar, Prabhadevi, Girgaum) and watching the spirited – but-clumsy assaults on the smaller neighbourhood handis; the colour, the energy, the enthusiasm, the zaniness and of course since this is in India, the noisy celebrations with the naankhatai bands. (Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Glass-is-always-half-empty, there’s crazy chaotic traffic too, we are like this only ! ) 

Consider these zany band-baajaa guys accompanying a mandal in Prabhadevi. The guy managing the music is an artist and wants recognition from the world at large, not for him the wild drumming and standard tune of ‘Govinda Aaalaa Re’, his sensitive soul wants to play unusual music that matches the mood of the moment. So while the human pyramid is being built layer by layer, he plays s l o w, suspenseful, and if truth be told, slightly mournful music, almost encouraging them to topple - think ‘jeena yahaan marna yahaan. The music picks up pace a bit as the pyramid forms, but only after the handi is broken does the music switch to a lively instrumental rendition of ‘piya tu ab tho aajaa’.

Kids from the mandal and the neighbouring houses do their own crazy jig of happiness to the music – no choreographed dance sequence in a Bollywood phillum can capture the energy and zing of kids with wide smiles plastered on their faces dancing energetically and not bothering about the wet mud that their feet are churning up and that is splattering all over their legs. Yes, the mud in the maidan is a squelchy mess thanks to water being sprayed over the victorious mandal and onlookers every time a handi breaks. Other places people looking out from the balconies of houses on upper floors liberally fling out mugs of water forcing pedestrians to look sharp, walk fast and dodge smartly.

Politics and displaying organisational prowess is of course a part of this festival. Many handis are sponsored by political leaders, these ones have a big stage near the handi, music blaring from loudspeakers and a guy with a microphone announcing things. In one area, the political jostling for visibility resulted in the handis of the Shiv Sena and the MNS almost cheek-by-jowl; of course, egos dictated that neither could allow the other to even seem to be getting the upper hand / more attention, resulting in an inordinate din caused by playing two music systems and making two sets of announcements simultaneously. One of them gave me the most incongruous sound-byte of this year’s festival though, they played the instrumental version of ‘main jat yamla pagla deewanaa' as one pyramid went up, a bit rich from a party that’s stated anti-outsider feelings quite often.

The format at these handis was also different; not any team could take a go at the handi; to be allowed to make the attempt was itself a tortuous process. First each team would stand in front of the stage and make the pyramid as high as they could, and the kid on top would salute the handi. Only teams whose pyramids were higher than a certain threshold level were allowed to have a go at the handi.  

In contrast to this are my favourite neighbourhood small handis which are all about everyone having fun. One wadi in Prabhadevi totally gets this fun bit, and ensures that they don’t dent either the confidence or good spirits of any mandal. So after a pyramid has collapsed once or twice, in the very Indian spirit of mutual understanding, slight adjustment and thoda relaxing of criteria, one gentleman slinks away, loosens the rope that keeps the handi aloft, feeds it out and brings the handi a bit lower. Sometimes the coordination is a bit lax and this easing of target becomes obvious; imagine the third layer of the pyramid climbing up and the handi simultaneously descending by an equivalent amount – looks rather ridiculous right ? Not supposed to make it this obvious to onlookers, mama, ‘imij’ ka kya hoga ??

One thing I’m really glad to see this year is the helmet on the head of the tiny guy that’s on top of the human pyramid. Two years ago, the only helmet that I saw adorned the head of a little girl from the Agripada Mahila Govinda Mandal. This time around, most of the little boys could be seen wearing the helment too.

And to end this post, a description of the defining image of this year’s dahi-handi celebrations. As one group breaks the handi, their pyramid starts to topple and people slowly start falling off the top layers while the guys in the lower layers try to catch them and break their fall. A few seconds and all from the higher layers are down safely. And then a guy from the second layer deliberately topples over backwards into the waiting hands of his team-mates, a huge smile on his face, hands waving in the air keeping time to the music. Satisfaction personified !

By,

Zen