Sri Rama Navami and Me!!

Am I not happy now? Yes, I am very much happy. Does it even compare to what was there in those days? Not even close…Sudhams

The Oxford Illustrated Dictionary has a single line to define what a festival is. It says that it is “a day or period of celebration.” Growing up in a locality where people sat together in the evening just to talk, men greeted each other when going to work in the morning and where children became friends irrespective of the schools they went to, the financial status, age group and most importantly, the caste or religion they belong to; I remember that Sri Rama Navami wasn’t just any other day. It was a celebration indeed… A ritual… A Festival.

As soon as the preparations started for the construction of the “Pandhiri” (A decorated tent used for community celebrations. A place near the temple where the best toys in the world are brought to be sold. It’s kind of a village fare except that it is on the main road and people didn’t mind) with long wooden support beams and dried coconut leaves, word spread in the neighborhood like wildfire and kids from every household start making their own preparations. The temple is hardly half a kilo meter away and yet when I was young, that was miles away. The Piggy Banks (usually made of clay) broke in every house as children start choosing their things-to-buy that year. The festival practically began 10 days before the actual date.

Each year brought a special item that stood apart and children from my neighborhood took turns on a rented bicycle to go take a look at that toy as the vendor displayed it to a rich older gentleman. If it was a remote control Ferrari one year, (which I was a proud owner of) it was a cool Proclainer the other.

From Toy Pistols to Telephones, Bouncy Balls to Streamers, Laser lights to Talking Parrots, from future telling Robots to guns for shooting at balloons; it was a paradise under the “Sri Rama Navami Pandhiri” which was built every year near the town’s main “Ramalayam” where every evening an elderly man sang the tales of Lord Sri Rama’s greatness and the story of his fight for Love. People sat on the road (happens even today) listening to him. I used to make my own list every year. The money from the piggy bank never really met the budget for my brother and me so the burden because of the fiscal budget was usually taken care of by my parents who were more than willing to get us new toys. Most of the toys wouldn’t survive a week after the festival but nonetheless they were priceless.

Not to forget the delicacies there. The ripe mango pieces dusted with a unique mixture of salt and chilli power along with a goli-soda is something that anybody would crave for. The lemon soda or the Sugandha crush is for the privileged class. The celebrations lasted for almost two weeks where as the festival is just a single day. The celebrations were not just near the temple but in our locality as well. Kids proudly showcased their toys to each other without minding to share them. There was also a bit of rivalry as to who has the best toys but that didn’t stop anybody from playing with each other’s. There were not many things that separated people from one another. They were good times those.

Now that I sit back reminiscing those days, I only have one question in mind. Where did all that go? Why I am not still friends with Suresh (the kid who lived across the street. He was a good friend and last I heard, he’s working in a tea stall that his father owns), Sunil (I saw him working in a cell phone recharge outlet a few months back and for some reason I had absolutely nothing to talk to him), Ravi, Dileep, Arun (the Tamil kid who moved into a small house in the street for a couple of years and later left after his father got transferred) and many others.

Each of them had stories of their own. None of them are from my school. They weren’t even of my age and now that I think of it, we never really cared about each other’s religions or castes (I was born and brought up in a Christian family that technically has nothing to do with Sri Rama Navami except that it usually came on the same month as the Easter Sunday). But still, we shared. We shared our toys, we shared our houses, we shared our time and yes we shared our lives. We neither had smart phones to keep in touch 24*7 nor did we have Facebook profiles to poke each other. But we still managed to be friends. We celebrated the festival in its true sense. The toys that we bought and shared for the Sri Ram Navami aren’t just toys. They’re much more. They brought joy.

Times have changed. We’ve moved a couple of houses from there before finally settling into our own apartment in a different part of the town. I have gone places to study and to work and somewhere down the line all those things vanished and I still don’t understand why? Festivals don’t mean the same; friends are either classmates or work colleagues; joy is in my computer, TV remote, motor cycle and a smart phone. Am I not happy now? Yes, I am very much happy. Does it even compare to what was there in those days? Not even close.

Just last night I took my mom to the temple street (where they sold all the toys. I used to go there with my dad and brother as a kid) and bought a few toys. It was actually more for the experience than for the toys. I couldn’t find many toys that we used to buy back then. There were new varieties depicting mobile phones and computers. When I inquired an old man who happened to own a shop, he said that they stopped making those toys long back. I was glad to at least find a few and my mom was kind enough to buy them for me. But now when I open the seals and get to see them close, I am more depressed than happy. They just don’t mean the same anymore. The worst part is that I knew they would never mean the same and still bought them with the fear that I may never see them again. I wanted to preserve at least a few toys (memories) before they cease to exist anymore.

Okay so why is it difficult to be that happy again? It is impossible to go back in time or to freeze it forever I know. But that is not what I am asking for. I want to be that happy again. I want to be blown away by something as simple as a wired car that moved to and fro when we press the red and blue colored switches one after the other. Does growing up mean having to let go of all the things that meant the world to me? By things I don’t mean the physical objects but the simple joy that I had living in a small rented house with my parents and the brother; sleeping on the terrace under the stars on warm summer nights and inside the house under the warm rugs on cold winter nights.

It kills me inside now that I know I will never have what I had back then. But what is worse is the thought that the future doesn’t have the promise that things will get any better. With technology taking over (which is a diff debate altogether), there is no other way except to dive into the race a head towards what I personally feel, an oblivion. That is precisely the reason why nostalgia sells. Every time something reminds us about things that we enjoyed doing, we feel bad. I am just wondering why I didn’t ask myself why I was feeling bad in the first place. Why can’t I be that person anymore? Is that what growing up is? Feeling bad that we couldn’t do the things that we did?

Let bygones be bygones. Those are events from the childhood that everybody has to put behind them and eventually grow that. That is what life is all about. Life is about becoming a better person, achieving great heights, leaving a legacy. But if that is what it is all about, why would Chandra Gupta Mourya, one of the greatest rulers to have ruled that land that we now live in, decided to leave everything he had just to find his nirvana. Isn’t greatness what everyone should aim for? Who else could’ve tasted greatness better than Chandra Gupta Mourya who established the mighty Mouryan Empire even before the birth of Jesus Christ? Why did he give up his might to die by starving himself in a small cave in Karnataka during his quest to attain nirvana or to be enlightened?

I am not sure where I am headed and what I am aiming for. Is it for money? Yes definitely. Will I stop if I feel I have enough to be happy? Probably not because by definition happiness is not absolute and there is no something called as enough money. So am I doing it for happiness? Why live a life leaving things that make me happy to go in search of things that may or may not be worth it. Is it for Love? Isn’t love more of a path than a destination. Why run after it when I can just chose to love. Is this how it is supposed to be? Hmmm… If yes, why??

Will anything be as much fun as collecting and counting the coins from the broken pieces of the piggy bank to buy toys? I don’t know. Owning latest gadgets, playing High Def games, driving a motor cycle at 120kmph, nothing, nothing gave me the same happiness. People became complicated, hearts got broken, friends grew apart, and toys were broken and thrown away. Why? I grew up. What for? I don’t seem to know anymore.

I started to write this hoping that by the end, I would find answers to at least a few thoughts and questions. I was hopeful of at least proving to myself that tomorrow will be better and but now I’m convinced it’ll never be. If I know where I am headed, I am not sure why? What is the point? Do we have to live just for the sake of living, finding happiness in odd places, fooling ourselves by convincing the mind that joy is in tagging people in Facebook and later commenting? The biggest irony is that it is perhaps the mysterious time itself that can answer these questions. So, will I not be happy anymore? Yes I will. In fact happier than most people who genuinely fell they’re happy. Will I be like that kid who was jumping with joy just for seeing a yo-yo flashing lights, as the shop-keeper played with it? Probably never. But will that stop me from going ahead in my life and pursuing a career and enjoying my life the way I want to? Definitely NOT!!!

HAPPY SRI RAMA NAVAMI!!!

P.S… I would’ve been much happier writing this in a diary for my father to read and appreciate rather than in my blog where I share all my madness with the entire world. Now somebody please take me to a therapist!!!