The God of new beginnings

A few times every year, the streets of Mumbai turn into a carnival and recently, the guest of honor Ganesh, the elephant headed, roly-poly god of new beginnings. After 10 days of a homestay, families and communities accompany him to his final immersion in water, where his Earthen form breaks down and returns to the earth from which it came.

If that sounds poetic, I am overstating the case. The festival is far from serene. It’s a garish, uproarious mess that wreaks havoc on traffic as well as mental peace for the duration.

For 11 days, you find yourself humming these aartis or prayers Idols of Ganesh are set up on his birthday – Ganesh Chaturthi. It’s a state holiday in India so people can go ‘Ganesh shopping’ at their local warehouse and markets. Which Ganesh statue you bring home is a matter of personal taste. They can range from six inches high to several feet tall, all blessed by a priest.

Neighborhoods also come together and set up mandals or stalls. Prayers are conducted every few hours and the zealous even set off firecrackers.

For 10 days, Ganesh is treated like a revered member of the extended family. At the end of the festival he is loaded onto a truck and trundled to a designated beach. On day one, five and seven the smaller immersions, or visarjans are relatively quieter affairs. On the last day it’s on a much larger scale.

Last year, nearly 19 billion idols were immersed over the course of the festival. This year, officials estimate that the total reached 21 billion.

There is a final cry of ganpati, or father, hurry back next year from the participants on the beaches before Ganesh is lowered into the water. For some people that’s an interminable wait, but for us Mumbaikars, the peace is short lived.

Words by Chhavi Sachdev. Photographs by Lauren Farrow

Published on The World, October 15, 2010

The life and times of Mumbai’s dhobis

This is a teaser for a short video I’m working on about India’s largest outdoor laundry – Mahalaxhmi Dhobi Ghat. You can hear tour guide, Samir Malim talking about the life of the laundry mat.

I’ve been interested in Dhobi Ghats since moving to India, as our apartment overlooked a small laundry in Bandra. At 5.30 every morning we would wake to the surprisingly loud sound of wet cloth being smacked on concrete. Outside a single, straggly Indian would be pounding away, knee deep in suddy water.

Dhobis are some of the hardest working people in Mumbai. They slap, pound and scrub from before sunrise to after people cook their evening meals of curry and chapatis.

The dhobis represent an old world – before washing machines and tumble dryers – where every muscle is put to hard labour.

Full video coming soon . . .

Dancing with Ganesh

In September 2009, millions of Hindus flooded Mumbai’s streets to celebrate the annual festival, Ganesh Chaturthi. The festival is in honour of the much-loved Lord Ganesh, known as the remover of the obstacles. For l0 days the elephant god is worshiped at the city’s many mandals, where statues of the idol reach up to 25 feet tall.

Believers hoping for their wishes to come true will make offerings of flowers, food, money, gold and silver in celebration of Ganesh’s birthday.

Worshipers also perform pujas (prayers), celebrate with music and dancing, and some even host elaborate dinners for the poor.

On the 11th day the Ganesh statues are taken through the streets, accompanied by millions of devotees chanting ‘Ganaptahi Bappa Morya, Purchya Varshi Laukarva’ (O father Ganesh, come again early next year).

Here Mumbaiites Jayant Patel and Vikas Pandey talk about what the festival means to them and other believers.

Hitting the clay in Mumbai

Far away from the Indian cricket pitch where pristine whites demand respect, is the dirty, sweaty world of kushti. The traditional style of Indian wrestling sees players take to a red clay pit, where they grab, push and throw each other to the ground. Within minutes their muscular bodies are masked in orange, with clay clinging to their eyebrows and hair.

Here Kushti wrestler, Sanjay Chavan talks about the discipline and comradarie that goes along with the traditional sport.

The 33-year-old wrestler is part of a troupe of young men that train at a gym or akharas in Mumbai. The wrestlers, mostly from small farming villages across the state of Maharastra have gathered to become experts in the sport – all hoping to win themselves glory and fame at the National Championships.

Daily practise is required to retain fitness levels and there are strict codes of discipline that rule each wrestler’s life.

Young men grunt in exertion as they climb ropes and use their own body weight to improve their muscular strength in a series of yoga inspired exercises. Next to the clay pit is a gym where men pump iron in front of long mirrors.

Wrestlers admire themselves under the watchful eyes of bodybuilder posters and the Hindu monkey god, Hanuman who is worshipped for his muscular body and his participation in the ancient sport.

Delhi’s street life

Rashid has five brothers and one sister. He lives on the street with his mother, father and siblings. His parents are drug addicted. He is 16 years old but has never been to school. He dreams of becoming a doctor.

According to estimates by the UN Refugee Agency, Rashid is just one among 18 million children living on India’s streets, mainly in the large metropolitan cities like Delhi, Kolkata and Mumbai.

To an outsider it might seem like an impossibly high figure, but after travelling through India for four months it’s easy to believe. Every night at Delhi’s famous monument, the Gateway to India, young boys sell fairy floss, flower garlands and the latest toy craze. While train stations often look like mini refugee camps, with thousands of children calling the platforms home.

To give visitors an insight on why these children are living on the street and how they spend their days and make their money, the charity Salaam Baalak Trust operates tours through Delhi’s railway platforms and slums. Money raised on the tour goes towards the trust’s programs, in the hopes of improving the children’s lives.

According to Salaam Baalak tour guide, Anil there are two types of street children.

The first live on the streets with their family, while the second group have either run away from home or been abandoned.

Here Anil talks about those children who live on the city’s platforms alone:

Most children earn approximately 60 rupees per day (approximately Australian $1.50).

Listen to Anil explain how they earn and spend their money:

For those children living on the streets, Salaam Baalak Trust runs a series of programs, including five 24-hour full care shelters, mental health services, medical facilities and informal schooling.

The trust also runs an outreach program, which targets children who are still living with their parents in slums or illegal housing and are in danger of becoming homeless.

Here Anil explains how the outreach programs work:

But for most of the street children living with their families, they are the main source of income, so convincing parents to allow their children to go to outreach programs can be difficult, Anil says.

A note on the tour:

While the tour has good motives, it is also a voyeuristic experience, offering tourists the opportunity to view a side of Delhi life outside the monuments and museums. It is easy to feel uncomfortable hearing the story of someone like Rashid, listening to his seemingly impossible hopes and dreams, and then walking away. There was also an uneasy moment where Rashid starting dancing for the tour group, making you wonder whether these children feel exploited by the whole process.

However, Anil, the tour guide we had, grew up in a slum that neighbours the railway station. He also did most of his schooling in a community education facility, much like the one  Salaam Baalak now runs. He shares similar stories to those children who have benefited from outreach and education services that Salaam Baalak now runs, so he was able to give valuable insight into the hopes, lives and dreams of those living below the poverty line. Because of his experiences he was also conscious of the privacy of the children we met and ensured no photographs were taken unless okayed by the subjects.

To learn more about the tour and the trust visit there website.