The pujas have just ended; oops, they have merely taken a pause. The more important goddess, Laxmi, the goddess of wealth, will be celebrated on the fifth day of bidding farewell to Durga. The Laxmi with Durga will be immersed with Durga on Dashami day, and the Laxmi for worship on the Panchami after Durga Puja will be a new idol. I wonder why not retain Laxmi for her next solo worship. ‘No, No,’ the priest answers with alarm with an expression as if he has stepped on a black mamba snake. Confused? Bingo! That’s what religion always has been, is and will be for minions like you and me.
Be that as it may, the weeks that precede pujas are feelings of a different sort. Newspapers, which were thin like the old advertisements of skinny men before using ‘bull worker,’ suddenly fatten as if on steroids and only whey protein, transforming like Aamir Khan or Kangana Ranaut to suit their roles. They tickle your right cords into buying, what you never needed to buy, or could have put off for a few seasons. I tasted the power of such an ad when a running fridge made way for a new one, for whatever reasons my wife concluded as worthy. Pre-puja is not the best time to get into arguments either. The tears of your wife, even if it was unjustified, could only result in making your wallet thinner. Men are born guilty, even if they are right, and I may be no exception when it comes to my wife.
Be that too as it may, the full-page advertisement announcing “only three days and guarantee no extension’ of top brands for liquidation sale arrested my attention. Usually, I care little about brands and buy whatever I like, gloating sheepishly until my wife interrupts and breaks the purchase point. I tiptoed into a five-star hotel, worried if I would come across anyone I recognized. I felt safe with the face mask on, which I prayed must become a permanent feature whenever one has to go incognito.
A quick round, and with nothing impressive to buy, the ad bogus, I still decided to stay back to watch what others could be doing. The parking fees that I have paid was good for one whole hour. Winter around the corner, many were crowding the men’s coat section. Funnily, the sleeves were always short by 4-5 inches for everyone. I was puzzled until I sneaked into the crowd and found ‘made in China’ labels on all the coats.
There were no trial rooms or mirrors, save a six-inch vertical glass where many stood and moved like browsing the mouse on your portrait in your computer. One person trying the fitting made funny faces, perhaps checking the suitability of his apparel in various moods.
Though an Arrow pullover looked good, it would disclose my quiet and unannounced visit to the crowded place during Covid times, much to the chagrin of my wife. I returned home again and replied with my trademark sheepish grin as an answer about my outing. You must all be thinking that I’m crazy to talk about Covid after witnessing the vast unscathed crowds in some puja pandals. I was more interested in the other chappal pandal, its kind and count, other than the Burj Khalifah. It was the height of freedom of expression to uplift the plight of the farmers. But, it left me wondering, what if the opposition decorates another pandal in the coming year with condoms to express anguish over so many idiots around.
Please do not jump to the conclusion that I chicken out before my wife. (I have tagged her to the post to keep her happy)
Sampath Kumar
Intrépide Voix
Pic courtesy: The Telegraph, India.
