Govinda came. He saw. He scampered.


I have a thing against loud things. Loud people are also things. I agree, this is a difficult way to live, considering we live in a place where a festival means Nasik dhol and 125 speakers waala deck that go woof woof with Koni kutra sodla re?
So yesterday was Govinda. What they used to call dahi handi when I was in school. Dahi handi means, you make a potful of milk, honey, coconut pieces, jaggery, sugar, sugarcane pieces, loose change and top it up with water (no dahi, mind you!) seal it with cloth and then hang this up between two buildings or streetlamp poles or anything high enough, drink a few pails of ale and make others drink too and then clamber onto each other to try and reach the pot first. The first few attempts look a bit structured. But then you know how ale is. It makes you see things. So then the young Govindas put their feet where there is no shoulder and down they come like a pack of cards soaked in Khajuraho beer. All this while, the DJ is showing off his collection of triple mix songs and beams everytime the glitchik-blitchik-glitchik happens between tracks. (and somewhere in Jupiter, a volcano erupts. It can’t help it. The DJ’s system is so loud. It’s no wonder Sabu decided to stay back on Earth!)
One must think that Devki and Vasudev needed a home theatre system inside their prison cell in order to have sound sleep and a quick roll in the hay before that- quickie because they couldn’t let the chowkidaars outside their cell become voyeurs.
And then Krishna came. After a premature birth and moving homes at midnight, during a heavy downpour and water-logging at Milan Subway. The point is, he came in the morning. Not came as in “Aaah, aah, I’m coming!” But, came as in ‘was born.’ So, he was born in the morning, around midnight? But people at news channels are so active and zestful, they could be called Bean Bags. So they tell these Govinda organizers, “You want us to cover your dahi handi fest, do it in the evening, so we could get up at noon, run a few errands for home, lie in the bath tub for a while, make a few STD and ISD calls and then leave for work.” The organizers have no option. Ramaize Bhai needs the coverage to show that he is the only big man in the locality. The channel had promised to show him (and his obese boobytrap) dancing at his balcony every 15 minutes!
So, for all of us here, that naughty prankster-who accidently fell into the navy blue acrylic colour vat when he visited the Camel factory, was born in the evening. Wow, press power!
Ya so, the high decibels of sound waves go on through the evening. But for the only time in the history of mankind has the timing of a power-cut been so well-appreciated. Power gone, DJ popat! All he can do is tinker around with his wires and cables. This spells a three-hour break for our high Govindas. No song-no game! More ale, more Keshtos.
In the end, the Govindas were so tired, that someone suggested that they cheat a bit. So what they finally did is, they stood with their mouths open under the hanging pot and struck it with a really really long piece of bamboo. Yay! Govinda aala re and all that…
So such are festivities now. Another piece of disjoint, useless news. It seems people in Kerala are now celebrating sarvajanik ganeshotsav. Hey, aint that kewl, man? That is cool alright, what is wrong with worshipping the elephant god like we do it here? Well, nothing really. I’m just a little concerned about the tourism department and the numbers that haunt Kerala for its wonderful backwaters…sarvajanik ganeshotsav, idol immersion...get it?