Ganpati Festival ended today all over India. After one last night of dancing Garba at the local Mundir (temple), I went to bed exhausted, feet aching, the smell of incense clinging to my clothes; happy. Resurgence; the act of parading the Ganpati (et la; Ganesha, in English) through the village before putting him into the river, was to being any time after 1 pm so, all schools in the area had early classes. I walked into my classes to find more than half of my students missing and I can't say I blamed them. It was rainy and dreary and the anticipation of the coming events was much too distracting. Fun Miss Kitty just couldn't compete with what was about to happen.
The dancing began with the beat of drums. Everyone in the community I was spending the day at in Madhi ran for the street and the tractor that was pulling Ganpati down to the river. Immediately, I heard children shouting, "Kitty Teacher!". These shouts were quickly followed by me being covered in pink powder. I had asked why the pink powder being smeared by your neighbors all over your face and I was told it was so that you enjoy. The more pink on my skin, down my shirt, in my hair, the happier I became so, I guess whoever told me that was right. Next, my hands were being grabbed. Students from the school that I barely recognize out of their uniforms, town's women happy to be away from daily chores, and the occasional intoxicated Kaka (uncle) pull me into the springy two-step. Right hand pumped in the air. Left hand. Right! Left! Men alternate with boys playing the tabla to the music blaring from the speaker system coming from the float-like construct carrying Ganesha to his final resting place for 2009.
The river was a riot in a cloud of pink dust; music coming from too many different directions. By this time, I am covered - literally, covered in the pink stuff so that my hair looks like I've dyed it red and my camera is only taking fuzzy pictures due to all the dust in the lens. Walking at a slow "Indian pace" after being scolded several times by my new friends for walking too fast, I watch as the heads turn...I look behind myself, hoping to see another foreigner - anyone to make me less conspicuous. Alas, it's only me and the stares aren't going away as Ganesha is temporarily forgotten in my wake.
Luckily, this is a favourite festival to many and the cheers are growing louder with every step I take towards the river and the crowds that are carrying their Ganpati's down to the river on the shoulders of men. Slowly, reverently, Ganpati is places in the water along with the desires you have prayed to him for throughout the festival.
And then, before your eyes, Ganpati is gone. Not to be seen in this form again until this time next year.