Navratri is undoubtedly my favourite festival. There's something magically merry & powerful about this festival that keeps me in high spirits. We do something called as a 'Kolu' (or Golu as some may call it. SouthIndians have perpetually been confused about the 'K' and 'G' usage). Which simply put, is an assortment of figurines placed in a staircase arrangement. That, probably sounds terribly drab; but trust me it's beautiful.
In the earlier days, families would gather stools, books, writing pads, tables and every possible household item with a flat base and create steps to place these dolls/figurines. Thankfully, now realising how lazy the generation has become, shopkeepers sell 'Stands' meant exclusively for this.
Oh! and these stands can later be converted into shelves. #DoubleWin
But that too, is no cake walk. These stands have to be assembled. There is a vast amount of engineering, analysis and bouts of hand-hammering that goes into coupling the right parts together (Not as easy as Lego, my friend).
Post that, the steps have to be draped (This step is optional, though recommended). At our place, crisp, white dhotis are pulled out, sewn together and pinned carefully so as to cascade down the steps.
Then old crates and boxes are opened, a whiff of ensuing dust is hauled in and then the clay figurines are carefully unwrapped. This step fills my heart with boundless joy. I can't put to words the excitement that brims within as each figurine is unwrapped. Painted in bright hues, each figurine appears to have a story to tell.
So what exactly are these figurines? You might ask. They're clay dolls of literally everything under the sun; like anything! The Dashavtar set, the 8 Lakshmis, A Music Concert, A dance show, A wedding, A cricket match, A park with cows dawdling around and what not! (Barbies & Kens can also feature, just saying)
As the dolls are unwrapped, they are then arranged with their respective sets (Note: Individual dolls are also there).
So all the 10 Vishnus are huddled together, The dancers are placed in their formations, the stage is set and the musicians are seated for their concert and there is a mini-movie that runs behind these seemingly still figures.
I love the way the aroma of the incense stick hangs in the air, I love the sound of the bell ringing as the Pooja is done and not to forget, I gorge onto the 'sundals' with utmost elation. I swear I could sit for hours together staring at the figurines as the decorative fairy lights flicker gallantly. In my head, the figurine of Krishna on a tree, is not a work of clay moulded into a mythological character, instead is the story of a young boy who swooned every living creature in his world with the euphony of his flute. In my head, I can hear his flute lilting in the air, I can sense the magic he casts on the people and cattle nearby and I delve into his world at the blink of an eye.
These 10 days make me feel blessed, blessed thinking about the remarkable gift of culture we've all inherited, from our communities in the form of a multitude of festivals. As I end this blog, sharing a picture of this year's Kolu.
In the earlier days, families would gather stools, books, writing pads, tables and every possible household item with a flat base and create steps to place these dolls/figurines. Thankfully, now realising how lazy the generation has become, shopkeepers sell 'Stands' meant exclusively for this.
Oh! and these stands can later be converted into shelves. #DoubleWin
But that too, is no cake walk. These stands have to be assembled. There is a vast amount of engineering, analysis and bouts of hand-hammering that goes into coupling the right parts together (Not as easy as Lego, my friend).
Post that, the steps have to be draped (This step is optional, though recommended). At our place, crisp, white dhotis are pulled out, sewn together and pinned carefully so as to cascade down the steps.
Then old crates and boxes are opened, a whiff of ensuing dust is hauled in and then the clay figurines are carefully unwrapped. This step fills my heart with boundless joy. I can't put to words the excitement that brims within as each figurine is unwrapped. Painted in bright hues, each figurine appears to have a story to tell.
So what exactly are these figurines? You might ask. They're clay dolls of literally everything under the sun; like anything! The Dashavtar set, the 8 Lakshmis, A Music Concert, A dance show, A wedding, A cricket match, A park with cows dawdling around and what not! (Barbies & Kens can also feature, just saying)
As the dolls are unwrapped, they are then arranged with their respective sets (Note: Individual dolls are also there).
So all the 10 Vishnus are huddled together, The dancers are placed in their formations, the stage is set and the musicians are seated for their concert and there is a mini-movie that runs behind these seemingly still figures.
I love the way the aroma of the incense stick hangs in the air, I love the sound of the bell ringing as the Pooja is done and not to forget, I gorge onto the 'sundals' with utmost elation. I swear I could sit for hours together staring at the figurines as the decorative fairy lights flicker gallantly. In my head, the figurine of Krishna on a tree, is not a work of clay moulded into a mythological character, instead is the story of a young boy who swooned every living creature in his world with the euphony of his flute. In my head, I can hear his flute lilting in the air, I can sense the magic he casts on the people and cattle nearby and I delve into his world at the blink of an eye.
These 10 days make me feel blessed, blessed thinking about the remarkable gift of culture we've all inherited, from our communities in the form of a multitude of festivals. As I end this blog, sharing a picture of this year's Kolu.
