Ganpati Bappa Morya. 🙏
Every year, Ganesh Chaturthi brings something beautiful to our streets.
Homes open their doors. Neighbours meet. Families visit each other. People who otherwise spend most of the year simply passing each other suddenly have a reason to stop, smile and say:
“Bappa Morya.”
And that, to me, is the beautiful part.
But somewhere along the way, I wonder if we have started losing the plot.
I don’t have a problem with celebrating Ganpati.
I have a problem with what we increasingly seem to think celebration means.
Every neighbourhood wants a bigger pandal.
A taller idol.
A more elaborate theme.
Louder speakers.
More lights.
More events.
More “hatke” ideas.
And sometimes, when I pass these pandals, I see Bappa sitting there almost alone.
Day and night.
A beautifully decorated mandap, a massive sound system, elaborate lighting — and barely anyone actually sitting in front of Him.
That makes me wonder:
Who are we celebrating for?
Bappa?
Or everyone else?
Because if the person standing ten metres away from your pandal has to cover their ears, if an elderly person can’t sleep, if a child is startled awake, or if someone working a night shift can’t rest — have we really added devotion to the celebration?
The public Ganeshotsav tradition that took shape in Maharashtra in the 1890s was closely associated with bringing people together, social cohesion and community participation.
So I keep thinking about the word “sarvajanik.”
Public.
For everyone.
Not just for the people organising the mandal.
And then there is the creativity.
I actually love creativity.
Give an artist a Ganpati idol and a blank space, and there is nothing wrong with creating something beautiful around it.
But sometimes I see increasingly elaborate interpretations online and find myself asking:
Do we really need to make Bappa something else to make Him interesting?
I recently saw a mandal where Ganpati was placed with Shiva behind Him and Nandi in front.
Now, there is nothing inherently wrong with that depiction. Shiva and Ganesha are deeply connected in Hindu tradition, and Nandi is associated with Shiva.
But it made me think about something bigger.
When does creative expression enhance devotion, and when does it simply become a race to be different?
Because Bappa doesn’t need a gimmick.
He doesn’t need to be the biggest idol in the neighbourhood.
He doesn’t need the loudest DJ.
He doesn’t need a bizarre theme.
He doesn’t need us to prove that our mandal is more creative than the one 200 metres away.
Bappa is Bappa.
Maybe the simplest idol in a small neighbourhood, with ten people sitting quietly in front of Him, sharing prasad and talking to each other, is closer to the spirit of the festival than the grandest pandal with thousands of watts of sound.
Maybe.
And perhaps that’s what we need to ask ourselves.
Not:
“How big is our Bappa?”
Not:
“How different is our pandal?”
Not:
“How many people came?”
But:
“Did Bappa bring us closer to each other?”
Because perhaps that was always the point.
To bring people together.
Not to compete with the next galli.
Not to drown the neighbourhood in sound.
Not to turn devotion into showbaazi.
Just to bring Bappa home.
And bring people closer.
Ganpati Bappa Morya. 🙏
