Desicritics Category: Culture: Festivals

Could India Host an Impressive Olympics?

mbjesq — Thu, 21 Aug 2008 00:33:43 EDT

India and China. China and India.

Whenever discussion turns to the New World Order, these neighboring giants are always mentioned in the same breath as the up-and-comers. I understand the arguments, but remain deeply skeptical about the prospects for both countries, though for vastly different reasons.

With the Beijing 2008 Olympics drawing to a close, one must concede that China has managed to pull off a fabulously successful advertisement for itself, even though its ugly authoritarianism and environmental shamefulness remained on plain view throughout. So the question nags: Could India hold an Olympics that would flatter, rather than embarrass the nation? I, for one, seriously doubt it.

The Olympics requires the host nation to provide three basic elements: infrastructure, architecture, pageantry. This is no mean feat; just ask the organizers of Athens 2004 and Atlanta 1996. Greece failed in two of the three, just managing to save face, largely as a result of the world’s extremely low expectations. The United States failed across the board.

Infrastructure development takes vision and planning – not areas in which India has distinguished itself. Delhi is the only metro in the country which appears to spend on infrastructure in anything but an ad hoc, purely corruption-driven way – not that Delhi’s version of forethought has made it even remotely the world-class city it purports to be. Sure, it is difficult to remake old cities – although that is, essentially, what Beijing has done – but even its built-from-scratch, nouveaux riches commercial neighbor, Gurgaon, is an almost perfect study in tastelessness and dysfunction.

One of India’s most challenging infrastructural problems, from an international public relations point of view, would be to develop habits and systems of internationally acceptable public hygiene. I suspect that most first-time visitors to India will be under-impressed by the filth and noise of their surroundings, and the television cameras will have a difficult time avoiding the blight of omnipresent garbage, which flows through the streets of India the way water flows in riverbanks.

Perhaps India, like Greece, might shine in the spectacle, even if they would fail in the organizational aspects of building proper infrastructure to host the athletes and visitors in style and comfort. From classical dance to Bollywood, India shines in artistic performance. But would this kind of close-up oriented presentation captivate the world when executed on the scale of an Opening Ceremonies? Perhaps not. Have you ever attended a major pop concert in India (or involving India performers traveling abroad, for that matter)? They are unwatchably cheesy. A.R. Rahman may write world-class music, and Adnan Sami and Asha Bholse may be stars of Indian popular song, but their live concerts are hideously amateurish affairs. They are often accompanied by filmy dancing which, though so attractive on the screen, comes off as a bad joke when the scale of the movements are dwarfed by the live venue.

Architecture is an extremely important element in the Olympic mix if, as with China, the aim is to establish one’s prestige and announce one’s global intentions. It expresses a country’s ambition, accomplishment, sense of style, sophistication, and ability to produce tangible outcomes suited to a major occasion. Most of the world sees the host nation only via satellite feed, and images of the Olympic venues are the ubiquitous “context-establishing shots” which begin the coverage of almost every event. A country can do no better advertising for itself when hosting an Olympics than provide monumental, attractive architecture. This has certainly been a key part of China’s strategy – and it has worked.

China commissioned outrageously wonderful buildings from teams of architects and landscape architects from Switzerland, Australia, France, Germany, the U.K., and China. The superb “Bird’s Nest” National Stadium, the “Water Cube” National Swimming Center, and Olympic Forest Park are the glamorous face of a spectacular Olympics. The subsidiary venue structures each have a degree of architectural merit, even if they are not as jaw-droopingly innovative as the main sites, and the 1,600 unit Athlete’s Village has received LEED “gold” certification for its sustainable construction techniques and energy efficiency. In addition, Beijing has undertaken an impressive array of non-competition-hosting buildings as part of its Olympic face lift, including a spectacular National Theater, a Digital Media Center, a Convention Center, and television network complex.

Now consider India, which has hardly built a worthy piece of major architecture since Independence – I can think of only two possible candidates, one of which was designed by a Canadian, the other by a Frenchman. A couple years ago, a friend sent me this idiotic Business Week slide presentation, touting the greatness of contemporary Indian architecture. I sent him back a note congratulating him on the excellent joke. Awkwardly, it turned out not to be a joke, but an earnest (if blinkered) piece of jingoistic bragging.

Are there great Indian architects working today? Surely there must be. But what are they building? And would insular, foreigner-resenting India consider commissioning high-profile Olympic buildings from international architects? Never. Indian national pride would never allow it to do what even xenophobic China was able to do – what the entire rest of the world does: commission world class architecture from throughout the world.

Then there is the little problem of paying for the infrastructure and new architecture. After the politicians and bureaucrats have siphoned-off their monumental bribes and contractors have been selected on the basis of kick-backs rather than ability, will the bid-winners have sufficient talent and remaining resources to deliver quality buildings, on time? There is certainly plenty of past experience on which to hazard a prediction.

I have tremendous affection for India, and a like degree of antipathy for China. But there is no question which country has announced its presence on the world stage with panache and which can never hope to do so. “I love my India” as much as the next guy, but not because it has a prayer of achieving greatness in my lifetime.

Idol Immersion Increasing River Pollution in India

DeeptiA — Tue, 19 Aug 2008 11:30:29 EDT

There are a number of areas where modern science and problems clash with traditions. In such cases, a reasonable expectation is that there is a compromise between traditions and the needs of today; in some cases, there is a need that the tradition changes. Why did I suddenly think of this topic? Well, I came across this article that describes how idol immersion, a joyful and integral part of many religious festivals, is actually helping in killing the river systems of the country. Now, there are many reasons why our river systems are getting killed - there is too much flow of effluents (both domestic and industrial), not enough cleaning of these effluents, not enough flow of fresh water to do a cleanup of the pollutants in the river. No one doubts that in many cases, the conditions of our rivers as they move past major cities is that of a sewer, with the water having very high percentages of pollutants.

For those who have taken part in Durga Pooja celebrations or those celebrating Lord Ganesha, the immersion of idols is an important part. This is repeated across the country. But how many of you have read the news articles that describe the dead fish found floating days after a major festival, with these fish poisoned by the chemicals form the immersion ? Read this article in more detail:

Elaborately painted and decorated idols are worshipped before they are taken during mass processions to rivers, lakes and the sea, where they are immersed in accordance with Hindu faith. Environmentalists say the idols are often made from non-biodegradable materials such as plastic, cement and plaster of Paris and painted with toxic dyes.

After the statues are immersed, the toxins then contaminate food crops when villagers use the polluted water for irrigation, said Shyam Asolekar, science and engineering head at the Indian Institute of Technology in Mumbai. Statue remains from festivities last year still float in rivers and water tanks in Mumbai, where the annual "Ganesh Chaturthi" festival culminate in the immersion of some 160,000 statutes -- some up to 25 feet high -- by millions of devotees. Traditionally, idols were made from mud and clay and vegetable-based dyes were used to paint them.

This is a tricky issue. Issues related to religious festivities are treated with care, with efforts being made not to offend the religious. However, there is no getting around the facts of a matter, and this is not an issue that has sprung up suddenly. Even on TV, you do see many times news articles about the importance of making statues with eco-friendly material, but somehow these items do not sink in.

Sometimes, direct action needs to be taken, as for example, when the courts ordered the installation of tall fences on the bridges of the river Yamuna in Delhi in order to prevent people from throwing in flowers or complete garlands.
Rivers are the lifeblood of this country (or any country), with dependence on water requiring that water sources be protected. People know this, but somehow the relation with water pollution does not sink in, or maybe many people do not care. How does one ensure that such a message sink in? You cannot use force to ensure that such a change happens across the breadth and width of the country.

Travel Report: Korba Street Festival - Heliopolis, Cairo

Kim — Wed, 14 May 2008 02:19:02 EDT

Last Friday was the annual Korba Street festival in Heliopolis - a residential suburb in Cairo.

Baghdad street was closed off to traffic and stalls were put up along the sidewalks. There were stalls from the Asean countries selling native food and some handicrafts.

The Indian stall just had posters urging visitors to visit India. Nothing else. :(

There were tables along the sides for families to relax and grab a bite and the main road was left free for kids to express their creativity on the road with chalk and paints.

Marriott's Bakery, Swiss Inn, Sultana Ice Cream had tables on the road and were serving food there. The Swiss Inn even had a buffet set up on the road. But the more exciting stuff to eat were the street stalls which were selling things like cotton candy,the hummus drink and beans.

I attended in the morning half and left by 1:30pm, before the crowds really started to pour in. This meant I missed out on the musical performances (by Wust el Balad among others) and the puppet show, but what I managed to catch was great anyway.

My friends tell me, there was a short parade later in the noon with flower covered floats and giant coke bottles. More of advertising than Spring flowers was a comment I heard.

What I got to see, kind of reminded me a bit of the Kala Ghoda festival in Bombay, but just a little bit. The concept is similar, but there is so much further that the Korba festival can go. Its a good start though, just to have an open air event in a residential area of Cairo.

I would definitely try to catch it again next year.

Putrid Pilgrimages in India

Shantanu Dutta — Tue, 13 May 2008 13:23:25 EDT

A doctor who has just started some charitable work in the island of Rameshwaram among Sri Lankan refugees has an experience to share. Hailing from Chennai, she was used to the thought of abandoning the comforts of city life and get used to the exigencies of rural life. But the one thing that greeted her as she crossed over into Rameswaram and that one thing which she was not prepared for was the over whelming stench of human excreta hovering all over the island.

Apart from the infrastructural issues of there not being any adequate sewage disposal on the island, she wondered aloud as to why a pilgrim centre of religious significance should be so dirty and why whether or not the official machinery did any thing or not, the basic piety of the people should have served as some kind of an incentive to keep the place clean. Going by the press reports, the problem in Rameswaram has been noticed and action asked for at least a year ago when A. Sellamuthu, Secretary for Housing and Monitoring Officer for the district, had directed the Rameswaram Municipal authorities to take urgent steps clean the island town. He had also noted that that “Rameswaram was an important pilgrim centre, which was attracting thousands of pilgrims and tourists daily. Hence, it had to be kept neat and clean always”

The question is worth asking as to why filth and squalor are so routinely associated with places of pilgrimages –except for the cash rich ones like the temples at Tirupati and Vaishno Devi and a few others and may be the Dargah at Ajmer. As for the rest, be it the shrine of a pir or a typical teerth sthan, the gathering of crowds for journeys of piety and pilgrimages are almost synonymous with dirt, disorder and chaos instead of harmony, serenity and order.

Remember the kanwarias who crowd up the roads every couple of months. Emerging from every little town and village that India has it would seem, they run through the land like locusts ravaging a field. Small time charities spring up to feed and shelter these hockey stick wielding pilgrims. During the time the season is on, these resting places are filled with leaf plates with flies buzzing, plastic and other waste lying around every where and ear splitting music of the crassest kind copied from the latest Bollywood hits but supposedly charmed to induce piety.

Or remember the Kumbh Melas, the largest gathering of humans on earth for any purpose, but not necessarily the most tranquil or peaceful. There are these akharas filled with opium soaked sadhus and their equally fanatic followers jostling for space and dominance. And oh yes, till modern times, the end of Kumbh Mela often sprouted cholera. The rather provocatively titled blog “The Shit of the Saints is Still Reeking” talks pointedly of the 2007 mela in Allahabad and quotes the Chief Medical Officer of Allahabad alluding to the threat of diarrheal diseases, typhoid, and hepatitis as a direct result of the trash and human waste.

The Incredible India Campaign has run several direct ads on the need to keep and preserve our heritage –from vandalism as well as other acts that might desecrate them in any way. But they have largely concentrated and talked about historical monuments. But considering that so much of our heritage is tied up with religion and religious places and yatras and pilgrimages, it might do well to also talk of keeping religious places and events clean and sanitized so that the memory of having visited them might remain pleasant memories and not stories of nightmares.

A Goddess for Summer

Deepa Krishnan — Wed, 23 Apr 2008 13:14:57 EDT

The fierce April heat brings with it rashes, skin diseases and the dreaded pox.

Before it was eradicated in India, smallpox was one of the most feared diseases of summer. Chicken pox is still a big worry for Indian parents. Many communities believe it is the wrath of the Goddess Mariamman that brings on these diseases, and that she must be propitiated to ward off the pox.

In Mumbai, a small community from Andhra Pradesh worships the Goddess Mariamman every summer, seeking protection from smallpox, chickenpox and all forms of disease. My housemaid is from Andhra Pradesh, so I went with her to see the annual Mariamman ceremony. Mum came along, of course, to find out what it was all about.

The first thing we saw (heard) were the drums. Three men came walking from a little lane, and posed for me.

Then the women emerged from several lanes, carrying offerings for the goddess. Their bowls had a sort of thin gruel, made from ragi and buttermilk, and flavoured with chillies. Ragi, or finger millet came to India 4000 years ago from Ethiopia. It is now a staple part of the local diet.

There were neem leaves in the ragi gruel. Neem has medicinal properties and is used all over the country as a cure for chickenpox.

Several children and young girls wore skirts of neem, as protection from the pox.

A temporary tent had been erected, where everyone gathered with their offerings.

Inside the tent, there was a little shrine. In the villages of South India, there's a distinctly different looking Mariamman. But this is Bombay! There is no consecrated idol of the goddess here, so a popular representation of Durga was housed inside the tent, with the customary trident.

Mariamman is said to be a proto-Dravidian goddess, not a part of mainstream Vaishnavism or Saivisam. But as usual, both Saivaites and Vaishnavites have appropriated her, because she has such a large following.

To get things going, there was a dance. Two male performers had come from a little village in Andhra Pradesh. They were not just dancers; they were more like shamans, intermediaries between the Goddess and the rest. They said a little prayer and tied anklets on their feet.

The dancing lasted a short while, but it was energetic and graceful.

After the dancing, there was a brief prayer ritual. An elder from the community performed the arati. The prayers to Mariamman are "non-agama" i.e. not from the sacred Vedic texts. Brahmins do not conduct prayers to this Goddess, except in a couple of very large Mariamman temples in Tamil Nadu, where the worship has morphed into a fully agamic tradition.

After the prayer, a desi fowl was offered as sacrifice to please the Goddess and ask her protection. As the sacrifice happened, the drums and trumpets rose to a crescendo. Quite a spectacle.

I clicked the obligatory gory picture.

This pot would be taken around the city after the sacrifice. It was filled with water, turmeric and neem leaves, and decorated with turmeric, red sindoor, neem, lemon and flowers. In Bombay, this vessel goes to various Tamil and Andhra localities in Dharavi.

The ragi gruel was then served to everyone as prasadam. It was delicious and cool, by the way. There were a couple of neem leaves in mine, bitter as expected. I ate them, mindful of all the medicinal properties neem has.

The customary group photo at the end of the day! This is a section of women from my maid's community. The one on the left, with the orange and red saree is Vasantha, who lives with us, and makes the best khichdi-kadi on the planet. Without her, I would never have known or participated in this amazing spectacle.

Photo Essay: I Love Beauty Parades

Dr Bhaskar Dasgupta — Mon, 21 Apr 2008 02:24:07 EDT

Yes, Sir. I do love them. I was in sunny Bangalore when the whole hoo haa about the Miss World beauty pageant blew up in 1996. Well, I have to thank Ganesh, Imhotep, Confucius, Zeus and the great Pasta God aka Great Flying Spaghetti Monster with meat balls in the sky, that I stayed in the same hotel as those lovely ladies and my eyes were almost perpetually on stalks. So while it was young spotty hormone driven time way back then, now I have moved on (I think).

I know all the very well known arguments against female beauty parades. Here's a great article by Choodie Shivaram on this issue and I am taking the liberty to quote few lines from her article.

""demeaning to our culture," "devaluing to our tradition," "promoting vulgarity and obscenity," and "a disgrace to womanhood." ...... Communists deplored the event as capitalist exploitation of women and part of the multi-national corporations' carefully planned plundering of India. Women's groups found the event degrading to women.

Quite so, but at the same time, hey, I am an observer and while at the same time, I can slightly see the objections, I also am an appreciative lover of human beauty. Take this joke "photoshopped" picture for example on the left while the real David is on the right

I am sure Michelangelo would be rolling in his grave but that's not beautiful to me even though it is just a plump version of his David. And irrespective of which statue you like, you do know that one arm of that statue is broken and then repaired? You still like and admire that statue, no? A disabled statue, so to speak.

So then I read the news that now Cambodia will play host to Miss Landmine 2009. I quote:

Miss Landmine parades beautiful female landmine victim amputees on the catwalk as they compete to win prosthetic limbs....

See this line?

the pageant has drawn howls of protest from rights activists and feminists, who brand it colonialist, racist, sexist and exploitative.

Sounds familiar? But go back to the woman. Since I have started working in London (many decades now), I have known many colleagues who have lost their breasts after a mastectomy. And one thing was common on every piece of advice and gossip and reading and research and talking about it, that it is not the loss of the breast(s) or the surgery itself that hurts the most, it is the fear that they will no longer be attractive.

And spare me the gumpf about how sexist it is. Everybody likes to look good and feel appreciated, nothing wrong in that. While I am not so sure about the fact that the contestants have to compete to get prosthetic limbs (give it to them, that's what a public health service is all about), but generally, the idea of a disabled beauty pageant is not bad at all. And I am not even touching the topic of landmines at all (but promise to do so later on).

Still, here are women, who due to no fault of their own, no longer have all their limbs. Still for a wrong purpose, they are going to show off their beauty, something like this. Beautiful girls, the fact that they are in a wheelchair is incidental. They still look beautiful and attractive.

I am going to get slated for this, but hey, here goes nothing. Here are some photographs of women who I would find attractive.

Both have a lovely smiles, twinkling eyes and that shows a very attractive persona.

How about this debate about the disabled pregnant woman statue in London's Trafalgar Square?

The statue on the left is said to be the personification of Venus de Milo in the Louvre. So if you can admire the right hand side, can't you admire the left hand side? Once you have seen that, read the story about the real life woman behind the statue.

Now see this real life photograph of a disabled naked woman which resembles the two statues above. Attractive? Beautiful? Wonderful? Sexy? Adorable? Lovely? Cuddly? All these and more. Nothing wrong with it at all.

Would I wolf whistle at these beauty pageant contestants shown below? Yes, Sir, I sure would.

Below is a photograph of a lady who won one of these pageants. You go girl, and she is damn attractive. She is beautiful and wonderful, and the loss of a limb does not take anything away from her. Her eyes display a determination and a love of life seldom found these days.

And there is a swimsuit competition as well as. And yes, I am sexist in saying that I find these women attractive too. So yes, I do love these pageants. I find these women attractive, and yes, even if they are disabled (and no, I do not suffer from apotemnophilia), they are beautiful because beauty is not just the presence or absence of some limbs but is in the eye of the beholder.

Holi - Not My Kind Of Festival

Deepti Lamba — Sat, 22 Mar 2008 03:35:02 EDT

I am all for people having a ball on Holi but don't be offended if you find me lying through my teeth about not being home if you want to come over and play with chemical colours and cold water.

My memories of this festival are mixed. It was fun to drop water balloons at strangers, play with the water pistols but I dreaded being dragged to the neighbor's home where they played rough.

Despite all my loud protests, buckets full of cold coloured water was thrown over me, having permanent gullal and paint rubbed all over my face and body in the name of fun.

My worst memory is of being eight years old and being dragged by my upper arms as I lay on the floor to the area where buckets of smelly water were being filled. Fear coursed through my veins and I screamed but that a-hole of an uncle laughed and proceeded to roughly colour me up, drench me and then forcefully squish balloons against me.

Once he was done with me and had me in tears, he went looking for another human being who barely reached his waist. I saw my friends meet the same fate and I continue to hate that dude even today.

I never thought of telling my parents about it - none of us did. We saw ladies being grabbed, even grannies got that manic look in their eyes. It was as if the world had gone mad and there was no safe place to hide from.

Thankfully, we played within homes, goons had taken to the streets, some stoned with bhang and others just drunk.

But it wasn't as if we needed to be protected from strangers but from people we had known since we were tots. People who became completely sane by lunch time but before that enjoyed festive hooliganism.

By the time we became teenagers we became adamant about us three sisters not wanting to play but the neighbours thought it was their god given right to come and badger us while my sisters and I hid in the bathrooms.

The conversations generally went like this-

Come out and play!!

I hate holi!!

Come out!!

No way! I don't like the way it is played!

What do you mean? Its always been played this way.

No Aunty!! I am not coming out of the bathroom.

Accha beta! Just a little Gullal for Sagan

That's when one gave in. Respect and obedience towards the adults always took precedence over self preservation.

We'd open the door and were grabbed and the same shit would begin again.

Grabbing, dragging, pushing, smelly colours till one fine day I told my parents this wasn't my idea of fun, it was abuse and an invasion of personal space.

There was a big discussion in our house that Holi evening. My parents and grandparents conceded that people became wild while having fun during Holi but that was why we were always protected, we played with those who loved us.

Nothing untoward really happened.

It took us a while to make them realize that this wasn't a civilized way of playing Holi.

We didn't mind a little gullal but the violence had to stop.

People had horrid stories to tell about this festival. Some even boasted that they had bhang, saw their friends become stupid, who roughed who up, how many days it took to get the paint off their skin, the rashes, the bruises, the capillaries being burst and taking eye medicines and all I thought was - Stupidos!!

People back in my neighbourhood continue to play Holi the way they did back then. My sister today hid in the bathroom as usual, my mom was respectfully called over and then blackmailed that her house would be made dirty if she didn't come and play.

She wasn't roughened up, a little gullal was put on her- she is an 'elderly lady' after all but the young crowd played rough with each other and their kids. They continue to bond via congenial violence

I shivered as she told me over the phone. I remembered that next door uncle, the smell of nasty color and told her I was glad I wasn't in Delhi during Holi.

Religious Convergence on March 21st

Amrita Rajan — Fri, 21 Mar 2008 04:54:50 EDT

It's Friday, the 21st of March - a day that marks the Parsi New Year, the birthday (and death anniversary) of Prophet Mohammad, the commemoration of a significant event in the life of Gautama Buddha, the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, a Hindu spring festival, and the deliverance of the Jewish people from annihilation. It's a once in a lifetime occurrence when "half the world's population is going to be celebrating something":

Ed Reingold and Nachum Dershowitz, co-authors of the books Calendrical Calculations and Calendrical Tabulations, determined how often in the period between 1600 and 2400 A.D. Good Friday, Purim, Narouz and the Eid would occur in the same week. The answer is nine times in 800 years. Then they tackled the odds that they would converge on a two-day period. And the total is ... only once: tomorrow. And that's not even counting Magha Puja and Small Holi.

At a time when religion increasingly makes the news for all the wrong reasons, here's a happy coincidence (or not, if you believe that the universe does everything for a reason) for everyone to celebrate. Here's what's going on in your neighbor's house today:

Navroze - Celebrated by Zoroastrians, Baha'is, Iranians and Central Asians, Navroze or Norouze is the Persian New Year that marks the Spring Equinox. Although it dates back to pre-Islamic times, it has great significance for Sufis and present day Iran. Interestingly, the origin of the festival has an etymological connection with Hinduism. And if you're like me and the world revolves around your stomach, then this is a good time to check out Parsi cuisine.

Eid Milad an-Nabi - Strictly speaking, this fell on March 20th of this year (Christianity's Maundy Thursday). Although certain sections of Islam consider its practice forbidden, its roots go back to eighth century Mecca. Today it is a major event in North Africa and South Asia among other places. Traditionally, it is a day of charity and meditation on the life and meaning of the Prophet.

Magha Puja - A public holiday in Thailand, this day marks the spontaneous gathering, on the night of a full moon in the month of Magha, of 1250 monks personally ordained by the Buddha. The Buddha also delivered a sermon on peace and what it means to be a monk.

Good Friday - Observed the world over, the day marks the crucifixion of Jesus Christ on charges of blasphemy. For many Christians, this is a day of fasting; the severity of the fast differs between sects and ages. Believers typically attend an assortment of services through the day.

Holi - Although Holi proper falls on Saturday, its eve is also a cause for celebration. According to Hindu mythology, this is a day connected to Vishnu's Narasimha avatar: his devotee, the boy Prahlad, was saved from being burnt alive. Celebrated in different parts of India as a spring festival, the night before Holi is marked by bonfires lit to signify the death of Prahlad;s aunt, the rakshasi Holika. Its celebration in North India is accompanied by the unique practice of serving celebrants bhang.

Purim - Based on events recorded in the Book of Esther, Purim is a day that marks a lucky escape of the Jewish people from a sinister plot hatched at the court of Xerxes, Emperor of Persia. Like Holi, this is a day of joyous celebration and it's a state of everything goes: food, drink and merriment.

Even if you don't belong to one of these religions, it's a good way to participate in other people's culture.

Kambala: Racing Buffaloes, The Slushy Way

Suruchi — Mon, 10 Mar 2008 08:33:29 EDT

The rhythmic beat of drums and trumpets reverberates in the air. The area from where the sound emanates is jam-packed and I can barely see the goings on from my position. Camera in hand, I make way through the all men crowd dexterously, swinging my head to the intoxicating music.

I find myself inside a unique arena (I had been expecting a marshy field all along); two tracks dug up and filled with slush run parallel to each other for about 450 ft. with the spectators’ stands adjacent to the two tracks with a well defined boundary to keep the spectators in check. The chaotic scenes that I had been imagining in my mind all the while are put to rest; Koti Chennaya Kambala organized at Puttur is a highly professional affair.

And this entire hullabaloo is for the buffaloes; paired with the help of a yoke they are lined up with their owners ready to enter the arena. Fresh after a pooja and a wash at the temple nearby, their black skin gleams in the blazing sun, they are decorated with fancy ropes, mirrors and some of them even sport amulets. The men are well sculpted; having a six-pack is no big deal here. Most of them are bare chested wearing just a modest lungi.

A man wearing a red turban and a matching lungi checks the buffaloes’ teeth with the air of a specialist. Checking for bad breadth? No. I later come to know that buffaloes are partitioned into different groups (small, medium and big I guess) according to the number of their fallen teeth. Ingenious, I must say!

An organizer is very happy to see my friends and me, mistaking us for reporters as all of us are sporting cameras. When we inform him that we are just hobbyists he sportingly gives us the scarves which the volunteers are wearing. “Go close and shoot” he tells us in Kanadda and that’s exactly what we do, we have an up, close and personal encounter with the buffaloes of Puttur.

We position ourselves at the starting line. An enclosure is made for the buffaloes waiting in line for their turn; it is difficult to control some of them who are raring to be free and have a go at the slushy track. The main race will only start in the afternoon now is the time for the first timers to show their skills.

The first buffalo pair looks every bit menacing their muscles taut, quivering with excitement and their noses flaring. Agitated by the incessant whipping and war cries of the lone man (Saarthi) behind them, they rush past us at maddening speed leaving a trail of water flying behind.

“Splash, Splash, Splash!”

All this happens so fast that I fail to retract my camera in time and so it gets a generous helping of the mucky water. A fitting start to a day that is going to be action packed. No serious damage done though, thankfully. After a few runs I am taking pictures with the ease of a photographer seasoned for kambala.

Some of the buffaloes cover the length of the track in a mere 10-15 seconds. I realize that running in water keeping pace with galloping buffaloes is no mean feat. Many a men fall in the slush, face down, unable to keep up with their more sturdy counterparts. But some men make it look really easy and I secretly wish to run in the slush; the muddy water does look tempting in this scorching sun. Maybe I’ll do this in Kadri Kambala sometime where there are races for women and children too sans the buffaloes.

The area around the arena dons a festive look; bhel and pani puri the ubiquitous Indian street food are present here too, “Pepsi Coca cola” a stereo announces running in a loop continuously, the pao-pao of the candy-floss (Oh! How I used to long for “Buddhi ki baal” as a kid!) Man’s cart adds to the din. We settle for a glass of sugarcane juice that as always is surprisingly refreshing.

Muthappa Rai looks down on us from huge posters, sporting a French beard and talking on a mobile phone. I find him good-looking quite contrary to the appearance I had expected when I had heard that he was a underworld don turned social worker. He hails from Puttur and is the organizer of the Koti Chennaya Kambala this year, which I later come to know, is the largest Kambala in Karnataka drawing a crowd of around a lakh people.

We now stand close to the finishing line that slants upwards; a simple braking mechanism to stop the buffaloes running at break neck speed. But still some of them crash straight into the crowd standing at the finishing line; some men rush with whips to control them and no harm is done.

As photography in the scorching sun is a tiring job, hunger pangs start making themselves felt in no time. There is some time for the main event to start, so we head towards a friend’s cousin’s place for lunch. I simply love the way these traditional homes are built, they are so inviting and cozy, and make you feel right at home. All characteristics of an ideal home I feel. The lunch is traditional Tulu fair and is yummylicious. Revitalized, after the lunch and a little rest we revisit the arena.

The bands are playing elaborately; the main event has started. The buffaloes are burlier now; they run even faster and splash more water in the process. I want to get some head-straight shots of the buffaloes so we join the freelance photographer with his bazooka like lens, who is already standing at the finishing line.

This is as adventurous as it gets! I point my camera on the buffaloes till I feel they are at a safe distance and then scamper inside the crowd for protection. The men look at me amused and sometimes I have the eerie feeling that the buffaloes too are eyeing me curiously, but then it is just a feeling. None of the buffaloes crash on us but we do have some close shaves.

As the evening matures it becomes even more cool and pleasant; the floodlights cast obscure reflections on the track. The dignitaries have started to arrive and the speeches on the stage run parallel to the commentary in the arena. Now comes the part for which I had been waiting for all through.

Kambala is not just about completing the stretch of the track in the least time, that is one aspect of the race. There is another unusual aspect too. In the middle of the track some markers are placed at the height of 6.5 and 7.5 feet respectively. The idea is that the splashing water should rise to this height. And for this the Saarthi has to stand on a plank attached to the buffaloes.

As the first pair with the Saarthi on the plank arrives it is a most bizarre sight. The blurred outline of a man is visible through the diaphanous film of water rising all around the buffaloes. The man himself seems to be hanging on to nothing but air and when they approach the middle of the track, where the markers are placed, the water astonishingly rises to great heights and manages to touch the 6.5 ft mark. I feel that the man has fallen into water by now but as the pair approaches the finishing line I am shocked to see that he is still there hanging on to the buffaloes.

Many buffaloes thus pass by, but none touch the 7.5 ft mark. But there is enough time; the competition will go on through the night ending only on Monday evening. And that reminds me that I have to be in office tomorrow. The night seems promising, Yakshagana is also supposed to happen and I’ve been wanting to watch one for quite sometime.

Loath that I am to leave I wonder at the juxtaposition of the two different lives I seem to live on the weekdays and weekends. I’ve been really lucky to have watched Kambala; the one in Puttur is amongst the last to happen during the Kambala season, which starts from Dec. and goes on till March. Information about the Kambala schedule is hard to get by on the internet, but I promise myself to come back for the Kambala next year, if not Puttur some other location. After Jallikattu and Kambala I want my tryst with rural sports to continue.

The Demise of the Joker - India's Vanishing Circus

Shantanu Dutta — Wed, 20 Feb 2008 02:00:22 EST

India's first ever amusement park, 'Appu Ghar', set up shortly after the 1982 Asian Games operated for the last day on February 17, the last day of its operation. Set up almost on the lines of Disney Land and a brain child of Prime Minister Indira Gandhi, 'Appu Ghar' closed down in compliance with the orders of the Supreme Court after more than 23 years of its existence to make way for the Delhi Metro and the Supreme Court Library.

There is of course a time for every thing- a time to flourish and a time to fade away and that is what has happened to Appu Ghar. It served the purpose of entertaining a generation and now has gone. But Appu Ghar is not the only institution that is on its way into history. Another institution that is on a life line and appears jaded when seen at all is the institution of the circus – The 130-year-old Indian circus industry, once the favorite form of entertainment with family and friends, is struggling to survive. In 2002, the Indian Circus Federation had 22 members; today, it has only 14.

Circuses in India are hemmed in from every side. They have earned the wrath of animal rights activists. The former Union Minister of Social Justice and Empowerment, Maneka Gandhi, banned the use of bears, monkeys, tigers, lions and panthers in circuses in October 1998 effectively putting circuses in coma. Most of small town India looked forward to circuses as their only means of having some glimpse of wild life as only the bigger cities and towns have zoos. It of course open to debate as to how cruelly the animals were or are treated in circuses, keeping in perspective that In India, circus performers themselves remain stigmatized, a far cry from several western countries where it is often an acceptable, respectable choice for a youngster to make, and where schools for wannabe circus artistes, scholarship programmes, and even websites with 'jobs available' and 'the latest in juggling' posted on them flourish.

Indian circuses have been accused of using children in their acts and using child labor and this is a catch 22 situation. Poor revenues often mean that good wages cannot be paid even if one wants to and besides when there is a steady stream of children waiting in the wings to learn and earn perform in hazardous acrobatic tricks, there is little incentive to do so. “Children, especially girls form the bulk of the performing artists in the circuses, as they are the main crowd attractions. A majority of artists in Indian Circuses are Nepalese girls who have been trafficked from the interior areas of Nepal under the guile of a great life at a very young age”

Then there are environmental hazards, particularly fire. Over crowded circus tents with cramped seating and few exits can only mean one thing – that a catastrophe is just round the corner way back in the Nineties , a fire swept the main tent of the Venus Circus in Bangalore sending it crashing down in flames onto a crowd of about 4,000 people and killing more than 60 people. Although no major tragedy has been reported since, condition in circus tents haven’t got much better as any one who has visited one in recent times can testify.

So embedded is the circus in the Indian memory, that when a circus came to town in Bangalore after a long interval , the staid and stiff upper lip newspaper “Hindu” announced its entry with undisguised pleasure. “After six years, Jumbo Circus is back in Bangalore to entertain people during the year end. The show is on at the Palace Grounds, opposite TV Tower, since December 15.” As the circus as a form of entertainment hurls towards what looks like certain extinction, it could be the last time, one will come across such an announcement.