SPECIALS
INTERVIEWS
CAPITAL BUZZ
REDIFF POLL
DEAR REDIFF
THE STATES
YEH HAI INDIA
ARCHIVES

Mubarak of lost years

AIDMK leader Jayalalitha Jayaram demands official status for 19 Indian languages. I am not surprised. After all, this is a country where almost each state has its own different new year. This morning our neighbours brought us some sweets. It was the Maharashtrian new year, Gudi Padva.

In the years to come, January 1 will lose much of its significance. I remember the days when it was 'the' new year. It was declared a public holiday and celebrated grandly. Today, it sneaks in and then sneaks out, without many people being aware of its arrival or departure. But the regional new year celebrations had assumed great significance.

Gudi Padva is followed by Baisakhi. Then comes Vishu which is celebrated in Tamil Nadu and Kerala. The Assamese or Oriyan new year comes after Vishu. The Gujarati new year follows Diwali. Oh, it is quite difficult to keep track of our different new years. Perhaps that is why in its innate wisdom, the government had declared all the new year days as holidays.

Despite living in Bombay for the past 21 years, we had not got around celebrating Gudi Padva. The sweets and eatables from Maharashtrian neighbours provide a welcome diversion from the normal diet at home but it was nothing more to us. Sometimes I regret our indifference to these new year celebrations. That was because our family in the past celebrated Vishu with zest.

The only unpleasant aspect of Vishu was that we were forced to get up early, walk straight to the puja room and then open our eyes in front of the mirror. This was to be done even before brushing our teeth, washing our faces and fortifying our system with some coffee. I do not know why we followed this system of watching the unwashed, unshaven faces in the mirror. This was named Vishu Kani and was followed with the distribution of coins from the elders. We never handled money in our boyhood and this annual bonanza was most welcome. A sumptuous saddhi (feast) completed the Vishu day. It did not amount to much, perhaps one or two rupees, but even that could fetch a lot of sweets and eatables in those days.

Vishu Kani is now a distant memory. But more recent are the saal mubarak recollections from Gujarat. The new year followed Diwali and was part of the five-day holiday package with Bhaibeej coming soon after. The Gujarati new year, I guess, had no religious significance. It was more of a social event. For those in business and trade, it was an occasion to start new accounts and hope to come off better than the income tax officials.

Having spent 19 years in Gujarat, I am a sort of an expert on the state's new year day. Basically, it is a simple affair. All one had to do was to remember the two words, saal mubarak (new year greetings). The routine was equally simple. We got up early, bathed, dressed in new clothes and prepared ourselves for the saal mubarak onslaught. Housewives kept ready plates full of sweets which were always prepared on the saal mubarak day.

Friends, neighbours and colleagues would begin to drop in from morning onwards. We shook hands or embraced them, uttered the magic words, saal mubarak, and led them to the tables laden with eatables. They nibbled on these and then left. The same routine was repeated when we visited the homes of the neigbours, friends and colleagues. Saal mubarak, handshakes or embraces and sampling the traditional sweets. During my early days in Ahmedabad, I lived with my sister and her husband inside the Calico Mills flats. The schedule was so tight that as soon as some of the neighbours finished their saal mubarak routine with us, we had to go to their places immediately to repeat the routine.

The saal mubarak season continued for nearly 10 to 15 days. All offices and factories remained closed for four to five days. Finally, when they reopened. It was saal mubarak time at the offices. One was so much exposed to the same variety of sweets during this period that one recoiled from them. The affluent Gujaratis distributed dry fruits to their guests and I made it a point not to miss out on these. After all, badam, pista and kajoo were not to be had at my monthly salary of Rs 140. I knew which of my friends and neighbours offered dry fruits on saal mubarak day and managed to visit them without ran.

The day had other attractions. We could meet attractive neighbourhood girls, twice in quick succession. First, when they dropped in at our home, and second when we returned their visits! I always made it a point to check and find out if the goodlooking neigbouring girls were at home to receive me. If they had gone out on visits, I waited for their return before dropping in. Patience and strategy always won!

Compared to all that, Gudi Padva and Vishu were more impersonal. Of course, after settling down in Bombay, my saal mubarak visits were also curtailed. We have very few Gujarati families in the neighbourhood. But the days in Ahmedabad where one had the opportunity of exchanging meaningful glances with the fairest of the fair sex will remain long in my memory.

V Gangadhar