This incident occurred on a Sunday sometime in early September
Location: New Bombay. I dont mean a new wave, like a bunch of artists (1890 types) or thinkers and such, though some of us must be, but just geographically new. This settlement began sometime in the 80s. Trains were infrequent. I have personally used Nerul station as my skate park.
But thats not what we are discussing here. I recently received an invite to a Havan. I assumed that since this was a Sunday, normal order of things would prevail. Havan-Brunch-Mocktails, and then sumdi mein some hard drinks would follow. (B.G track: All my friends are heathens dont you know..) Though this particular havan was being held for the wellbeing of a decade old friend of mine, and by decade old I mean not her, but our friendship. Though normally, people attend Havans so that some blessings may get deflected on to them.
Thats not the point. I decided to go for a 5am havan, for whatever reasons, on Sunday. I was greeted by the snores of the watchman, with his feet sticking out of the enquiry window, where I've never enquired about anything.
So this was at 5am because they reserved this pandit at the last moment, and being as the world is, full of sinners and always in need of more prosperity, this was the only time he could squeeze this havan in. And a pandit has a busier schedule than a scheduler can handle. He's got the solar calendar, the lunar calendar, birthdays, events, deaths, celebrations which rarely have reminders on fb. Being a man of god is a full time job.
Anyways, when I reached, 15 minutes late, still the first amongst friends, the setup was still going on. The container for the firewood, the ghee and other things. He soon began and I gathered that he operated under a heavy smoke cover. We luckily dont have smoke alarms unless someone raises one, because they just dont conform with the Indian Way.
As you can sense from my description, I'm not a very religious person, though I've had my fair share of conversations with god, just seemed like the thing to do when your only activity is counting the drip drip till 4am. My friend Maulik arrived, though I could only tell he was in the room by his coughing. I could tell it was him coughing because again, we were decade old friends. So he followed my voice and we found eachother when his hand hit my nose. Aunty, my friend's mother, soon realised when she saw us weeping from our E.N.Ts, that we wouldnt survive this smokey Havan and then who would do the Swahaas in the end (my fav. part, but more on that later), she bundled us in a semi-smoked room, and asked us to stay put, no questions asked.
Now this room, as the smoke slowly cleared, was a bedroom. Both me and maulik put up our feet and rested in a position that gaffers and lightmen are familiar with by the third straight day of a night shoot. For the uninitiated, its a state of conscious between deep dreaming and extreme alertness, where before actually waking up, you have confirmed your presence in body, mind and soul and utter "Yes Sir!" before the shutters of the eyes have opened. This same state by the 4th straight night shoot takes a more lackadaisical response of "Ab kya hua.../Kaun hai bey../MMmmmm..".
I was soon in this state, peacefully,mind you, because I could belt out the gayatri mantra in my sleep (thanks mom/boarding school). Maulik was even more audacious with his Newtonian state of rest, snoring away. This was because he had mastered the clapping rhythm played at Ganpati Mandals, something the drummer from Rush struggled to master (from an unnamed source).
Aunty now peeked in to enquire about our health. I requested her to call me for the Sawahas, something I consider a mastery of mine. There's a maths/physics here that people fail to grasp. I'll lay it out for you.
You must release the rice/flower/ityaadi you hold in your hand by the time you finish the SWA part and begin the HAaa. Its breathing technique is similar to when you're (not me) doing the bench press. The rice/flower/ityaadi must fly through the air like poetry in motion, sometimes, on good days, aquiring a hangtime similar to Jordan's (apna basketballer rey). It flies in this perfect parabola and lands in the centre of the flames. Like a Swish (BB), and mind you, there are no rebounds in havan (PUN unINTENDED!). I have this image of the petals/rice/ityaadi meeting the licking flames and going bhasam, only the ash hitting the bottom of the fire pit, just concluding "Haaaa.."
I dont know how long we were confined in this room, but as smoke was still leaking from below the door, I guessed it was still on. And anyways, they'd come looking for survivors soon. I decided to initiate Antakshari, though, blasphemously, skipping the verbal roulette, that goes like "Baithe Baithe kya karen" Though sometimes its not so much a roulette, for some veterans know where and who will be "..prabhu ka naam". I've even witnessed "Na-aaa-M" being stretched out for vendetta purposes.
So I began with "Kabhi Kabhi mere dil mein.." (something to do with the smoke,the samaa was smokey, smokey) and stopped at "...Me-eere liye-ee". It was Maulik's turn to sing with Y, not Ae, as many amateurs would insist. Maulik refused to participate because he was sleeping, so Yamma Yamma just played really loudly in my head. I refused to sing it out loud because it didnt fit the scenario we were in, and even otherwise, it rarely fits into the school bus trips it is usually sung in. (Ok, I played this really long back!. Im sure there are new songs with Y begging to be sung but logon ko Pokemon Go se time miley to na).
Right then Aunty entered the room and informed us that it was time. Though to me it sounded like Bruce Buffer (Stage name for sure) announcing before a UFC bout, IITTSSS TTAAAAAIIIIMMMEE (the more kharaashy, the better).
The Swahaas were exactly as I had envisioned, despite cross winds. Brunch consisting of dosas- sheeras and filter coffee was consumed and usual life resumed.
P.S: None of my friends are heathens. This is not up for debate.
Here's what I imagine the Pandit looked like post havan:
Location: New Bombay. I dont mean a new wave, like a bunch of artists (1890 types) or thinkers and such, though some of us must be, but just geographically new. This settlement began sometime in the 80s. Trains were infrequent. I have personally used Nerul station as my skate park.
But thats not what we are discussing here. I recently received an invite to a Havan. I assumed that since this was a Sunday, normal order of things would prevail. Havan-Brunch-Mocktails, and then sumdi mein some hard drinks would follow. (B.G track: All my friends are heathens dont you know..) Though this particular havan was being held for the wellbeing of a decade old friend of mine, and by decade old I mean not her, but our friendship. Though normally, people attend Havans so that some blessings may get deflected on to them.
Thats not the point. I decided to go for a 5am havan, for whatever reasons, on Sunday. I was greeted by the snores of the watchman, with his feet sticking out of the enquiry window, where I've never enquired about anything.
So this was at 5am because they reserved this pandit at the last moment, and being as the world is, full of sinners and always in need of more prosperity, this was the only time he could squeeze this havan in. And a pandit has a busier schedule than a scheduler can handle. He's got the solar calendar, the lunar calendar, birthdays, events, deaths, celebrations which rarely have reminders on fb. Being a man of god is a full time job.
Anyways, when I reached, 15 minutes late, still the first amongst friends, the setup was still going on. The container for the firewood, the ghee and other things. He soon began and I gathered that he operated under a heavy smoke cover. We luckily dont have smoke alarms unless someone raises one, because they just dont conform with the Indian Way.
As you can sense from my description, I'm not a very religious person, though I've had my fair share of conversations with god, just seemed like the thing to do when your only activity is counting the drip drip till 4am. My friend Maulik arrived, though I could only tell he was in the room by his coughing. I could tell it was him coughing because again, we were decade old friends. So he followed my voice and we found eachother when his hand hit my nose. Aunty, my friend's mother, soon realised when she saw us weeping from our E.N.Ts, that we wouldnt survive this smokey Havan and then who would do the Swahaas in the end (my fav. part, but more on that later), she bundled us in a semi-smoked room, and asked us to stay put, no questions asked.
Now this room, as the smoke slowly cleared, was a bedroom. Both me and maulik put up our feet and rested in a position that gaffers and lightmen are familiar with by the third straight day of a night shoot. For the uninitiated, its a state of conscious between deep dreaming and extreme alertness, where before actually waking up, you have confirmed your presence in body, mind and soul and utter "Yes Sir!" before the shutters of the eyes have opened. This same state by the 4th straight night shoot takes a more lackadaisical response of "Ab kya hua.../Kaun hai bey../MMmmmm..".
I was soon in this state, peacefully,mind you, because I could belt out the gayatri mantra in my sleep (thanks mom/boarding school). Maulik was even more audacious with his Newtonian state of rest, snoring away. This was because he had mastered the clapping rhythm played at Ganpati Mandals, something the drummer from Rush struggled to master (from an unnamed source).
Aunty now peeked in to enquire about our health. I requested her to call me for the Sawahas, something I consider a mastery of mine. There's a maths/physics here that people fail to grasp. I'll lay it out for you.
You must release the rice/flower/ityaadi you hold in your hand by the time you finish the SWA part and begin the HAaa. Its breathing technique is similar to when you're (not me) doing the bench press. The rice/flower/ityaadi must fly through the air like poetry in motion, sometimes, on good days, aquiring a hangtime similar to Jordan's (apna basketballer rey). It flies in this perfect parabola and lands in the centre of the flames. Like a Swish (BB), and mind you, there are no rebounds in havan (PUN unINTENDED!). I have this image of the petals/rice/ityaadi meeting the licking flames and going bhasam, only the ash hitting the bottom of the fire pit, just concluding "Haaaa.."
I dont know how long we were confined in this room, but as smoke was still leaking from below the door, I guessed it was still on. And anyways, they'd come looking for survivors soon. I decided to initiate Antakshari, though, blasphemously, skipping the verbal roulette, that goes like "Baithe Baithe kya karen" Though sometimes its not so much a roulette, for some veterans know where and who will be "..prabhu ka naam". I've even witnessed "Na-aaa-M" being stretched out for vendetta purposes.
So I began with "Kabhi Kabhi mere dil mein.." (something to do with the smoke,the samaa was smokey, smokey) and stopped at "...Me-eere liye-ee". It was Maulik's turn to sing with Y, not Ae, as many amateurs would insist. Maulik refused to participate because he was sleeping, so Yamma Yamma just played really loudly in my head. I refused to sing it out loud because it didnt fit the scenario we were in, and even otherwise, it rarely fits into the school bus trips it is usually sung in. (Ok, I played this really long back!. Im sure there are new songs with Y begging to be sung but logon ko Pokemon Go se time miley to na).
Right then Aunty entered the room and informed us that it was time. Though to me it sounded like Bruce Buffer (Stage name for sure) announcing before a UFC bout, IITTSSS TTAAAAAIIIIMMMEE (the more kharaashy, the better).
The Swahaas were exactly as I had envisioned, despite cross winds. Brunch consisting of dosas- sheeras and filter coffee was consumed and usual life resumed.
P.S: None of my friends are heathens. This is not up for debate.
Here's what I imagine the Pandit looked like post havan:
Awesome! I enjoyed the Swaha HaHas.
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