Published article

God of all things.



By Pradeep Narahar Gawande

My father was rational. Having lost my mother when I was two and half years, religion, ritual and idols of God did not exist in my home. Yet, strangely enough, the fear of God and the sin syndrome I have possessed since early childhood. Being part of socio-political movement, the so called rational friends have always damned my fear of God as a repercussion of agricultural background.

My wife came from terribly traditional and horribly vegetarian Varkari background. I accepted all rituals, primarily on their aesthetic merit and even more for their extremely romantic nature. My son caught fancy of two things, Lord, Ganesha, by the instinct of living by the Jones, and Sants Clause as part of his convent conditioning. I can't say it for certain if both the harbingers of joy and rewards Shree and Santa, were to contest election whom would he vote for. Thus the pretty lord made it into my home. Wife and child, two on one side made a majority and I accepted it as a law. It is some four years now that the pretty Lord is our sitting guest and we are playing hosts.

I pray to your lordship for you are too good; you are too tolerant. You tolerate anything. The Indian scientists were restless. They wanted to strike a lighting on sunny afternoon on the global horizon with their new dimension to surface, tension. They held you hostage and made you lick gallons of filthy milk. But the world was more impressed by your tolerance than Indian technological advancement. You can tolerate the din of the tin drums called dhol thase, the loud speakers where wattage and amplification enjoy the real voice. You can tolerate various moulds and shapes given to you

for the sake of the artistic freedom of expression and for height of imagination, mockery and caricature. You alone can face the orchestras and it's cocktail of pop, rock, jazz and folk music without making wry face or turning up your trunk. You can tolerate the unholy smell of bitter beverages. Noise pollution is not a word to be found in your dictionary.

I propose a vote of thanks on behalf of the whole community of believers for your tolerance. After all 'sahishnuta' is our cultural hallmark. Pretty Lord, your arrival breathes into children pounds of enthusiasm. Their energy levels too are a record high. What calories do you feed them?

In my colony, I encounter the early morning flower gatherers. They are simply robbers, by the dawn you wont find any flowers on the plant. Lord you only are responsible for the syndrome of dance culture in Maharashtra, no one else should claim the credit. Lord Krishna made only the Gopikas to dance with his flute tunes but you are altogether different music director having no gender bias and plus the grammarless notes. Your weakness for the 'hariyali' speaks volumes for your grass root level network. The mandal stages are the forum for anything under the sun that can be termed as performing art.

I can't disappoint my colony mandal youths for their expectations of a three figure sum. I don't give them any lectures. At home rituals, needless to mention are wife and child's labour of love.

Pretty Lord, after ten days you are gone, wife and child are missing you. I miss the sweets and early morning flower gatherers, pretty Lord you are indeed, God of all things.( published in The Hitavada, Nagpur Dt Sept 13, 2001.)