The nostalgia of Dusshera
- Ambling indian
- Oct 3
- 3 min read
Updated: Oct 3
And the day of Dusshera arrived. With much pomp and fanfare, ushered in by the nine days of Navratri ( nine nights ) of prayer and festivities, and the tenth day, the grand finale. And this year, was not much different from the last many years, when the only pomp and fanfare I saw was through many watsapp messages saying “ Happy Dusshera”. Well, that greeting in itself, didn’t say much, but it signified a lot . Also known as Vijaya Dashami ( the 10th day of victory), it signified the victory of good over evil, the victory of Lord Rama over Ravana. The end of a long chapter in the Ramayana, with the struggle of lord Ram to rescue his abducted wife , Sita, after a long and ardous journey from Ayodhya to Lanka where Sita was held captive by Ravana.
That thought of VijayaDashami, takes me back in time to the days in India when Dusshera was celebrated with much pomp and fanfare, for the massive effigies of Ravana , the ten headed king, took weeks to stand up, stark in contrast to a huge playground , also called the maidans, which were so ubiquitous. I mean,every locality had at least one, a barren piece of field or land, surrounded by trees or buildings, which was the epicentre of the area, perhaps the village to start with. Where the senior citizens took their morning walks, ambling and chatting along, followed by young kids who quickly grabbed up the spaces for their innovative games ( gulli danda, lagori, and later , copying the westerners , cricket). And also guarded in a way by the street dogs, who , no doubt enjoyed their siestas in an uninterrupted way, being away from the bustling crowds and the jammed roads. For it was the peaceful maidan that was the kind of personification of the old India, where everything moved slowly, languorously, in a kind of a grandiose manner, not bothered by the hurried existence that typifies the modern age. Over the years though, the maidans started vanishing, giving way to multistorey complexes, even in the smaller towns which stood out as the last bastions of the older times.
This time , for some reason, Dusshera brought back vivid memories of nostalgic trips to neighbours , for gifting sweets and Sona ( leaves of a plant), pandal hopping, the excitement of newly stitched clothes ( which happened mostly on festive occassions), partaking in delicious treats along with beautiful displays of small doll scenes on homemade steps ( the kolu), lovingly collected over the years, a feast to the eyes.
Back to Dusshera of yore, when anticipation peaked in fervour, and the night was lit up with crackers and firework rockets launched to hit the demon effigy of Ravana , ultimately see it ignite and burn to ash. With the resounding claps of an eager audience, wishing and praying for the same joy to come into life, with good winning over evil. And this time I celebrated with yet another wish, that somehow, sometime, those languorous days and displays in the maidans and sweet trips to the neighbours would return, at least for the special day of Dusshera, for some momentary reprieve from the world of watsapp wishes that everything seems to have morphed into.
Wish you a very happy Dusshera in real life too,
Regards ,
Aina Rao
The amblingindian.
Quirky reads on India and life by the amblingindian, a new common woman of India, who celebrates, discovers and enjoys India as she writes about it .
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