Mental Excursions

Diwali- The Great Indian Purge Photo: incredibleindia.gov.in Just a little over a week left for Diwali, the annual extravaganza of lights, bright colours, shiny displays, feast, and fun.   A strict no-no to inauspicious garbage and dirt during the festival; obviously, these days we are busy cleaning our houses like a nation possessed, because Goddess Lakshmi, who grants the boon of wealth, apparently has very strict housekeeping standards and does not bless homes with even one cobweb or speck of dust. Westerners spring clean for comfort; we do Diwali cleaning for divine inspection, and back pain. What this national cardio entails is whitewashing, painting, scrubbing, cleaning every nook and corner, polishing furniture, washing curtains and bedspreads, and whatever else can stand detergent, water, chemicals, sponges, rags, brooms, and brushes, till the house shines brighter than newly-bought, winking Christmas lights. Old or worn-out utensils are replaced, for fear of offendin...

I Was Not Born for Couture Hamsa-Damayanti   (Swan-Damayanti), painting by Raja Ravi Varma (1899); Indian women have worn saris for centuries  I think it is time I publicly confessed that designer stuff is not for me. I don’t recognise it, I don’t appreciate it, and I certainly don’t have the refined sense required to gasp at its pedigree. Hand me a ‘signature piece’ and I’ll stare blankly, wondering if the designer’s name explains why it costs as much as a week-long holiday. On me, even luxury looks ordinary, as if I’ve downgraded it. Allow me to explain this embarrassing truth. This happened with a close friend, in fact she is like an older sister to me and I call her didi , (Didi is the respectful way to address an older/wiser woman). Mani and I had gone to visit them. Didi handed me a gift. Like a child on Christmas morning, I pulled a parcel from a large white bag with its brand name stamped in dull gold letters, one I’d never even heard of. One layer of fancy wrapp...