I am no fan of festivals, they always stress me out. There are things that need to do be done, like everyone does, and you sense judgement in the eyes of others in how well you’re doing them.
You start with washing your vehicles, and then learn that there is a specific set of ways to do that. For starters, “I don’t let anyone touch my car!” – Your car is a part of you. A scratch from another vehicle will set your blood boiling. Someone honking at you for driving slowly while talking on the phone will be taken personally. You don’t just own a car. Your car also owns you.
There are thus specific ways to wash a car. You don’t use water directly – you shampoo, you wax, you vacuum it. It’s a labour of love, not undertaken in a hurry or without a detailed plan. You plan and block time for it.
It’s been a few years since I gave up worrying about scratches. It’s also been a few years since I tried washing the car on my own. It’s easier to pay someone to do it, or just let the rains wash it. Clean the insides and be happy about it. The trouble used to start with step 1: Take a clean cloth. No matter how much I tried I couldn’t find a clean cloth. That needs maintenance and planning. Like cleaning up last time’s clean cloth before next use.
You use the cloth you can get your hands on, and wash it with water. After a while, it dries up and looks like you wiped the whole thing with a…. dirty cloth. It even shows the directions in which you moved your cloth. You can take an old newspaper and wipe the windshields to avoid this effect. It seemed like a perfectly good idea, and worked too. Then I got frowned at by folks for suggesting that aloud. I miss the good old days of the US and automated car washes. And powerful vacuum cleaners to pull everything out.
This year things got more complicated. The road surface was pulled out and there’s only cement powder and small stones piled up awaiting tar. This has meant that no matter how much you clean, in a while you’ll have a fine layer of cement on pretty much everything! And on top of that, it rained. And the BWSSB pipe below sprung a leak, and they fixed it, and closed it with wet mud all over, and then the leak sprung again from it. It’s been a perfect storm.
I finally decided to use a hose pipe. But how do you make the tap end of a hose pipe stick and not leak? You use a screwing device. Except that that can make a cut in the rubber of the holding part. After making my father sit and hold the pipe to the tap tightly, the pipe sprung a leak because of the pressure! Bring in another pipe. After much watery misadventures the job was finally accomplished. Easier to hose it down than rub it down. A lot of people seem to solve this by getting their new cars delivered for the festival. After all, it rains “easy EMIs, unlimited offers and assured gifts” during this time.
And this turned out to be the least of my worries. Festivals are also the time folks call each other and wish. And with some relatives it becomes a case of “Look what we did!”. One aunt going as far as “We had a grand function! I danced, my daughter-in-law danced! There was so much joy!” And my poor mother who believes every bullshit said to her kept commenting that their family is so happy, why can’t we be that way. It all ends up with looks directed at me. “If only you had… ” Well, if only everybody came with their bull shit meters properly calibrated.
And then of course, these are festive days, you are supposed to make sweets at home, even if people at home are diabetic. Just go give it to some neighbour or relative, no? Never mind if they also are diabetic, and you know that perfectly well. “Oh we just made it for Neivedhyam, but I am diabetic and can’t eat it, you know that.” The idea is this: If you’re diabetic, you don’t eat it, but you try to get those who are not into your camp. The more the merrier! Eventually every home’s sweets and payasams end up with the domestic helps. Definitely not betting on them eating everything.
And then comes the part about “long weekends”. “What are you doing for the long weekend?” “Ermm… nothing?”. Look of judgement. And from someone who isn’t going anywhere either. Apparently, you need to be hep and happening and do stuff for long weekends. And doing stuff is about trying to make bookings in places that are already heavily booked at 150% the usual price. Then sit in silk board-like traffic as it crawls on Mysore Road, or sit 45 mins in each of the never ending toll booths hoping and praying no asshole cuts the queue in front of you. Then you reach the place you booked to see it full with stressed out parents and their restless bawling kids who can’t for the life of them understand why they’ve been cut off from their iPads and TVs. It’s also the fag end of Monsoons, so you might have enough rain to keep you indoors – cue restless kids and on-the-edge parents all around you. Drive back, sit through toll booths, fight with forest guards for not letting your entitled arse through a forest at odd times. Go back to work and gloat about your ‘vacation’. Thanks, but no thanks. I have vacation days that I can use for this while most of the world is working.
This is also one of the reasons tourism is considered a cancer – people traveling en masse during specific days and descending on places that can’t support so much capacity.
I have never understood the craze for people to have to travel and be somewhere on long weekends. Yes, that’s the only time you get school holidays and all that. But honestly, an 8yo kid can afford to miss a day or two of school during normal days, no? The only good that it has done is that it has made an otherwise gridlocked city a paradise to be in. This is the time you get around, visit friends, relatives or shop.
But yes, the only time I really feel like getting out is during the next festival – Deepavali. That’s a whole new level of madness by itself! Oh dear God, only weeks left for that. Sigh.