A few weeks later there was a Pooja was held in the house. A vibrant rangoli, a mandala of coloured powders, greets your bare feet like a whispered prayer. Its concentric circles unfurl like the cosmos itself, beckoning you into the heart of the Pooja.
Incense smoke snakes towards the heaven carrying whispers of sandlewood. It curls around the murtis, small clay deities bathed in soft orange glow of diyas. Lord Ganesha, the elephant headed remover of obstacles, smirks benevolent wisdom. Lakshmi, the goddess of prosperity, shimmer in silks and gold. Saraswati, the goddess of knowledge, cradles her veena, a melody, an echo in the still air.
Babli, draped in a saree that could blind a disco ball, bustles around like a one-woman pooja committee, barking orders at everyone within a 10 kilometer radius.
Then there are the Auntie, arriving in a bunch of bangles and sarees that clash like paintswatches at a blind interior designer's creations. They settle down with the seriousness of doctors who just came out of the operation threatre, whip out their phone and proceeds to live-stream the entire pooja with several hashtags like #GaneshKiPooja and #FamilyGoals.
The entire pooja is a hurricane of mantras mumbling with the speed of sound. Offerings that look suspiciously like the last night's leftovers (Don't Judge, Maa ka Prasad is sacred!), and enough ghee to light 10 rockets. And let's not forget the aarti where everyone is trying their best not to accidently set their dupattas on fire.
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Bittu: The Coconut
HumorBabli's wedding day arrives, but with a twist! Instead of a dashing groom, she's exchanging vows with...a coconut? *Hey wait.. am I reading a wrong script?... Oh wait this the, the Script. Kay let's continue* Gasps and giggles fill the air as the c...
