Never a Dull Moment

Here in the West Village of Mumbai (the New York Times' words, not mine), there's always someone chanting something. I live next to a temple (as many people do in India--they certainly abound), and am used to hearing ululations coming from next door. So, it took me a minute to notice the tinkling of bells and lilting voices tonight. When I finally went to the window, it turned out there was a bit of a ruckus, if you will, on the street. Already in my PJs, I threw on a scarf for modesty's sake and went outside. Everyone else on my little lane was already at our front gate, watching a traffic jam develop.

My neighbor, a woman I've never actually spoken to before (seen but not heard), turned to me and said, "You must know that there is an Indian festival today." A statement. To be honest, I didn't know, and I was surprised that she spoke English. We've passed each other numerous times on the stairs and never said a word to each other.

"No," I said, "I didn't know." "You must know Hanuman, then? It's his festival day."

Ding. This explains a lot actually. At every temple in the neighborhood for the past few days, there have been elaborate gatherings, and always, always those amazing marigold marigolds. India is a festive land, so sometimes, one overlooks the occasional festival--opting out by not asking the what or the why, and just letting it be.

I had intended to sit this one out.

Another neighbor, an old man, came up to me. "It's Hanuman festival!" Yes. "Do you know Hanuman?" "The monkey god, right?" I asked. "He is a symbol of strength," he told me. Hmmm, I could use a little at the moment.

The old man, with a palsy that makes his hands quake, dressed in all white, urged me to go touch the passing shrine, being carried by nearly 10 men. "No," I said, "I don't want to interfere." He urged me twice more. No, I said. But as I did, I hoped that maybe Hanuman would send some strength over to my side of the road. Yes, he is a monkey, who is a god, but you never know...The man turned to go up to the shrine again, lighting some incense and wafting the smoke of the candle towards his face. As he did so, I snuck away from the crowd and went home.