Pandemic, lock-down, distancing and travel
Book an Uber cab and travel anywhere in the city - No, not any tagline, but this was my routine before the pandemic struck the world. At the drop of a hat, I used to fix a cab/auto to run my errands, meet with friends or go to school.
Then, we got used to staying at home, ordering home deliveries of vegetables, fruits, medicines and groceries. Slowly online activities - webinars, zoom get together, video calls became the routine with the associated network problems.
Social, cultural and linguistic shifts happened; meeting, socialising or classrooms scenario underwent drastic changes. Every one started using the new vocabulary - virus, pandemic, spike, asymptomatic, community spread, contact tracing, screening, self-quarantine... phew! the list is endless.
The daily updates spreading through social media, perhaps kept the people entertained. Points and counter points, breaking news-fake news, the number of deaths and the number of people getting cured - just kept everyone busy.
Still, there are people whose means of livelihood just disappeared; Think of the flower vendors, the auto and cab drivers, artists, daily wage earners and many others who depend on moving from one place to another.
After six long months, there is relaxing of the rules and I booked an Uber and travelled almost 20 km to the suburbs(near Thambaram) for some religious ritual and function at my cousin's place. It felt good yet there was a restraint within me. The familiar roads and landmarks looked same yet appeared strange. The red and yellow city buses, people waiting to board the buses in the bus stops, young women walking purposefully towards work with their colourful hand bags swinging from their shoulders in rhythm to their steps or couple whizzing past on scooters and bikes, the ladies on the pillion dressed up in their finery, jasmine strings hanging over the shoulders. Are they going to some social /religious gathering - my thoughts ride with them for a while.
Thanks to the small locality specific temples, the people selling garlands and other accessories needed for Pooja have opened shops. The pealing of temple bells, the dhamru's thumping rhythm, the honking of vehicles - all bring a nostalgia yet I can sense, they are far less than earlier times. The poor cows, who had a free run of all the roads now seem to be puzzled. They had forgotten the rush of vehicles. As far as the human beings - what little lane discipline they had earlier, appeared to have been wiped out of their memory!
As I moved southwards, passed roads leading to suburbs like, Nanganallur, Madipakkam and others, I saw different kind of people moving past on their bikes. In their typical attire - dhotis referred to as 'PANCHAKACHAM' and uthariya wrapped around the shoulders, Pundits were zipping past.
For few minutes, I was curious about it - then remembered, it is the 'Pithru paksha or Mahalaya Paksha. These fifteen days leading up to the Amavasya (New moon) is considered the fortnight of the ancestors. Every community, according to their tradition, remember the ancestors and offer food. Many of them distribute food to poor and needy on one of the days. Still others follow the rituals with chanting specific mantras under the guidance of pundits. This is one means of livelihood for one group of people (Pundits who are well versed in observation of the many rituals and the accompanying vedic mantras).
Once again I was thinking about the customs and traditions, faiths and beliefs across this land bounded by the mighty Himalayas and the ocean. This belief of respecting and remembering the ancestors, the diverse ways of this worship across different communities during this fortnight - the geography binds us together , has bound us through different times (history) - it is fused in to our life in such a way that it is like our handwoven fine cotton or silk
where we cannot see the weft and warp distinctively. I am reminded of the confluence of rivers in different parts of the country - 'Sangam' as we call it or Prayag like Vishnuprayag, Karnaprayag, Rudraprauag or Prayagraj!.
Then I saw a message shared by my daughter, Priya. With her focus on yoga and vedic chanting and with her deep introspection, she added a new dimension to my thoughts. I could listen to 'Ganapatam' from Sukla Yajur veda.
Her message gave me another interesting information: it seems,"It is not unique to India but special across Asia (Obon -Japan), Ghost festival in China, (Tet Trung Nguyen - Vietnam), Pchum Ben -Cambodia), (Baekjung - Korea), Sat Thai in Thailand and Mataka danes in Sri Lanka. There is slight date variation due to calendar variations. (Wiki carries lot of information about these festivals, I believe.)
Modern scientific approach may ridicule belief in ancestors' spirit, their connecting to the living. Our thoughts, feelings and questions float in the universe and many times we get our answers from the universe. How do we know that our ancestors do not send their responses in the universe? I come from a strong 'Advadic background and I do recognise and believe that once the 'Athma' or 'Atman leaves this physical body, there is no connection to this particular life. It can be roughly referred to as the soul. In the Hindu tradition, it is eternal, imperishable and beyond time. It is consciousness, pure and formless.
(May be the all-pervading consciousness manifests as questions and responses!)
This serious introspection apart, the coincidences - I get a message from P when I am contemplating on the same, I was making the trip to be part of the annual rituals remembering my chithappa (chacha) and 2 days later, I observed a neighbour earnestly calling crows to come and eat the offering (part of the offering to ancestors).
Yes, I had been reminiscing about the day's trip for more than 2 days; pondering about the thoughts that wanted to see daylight adorned with words.
So, for two days, I travelled city roads, 20 km up and 20 km down, linking my thoughts with other thoughts floating there and blending with the moving people and vehicles. There are changes, yet I sense the caution, desperation and anxiety mingled with hope.
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