By: Ramesh Kallidai
“Varsha thingamajig, what?” my wife had enquired earlier in blissful ignorance.
I had taken a deep breath and explained to her that Varsha Pratipada was the first day of the New Year according to the Shalivahana calendar. Most Gujaratis followed the Vikrami calendar and observed the first day of the month of Kartik (or the Kartik pratipada) as the New Year. In other parts of India, notably in Maharashtra, Bengal and Andhra Pradesh, the first day of the month of Chaitra, was observed as the Hindu New Year.
The Shalivahana calendar begins on the day the great King Shalivahana was coronated as emperor of India in the year 78AD, after a victorious battle in which he defeated invading barbaric tribes from Central Asia called the Sakas. The day also commemorates the time that Lord Brahma, the secondary creator began the creation of the universe from its material ingredients.
When I arrived at the hall, I was surprised to find an audience of youth and children ranging from the ages of six to eighteen. After they finished playing Indian games, they assembled in neat rows segregated by age groups.
“They usually wear their HSS uniform for the talk,” explained Jayesh.
“Do they wear the same type of uniform as RSS members from India?” I asked as I remembered the Khakhi shorts and starched white shirts worn by Indian members of the RSS (from which the HSS draws inspiration).
“Oh no, the uniform we wear here is a bit more westernised,” laughed Jotangia, pointing to the jogging bottoms and T-shirts his cadres wore.
The youngsters listened to my talk in varying moods of creative expression – while some of the older youth were nodding in appreciation; others had a polite air of boredom. There was an eight-year-old boy who kept laughing his head off every time I opened my mouth, much to my entertainment and my host’s embarrassment.
When I explained that the Hindu New Year was usually observed by practicing tapasya (austerity), yajna (sacrifice) and daana (charity), the eight-year-old boy broke up into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. Just as the poor lad tried to choke himself in a sincere attempt to stop his laughter, he received a stern look of admonishment from one of his team leaders.
Laughter, after all, is the best medicine. And seeing humour even in the starkest of statements is the rarest of medicines.
Feng Ash-ui
Aishwarya Rai, that figurehead of Indian oomph from the land of Bollywood has seen the truth (and nothing but the truth).
She is consulting a Feng-Shui consultant to decorate her new house. Apparently, a freak accident on the set of her latest film, Khakhee has made her determined not to take any chances with her life. Feng Shui, she believes, will ward off the evil eye that caused her freak accident.
Wonder why no one told her that Vaastu, the Indian art of placement and architecture is actually the mother of Feng Shui. In many ways, Vaastu complements Feng Shui, but surpasses it in scope and content.
When you can have the original, why settle for the duplicate?
Threadbare disguise
I bumped into Arvind Dhutia, Chair of the Bhatia Association at the Rama Navami celebrations at Bhaktivedanta Manor Hare Krishna Temple.
“Do you remember Rameshbhai?” he asked his wife. “He was the compere at the cultural festival organised by Hindu Council Brent last week.”
“No, that’s not him,” claimed his wife in utter disbelief. “He looked so different in his Nehru jacket the other day. And look at him now! He looks totally different in his dhoti and kurta.”
Who was it who said that clothes make half a man?
In my case they made two different men.