When vegetables were pumped with chemicals to make them look fatter, bigger, longer and shinier, vendors in Kolkata had only one word for it – Bambaiyya.
For years, Bambaiyya has come to define anything that is larger-than-life, out-of-the-ordinary, unusual, even rambunctious. "Bombetey", which supposedly means a dacoit, was used by Satyajit Ray in one of his famous alliterative titles for his legendary Feluda series, as Bombaiyer Bombete. In this adventure, which has been filmed by his son Sandip Roy, Feluda visits Bombay and gets a taste of crime, filmy ishtyle.
Steroid-infused vegetables, or the neighbourhood boy with long sideburns who could claim the Bambaiyya crown, may be passé, but the biggest Bambaiyya of them all, the Baap of all Deities, has descended upon the consciousness of the city in all his glory. From street corners to massive pandals and humble homes, with alpana at doorways to mile-long visarjan processions featuring kids beating drums and shaking pom poms, Ganesh Chaturthi was a surprisingly lavish affair.
A different picture
Viswakarma Puja usually heralds the onset of the festive season in Bengal. It is the day the engineer god is worshipped by mechanics and factory workers. It is also the day when young boys run the lengths of the skinny alleys and clamber up mossy terraces, trailing fallen kites and cheering for their own as they criss cross the skies.
But this year, the picture was quite different.
Viswakarma, the deity who strides an elephant and holds a kite among other things, is followed by the mother of all goddesses, Durga and the social and cultural calendar for the next couple of months is more or less carved in stone.
This time, thanks to the changes in the Hindu calendar, Ganesh Chaturthi, not Viswakarma Puja, kick-started the festive season. And from the looks of it, the Bengali who worshipped Satyajit Ray and Ritwik Ghatak has switched loyalties to newer, brasher gods – Karan Johar (Agneepath), Shah Rukh Khan (Don) and Salman Khan (at home, every year).
Changing tastes?
If the music blaring from the Public Address systems on Ganesh Chaturthi is any indicator of changing tastes, Agneepath’s Deva Shri Ganesha and Don’s Ganpati Bappa are the dominating anthems. Unfortunately, Tagore had no song in his repertoire for the pop idol.
There have also been reports in the media about how laddoos were flying off the shelves faster than kites, and a certain section of Bangalis have been sighing of yet another "cultural invasion." While succulent narkoler nadu, the Bengali version of the coconut laddoo smothered in ghee and jaggery is the king of the holy offering, modaks have been dominating shelves at sweet shops too.
Some say that the active Marwari community is driving this trend (like everything else that is new to the city, given that), even though the small but significant Maharashtrian community has been hosting the traditional Ganeshotsav at Maharashtra Niwas for years now. But others chuckle at how Bollywood is perhaps to be credited. For decades, Bengalis have scoffed at conspicuous consumption, at boys wearing flashy, "filmy" shirts and visible wealth – both the creation of it and its possession. Its cinema too has been an extension of this cultivated and ingrained disdain for escapism, aspiration, consumerism, glamour.
But anyone, who has been clued into the changing trends in Bengali cinema will tell you, Hungary has replaced Hazaarduari as a choice of location for cash rich producers.
There exists of course Piku and Bidda Bagchi’s Kolkata with crumbling mansions and stories in cracked spines of mothballed diaries. There are also eye blinding malls and towering condos that overlook shrinking paddy fields where drawing room gossip is all about the godfather of Kolkata Knightriders SRK and local hero Dev (some resemblance to an younger, fitter Abhishek Bachchan).
It is perhaps a fantastic irony that the catalyst for the changing cultural landscape of the city should be Bollywood. There was a time when Shirdi Sai Baba’s popularity soared with Amar Akbar Anthony’s climactic song. Over the past couple of years, it has been all about plugging into the trunk call from Bollywood.
Next stop, karva chauth?
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For years, Bambaiyya has come to define anything that is larger-than-life, out-of-the-ordinary, unusual, even rambunctious. "Bombetey", which supposedly means a dacoit, was used by Satyajit Ray in one of his famous alliterative titles for his legendary Feluda series, as Bombaiyer Bombete. In this adventure, which has been filmed by his son Sandip Roy, Feluda visits Bombay and gets a taste of crime, filmy ishtyle.
Steroid-infused vegetables, or the neighbourhood boy with long sideburns who could claim the Bambaiyya crown, may be passé, but the biggest Bambaiyya of them all, the Baap of all Deities, has descended upon the consciousness of the city in all his glory. From street corners to massive pandals and humble homes, with alpana at doorways to mile-long visarjan processions featuring kids beating drums and shaking pom poms, Ganesh Chaturthi was a surprisingly lavish affair.
A different picture
Viswakarma Puja usually heralds the onset of the festive season in Bengal. It is the day the engineer god is worshipped by mechanics and factory workers. It is also the day when young boys run the lengths of the skinny alleys and clamber up mossy terraces, trailing fallen kites and cheering for their own as they criss cross the skies.
But this year, the picture was quite different.
Viswakarma, the deity who strides an elephant and holds a kite among other things, is followed by the mother of all goddesses, Durga and the social and cultural calendar for the next couple of months is more or less carved in stone.
This time, thanks to the changes in the Hindu calendar, Ganesh Chaturthi, not Viswakarma Puja, kick-started the festive season. And from the looks of it, the Bengali who worshipped Satyajit Ray and Ritwik Ghatak has switched loyalties to newer, brasher gods – Karan Johar (Agneepath), Shah Rukh Khan (Don) and Salman Khan (at home, every year).
Changing tastes?
If the music blaring from the Public Address systems on Ganesh Chaturthi is any indicator of changing tastes, Agneepath’s Deva Shri Ganesha and Don’s Ganpati Bappa are the dominating anthems. Unfortunately, Tagore had no song in his repertoire for the pop idol.
There have also been reports in the media about how laddoos were flying off the shelves faster than kites, and a certain section of Bangalis have been sighing of yet another "cultural invasion." While succulent narkoler nadu, the Bengali version of the coconut laddoo smothered in ghee and jaggery is the king of the holy offering, modaks have been dominating shelves at sweet shops too.
Some say that the active Marwari community is driving this trend (like everything else that is new to the city, given that), even though the small but significant Maharashtrian community has been hosting the traditional Ganeshotsav at Maharashtra Niwas for years now. But others chuckle at how Bollywood is perhaps to be credited. For decades, Bengalis have scoffed at conspicuous consumption, at boys wearing flashy, "filmy" shirts and visible wealth – both the creation of it and its possession. Its cinema too has been an extension of this cultivated and ingrained disdain for escapism, aspiration, consumerism, glamour.
But anyone, who has been clued into the changing trends in Bengali cinema will tell you, Hungary has replaced Hazaarduari as a choice of location for cash rich producers.
There exists of course Piku and Bidda Bagchi’s Kolkata with crumbling mansions and stories in cracked spines of mothballed diaries. There are also eye blinding malls and towering condos that overlook shrinking paddy fields where drawing room gossip is all about the godfather of Kolkata Knightriders SRK and local hero Dev (some resemblance to an younger, fitter Abhishek Bachchan).
It is perhaps a fantastic irony that the catalyst for the changing cultural landscape of the city should be Bollywood. There was a time when Shirdi Sai Baba’s popularity soared with Amar Akbar Anthony’s climactic song. Over the past couple of years, it has been all about plugging into the trunk call from Bollywood.
Next stop, karva chauth?
