– Coco Chanel
The walk to Chokanchhen Galli around Kal Bhairab and Indra Chowk in Kathmandu reminds me that Teej is a wonderful festival.
I’ve read articles and comments on how commercial Teej has become. But for me, that’s just being negative about the happenings of life. To make it commercial or not is our individual choice. Nobody forces us to be part of this Teej phenomenon. You can opt out of it and just say you don’t celebrate. But to brand it as being too commercial, expensive, showing off and so forth is simply whining and trying to be too critical when you actually don’t need to be.
I love my walk in the galli. It’s filled with colors and bright bangles and beads and tikas coordinating so well with the morning sunshine. I walk through the street asking for a black tika. But all the shopkeeper ladies quickly snap their suggestions amidst their hasty rhythm to serve an ever increasing flood of women folks.[break]
“Just go for red, golden or multi-colors!” Oh-oh, a wrong time to ask for a black tika!
I smile and reiterate my preference and ask for the age-old, plain cut bangles, and this time they take a good look at my face and puzzle me.
“Why do you want something that’s so out of fashion? Go for the glitters…”
It’s pointless to argue for I’m very clear that no one’s going to force me to follow the trends. But I’m equally amused and fascinated with this ‘glitter’ suggestion. My love for the old bangles is very much rooted in my heart, but I simply can’t resist trying the new ultra glittery bangles to welcome this enigmatic festival called Teej. And so I go for it!
What are even more fascinating are the names of the bangles itself: Bol Bacchan, Anarkali, Sheila. Name any item numbers of Bollywood movies and voila! – you have every assortment of bangles named after each of those songs and actresses!
To top it all, these are the high-end expensive ‘item’ bangles, and to see them selling well in the Teej market can itself be a very intriguing subject for Cultural Studies scholars, or so I guess.
As for me, things certainly have changed since the time when I used to purchase my favorites for 30 Rupees per dozen. Now you can hardly find anything for that amount of money, and that certainly tells us something about the double-digit costs of living indicators.
This is the tragedy of the up-scaling expenses. But to condemn Teej on the basis of flaunting the assets that one possesses is ridiculous. It’s fine if we can’t celebrate with new fineries, but what we carry every year is the atmosphere of Teej colors, songs and the share of parties and gatherings which usually constitute around the concept of potlucks.
We have neither forgotten “daar” which still holds the traditional combination of sel, anarasa, aluko acchar, sikarni and all the mouth-watering dishes we grew up with, and that eagerness of having karkalo on Rishi Panchami makes me love this festival more than ever.
The excitement of being with family and friends in the rhythm of celebrating Teej is also something that I look forward to every year.
So how can I not love this phenomenon where I can dance to the tunes of lok geet or get mesmerized by the songs of the likes of Hari Devi Koirala? When everybody can listen and dance to Bollywood item numbers, which almost always carry double entendres, then why can’t we shake our booties to Komal Oli numbers?
We’ve ceased to look into the aspects of enjoying the moment; we rather spend our precious moments criticizing what should be and what shouldn’t be.
The politics of what’s right and wrong about celebrating Teej isn’t for the mass to comment but for individuals to negotiate on why, what and how you would want to celebrate, or not celebrate. The fantasy of getting applauded for fasting all day could be a motivation to some, and equally what could be an adrenaline rush to others is being part of the culture which doesn’t differentiate individual preferences.
We all have our reasons for celebrations. A friend said she celebrates to ensure happiness for her partner. The other one cited her celebrations for the good health of the family, and I simply love to say that I celebrate the spirit of this great festival. I don’t fast but that doesn’t make it any less fun. I enjoy wearing red colors and diving into the world of red, green, orange and yellow. I enjoy the Chura box containing varieties of bangles, tikas and beads, and it makes me feel so special to be remembered.
Rather than being critical and over-analytical of the nuances of Teej, what we can advocate within the periphery of this beautiful festival is not to discriminate against women on the basis of their castes, ethnicities, personal statuses of being single, married, divorced or widowed, or our social standings.
So let us join hands to welcome the beauty of this cultural heritage and be progressive on the celebration.
Teejko lahar aayo barilai… Teejko lahar aayo barilai!
The author is a human resources professional and writes literary works.
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