The Celebration

(4 Nov ’07)

            I’m not a great one for celebrations. I feel too many of them, like rituals, lose their value. Also, birthday celebrations aren’t particularly my cup of tea because, well, everyone’s born. I used to like the Hindu customs, which I believe were/are/should be more social than religious in nature, because they followed a certain pattern, of food, rituals, fun, seasons. Even that these days has got homogenized, with dassehra celebrated with discounts on electronic goods, flowing through diwali sales, into Christmas shopping sprees melting out of the New Year, upto holi. Sanctity is something that doesn’t bother anyone anyway, and I don’t think anyone ever questions themselves: “Why am I pouring milk on this diety?” “How did the custom of feeding so many kumaris begin and is it at all relevant today?” In fact, people feel they need ‘guts’ to change. I find it strange….or maybe people find me strange that I don’t really celebrate what ‘normal’ persons do. I don’t think I need to invite people to cut cake on my landmark birthdays. I spend my time, money and energy in trying to get a book published. For my son’s wedding, much to the indignation of my mother, I didn’t opt to buy an expensive sari (more than waste, I think they’re grossly uncomfortable and a nuisance to care for ever after) and, again, opted to (you guessed it) write another book.

            At this moment, we’re celebrating, in the hospital where I work, the seventy-fifth birth anniversary of the lady who set it up. She’s been gone fourteen years now. A young widow of a very rich family, she was given this chance to ‘do something’ in the hospital that the family ran. Ooh boy, did she do something. She raised it to a multi-specialty tertiary care institution with one aim: make it equal to the best in the world. She wooed back Indian doctors settled abroad, promising them equal money and opportunity. She made fulltime work compulsory for them. “No commissions” is the policy at the top and ‘no tips’ at the bottom of the ladder. I don’t know whether any other big hospital in India has sustained itself with such rules. It couldn’t have been easy for a barely educated housewife to have done this. Yes, she had the backing of money, but she also was a fantastic manager, wielding a stick when needed, and using it wisely, and was continuously involved in the tiniest and biggest aspects of the hospital. The Family as the trustees are known, invited a spiritual artist to conceptualize a theme, paint on it, draw up an event plan, and execute it, too. I don’t know whether the lady would’ve liked it, but curiosity levels are high as to what exactly ‘spiritual art’ is, whether it’s appropriate for such celebrations to happen in a hospital, etc. What’s surprising for an Indian joint family, specially one in such a large business, they’ve given the lady her due without unnecessarily involving her husband. I’ve come to the conclusion that such celebrations, whether at large or minor levels, are marketing strategies, where one makes sure people who matter, who may be useful subsequently, come.

            Celebrations involving a country are a different matter. I like to go for programs organized by the India Council of Cultural Research, the ICCR. They bring me the world on a platter. Dances of different countries, mainly. This time, for the first time, I was disappointed. The fault wasn’t the ICCR’s. They couldn’t have guessed that the country that was celebrating its ‘week’ would present such a shabby program. They missed an excellent chance to impress a good quality audience. Maybe in that country, too, people who have influence rather than talent get a chance to represent it. Sad, because the bad impression stays forever. I really wonder when India will choose merit over all considerations, and respect healthy competition.

            Coming to competitions, many of these personal celebrations are nothing but a game of one-upmanship at any price, an unhealthy competition. I don’t know when we’ll start thinking about celebrations and their effect on our lives, their effect on others’ lives, whether anyone really cares about them at all, now that we’re so saturated with and by them.

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