The Hindu festival of Ganesh Chaturthi was celebrated with much pomp during the time of the Peshwas, but with the decline of the dynasty, the festival also became smaller, more a private celebration, within the family. Until, around a century ago, a certain Bal Gangadhar Tilak, better known, perhaps, by the honorific ‘Lokmanya,’ saw merit in reviving it as a community celebration, a way to increase the nationalistic spirit he and other freedom fighters were seeking to instil in Indians.
The festival, as it is celebrated today, especially in Mumbai, is, arguably, as far removed from those freedom fighting days as Mr. Tilak’s idea of the celebration was from the festival of his times.
The consumerist fervour of post-liberalisation middle-class India (and a more muscular Hinduism) is on full display. Housing colonies, public roads — in some places whole streets are taken over, even entire neighbourhoods — become one large Ganesh pandal. Ganesh mandals (organisations which host an idol and celebrations) compete to have the biggest, most lavish displays; music plays loud, late into the night, sacred bhajans and the chanting of pujaris competing with the DJs blasting out the latest Bollywood hits.
Aside from its traditional bastions in Maharashtra — Pune, Mumbai, the Konkan coast — public celebrations now take place in Gujarat, Karnataka, Telangana, Kerala, and even the desi diaspora has joined in. Hyderabad is reported to have had even bigger idols than the biggest in Mumbai.
According to estimates by industry chamber ASSOCHAM, the 11 days of festivity last year generated all-India revenues of over Rs. 20,000 crore and it has been growing by 15 to 20 per cent year-on-year. “Increasingly, Ganesh Chaturthi is becoming an organised business,” said D.S. Rawat, Secretary General, ASSOCHAM. Now it is creating direct and indirect employment for millions. It has become part-time business for many. The celebrations have gone to a different level and now this festival has become popular across the country.” Unsurprisingly, the festival is also a huge business opportunity for many enterprising souls.
The cynosure of all eyes, of course, is the idol.
While the images of the elephant-headed god are not the biggest chunk of the bill [see box], they sustain a vibrant ecosystem. For thousands of craftsmen, this is a peak time for business.
Maharashtra buys about 60 lakh idols a year. Of these, over 28 lakh are sold in Mumbai. Ninety per cent of the idols are made in Pen, where the average craftsperson turns out 20 to 30 idols a day. Ramesh Rawle is one of the manufacturers based in the city. His firm, Ganesh Shilpa Arts, was founded in 1920, functions through the year, and employs 40 people. Aside from smaller pieces, the company made 125 large idols for various prominent city mandals, and has exported another 45 to the U.S., the U.K. and Malaysia, among other countries. This year, he says the ‘fashion’ is to have Ganapati sitting on his singhashan (throne).
Santosh Surve, who runs a workshop at Ashokvan, Borivali East, sells around 300 idols of various sizes each year. Mr. Surve and his two brothers procure their idols from Pen, make some improvements like adding colours or ornaments, and re-sell them. They do this for two-and-a-half months and make a profit of Rs. 1,50,000 to Rs. 2,00,000.
Mr. Rawle’s and Mr. Surve’s firms’ idols are mostly made of plaster-of-Paris (PoP). They’re cheaper than the eco-friendly ones made of clay, and so are more in demand: around 90% of the idols are made of PoP. A one-foot clay Ganapati, for instance, could cost Rs. 5,000, while a similar PoP one would be under Rs. 1,500.
Rohit Vaste has found a middle path: his Shree Omkar Art makes idols from clay and waste paper, which he claims is a first. “Getting perfect finish on idols made of paper is very difficult. With lot of hard work, we have achieved perfection,” he says, not immodestly. “This year we have made 300 idols and only 20 are yet to be sold. Lots of people are buying these because these are light and do not break easily like clay idols.” His creations are, on average, on-fifth to one-tenth as heavy as clay idols of the same size, and cost around Rs. 500 more. His light-weight idols are cheaper to ship, so he has serviced orders from Delhi and Chandigarh, and even to the U.S., Canada and Dubai.
The support cast
The Mumbai region has over 15,000 small and large Ganesh mandals. Prominent ones like Lalbaugcha Raja and GSB Seva Mandal have budgets running into crores; they decorate their idols with real gold and diamond ornaments.
Most of the money tends to be crowdsourced, the old fashioned way [see box] . And while a lot of the money goes back to the community directly, in the festivities, or indirectly — most mandals will say the profits are banked and used for charitable activities the rest of the year or saved for the next year — for some unscrupulous organisers, the money goes straight into their pockets.
“Some mandals are doing wonderful work and one can’t doubt their integrity,” says Ashok Patel, president of the Fort Merchants’ Welfare Association and general secretary of the Cuffe Parade Residents Association. “But several dishonest people are now started organising the festival only to extort money from businessmen and keep their folks happy. The government and authorities should intervene. In Mumbai there should be one mandal per ward. Now it has become a show business; there is a pandal in every lane, shopkeepers are being harassed, business people are forced to part with money. No one knows where the money goes. It has to end someday.”
Mandal organisers deny this. They say the bulk of their money is spent on the pandal and decorations. “Since everybody is [spending lavishly] we have to do it,” says Pradeep Gawde, President, Shastri Nagar Sarvajanik Shree Ganeshotsav Mandal, which has been organising the festival in Goregaon since 1967.
Rich mandals organise extravagant entertainment events and processions, which come with hefty bills. For example, a worthwhile DJ would charge at least Rs. 50,000. And there are the alcohol bills for the foot soldiers and revellers that keeps them dancing.
What’s more, Mr. Gawde says, opportunistic entrepreneurs of various kinds raise their rates at this time. “However, we always try to keep the costs low and save money for philanthropic work throughout the year.” Puja organisers say suppliers of generators will charging Rs. 45,000 per unit as compared to Rs. 8,000 the rest of the year; trucks usually available for Rs. 5,000 a day will charge Rs. 15,000 on the big immersion days.
They are not the only ones. Many lakhs of Mumbaikars who have ties to towns and villages in the hinterland take the opportunity to celebrate the festival at home. While the Maharashtra State Road Transport Corporation attempts to cater to the exodus with extra buses, they can’t take care of all the demand. Private bus operators jack up their prices and find takers: a Rs. 500 ticket to Konkan could wind up costing from Rs. 900 to Rs. 1,200.
The festival also provides jobs to thousands of people, most are hired as private security guards and volunteers, aside from the unskilled labourers who get extra work erecting pandals. Even the local fishing community gets a slice of the action: their boats and swimming skills earn them donations for assisting the devout in taking their idols for immersion.
Is it any wonder that Mumbai’s favourite divinity is invoked at the beginning of new ventures?
