Never Again!

Well I went out into the finale of the Ganesh celebrations, fully understanding it would test me and my comfort zone... but I had no idea it would have the potential to traumatize me.

So... five of us walked down to Dadar West to catch the festivities. It was incredible, completely indescribable. There was a parade of trucks covered in people (OSHA would have had a field day) who in turn were covered in red powdered, dancing as if it were the last night of the world. We mostly saw the smaller ganeshes, as it was a little early for the bigger ganeshes, but they were just as ornate as could be. Ironically though, we felt like we were the parade. Everyone on the trucks was shouting out to us, throwing flowers on us... and the worst part... red powder.

The red powder... whose ingredients I do not care to know... was constantly thrown on us. Partly in malice (they found it very humorous that we were the only ones (outside of the Ganesh paraders) covered in it) and then partly because they were fanatic at the sight of us there, in their festival. I tried to stick to the outskirts to protect myself, but alas... red powder...bam... right in my face. Naturally, I couldn't see, so almost got run over by a truck. That's when the tears started. Which only made matters worse, because even more people were staring at me then. Luckily, I had buddies with me that helped me out, made sure I wasn't run over by that truck, and then got me a bottle of water. After I regained my composure, I figured I had made it this far... might as well make it all the way to the water to see some submerging of the idols. We kept on trucking on... and it only got worse. We were covered in red powder, it was done my shirt, caked on my neck (the pictures will be humorous... gives new meaning to the term red neck). Down at the water, it was surprisingly less hectic and we got to watch quite a few idols be submerged... although the pictures turned out pretty dark.

Then on our way back, at one point we got separated. The funny part was that everyone on the street seemed to know it and was pointing in the direction that Ben and Rachel had headed so that Colin, Stella, and I could find them. Not many places in the world where every single person knows who you are looking for and what direction they went... only in Mumbai. On our way back to hostel, a man stopped us and wanted to know where we were from, how long we were here, all the usual questions. As we stopped to chat with him, we were all of the sudden surrounded by a crowd of Indian men, three people deep staring at us.

It's the worst feeling ever. Having everyone shout out at you and continually stare at you. In the beginning of the evening I was waving back at everyone that waved at me, playing along, and frankly, enjoying the celebrity feeling. But the end of the night, every shout, every handful of red powder, every lingering stare just left me on the verge of tears.

The others decided to go grab a bite to eat, but I headed back to the hostel to shower, so I didn't dye myself red, and of course change outfits since the outfit I had worn out and planned on wearing on the plane was now a lovely shade of pink. Even after my shower, my neck is still pink and now I feel itchy all over.

But I did it. But, never again. Those in my family know my reaction to chaotic, loud crowds... think New Years in Vienna... and this was a 100 times worse. But I survived it, I just got my feathers quite ruffled. As my Dad said, it was as if I was stuck in the middle of a tribal ritual, and had no idea what was going on or being said... that's really scary. So I think for now on, I'll stick to watching Indian festivals from BBC's coverage. Apparently this has just received the ranking of the Biggest Festival in the World... and I believe it.

Well. Check that off my to-do list, I've been to the Biggest (Craziest) Festival in the World... now... just a few more hours 'til Goa. I can make it.