The Banjo-fication of India
Disclaimer: The views expressed in this post are just my layman observations. They are not meant to hurt the sentiments of the followers of any religion. Any discomfort caused to the reader is totally unintentional for which I sincerely and unconditionally apologise. If the discomfort continues then have a Eno, let out some gas. It’s not good to be so stuffy.
The wife and me were in Satara, a town in interior Maharashtra, for (arguably) one of the toughest half marathons in India – the Satara Hill Half Marathon. The wife has been my biggest and most consistent cheerleader over the decade plus of recreational marathoning that I have been doing (for late joinees to my Substack, you can read about my 10 years as a runner here). She has her task cut out and she does it with even more zest than I do my running.
Running – be it 42 kms or 21 kms – is gruelling, especially for rank amateurs like me. But I feel that what the wife does on race day (not to mention all through my multi-month training period) is far more demanding - getting up along with me, keeping me company as I go about my pre-race ablutions and rituals, then get herself ready to make sure that she is there to cheer me as I pass her by at a few points along the route not knowing fully well when exactly I will be passing her by (I have consistently let her down by projecting a certain pace and hence a certain time when I will be crossing a certain distance, and then not keeping my promise), and then to wholeheartedly cheer and will me on to finish the race is no easy task. I may have made her life a little easier of late by only running half’s, but it’s a commendable thing to do year on year.
Coming back to the hill marathon in Satara. As the name suggests it is a hill marathon (d-uh!) – one has to run 10.5 kms uphill, turn around and run 10.5 kms downhill. You run it in less than 2 hours, and you get a gold medal. You run it in less than 2:30 hours, and you get a silver medal. After that if you run it in less than 4 hours, you get a bronze medal. Yours truly ran it in 2:19. A good performance, if I may say so myself, considering it was my first time running a hill marathon, considering the only uphill and downhill practice I could get was in some of the tonier parts of Mumbai where the incline wasn’t more than a kilometre at a stretch. So 2:19 on a route with a consistent incline lasting 10.5 kms is something to be proud of. Come to think of it, in hindsight, the descent was much tougher than the ascent simply because there is every possibility of losing control at the breakneck speed (?!?!) you think you are hurtling down at, as well as the very distinct possibility of damaging your knees in the process.
I am sure by now you are asking “What has a hill half marathon got to do with the title of this post”? I am coming to it. But before that I just wanted some excuse to acknowledge the huge role the wife has played in allowing me to indulge in my recreational passion, and also along the way get patted on the back for my mini achievement. Now that the self-congratulatory promotional tour is out of the way, getting back to the topic of the post.
We landed in Satara a day prior to race day. Kind of settled down, had lunch, did a recce of the route, and killed some time (very difficult in Satara, I assure you). In the evening we met up with the gentleman who had helped organize our stay (very, very, very difficult in Satara, not only me but about 5000 other outstation runners will assure you). Having done the niceties, it was time for dinner. The ideal meal prior to race day is pasta – carbo-loading it is called. Like everything about the place, searching for a pasta place in Satara is also very difficult. (And did I mention that even the race is also very difficult?) But find one we did. And boy did we regret it! ‘Cos the place was on a road that was the centre point for the procession of one of the biggest Ganpati idols of Satara.
While the idol was really big (and beautiful), the road wasn’t. It was like any other small-town road – not more than 30-40 feet wide. Shop line on both sides. Vehicles of visitors to the shops parked on both sides. And the accompanying honking and general chaos associated with a ‘commercial’ area of a small town. Now on this road was the welcome procession of the huge Ganpati idol. The Lord was led by an open top truck that was loaded with a two-storey high sound & light system that had an array of floodlights, laser lights, disco lights, and two massive towers of speakers that could be possibly heard in Pune (or Kolhapur) which is about 110 kms away. I didn’t shoot a video, but the image below comes close to what we witnessed, on a taller and bigger scale.
The music (or cacophony) was provided by a DJ with a mixing table and a live orchestra with a full drum kit to boot. This was then being followed by another music troupe that was playing traditional Maharashtrian beats (popularly known as Nashik dhol baja) with full gusto. Then came the Lord, perched on another truck. All of this was accompanied by close to 2000 odd people all dancing on the street.
In the middle of all this mayhem the wife and I were trying to make our way to the pasta place! We found it, placed our order, the owner made some fresh pasta (not bad considering the objective behind the meal was functional and not epicurean), we ate, and we decided to leave. All of this was happening with blaring music for company - music so loud that we couldn’t hear ourselves think, let alone speak! Our dinner must have taken us about an hour. In this one hour, the said Ganpati procession had moved forward by about 20 metres. And our dinner was digested while we were eating thanks to the thundering music that shook the ground in persistent thuds that had possibly registered on the Richter Scale.
Our travails didn’t end even when we travelled (sheeeesh!!) post the race to go to my maternal native place, Kolhapur. After our customary darshan of the presiding goddess Mahalaxmi, savouring some local fiery missal and ice cream cocktail and picking up authentic Kolhapuri chappals, we decided to exit so that we could reach our stopover for the night in Pune in normal hours. But for the next couple of hours we were directed, redirected and misdirected in various lanes of the town because almost each one of them had their version of what we had experienced in Satara the previous evening. One also gets to hear that there are DJ standoffs akin to Mexican standoffs right on the streets. Disbelieving this last part I decided to Google, and sure enough there are videos on YouTube of the same.
This cacophony (music to some ears) is popularly called ‘banjo’ music in this part of the world. The guys who play the music are also collectively called banjo party.
The difference between what a banjo is and what it has become in India couldn’t have been starker.
Till the Indian banjo made its appearance on the festivities scene, we used to have what are called Brass Bands, or versions thereof, leading any procession. These comprised of trained musicians, in all their colourful uniformed kit belting out popular numbers. It was pure music without any external amplification.
Enter the banjo, and an allied industry took roots much like how the Maruti 800 brought an entire accessories industry to the fore. First came the amplifiers. Then the speakers. Then came the lights. Then came the lasers. And all hell has broken loose since. It is for this reason that I hold the Indian banjo singularly responsible for the cacophonous state of affairs as far as our festivities are concerned.
The question, however, to ask is: Why are our religious festivities so obnoxiously loud?
We are a nation with a 80% Hindu population. And, per me, Hindu rituals are quite loud. There is always the loud ringing of bells accompanied by the beating of the drums that are meant to be a welcome (and wake up) call to Gods to descend from their celestial palaces and grace our temples. Hindu religious rituals have also always been full of pomp and splendour – or at least that’s what we have been given to believe through our mythology. Every God must be celebrated and hence the aartis that are chanted and the puja’s that are performed reflect the celebration and glorification that has to be accorded to every God.
Hindu scriptures state that there are trayastrimsati koti devata, which has been popularly misinterpreted as 33 crore Gods. The koti in this case is not crore (10 million for those who don’t understand the unique Indian numerological counting in lakhs and crores) but means types. So, it is not 33 crore Gods, but 33 types of Gods.
Even at 33, it is one type of God too many. (I shudder when I think: what if the misinterpretation was the right interpretation!) But what the 33 types do ensure is that there are atleast 2.5 occasions on an average per month where banjo’s … sorry Gods … can be invoked. Which further translates to a repeat of the performance I have just described above. Fortunately, we are spared since there is a popularity hierarchy even in Gods. So not every type of God commands the kind of frenzy that a Ganpati or a Durga does. The jayantis (birth anniversaries) of Gods lower down the pecking order are celebrated with a simple 3-item checklist:
Pandal – check.
Lights – check.
Banjo – check.
Oftentimes one will find that no one is interested in, or even aware of, what the occasion is. What does matter is that the banjo music needs to be blaring at all times of the day. A cursory glance into the pandals of any of these festivities and you will be met with this sight: massive vinyl posters with the mug shot of the ‘leader’ decked in gold chains that would put Bappi Lahiri to shame, surrounded by thumbnail pics of at least 42 other ‘organisers’ of the festivity, a small idol or photo frame of the God for whom the banjo party has been organised, a few chairs strewn around, some bored old man sitting guard, small kids playing in the shade of the pandal (the festivity gives them an excuse to officially bunk school), and of course music blaring. It’s just such a colossal waste of resources in so many ways. I have even seen processions where the banjo party players outnumber the ones who have organized the procession.
Not to be outdone or left behind in the notice-me sweepstakes, other religions too have joined the (banjo) party and succumbed to the banjofication of their Gods. So now we have processions carried out for religions that possibly don’t even believe in the kind of pomp and splendour that Hindu religions do.
We now find DJ music a staple even on the solemn occasion of Moharram.
Just a couple of days ago, our housing complex was woken up to banjo music – not because some Ganpati was being welcomed, but because the Jain community in our complex wanted to celebrate the noble deed of total fasting of some 35 odd practitioners of paryushan! And it wasn’t just the banjo party. There were open top vintage cars lined up in our complex which would go on a procession to celebrate these mortal demi-gods.
What next?
Banjofication of Lent for those who practiced it by not including even fish in their diet for 40 days?
Or banjofication of Zoroastrianism to celebrate a Parsi who is able to find a spouse who isn’t their cousin?
Or banjofication of Sikhism on finding a Sikh who doesn’t raise his hands while doing the bhangra?
The occasions can be never ending.
These religious festivities serve a much larger purpose that goes beyond the religious, or rather has nothing to do with the religious. It is only to do with the sentiment, and sentiments get hurt easily unlike religions which are more resilient.
They are a showcase of the clout the local ‘leader’ has. They are an indication of the emergence of a new ‘leader’ in mohallas. They are an indication of the fund-raising capabilities of these self-declared leaders. These ‘festivities’ also act as a distraction from real life issues of people – for a few days in a month they get to feel they have contributed towards some noble or religious cause even if their next meal is not assured.
Religion, and hence celebrating Gods, is a master illusion that has always worked in creating a false sense of ‘all is well’ with the world. And if it is not, then there is always some other God, and a banjo party, to fall back on.
The banjofication of India goes well beyond the Gods. If Gods can account for roughly two weeks a month of banjo led distraction, we still have another two weeks of the month to deal with. That’s where a whole load of non-religious celebrations come into the picture. All one needs is an excuse to call in a banjo party.
Wedding? Banjo party.
Birthday? Banjo party.
Wedding anniversary? Banjo party.
Death anniversary? Banjo party.
Got a job? Banjo party.
Setting up shop? Banjo party.
Only one to pass Grade 10 exams in the family? Banjo party.
First wedding in the family? Banjo party.
Last wedding in the family? Banjo party. (Didn’t we all just experience one not so long ago?)
Back from a successful surgery? Banjo party.
Thread ceremony? Banjo party.
Appeared in the audience on Kaun Banega Crorepati? Banjo party.
India beat Pakistan? Banjo party.
India gets bronze? Banjo party.
Me running a hill half marathon successfully? Naaah …
But you get the drift.
The banjofication of India has other consequences as well. Pollution of all sorts – light, sound, air. Traffic snarls. Wastage of electricity. Wastage of time, energy and efforts in organizing something for no real benefits. Tiffs among local leaders because of whose banjo party is bigger. A false sense of accomplishment. A false sense of occupational security of being an organizer. And so on … too many to count.
But then who is complaining?
The way banjofication has spread, there will always be more occasions that can be invented to call in a banjo party. And if it is still felt that we are still short of occasions to call in a banjo party, then worry not. Newer and newer occasions will be found to keep the banjo playing and to party every day of the month, all days of the year. We have already come to terms with it, so a few more would not only not hurt but would go unnoticed.
There are a few slivers of hope as seen in some recent actions from the Odisha police banning DJs in Ganpati processions, a call to introspect by a faded and jaded local politician in my state and an Eid panel issuing do’s and don’t’s for celebrating Eid. Let’s hope the coming years find many more of these outliers, bringing in a groundswell that is enough to bring back the glory of how festivities – religious or otherwise – are meant to be.
Till then, on a personal note, as long as the wife doesn’t decide to take her cheerleading one notch higher to call in a banjo party when I complete my next run in January, I am good.
Be braver. Be kinder.
In line with the celebratory mood that will prevail over the next 2-3 months with the festive season and lots of banjo parties, approaching, for Keep Watching this time I am sharing the review of a movie released last year which was an absolute, loud, colourful and unabashed celebration. Unlike the banjo parties, though, I totally loved it!
For all the razz matazz, the gloss, the glamour and the evident superficiality that’s ever present in the movie, RARKPK is by far Karan Johar’s deepest work to date. It deals with several touchy topics without going ott - be it the inter caste love, extra marital platonic relationship, obesity, patriarchy, men taking on ‘women’ professions, women being ‘like men’ in terms of managing a business, women doing what men typically do to women, and a whole lot of other things that have been stereotyped over generations. And yet each stereotype finds a way to blend in and adapt/adopt without letting go of their core. Without making it a spoiler, for eg, Jaya Bachchan’s character remains steadfast in her approach while as audience you would expect otherwise. Each of the cast member fits their character like a glove. Special shout out to Tota Roy Choudhury - brilliant! I just loved, loved, loved the movie … would have liked a couple of reels or songs edited. But it’s a movie that can be watched again and again, and can be picked up from anywhere in repeat viewing.
Rocky Aur Rani Ki Prem Kahani | 2 hr 59 min | Prime Video
Hi Shantanu ,
Regret my delayed views . Through Banjo Party , you will very nicely shared the different facets of India and Indian Culture . Makes one wonder , whether India has made Banjo what it is , or Banjo has made India what it is . And relished reading review of RAR again.
Having said that a 2:19 half does deserve a banjo party!