Very often, we follow certain practices just because. We don’t know where they came from, or who brought them into existence. We don’t know the first person who did them, or what they looked like.
What we do know, however, is that these practices were important to them. They believed in these formulas that worked for them, and we had undoubted faith in our elders and their judgement.
That’s the thing about devotion. You don’t question it, you simply follow it. You follow the only methods that you know, trusting that you have an obligation to fulfil – one that you did not make, but are privileged to honour when it’s your turn to, just like you watched the person before you do.
It’s true, some traditions we follow, others we create for ourselves, hoping that if it worked for someone before you, it will work for you, too.
Keeping up with tradition, every year, Ganesh Chaturthi brings Mahadev Shanu Shet, a Hindu gentleman to Panjim, all the way from his village in Bicholim, in North Goa.
Hailing from a family of potters, it goes without saying that Chaturthi time is special to his family. But for them, it also comes laced with a different kind of tradition.
Every year, Mahadev and his family transport all their handmade Ganesha idols to a flour mill at Patto in Panjim.
Strange as it seems, some traditions have no room for questions because every empty space is filled in with faith and devotion.
Seated inside the flour mill on a plastic crate with his gazed fixed toward the door, Mahadev explains, “This is not our flour mill, we come from Mayem in Bicholim, but we grew up watching Baba (our father) do this.”
"That’s, Dhyaneshwar, my brother. We are three brothers, and that’s my cousin brother,” he gestures to another man who is seated on the floor, lost inside his mobile phone, watching videos.
“This is our art form and there is a special kind of satisfaction in putting it out there,” Mahadev adds.
Keeping up with past traditions, the owner of the mill puts his usual business on hold and has been lending Mahadev and his family the space to sell Ganesha idols for years, now.
The process starts in June, when the brothers get together and start sculpting the idols made from mud.
Once the basics are done, intricate designs are carved in, after which, the idols are painted and finally transported to Panjim where the walls of the flour mill make them feel at home.
When asked why the idols are not sold in Bicholim itself, but brought to Panjim, Mahdev smiles, “It must happen like that, and we must follow it, that’s tradition, that’s what they used to do even in the past, no?”
Time may rush by, but sometimes, one sentence is all it takes to remind us of how the past is never just the past, it is also the present, and the future– an unending cycle of love, obligation and faithful devotion.