NAVARATRI GOLU BOMMAIS 

When I was in school and slightly obedient, I'd obey Amma and help her with the arrangements for a colourful Golu. The boxes would descend from the closed shelves on top of the cupboards, dusted and all the safely packed mud statues, (mostly gods and goddesses) toys, an used electric motor would be unwrapped carefully and unnecessarily dusted. 
And I had to go perch them atop the shelves, which would be further rearranged by mother with discerning and artistic eye. After the shelves were arranged a separate, 'extra item' would be prepared. A temple with steps, with lights and a park beneath or a forest with wild animals, etc. We would have a water park, where a motor boat would noisily slice through the water. To be changed every day. And the awitching on and off of motor boat was my job, carried out with precision. Arrival of people and departure of the same, after the vettalai-pakku, tengai, payyam, with shundal in donai had been handed over. Again yours truly had to do all this, even as motor boat went around dizzily around the little artificial lake. Sometimes there would be singing. And my mother would pointedly say that the others were good students and also musically talented. I had to take it quietly. What else to do. 
Soon attitude changed and Amma started keeping small golu on her own. These days I wish and pray that someone would invite me over for thambulam and they in turn look surprised when I say this. 
All these memories came rushing forth when I visited on my usual Arya Goud therru. There are streets like this one, filled with fragrances, flavours and frivolity. I pick up maavadu, vepala katti, mixture, ravaa laddu, calendars, and other odds and ends. 
This time the roadsides were overflowing with colour. Of ladies selling kasturi manjal powder, looking resplendent in their turmeric washed faceswith a bright red pottu. Vegetables, including poddalangai or aptly called snake gourd, vayyapoo, vayya thandu, manjal, mahaani and plenty others. 
But the toys got my heart and it beat with a thump when huge buses careened by, even as honking cars tried to overtake on this small thin road. Small baskets, set of colourful fruits, vegetables, killis, little monkeys, all made with colourful clay lay baking and basking in the sun, even as I drooled over them. 
I wanted to buy but did not for various reasons. It is said that Mylapore Tank is the place to be in during these days where it looks like a regular golu, without the thambulam. 
It is nice to have a golu when there are kids. When people come there to sing a song they have learnt and then walk out cribbing about the shundal, when it is not about the expensive gifts you put in the thambulam bags but only about the kumkum and manjal dabba. The innocence is lost these days, but there are people who make different shundals everyday, pray regularly and maintain some sanctity. 
But my heart is still with a pair of clay green killis. 

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