"But its not Gandhi's birthday AGAIN is it?"
Friday 3rd October
One day was easy, or easy enough. Gandhi's birthday on 2nd October (the day we arrived in India) is a dry day. No alcohol. That's it. None. In the whole of India it seems. Restaurants serve 7Up or Coke, or lime soda with salt. Bars put up their shutters. Waiters are regretful but firm. Today is Gandhi's birthday and we celebrate by not selling alcohol. Ah well. One dry day. No problem.
Friday dawns. The last day of Puja. A spectacular festival has been taking place. Amazingly elaborate temples have popped up to celebrate the triumph of the many armed Goddess Durga, wife of Shiva, who was transported on a lion and destroyed the evil Mahishasura who rose out of a buffalo. For four days there's been Puja for her, and today most of the temples are taken down and the images of the Goddess are taken to the river Hooghli, which is a part of the Ganges, to be immersed there. And how is this amazing event celebrated? You've guessed. Today is, except between 1 and 4 pm ... a dry day.
Now, those in the know got their drinking done between 1 and 4, or bought in booze. Andy managed, by sheer chance, to have a strong Kingfisher with lunch, but in the evening when we go out for a curry - what else - and ask for the bar, the doorman at the hotel informs us - no alcohol. Today is a dry day. Again, I say? But it's not Gandhi's birthday again, I ask? No, its the last day of Puja. And its a Friday.
Eventually we return to our corner of eccentricity (The Fairlawn Hotel), and by a series of complex and still not fully understood conversations, negotiate two beers that we may have in our room. Alone we employ the raised eyebrows and slight shrug that means - well, I never, or something like - and go to our room. And lo and behold, two Kingfisher beers are brought to us. The fans are turned on, we settle down. The Gods are content - until the next dry day.
Friday 3rd October
One day was easy, or easy enough. Gandhi's birthday on 2nd October (the day we arrived in India) is a dry day. No alcohol. That's it. None. In the whole of India it seems. Restaurants serve 7Up or Coke, or lime soda with salt. Bars put up their shutters. Waiters are regretful but firm. Today is Gandhi's birthday and we celebrate by not selling alcohol. Ah well. One dry day. No problem.
Friday dawns. The last day of Puja. A spectacular festival has been taking place. Amazingly elaborate temples have popped up to celebrate the triumph of the many armed Goddess Durga, wife of Shiva, who was transported on a lion and destroyed the evil Mahishasura who rose out of a buffalo. For four days there's been Puja for her, and today most of the temples are taken down and the images of the Goddess are taken to the river Hooghli, which is a part of the Ganges, to be immersed there. And how is this amazing event celebrated? You've guessed. Today is, except between 1 and 4 pm ... a dry day.
Now, those in the know got their drinking done between 1 and 4, or bought in booze. Andy managed, by sheer chance, to have a strong Kingfisher with lunch, but in the evening when we go out for a curry - what else - and ask for the bar, the doorman at the hotel informs us - no alcohol. Today is a dry day. Again, I say? But it's not Gandhi's birthday again, I ask? No, its the last day of Puja. And its a Friday.
Eventually we return to our corner of eccentricity (The Fairlawn Hotel), and by a series of complex and still not fully understood conversations, negotiate two beers that we may have in our room. Alone we employ the raised eyebrows and slight shrug that means - well, I never, or something like - and go to our room. And lo and behold, two Kingfisher beers are brought to us. The fans are turned on, we settle down. The Gods are content - until the next dry day.
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| A pop-up temple |
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| The Goddess Durga |
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