Childhood memories of Navarathri

Language Alert: Much of this post will contain tamizh(Tamil) specific words that had to be used to lend the right tone to it. Please bear with me. Wikipedia links offered wherever possible.We are smack in the middle of Navarathri (Navratri if thats how you want to call it), a 9 day long Indian festival. Not much really happens in the US- we with our schedules and Indian-in-America habits. Women get invited by their friends to come home for vethalai-pakku (betel leaves and betel nut) and golu. And occasionally you get to flex your vocal chords. Thats about it. But back in India, its very different. It triggers memories of a life past.Navarathri was alternatively the coolest and the most dreaded festival for me. Navarathri doesnt mean much for boys or men for that matter but it has elements that work in your favor and sometimes very much against you. My mother having borne two boys decided against having golu at home. I was artistically inclined at that time and helped my aunt next door and as many others possible with their respective golu's. It was a lot of fun building large steps filled with dolls from all parts of the state, country and sometimes even the world. There were parks and train stations and mountains and cricket matches- all architected by remarkably talented and enterprising women.And then there was sundal. What is not to like about sundal?. Every day of Navarathri brought with it a different type of sundal and if you consider the number of houses to visit in the neighborhood, you had a mind-boggling variety and quantity of sundal to be had over the 9 day period.  I used to pick and choose visits based on what sundal I was going to get. Yes, I even called the maami's in advance to identify the sundal I would get that day and planned my visit accordingly. When I think back, I am in awe of how much welcoming those homes were to me as if I was part of each of those families. In a way, I was. Rather, I still am.But then there was a price to pay for the fabulous golu's and the awesome sundal. And that was that I had to sing. You see, I used to learn to sing south Indian classical music. And the entry fee for the golu's and the sundal was a song. At that age, it was almost embarrassing to admit in public that a boy used to learn classical music. It was a girl thing or so it was assumed. It was not really macho to admit much less sing in public, however talented a boy may be. In hindsight, I wish I had learnt music longer, sang more and all that. Too late now. Anyways, I hated singing in public and it was this ridiculous tradeoff. If I didnt want to sing and avoided most of the houses for Navarathri, I lost out on all the golus and the sundal. So I sang. The same song- over and over again. Until the audience was bored. Again, in hindsight, stupid of me. But cant really speak logic to a 10-14 year old.As Navarathri wrapped up, the last day was celebrated as Saraswathi Pooja. Another great day from a kid's standpoint as you got to completely not have to study. In fact, my parents forbade me from sitting in front of a book. Isnt that awesome?. No home work, nothing to do all day but play. It was one heck of a day. One day in a year. But then, the very next day on Vijayadasami, every single book placed under Saraswati had to be read. Atleast a little bit of it. And music classes could not be skipped. No more than 10 minutes of music given the number of students the music teacher had to handle on one single day.I look back fondly at those 9 days, 10 if you include Vijayadasami and I cant but have a smile on my face. There was something utterly remarkable about it. And as a young boy in the neighborhood, I was just blessed to have enjoyed it as much as I did.