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November 11, 1996

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V Gangadhar

If this is the festive season, we can do without one!

Dominic Xavier's illustration How Diwali had changed since the good, old days! So much more noise, squalor, exhibitionism! One has to search hard for the Diwali spirit. The so-called festive season is plagued with malaria, something more terrible called dengue fever, floods in the south, huge government departments going on strike and harassing everyone. If this is the festive season, we can do without one!

Fireworks, sweets, new clothes - yes, we did have our share in the past for Diwali. But there was something more which added to the gaiety and overall enjoyment. I am referring to the Diwali malars, special issues of some leading Tamil magazines like Ananda Vikatan, Kalki and Kalaimagal.

My family were avid magazine readers (it was one of the few pleasures of life in those days) and the Diwali malars were particularly welcome.

The issues were large, bulky and colourful. But the advertisements did not overwhelm the editorial. The reading matter consisted of long stories, short stories, essays, cartoons, pictorial stories and, of course, jokes. To this day, Tamil magazines stand out for their sense of humour and it was the same in those days. The jokes were mostly about the Diwali spirit and featured young couples who were celebrating their thalai Diwali (the first Diwali after marriage).

This was a major ritual in our homes. The son-in-law was much feted all the time, particularly during Diwali. He usually arrived at his wife's home a couple of days earlier and was received royally. He did not mind that. But what he really desired was to be left alone with his newly-married wife. This was seldom possible because the younger brothers-in-law would not leave the couple alone.

The mapillai (son-in-law) had to plan his strategy to get rid of the pests. It was usually done through bribes, promises of taking them to the movies. If these did not work out, hidden threats were held out.

This was the major theme of the Diwali malars. The short and long stories were woven around couples who feared they could not celebrate together, but finally managed to do so. Sometimes, divine help was sought for and made available. The greedy in-laws were put in their places and the son-in-law was happily reunited with his loving wife. Everyone was happy and the Diwali spirit prevailed.

Tamil magazines have always encouraged cartoonists and caricaturists. Normally, they dwelt on political themes but the priority changed for the Diwali special issues. The focus was clearly on the festive.

The advertisements in the malars seldom featured models. The ads revolved around the Hindu gods Saraswati, Lakshmi, Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva. The goddesses, always buxom, radiated a special glow as they featured in ads for clothes, sweets, fireworks and other popular consumer goods. Ad agencies, those days, seldom had much creative work and had to rely more on divine influence!

Despite the busy festival schedule, the family eagerly awaited the arrival of the malars. We regularly bought the Ananda Vikatan and Kalki special issues and, occasionally, the more serious and intellectual Kalaimagal malar. There was always a quarrel at home as to who would read these issues first. Sometimes, seniority did not work.

Of course, father had the first look and then passed them on to me. Now, I was number four on the list and the youngest among the six brothers and sisters who could read. Naturally, the youngest had to be favoured and my three elder sisters had to suppress their anger and jealousy at this 'favouritism'.

I was around eight or nine when I became familiar with the Diwali malars. I had no patience with the long and short stories, but had to go through the cartoons and jokes. Some of these were quite above my head, but my sisters were always ready to explain.

In fact, sister number three, to whom I was very close, was accused by my two elder sisters of kakkai pidikkal (buttering me up) so that she would get the magazines from me. She hotly denied these charges and piously pointed out that it was the duty of elder sisters to help younger brother (shades of Lucy and Linus of the Peanuts comic strip).

To tell you the truth, I was often not inclined to look at the magazines because I was more interested in the fireworks, sweets and merry-making . At the same time, I was unwilling to let go of the privilege of getting the magazines first from my father. So, whether I liked it not, I had to sit with the magazines for sometime, asking my sister to explain the jokes which were over my head. The elder sisters hovered around, waiting for their chances to get hold of the special issues.

Of course, no one had the time to sit down and read the magazines in detail amidst the festivities. That was done after the din and bustle of Diwali concluded. Mother read out the stories to father, the cook Subramanian pinched the magazines whenever possible. One week after Diwali, the much-sought-after Diwali malars lay uncared for.

But we could not imagine Diwali without these issues. They used to cost Rs 5 each and in those days when money was tight, thousands willingly bought them. No average, middle class brahmin home was without the Diwali malars. Today, there are other avenues of entertainment, but I know some publications still publish Diwali special issues. The price, of course, has gone up by more than 10 times, but one has to consider the cost of production.

Many of the Diwali cartoons have lost their old world innocence. Today, the focus is more on political corruption, defections, dynastic rule and how even the gods are puzzled over many of the developments down here. That is the modern Diwali spirit for you.

Illustration: Dominic Xavier

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