When Ganesha comes home, we prepare a place for him in our house. Over the next five days, without quite realising it, we make a place for him in our hearts.
Perhaps that is why the Ganesha we welcome on the first day somehow feels different from the one we bid farewell to on the fifth. He hasn’t changed. Maybe we have.
For those five days, our lives gently revolve around him. Aarti twice a day, bhog three times a day, flowers, prayers and seva offered with love and purity. In our otherwise busy lives, these are days when we give him something precious — our undivided time.
And devotion seems to fill not just the heart, but every sense.
The fragrance of freshly steamed modaks — the soft rice flour covering filled with warm jaggery and coconut — drifts through the house. It is a fragrance so divine that I often wonder how Bappa could possibly resist being drawn towards it. His favourite modak for his taste, incense and flowers for their fragrance, aarti and bhajans for those large ears that seem ready to hear every prayer, beautiful decorations for his eyes, and the loving hands that dress, adorn and serve him.
Perhaps that is the beauty of these five days. We try to reach Bappa through every sense, while somehow feeling that he is sensing every little expression of our devotion too.
Somewhere along the way, Sukhkarta Dukhharta settles on our lips. We hum it while cooking, tidying up or simply going about our day. We don’t consciously begin singing it; it just stays with us, as though Bappa’s presence has quietly become the rhythm of the home.
And when we stand before that majestic face, it often feels as though he is looking straight into our eyes and listening. Some conversations are spoken, others remain within the heart, yet somehow, we feel heard.
How such a deep bond develops in just five days is difficult to explain.
Then comes visarjan.
As we sing the final Morya and ask for his forgiveness before bidding him farewell, the joy of the past few days turns into an emotion that is difficult to contain.
Niroop gheto aata aamha aadnya asavi,
aamha aadnya asavi.
Chukale amuche kahi,
tyachi kshama asavi.
We seek his permission to bid him farewell and ask forgiveness for anything we may have unknowingly done wrong during his stay. Somehow, on that final day, those words bring tears to the eyes.
They say Ganesha feels heavier when he is carried for visarjan. I like to believe he becomes heavier because he is taking away some of the weight from our shoulders — our worries, fears, obstacles and even those burdens we could never put into words.
He leaves heavier so that we may feel lighter.
This year, my mother suggested something beautiful. Before visarjan, we packed food in a banana leaf, tied it carefully and placed it on Ganesha’s arm for his journey home.
That simple gesture touched me deeply.
Isn’t that exactly what we do when someone we love is travelling? We make sure they carry something to eat on the way.
In that moment, it didn’t feel like another ritual. It felt like sending someone we love on a journey. And I knew immediately that this was one tradition I wanted to continue every year.
Perhaps that is what devotion really is.
The aroma of a freshly steamed modak. The fragrance of incense. The sound of an aarti that refuses to leave your lips. The beauty we create around him. A silent conversation before his majestic face. Tears while saying goodbye. And a little food lovingly packed for his journey home.
For five days, we believe we are doing seva for Ganesha.
But when it is finally time for him to leave, we realise something beautiful.
We thought we were taking care of him.
Perhaps, all along, he had come home to take care of us.
Ganpati Bappa Morya. 🙏❤️
Pudhchya varshi lavkar ya.
