A still from the film Chennai Express that made the Lungi Dance famous

India, as you all know, is a deeply religious society. Religion is embedded in our culture, and finds expression in the myriad festivals that dot the calendar here. It means a lot to us. For starters, it means holidays.

It also means shopping and eating. Some festivals allow for a little bit extra. They allow for drinking, and in the case of Diwali, gambling. There is a festival very popular in Gujarat, Navratri, which has all of those, plus nine nights of dancing. The joke in Gujarat is that a lot of babies are born nine months after the Navratris.
Given all that, it is small surprise that we take religion so seriously. I mean, would anyone in their right minds want to give up all that?
The beauty of these religious festivals is that people of all classes can take part. God does not discriminate between high and low, and in these matters, neither do his current representatives in India, the politicians. You will find their visages adorning the posters and banners at public navratris and Ganapati festivities. The support from politicians cuts across party lines and religious identities. The Ganapati mandal that took possession of the road outside my house in Bandra for nine days of Ganapati festivities, for example, had the pictures of local MP Priya Dutt and local MLA Baba Siddiqui. I am sure they were motivated by the core tenet of Hinduism, which is “ekam sat, vipra vahuda vadanti”, meaning “there is only one truth, but the learned call it by many names”. However, it is possible that they were actually motivated by votes.
For nine nights and days, I was therefore within easy earshot of the Ganapati festivities. I would wake up to music from the loudspeaker, and go to sleep after hearing music from the loudspeaker. I quickly realised that the most popular mantra playing from the loudspeakers was a personal favourite of mine, the Lungi Dance.
This mantra has taken over from earlier favourites such as Munni Badnaam Hui and Gangnam Style, which formed the soundtrack for earlier festivals. Dahi handi this year had the usual Govinda Aala Re, but I think it also had Badtameez Dil. Ambedkar’s birthday celebrations, for which the loudspeakers played for five days, also had a similar playlist. I don’t remember the exact song, but I do remember hopping around in my living room, because the thumping music made any other course of action pointless. Holi and Christmas of course had item numbers. Id was relatively quiet in my neighbourhood, apart from the crackers that went off at some unearthly hour of morning during Ramzan, but I hear that in some places, there is the odd item number even for Id. The fair at Mahim dargah certainly had its share of loudspeakers and loud songs.
The surprise for me came the day after Ganapati visarjan. I woke up yet again to the sounds of Lungi Dance. I had gone to sleep safe in the knowledge that the lord had departed for this calendar year, and would only return same time next year. Did He just swim back from Juhu?
A quick walk around the neighbourhood confirmed that it was not Ganapati and his merry men. The sounds were coming from the direction of the Daughters of St Paul and their nunnery. I wonder what the nuns were up to.
I happened to mention the country’s Lungi Dance weakness on Twitter. A gentleman named Harish Shenai wrote back to say he had attended a primary school skit on the theme “Serving humanity” which ended with, well, the Lungi Dance.
Considering that not much else seems to be uniting Indians across religion, caste and language at present, perhaps we should consider making it the new national anthem. At least there wouldn’t be problems getting people to stand up for it.
Moreover, I think we’ve become immune to our Parliamentarians “rushing into the well of the House” and occasionally throwing objects. If they really want to attract public attention now, they will have to do better. They could consider rushing into the well of the House and doing a lungi dance.
The same is true for the nation’s favourite television news anchor, Arnab Goswami. Short of uttering Punjabi cuss words, he’s pretty much maxed out, I think. He will need to resort to new and innovative techniques to keep viewers glued to his show. I have an idea: the nation wants to know, Mr Arnab, if you can conduct a debate, preferably about Pakistan, while doing the lungi dance.