Jhuley Jhuley Laal; The Lost Art of Jhulon

Whenever I hear Runa Laila (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Runa_Laila) singing Jhuley Jhuley Laal Dum Mast Kalandar, it reminds me of the festival - Jhulon, the famous Swing festival of Lord Krishna with Radharani. This year I looked up the Ponjika to find that it’s scheduled on July 29 and it happens to be a Sunday. Whoa….we can all celebrate it together! 

My son,who turned three this year, has been listening to stories of Jhulon from us. So we thought of arranging a grand Jhulon for him. As the day grew nearer we realized that it was not feasible to arrange a Jhulon in our cramped apartment in Kolkata. We can’t do it in the balcony...a heavy/intermittent shower would wash off everything, the common space outside the door was ruled out…difficult to get permission from the ‘ill-tempered’ Secretary or someone would plunder/steal for sure. And Jhulon always happens in groups. Children of various ages usually get together to arrange a Jhulon. I went around our complex of some 400 flats talking to kids and their parents about organizing one in our complex. Well, I was in for a big shock! Not a single child knew about Jhulon. Parents had a vague look when I spoke to them! A sorrow sight it was! Nothing doing…let’s take out the kid somewhere where people celebrate it with great pomp and show. Searches on the Net revealed that only ISKCON celebrates Jhulon.So it’s only a religious event these days!

The environment at ISKCON was very different. Confined space, suffocating, too hot and humid, long queues of devotes  waiting to get a glimpse of the jhula, polite ‘Hare Krishna’ from the volunteers to control the mob from spilling into the main worship area, devotees and monks in a frenzied dance….this sums up the ISKCON experience.  It was scary. Religious places always scare me. I keep on thinking ‘what if something happens…you know maybe a false alarm…a stampede and everything would go haywire. I know I don’t have a chance of escape with my three year old…the elderly in-laws were also there’. I panicked. Controlling my nerves I quit the queue and decided to sit and listen to the devotional songs sung by the monk. 

My three year old on my lap, leaning his head on my chest,  eyes closed, hands joined in a prayer, clapping our hands, swaying to the soulful tunes…in few words we were lost. Such was the effect of the songs. My usually hyper active boy, who needs more than a curt glance to be controlled, went eerily calm and quiet. And I knew this is where I would love to bring my three year old once in a while. All those mothers out there who have a tough time controlling their hyper kids…try this out. It worked and still works for me…it might work for you as well. 

Try it out!

The crowd thinned and we finally got a chance to get an unhindered view of the jhula and the idols. Beautifully decorated it took me back to my childhood. 

Jhulon would mean for us a day when mothers did not scold us…there was no discipline…no stern looks…no silent warnings! They let us play the whole day, they let us come home late (but on time for dinner), and we could come in muddied and looking like someone from the ‘gutters’. But there were no punishments. And the best part about the day were the assortment of snacks that the mothers would take turns in sending us as if to reward us for our efforts. There would be kochuri, mishti, pakora, laddu, chirey bhaaja, chop, shingara and so much more. Lunch would be a mini picnic for us. We were a group of seven kids and since our garden was the ‘best’ and more spacious the venue would always be at our place. The day before jhulon baba would return early from office and set up a shamiyana (a polythene shelter) to protect our jhulon from rain and us from the heat. Jhulon as majority knows is the festival where Lord Krishna and Radha swing in an elaborately adorned jhula. Jhulon celebrations also comprise of children making their own decorations, like recreating a rural scenery (complete with paddy fields, clay models of cows, cut-outs of tractors, cut-outs of people farming), a school in progress (the building, children playing outside), a small town (roads, buildings, factories), a marriage scene (beautifully made and dressed puppets) etc. The themes would vary every year. Pre-Jhulon we would spend evenings chatting about how to make our Jhulon unique and ‘the best’. It was an artistic event and we all realized our potential! Someone would draw, I would make the cut-outs, Meetu would make the clay models, Anuj would ideate….it was a beautiful experience. And then we had neighborhood competitions as well. There were also prizes to be won; a grand lunch comprising our favorite dishes, an outing, a children’s movie or a box of chocolates, or a picnic.

It makes me sad…my son will never get to experience this…and I don’t have any photographs to show my son and no matter how hard I try I can’t create a Jhulon for him! 

My husband also has some interesting stories to share about Jhulon. I got to hear them on my wedding night. Sounds romantic huh? It was our wedding night. I was observing his fingers…long and stout and artistic. Well, he plays the tabla very well. I noticed a deep scar on his ring finger. An old scar but it must have been very deep and painful. And there is a story behind it. It was Jhulon Purnima. He was around seven years old then. He and his cousins were celebrating Jhulon at their maternal uncle’s place which is a tiny hamlet near Malda, West Bengal. The theme that they had agreed upon was to recreate their school environment. They had created the school (known as Paathshaala in those days) which was a mud-walled, asbestos roofed one-storied building. The group had put in their sincere efforts to create one with a cardboard box and a piece of tin to serve as its roof. Next was planting some cut-outs of trees and cows on cardboard to create the grazing ground in front of the school. It was then the time to make a small pond which overlooked the school. A Katari (sickle) was stolen from the cattle shed to carve out a hole which would then be filled with water and cut-outs of small fishes. Big brother struck a blow with the katari which accidentally sliced the kid’s finger. Finger sliced into two, the cousins fainted while the little boy sat holding on to his finger looking at the pond turning red. 

My mother-in-law forbade them from celebrating Jhulon…big brother could never forgive himself (he still blames himself as if the finger doesn’t exist anymore)….little kid who is the big man in my house now  is petrified of a katari or anything that comes close to it! 

Well at least we have stories about Jhulon to regale everyone around…we have had our share of experiences. But the nest generation sadly has no inkling about this festival…there is no space to arrange one…no groups of kids to make a Jhulon!

Jhulon..I feel is about to die a sad death. Maybe it will find a place only in the temple, as a religious custom. People would forget about the role of children, the significance of art and craft involved. Isn’t it strange that kids today are taught art and crafts in school whereas we did what came naturally to us during jhulon. We had a festival meant exclusively for art and crafts…a festival which show-cased our talents!  

Maybe the schools instead of incorporating an Art & Crafts class can include this festival in their calendar…maybe they can arrange the children to organize a Jhulon festival instead of those mindless, expensive week-long fests! A MAYBE again!!

N.B: This should have made it to the July Ponjika. But I could manage a blog only in August and I couldn’t resist including Jhulon. Happy Reading and do send in your suggestions.