Legend has it that the tradition began in 1621 in New England, as a harvest feast shared by the Plymouth colonists after the settlers’ first successful harvest, which was helped by Native Americans
Thanksgiving was celebrated two days ago. Strictly speaking, it is an old American tradition that is now a global get-together for family and friends. It’s a special day dedicated to expressing gratitude and seeking forgiveness for acts of omission and/or commission committed in the year just gone by. And no. Please do not confuse it with the day enshrined in the Jain faith to mark the end of “Paryushana”, even though the sentiments overlap. “Michhami Dukkadam” is an ancient Prakrit beings, may all of them forgive me.” It is a beautiful, all-encompassing sentiment which encourages introspection and humility.
“Thanksgiving” in its original avatar echoes the same emotions.
Legend has it that the tradition began in 1621 in New England, as a harvest feast shared by the Plymouth colonists after the settlers’ first successful harvest, which was helped by Native Americans. The original menu included locally hunted deer and other items like corn, pumpkin and squash. In 1863, President Abraham Lincoln declared it a national holiday in America, designating the last Thursday of November as “Thanksgiving Day”. The pardoning of the presidential turkey came much later, some say with John F. Kennedy, who, ironically, pardoned a turkey in 1963, just three days before his tragic assassination. The modern, ceremonial turkey pardon ritual is attributed to George H.W. Bush (1989), when two presidential turkeys were given names. This year’s lucky survivors are called Gobble and Waddle by President Donald Trump, who grabbed the opportunity to let fly at all and sundry, while a sulky Melania Trump stared stonily into the distance. He sounded anything but forgiving as he lashed out at his “enemies”! “Has Elon EVER thanked me?” Mr Trump thundered. Well, Gobble and Waddle were spared… but what about the rest of the world?
As one critic of Mr Trump commented: “American Presidents have a ‘fowl’ history of forgiving turkeys… but not their enemies”.
This year, I decided to channel my inner American self, and planned a Thanksgiving party at home (“X’mas dinners are so passe, darlings”). I had zero idea what to do… but an arbitrary decision had been taken and close girlfriends invited. Most of them were equally clueless, but enthusiastic. It was a first for several invitees. My research yielded fascinating factoids. I sensibly left the fancy turkey-shurkey menu to a trusted caterer who has crafted much appreciated Thanksgiving feasts in the past. A couple of snobby friends who’d spent their college years at Ivy League schools in the US sweetly offered to get pumpkin pies, while I asked my local bhajiwala if he had “squash”. I airily mentioned “tinda”, thinking I’d make it easy for him. He replied: “Mera pass marrow aur zucchini hai… same to same, madam!”. Feeling suitably squashed myself, I moved on to other items on helpful websites. Sorted!
My personal list of turkeys I needed to forgive this past year was way too long. Human turkeys fall into special categories. They are too smart for their own good and totally phoos in reality. Political turkeys abound in droves. During a short trip to Delhi, I discovered the “neta turkey”. It’s a distinct breed -- loud, crass, crude, bossy.
And guess who is the biggest turkey in India? Ajit… or Parth?
As a bird, the domestic turkey is a large fowl which lives up to 10 years. Turkeys are said to be highly vocal and social tensions within a group can be monitored by the characteristic “gobbling” call. The human turkeys of Delhi were uniformly dressed in white (breeders of prized industrial turkeys in America prefer birds with white feathers). Turkey “netas” could be spotted taking breaks from the corridors of power to corridors of luxury, huddling inside iconic coffee shops and discussing political gossip, dropping names non-stop and speaking rudely to waiting staff. I wanted to take the stuffing out of them.
But was hopelessly outnumbered.
After decades, we visited the magnificent Humayun’s Tomb close to the hotel, to once again marvel at its architectural perfection. After buying tickets granting us entry to the magnificent complex (which includes the awe-inspiring museum and the expansive Sunder Nursery, I was stopped by over-zealous security guards who insisted I was a “foreign national”. I spoke my best Hindi and argued emphatically.
But they’d have none of it. “ID dikhao… show papers, show passport, madam. Aap bikul Indian nahi lagtey”, they commanded sternly, as I frantically searched for my Aadhaar card buried deep inside the voluminous tote. They continued to look unconvinced while I blabbered on. I flashed the card… and walked in. Foreign national??? Me? Par kyon??? Around me were true-blue foreign nationals… mainly Italian and French, confidently showing their entry tickets and sauntering in. Meri shakal? Desi. Mera attitude? Double desi! Phir bhi!
Discrimination!!! Racial profiling…
I shamelessly eavesdropped as two desi families walked around staring uncomprehendingly at the 16th century complex. One of the men pointed to a structure in the beautifully proportioned Mughal Gardens and announced: “Yeh toh mandir hai”. The others seemed impressed.
Encouraged, he went on: “Yeh sab khodo aur neechay mandir hi mandir milengey”. Dumbstruck, I gulped and stared at the group to figure them out. They were regular tourists, perhaps from UP, evidently unmoved by the significance of the World Heritage site, but prejudiced enough to provide an authoritative commentary on it. I was glad that our very knowledgeable and passionate guide (with a master’s degree in history and heritage), who’d come all the way from Agra to show us around, had missed this crass exchange. He is a Muslim, an accomplished linguist and a proud Indian.
Then came another shocker. A friend returning from a wedding near Sholapur brought back yummy, crunchy butter biscuits from the pilgrimage town. “We wanted to buy them from a famous bakery… but were told not to… because it belonged to a Muslim family.” The same family of traditional bakers who’d made the biscuits famous. These two unconnected, unrelated stories are the reality of Mera Bharat Mahaan!
Ignorance and intolerance are eating into our nation’s innards.
Quick question: Bollywood legends Dilip Kumar, Manoj Kumar and Sridevi were given state funerals. But Dharmendra, who died at the age of 89 earlier this week, was a Padma Bhushan recipient, besides being a BJP Member of Parliament, was not. Did the Deols prefer a very private “family only” funeral? Or…?
Wheels within wheels! RIP “Garam Dharam”, the OG Lover Boy and He-Man of India!
