Ahead of Ganeshotsav, which commences on September 14, Rediff's Divya Nair visits a workshop in Mumbai where young girls, most of them first-timers, are using their brushes to bring Lord Ganesha to life.
In Mumbai, Ganeshotsav doesn't begin on the first day.
Or the week before.
In fact, the festive buzz starts several weeks in advance.
Seven days before the celebrations, as we wove our way through the narrow lanes of central Mumbai's Lalbaug, Parel, Currey Road and Chinchpokli, the streets were crowded with people making last-minute purchases -- from floral decorations and accessories to the finishing touches that will transform their homes for Lord Ganesha's arrival.
Even the incessant downpour could not dampen the festive spirit.
For most devotees in the city, the choices have already been made -- they have picked their favourite idol and decided on the theme for this year.
Some families start working a month in advance, putting together little pieces of their planned decor.
But inside the Varpraday Shilpakruti Studio Vele Brothers' workshop in Currey Road, where the idols are made using shaadu maati (natural, eco-friendly clay), the doors were firmly shut.
No curious visitors. No peeking. And certainly no photographs (though we did get permission later).
"Closing week aahe. Konala aathmadhye zayala allowed nahi (It is the closing week for us. No one is allowed to enter)," a gatekeeper warned us sternly in Marathi.
The workshop was in its most crucial phase -- the final days before hundreds of idols leave for their respective homes.
After a few humble requests, the owner finally let us in. We were asked to leave our bags and umbrellas outside.
As we took off our footwear and stepped inside the approximately 600 square foot-sized workshop, we were greeted with several rows of colourful, elaborate idols -- some semi-finished; others neatly covered in plastic; each numbered and labelled for its respective owner.
There are several such workshops in the vicinity. But what caught my attention here was not just the sheer number of idols. I saw young women sitting quietly on the floor, brushes in hand, beautifully bringing Bappa to life.
Many were newcomers. Some were still in school or college.
For them, painting Ganpati idols was a new experience; for some, it was a deeply satisfying creative pursuit.
"Please watch your step," cautioned Saavi Karpe, 13, pointing towards a freshly arrived idol placed behind me.
She went back to work, dipping her brush into a small paper cup -- there were several in front of her -- filled with water colours before carefully applying each shade to the idol.
A school-going student, Saavi was at the workshop for the first time this year.
Meanwhile, Khushi, 18, who recently finished Class 12, has been visiting the workshop for over a month.
"I come here around noon and paint till 10 pm. I haven't counted but I must have painted at least 20 murtis so far," she said.
There were a couple of boys at the workshop too. Everyone wore a white T-shirt bearing the name of the workshop.
Then came another reminder that this is no ordinary painting space.
"Sorry, you cannot click photos here," Bhumi Savinkar warned one of us, who was trying to photograph her painting an idol from scratch.
"The idol is nude. It is disrespectful," the 20 year old clarified before getting back to work.
Bhumi, a final-year banking and insurance student, travels nearly 20 km every day (that includes attending college daily and returning to the workshop) from Antop Hill in north central Mumbai to Currey Road. She has been making the journey for the past month and is the first person in her family to paint idols commercially.
"It started as a hobby last year. I had seen their page on Instagram. I work here from 10 am to 10 pm. It is a very satisfying process. I must have painted 50 murtis so far," she said.
At 27, Rupali Lavangare was probably one of the senior-most artistes at the workshop.
"I got to know about this place through my brother. I have been doing this since 2022. I love to paint. Art is not gender specific. Ganpati Bappa doesn't differentiate," she said.
It is amazing how the festival has, over the years, united people from different corners of Mumbai through a common love and devotion for Bappa.
As their brushes brought each idol to life, I realised these young, bright girls were quietly setting the stage for the next generation of artists to keep this age-old tradition alive.
Photographs curated by Satish Bodas/Rediff
