My morning walk offers me glimpses of some quintessentially Bandra sights. Fresh pao being delivered to groggy uncles in belly-hugging banians. The devout paying tribute at the many crucifixes erected at the time of the terrible Bombay plague of 1896. And seasonal merriment, like the trippy thandai at Khaane Khaas and sinful raan at Bazaar Road. But today, it’s all about colourful Easter eggs bundled in beribboned bunny baskets. Corny? Yes. Juvenile? Of course. Satisfying? Absolutely.
The new normal is now normal
Easter, a symbol of resurrection and new life, takes on a whole new meaning in 2021; the world recently marked a dubious first anniversary – that of The Pandemic. Those of us who have been spared its wrath so far have still carried our crosses, to extend the Easter-related metaphor. Along the thorny path, there were little triumphs. Mastering semi-round rotis. Art-directing a serviceable backdrop for Zoom. Finding the motivation to dust. Mustering the courage to look at the unforgiving mirror.
“After changes upon changes we are more or less the same” sang Paul Simon in the additional verse of that iconic ballad – The Boxer, an autobiographical lament about criticism and loneliness, inspired by the Bible. Masks are here to stay, as is distancing and sanitising. But here’s an announcement: we’ve been living in the much-touted “new normal” zone for a while now, and it’s not relentlessly difficult, you’ll have to admit. Virtual meetings and elbow nudges may have nothing over real human contact, but that heart-sinking ennui of 2020 is a thing of the past. Sounds fanciful? But it’s Easter, so we’re allowed to hope, rejoice and nibble at sweet bunnies till we scare rational thinking away.
Intoxicated by the exuberance of your own verbosity
{{/usCountry}}Intoxicated by the exuberance of your own verbosity
{{/usCountry}}Amitabh Bachchan jumping out of a giant egg in My Name Is Anthony Gonsalves is a collective Easter memory with all the visceral force of Manmohan Desai’s brand of Bollywood behind it. Not too long ago, I learnt that my Bandra building was once home to the musician and teacher Anthony Gonsalves, who contributed to Hindi movie scores in the 1950s and ‘60s. The gibberish-peppered song in Amar Akbar Anthony was a tribute from Pyarelal (of Laxmikant-Pyarelal fame) to his violin teacher; a sweet little surprise for those not in the know. Or an Easter egg in an Easter egg.
For millennials and those fascinating creatures that come after, “Easter eggs” are surprise messages embedded in pop culture artefacts like films, music videos and computer games. A kind of treasure hunt where you find unexpected images, sounds and references which have nothing to do with the plot. In-jokes, if you will. Why are they called Easter eggs? Once upon a time, there was an Atari video game called ‘Adventure’, woven around an Easter egg hunt. Now, one of the software programmers was upset about not getting due acknowledgment in the credits of the game. So, he sneakily embedded the text “Created by Warren Robinett”, only to be revealed by strategic clicks and hovers on the part of the clueless player. His bosses discovered these secret messages only after he had quit Atari; but it was too expensive to pull them out and re-release the game. What’s more, hidden messages were encouraged moving forward, and a cool trend was born. Hallelujah!
From Vrindavan to Jerusalem
Last year, opera singer Andrea Bocelli performed a rousing Easter concert at the deserted Duomo di Milano, calling it a “live YouTube prayer”. Titled ‘Music for Hope’, it “highlighted the hope for the rebirth of Italy”, a country that reeled under the full force of the early pandemic, and a strict lockdown to control it. From the music that the Italians played to cheer each other up from their balconies to the up-tempo playlists we cue on our phones for workouts, music is tasked with delivering us from all troubles. It might not deliver us, but at least it has us humming off-key through all the heartache.
Languorous Holi thumris in my head are now segueing into rousing Gospel music. Gujiyas have morphed into Easter eggs as the imagination journeys from the gardens of Vrindavan to the city of Jerusalem. These are tough times, still, but at least there’s the warm consolation of festivals that celebrate renewal and resurrection, accompanied by food that has no other purpose than to please.
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From HT Brunch, April 4, 2021
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