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Once a year, in mid-April, the nine-day Ram Navami festival is celebrated.
My city is suddenly full of orange flags which are attached to long bamboo poles erected for a high-flying flag.
This is the Hanuman temple, one of three in these photos. As Lord Hanuman is a devotee of Shri Ram, the temple has a festive look about it during the nine days of Ram Navami.
Chaps carrying bamboo sticks 16 feet long ride home on the backs of scooters are as nonchalant as can be.
My Hinduism never spilled out onto the street. I have never personally been part of these street festivals, and neither has my brother — it isn’t a gender thing.
My mom and dad were more homely, and restrictive with their prayers. Their prayers were conducted at home.
See? That’s my dad, couple days ago — he’s been plagued by low blood pressure and unlike everyday, is not dressed up in his usual clothes for the Puja.
He is offering the milk to God in a procedure called the neividhyam.
He didn’t need to go out into the street and put up flags to announce his Hinduism, in face he feels perfectly Hindu in a Brooks Brothers’ night suit.
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