Life in India has always been a delicate balance between reason and devotion. Our sages, thousands of years ago, were not merely men of prayer but men of vision who saw beyond the limitations of the human eye. They mapped the nine planets, measured the distances between them, and gave them names, long before modern science confirmed their existence. The same sages also told us about Lord Ganesha, the embodiment of wisdom and intellect, and laid the foundations of the festival we now celebrate as Ganeshotsav. If their discoveries about the cosmos have proven true, there is little reason to doubt what they said about Ganesha.
In the earliest times, human beings lived in harmony. There was no deceit, no theft; food stores were kept open, and neighbors could freely take what they needed. Prosperity bred complacency, and arrogance took root. Without suffering, there can be no appreciation of joy; without darkness, no understanding of light. It was in this environment that conflicts began between gods and demons. The gods, troubled by eight destructive demons, invoked eight forms of Ganesha—the Ashta Ganapathis—to restore balance. Each form destroyed one demon: envy, delusion, arrogance, greed, ego, anger, pride, and lust. But before their defeat, the demons begged that their spirits be sent to earth, and so they entered human hearts. Since then, these asuric qualities have lived among us, tearing apart homes, friendships, and societies.
Ganeshotsav was conceived as a divine remedy for this human condition. The clay murti of Ganesha, symbolic of the five elements, is installed and worshipped for nine days. Each day, devotees surrender their weaknesses to him. On the eighth day, all negative qualities are believed to be absorbed into the murtis. On the ninth, the murtis, heavy with these impurities, is taken in procession and immersed in water, returning to the cosmic realm and carrying away the afflictions of humankind. To witness this immersion itself is considered a blessing, a moment of release and renewal.
The festival is not just a product of modern imagination; it is deeply rooted in our epics and legends. When King Nala lost his kingdom and wandered in despair, his wife Damayanti was advised to observe Ganesh Puja during the month of Bhadrapada. That act of faith restored their fortune. The Pandavas, before the great war of Kurukshetra, performed Ganesh Puja at Krishna’s command, and they triumphed. Centuries later, Chhatrapati Shivaji drew divine strength from this festival in his fight against the Mughals. Inspired by Shivaji, Bal Gangadhar Tilak revived Ganeshotsav during the freedom struggle, transforming it into a rallying point of nationalism against colonial rule. What began as a ritual of devotion became a weapon of unity and resistance, turning Ganesha into a symbol not only of wisdom but also of national pride.
In Kerala, Ganeshotsav took organised shape about three and a half decades ago, when the Ganeshotsav Trust was formed under my stewardship. From then until today, without interruption, the festival has flourished. Clay murtis are lovingly crafted, offerings of kozhukatta, unniyappam, and laddus are made, and after nine days of devotion, the murtis are carried through the streets in joyous processions before being immersed in the sea or rivers. The immersion is not an act of disposal but a sacred release. The murtis, having absorbed the sins and sufferings of devotees, cannot be worshipped again. It returns to the divine, leaving behind blessings and renewal. Alongside the prayers, acts of charity—feeding the hungry, donating clothes or books, or helping the needy—are encouraged as expressions of true devotion.
Ganeshotsav, at its core, transcends barriers. In its earliest days, there were no divisions of religion or caste; anyone who believed in Ganesha could participate. That spirit remains. What matters is not one’s background, but the sincerity of prayer, free of malice or negativity.
Ganeshotsav is thus far more than a festival. It is a timeless tradition that weaves together mythology, history, spirituality, and nationalism. It reminds us that wisdom must guide power, that humility is the essence of strength, and that unity is the highest form of devotion. Each year, as the clay murtis dissolve into water, they carry away with them our flaws and failings, leaving us lighter, purer, and ready to begin again.
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