Sacred Sound

Ganeshotsav is here. For ten days, Lord Ganesha, remover of obstacles, will be welcomed into homes and neighbourhood pandals across Maharashtra. This year, for the first time, the festival has been officially declared the state’s ‘Rajya Utsav.’ The mood, as always, is one of piety wrapped in spectacle. It is one of India’s happiest festivals, a moment when devotion and community fuse. Yet with each passing year the balance has tilted from what was once intimate, reverent and steeped in cultural memory to a spectacle that risks being overwhelmed by the din of deafening DJs, blaring speakers and drunken revelry, particularly after immersion processions.

The spirit of Ganeshotsav has always rested on two intertwined principles: faith and fellowship. Reinvented in the late 19th century by Bal Gangadhar Tilak as a form of cultural resistance to British rule, it became a rallying point for Hindu identity and social solidarity. More than a century later, it remains a binding force in Maharashtra and beyond, offering a chance for neighbours to gather, artisans to display their craft and families to pause amid the frenzy of urban life.

This year, Mumbai is leaning decisively into greener practices. The Brihanmumbai Municipal Corporation (BMC) has prepared more than 275 artificial lakes across the city to enable environmentally responsible idol immersion and reduce pressure on natural water bodies. In the run-up to the festivities, it launched a citywide push to promote clay (Shadu) idols and safer decoration materials. The ambition is to make eco-friendly idols the default choice.

Alongside materials, the civic body has emphasised preparedness and safety. Over 1,000 volunteers from public mandals have received training in emergency management, crowd handling and first-response protocols. Social media campaigns nudge devotees towards sustainable décor and makhar (shrine) materials.

Such measures suggest that parts of the festival are evolving in the right direction. Yet the sanctity of the occasion is still too often drowned in excess. Sound levels regularly cross legal limits; DJs compete to outblast one another, sometimes continuing through the night. The immersion (visarjan), meant to be a moving farewell to the deity, is increasingly marked by reckless dancing, brawls and public drunkenness.

Doctors point to stress, hearing loss and disrupted sleep linked to festival noise. Mumbai’s pollution board routinely records sound levels above 100 decibels, the equivalent to standing beside a jackhammer. The irony is that a festival meant to remove obstacles creates new ones in the form of health hazards and civic disruption. While regulations already exist, enforcement is often diluted by political patronage and the clout of wealthy mandals.

The most lasting reforms, though, come from within. Citizens’ groups, housing societies and responsible mandals must press for a quieter Ganeshotsav. Religious leaders can remind devotees that reverence is best expressed in restraint. The festival thrives not because of decibels but because of its ability to inspire collective faith. A happy and healthy Ganeshotsav is possible but only if the sacred is allowed to be heard above the din.