<p>Festivals mean feasting. And what we forget, as we celebrate our profusion of festive cuisine, is the plight of those who are on a diet. If you are restricting what you eat, either because you are battling a health problem or because you want to lose weight, you only have two options: break your resolve and join in the feasting, or lock yourself up and forgo festive socialising. Either way, you end up feeling miserable. The feasting makes you sick, and staying away from your family and friends doesn’t leave you in good spirits either.</p>.<p>They say the Punjabis splurge on weddings, and Bollywood is constantly bringing us musical reminders of how extravagant their celebrations can be. South Indian weddings now incorporate baraat, sangeet, and such other spectacular elements of North Indian weddings. Reception dinners flaunt new-age northern attractions in addition to southern fare. The Maharashtrians, on the other hand, enjoy a reputation for frugality. Kannadigas, with whose practices I can claim first-hand familiarity, rank high up among those who place a premium on habba and Haridina (festivals), the highlight of which is invariably a samaradhane (feast). Some communities save up and blow all their savings when they host a wedding. Others borrow heavily – and mortgage and sell their land and property – to be able to throw lavish feasts. And that is perhaps one reason they will not let you go without tasting the spread. They have planned it for years and laboured over the creation of a memorable banquet. How can their sacrifices go in vain, and how can you disregard them? And hosts also assume you are desirous but shy.</p>.<p>More and more people are being told that the answer to their poor health is fasting, besides dieting and mindful eating. But how do you even stick to a diet if you are always under pressure, and from your near and dear ones, to deviate from it? Our hosts take their hospitality seriously. Force-feeding, a friend calls it. If you are diabetic, you probably know how it is impossible to attend a celebration and come away without being fed multiple servings of the forbidden fare.</p>.<p>The Dasara-Deepavali season is when everything gets bigger. Stores deck themselves up for the busiest month of the year. New fashion floods the market. An earlier generation talks about how, when festivals meant getting new clothes stitched, the tailors would never deliver on time. Online shopping platforms and automobile dealers announce the biggest discounts of the year. The newspapers are thicker, overflowing with advertisements. Sweet shops hire extra hands to meet the demand for bulk orders. As fairy lights appear everywhere, the most excited are the marketers – it is that time of the year when consumers splurge without a care. And the most anxious are the ones trying to watch what they eat.</p>.<p>In recent years, campaigns have made us aware of a wide variety of health and safety concerns. The authorities issue customary warnings about the perils of conventional crackers and urge you to go green. Sound and air pollution levels are discussed, and newspapers do a before-and-after comparison. You hear about the woes of children, elders, patients, and pets. The smells and sounds of the season leave them palpitating and terrified. Animal-friendly resorts away from civilisation offer packages for families with pets. A minuscule number of those vulnerable do manage to get away from it all.</p>.<p>I have tried both approaches – staying away from social occasions, and attending them and asking to be excused from the meal. It isn’t easy. The first earns you a dark, sociopathic reputation. As for the second, when the gracious host’s persuasion starts drawing the attention of everyone around you, you give in. Who wants to be the centre of all the fuss, and what do you even say to satisfy the curiosity of a crowd zeroing in on you? That is when festive hospitality begins to acquire the dimensions of subtle violence.</p>.<p>Festive treats are not easy to resist. They look, smell, and taste great. Disciplining yourself not to be tempted by them takes time and effort. And then the smiling host appears, pirouetting like Menaka. What chance do you stand, poor Vishwamitra?</p>.<p><em>(The writer often sees high art in kitsch and vice versa.)</em></p><p><em>Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.</em></p>
<p>Festivals mean feasting. And what we forget, as we celebrate our profusion of festive cuisine, is the plight of those who are on a diet. If you are restricting what you eat, either because you are battling a health problem or because you want to lose weight, you only have two options: break your resolve and join in the feasting, or lock yourself up and forgo festive socialising. Either way, you end up feeling miserable. The feasting makes you sick, and staying away from your family and friends doesn’t leave you in good spirits either.</p>.<p>They say the Punjabis splurge on weddings, and Bollywood is constantly bringing us musical reminders of how extravagant their celebrations can be. South Indian weddings now incorporate baraat, sangeet, and such other spectacular elements of North Indian weddings. Reception dinners flaunt new-age northern attractions in addition to southern fare. The Maharashtrians, on the other hand, enjoy a reputation for frugality. Kannadigas, with whose practices I can claim first-hand familiarity, rank high up among those who place a premium on habba and Haridina (festivals), the highlight of which is invariably a samaradhane (feast). Some communities save up and blow all their savings when they host a wedding. Others borrow heavily – and mortgage and sell their land and property – to be able to throw lavish feasts. And that is perhaps one reason they will not let you go without tasting the spread. They have planned it for years and laboured over the creation of a memorable banquet. How can their sacrifices go in vain, and how can you disregard them? And hosts also assume you are desirous but shy.</p>.<p>More and more people are being told that the answer to their poor health is fasting, besides dieting and mindful eating. But how do you even stick to a diet if you are always under pressure, and from your near and dear ones, to deviate from it? Our hosts take their hospitality seriously. Force-feeding, a friend calls it. If you are diabetic, you probably know how it is impossible to attend a celebration and come away without being fed multiple servings of the forbidden fare.</p>.<p>The Dasara-Deepavali season is when everything gets bigger. Stores deck themselves up for the busiest month of the year. New fashion floods the market. An earlier generation talks about how, when festivals meant getting new clothes stitched, the tailors would never deliver on time. Online shopping platforms and automobile dealers announce the biggest discounts of the year. The newspapers are thicker, overflowing with advertisements. Sweet shops hire extra hands to meet the demand for bulk orders. As fairy lights appear everywhere, the most excited are the marketers – it is that time of the year when consumers splurge without a care. And the most anxious are the ones trying to watch what they eat.</p>.<p>In recent years, campaigns have made us aware of a wide variety of health and safety concerns. The authorities issue customary warnings about the perils of conventional crackers and urge you to go green. Sound and air pollution levels are discussed, and newspapers do a before-and-after comparison. You hear about the woes of children, elders, patients, and pets. The smells and sounds of the season leave them palpitating and terrified. Animal-friendly resorts away from civilisation offer packages for families with pets. A minuscule number of those vulnerable do manage to get away from it all.</p>.<p>I have tried both approaches – staying away from social occasions, and attending them and asking to be excused from the meal. It isn’t easy. The first earns you a dark, sociopathic reputation. As for the second, when the gracious host’s persuasion starts drawing the attention of everyone around you, you give in. Who wants to be the centre of all the fuss, and what do you even say to satisfy the curiosity of a crowd zeroing in on you? That is when festive hospitality begins to acquire the dimensions of subtle violence.</p>.<p>Festive treats are not easy to resist. They look, smell, and taste great. Disciplining yourself not to be tempted by them takes time and effort. And then the smiling host appears, pirouetting like Menaka. What chance do you stand, poor Vishwamitra?</p>.<p><em>(The writer often sees high art in kitsch and vice versa.)</em></p><p><em>Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.</em></p>
