Three Years Ganesha in Mumbai

(Also starring my Hasselblad, a Leica, and several buckets of ghee)

When I first moved to Mumbai, I imagined myself soaking up culture, chasing career opportunities, and catching the occasional coastal sunset with dramatic clouds and a chilled Kingfisher in hand.

What I didn’t realize was that I was also signing up for an annual ten-day citywide sensory explosion featuring towering idols, rivers of marigolds, 4 a.m. drumming processions, and more modaks than my digestive system was emotionally prepared to handle.

That’s right: Ganesh Chaturthi.

Mumbai doesn’t just celebrate it. It transcends into it. It becomes one giant, devotional, glitter-covered Bollywood set where the star is a god with an elephant head and a public presence Beyoncé would envy.

Three years in, I can now confidently say:
I came for the work, but I stayed for the deity with charm, girth, and impeccable event management skills.

Year One: Overwhelmed, Underprepared, Emotionally Modaked

My first Ganesh Chaturthi hit me like a brass band on Red Bull—because that’s exactly what it was. A well-meaning colleague invited me to see Lalbaugcha Raja, and I, assuming this was a breezy temple stroll with incense and polite nods, said, “Sure, sounds peaceful.”

Four hours, 800 selfies, and one spontaneous foot massage later, I was still in line, my sneakers soaked in monsoon runoff and my soul slightly detaching from my physical body. Somewhere between the chanting, flower showers, and an elderly woman blessing my camera lens, it hit me:

This isn’t a festival. This is Mumbai’s spiritual Super Bowl.

📸 Photographer’s Tip #1: Do not bring your Hasselblad 500 C/M to Lalbaug on immersion day unless you’re also bringing a Sherpa, a security detail, or a flotation device.

Year Two: I Bring the Hasselblad. Ganesha Approves.

By year two, I knew the terrain. I came armed:
– Hasselblad 500 C/M
– A backpack stuffed with Portra 400
– A borrowed CFV 100C digital back
– One very confused visiting friend named Claire

We tackled Khetwadi, home of 12-foot Ganeshas and even taller artistic ambition. There were idols made of chocolate, hay, sugarcane, betel nuts, and—this is real—tissue paper. Even Greta Thunberg would’ve paused for a selfie.

Claire stared at the Tejukaya idol floating mid-air, held aloft by wires, pulleys, and divine intention. “Is this idol… levitating?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Mumbai doesn’t do symbolism. It does full send.”

📸 Tip #2: Waist-level finder + tall idols = aggressive neck yoga
📸 Tip #3: Shoot Portra 400 at ISO 200 for daylight magic
📸 Tip #4: With the CFV, shoot wide and crop later. Pandals are packed. So are your compositions.

Year Three: Veteran Moves and Good Modaks

By now, I had a system:

✔️ Shoot early mornings or post-aarti glow
✔️ Carry microfiber cloths (because ghee happens)
✔️ Avoid immersion day traffic like it’s a suspicious biryani

This year I went spiritual and cinematic. I focused on the quieter pandals—like GSB Seva Mandal, with gold-laced grandeur and devotees more organized than German train schedules. Then to Andhericha Raja, where the idol is insured for ₹2.15 crores and smiles like it knows your browser history.

Even the street-level mandals were intense: climate change awareness here, tributes to farmers there, even an idol riding a recycled bicycle made of LED bulbs and climate guilt.

📸 Tip #5: Use mirror lock-up on the Hasselblad for low-light interiors—nobody wants handheld blur next to ₹40 lakh worth of sacred gold.
📸 Tip #6: Avoid flash. It ruins the shadows and the mood. Also, you’ll probably offend the priest and an uncle with a DSLR and serious opinions.

Claire was back, now full Ganpati-convert, shooting Reels like a production house. I stuck to square frames and silence. Our footage looked different, but our hearts beat to the same dhol rhythm.

Lessons from Three Years of Ganpati:

Mumbai will always make room for one more idol, one more modak, and one more person pretending to know the lyrics to Sukhkarta Dukhaharta.
You haven’t lived until you’ve been elbowed lovingly by a 90-year-old shouting “Ganpati Bappa Morya!” like she means it.
The DJ and the dhol guy will always compete. Nobody wins. Everyone dances.
And no matter how many rolls of film you bring, you’ll always wish you had one more.

Every year ends the same:
With glitter in your hair, a modak in your mouth, and an odd emptiness as the final aarti fades into the sea, and the sound of drums dissolves into distant traffic.

Shot On:

– Hasselblad 500 C/M + CFV 100C
– Portra 400, everywhere
– Sweat, joy, ghee, and a dangerously intimate relationship with square format photography

Moral of the story:
I came for work. I stayed for the laddu-loving god with a street presence stronger than any CEO.
And I’ll be back next year—with more film, fewer expectations, and maybe a waterproof tripod.

Because once you’ve experienced Ganesh Chaturthi in Mumbai, normal life just feels... underexposed.