Dear Diary: Dandiya Stick

By Staff Writer Mansi Mundada

The nine nights of Navratri burst with colors and music as dancers honor the goddess Durga through celebrations of Garba and Dandiya Raas. Crucial to this tradition are dandiya sticks, slender wooden pieces often painted or wrapped in bright colors with decorative items, such as mirrors and bells. Dandiya Raas originated in the state of Gujarat and the dance serves as a re-enactment of  Durga’s victory over the demon Mahishashura, while the dandiya sticks represent her swords. This Dear Diary follows one particularly prideful dandiya stick as it slowly realizes that it should focus on what truly matters: friendship.

Sept. 10 @ 10:00 a.m .

Freshly painted, I glisten in the store’s bright lights. As I bask in my brilliance, a human grabs me from my peaceful box and drops me in a plastic bag. I land next to another stick in the bag and I stare in surprise: it’s almost like looking in a mirror. The other stick has the same colors, the same design, even the same ribbons, yet is clearly nowhere near as dazzling as me. The human places us at the front of the store, on a top shelf where everyone can admire me. My inferior twin takes up too much space, as if we are equals. Ugh, I wanted the spotlight, not a sidekick.

Sept. 10 @ 11:30 a.m.

A little girl and her dad come into the store, and look around. I can see her looking at us in excitement. I just know she’s going to choose us, so try to look presentable,  I tell my less gorgeous twin. And the girl does choose us! She twirls us in her hands throughout the drive. When we reach her house, she removes us from the plastic bag and places us neatly on her desk. I notice how close my twin is to me, so I roll away a little and the sun shines on me. As I shimmer in the sunlight, my twin looks dull in comparison. 

Sept. 21 @ 9:00 p.m 

After days of sitting untouched on the table, I have to say having my twin next to me isn’t the worst. I guess even a perfect stick like me could use a little company, no matter how insufferable. I see the girl walk toward us, and excitement fills me. The girl picks us up, and suddenly bangs us together. I am aghast!. What if I get chipped? The girl twirls us, bangs us, and keeps spinning around. I glance at my twin who looks unfazed and moves without a care. I wonder, maybe we’re supposed to be used like this. But what if the girl keeps doing this and I’m no longer beautiful? 

Sept. 22 @ 9:00 p.m.

Today, the girl is dressed in a long flaring skirt with sequins, sparkles, and mirrors with an embroidered, equally shiny top. I catch my reflection in the mirrors on her skirt, and gasp, I look magnificent! She takes us to an open ground, and I see hundreds of people in sparkly and bright outfits, holding dandiya sticks. I overhear talk about Garba and Navratri, and piece together what the occasion is. There is cheerful music playing and the girl taps us together to the beat. Bang! Suddenly, my twin collides with me, harder than I expected. I stare in horror at my chipped paint. For a moment, I cannot breathe. I am no longer perfect. In that instant, the girl  drops my twin and it rolls away, disappearing into the dancing crowd. 

Sept. 22 @ 10:00  p.m.

You’d think that without my insufferable twin, I’d feel free of a burden, but I feel sick and incomplete. The chips on my paint don’t bother me as much as losing my twin is. Maybe I was never complete on my own — after all, we came in a pair for a reason. I have always believed that I was the shinier, more superior twin  and never gave any concern to my bond with my twin or even the girl. But what if that was what truly matters? Suddenly fear washes over me as I realize: what if the girl doesn’t like me anymore now that I’m not a pair anymore? The girl’s hand hovers over me, is she going to toss me out, I wonder, quaking in fear. Instead she grabs me, and starts walking around, saying to herself, “I have to find it, where is it?” I am filled with hope that I’ll be reunited with my twin. 

Sept. 23 9:30 p.m. 

During Garba today, the girl held me tightly to ensure she wouldn’t lose me, and she walked around looking for my twin. As we walked past the dancers, dodging dandiya sticks and avoiding stepping on the dancers’ long skirts, we saw something glitter near a bench in the light. My heart races in excitement, is it my twin? The girl runs over and bends to look under the bench, and pulls something out, smiling. It is my twin! I lean toward my twin in joy, at last, we are reunited! I realize that all my pride in being the “shinier,”“better” stick is meaningless if I am alone without my twin. 

Sept. 24 9:30 p.m.

We’re back at yet another Garba party, but this time, I don’t worry about being chipped or scratched. For the first time, I stop thinking about how I look and enjoy music, the laughter around me, and focus on being with my twin and the girl! I look at my reflection in the mirrors on her skirt as she dances, and this time I don’t just see myself. I see us. I dance carefree with my twin surrounded by joy and music. After all, what makes these nights special isn’t about how perfect I look, but the fact that we are together.