Ganesha habba ~ festival fiction

 It was Poornima and Keshav's first Ganesha Habba as a married couple, and they were celebrating it at Keshav’s family home in Bangalore. The house was alive with festive energy—relatives bustling around, laughter echoing from every room, and the scent of modakas and freshly made dishes filling the air.

As the couple helped decorate the Ganesha idol with fresh flowers, they couldn’t help but smile at the familiar rituals. “Remember how we’d fight over who got to place the garland?” Poornima laughed, looking at Keshav. 

Keshav nodded, grinning. “And how we would sneak modakas before the aarti? Amma always knew, but she never said anything.” 

Poornima’s eyes sparkled as she recalled her childhood Ganesha Habbas. “At our house, we’d compete to see who could make the best rangoli. My brother would always mess mine up on purpose,” she said, chuckling

They shared these small moments as they sat down for the **puja** with the family, the soft chanting of mantras and the fragrance of incense wrapping them in nostalgia. After the puja, they all sat down together for lunch—a huge spread of traditional Karnataka dishes. Poornima couldn't stop complimenting Keshav’s mother on the food, while Keshav nudged her, reminding her how his mom had always made *the best* payasa during Ganesha Habba.

Later, as they sat on the balcony, watching the city wind down after the festivities, Keshav turned to Poornima. “It’s funny, isn’t it? No matter where we go, these traditions stay with us. The same old Ganesha, the same old stories, but they never get old.”

Poornima smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. “Because it’s not just about the rituals, but the memories we make with them.”

As the evening sky darkened, they could hear the distant sounds of Ganesha chants from other homes, and in that moment, the warmth of family and the joy of shared memories felt more alive than ever.