The Banana Bride

This is a supermarket find again. IKEA to be precise. I went there to get candles for Diwali, and fell in love with this Musa Banana Plant.

Now we Bengalis hold a banana plant in high esteem, apart from its culinary and cultural sanctity, we also believe that the Banana Plant is Ganesha’s wife!

Legend has it that Ganesha was setting off to get married. The wedding party left, while Mother Durga waited at home. In case you did not know, Durga has 10 hands. Why? Because she is the super woman. Apparently, Ganesh had forgotten something at home, probably his BlackBerry.

As he returned home, he saw his Mommy with her hands stretched out, eating with all of them. Astonished the elephant-headed Sonny asked why was she doing this. To which Durga said, “Tor bou aashle judi khete na daye.” Meaning, your new bride may not give me food to eat.

Dejected and unhappy with himself, Ganesha quickly made a decision that he wouldn’t get home a bou, slashed a banana plant nearby and said to Mommy, “E nao tomaar bou”. Meaning, a mute banana plant wouldn’t dare to usurp your position at home.

Thus started strange obsessions of Bong Mothers with their sons. Ma Dugga left a very strong precedence and till date no Bengali Mother has let go off her adult, married son. Strange obsessions of the recent times. But let me warn you, not all Bengali brides are like the mute, obliging Banana Bride of our Gonesh. But let’s not go there. At least for now.

Okay, where was I? IKEA.

As I kept the Musa Banana on the window sill, which incidentally has a stone Ganesha (which has chipped and I am using it as a book end), I got reminded of this mythological story and thought I’d share with you.

 

If you haven’t noticed yet, next time you are celebrating Durga Puja, watch closely and you will see a coy-looking Banana Bride by Ganesha’s side.

The Making of Miss Champa

We got her home as a little branch for CAD 10 on March 20, 2010 from Canada Blooms. P had his doubts she’d survive the Canada cold. I was like an optimistic parent- nurturing and moving her 12 inch planter to where the sun shone the brightest. I even talked to her once in a while.

In the middle of the burgeoning summer (May 2010), Miss Champa sprouted a couple of leaves. Photographs were clicked and she made headlines on Facebook. By the end of June, she looked like she made it.

A month later, we noticed what were apparently a cluster of buds!


The record heat this year in TO meant Miss Champa got ample sunshine on our sunny balcony. And a free wash in the liquid precipitation.

Miss Champa also had to stay indoors when the big bad weather boy was wind blowing everything outside. But let out when it was all sun-drenched again.

On September 24, she teased us with this!
She blushed, she teased, she grew up too soon. She acted like a typical girl. Saving her best till we ran out of patience.

Ladies and gentlemen, please say hello to Miss Champa. My first Frangipani bloom.

If you like her, just stroke her gently, blow a kiss delicately but do not pluck her. She is my day-old daughter. And I call her Miss Champa.