Maharashtra's 11-day Ganpati festival can be experienced through multiple prisms — Jhingat DJ music, dhol-tasha bands in the neighbourhood, Konkan-bound ST buses, school-college breaks, decorated pandals, clay idol workshops, designer backdrops, saree sales, mehendi combo discounts. But, if one were to rank-order the prime contexts characterising the festival in art, text, myth and ritual, the food cooked in the name of the Bappa and mother Gauri tops the chart. Food is energy and the most revered element of the collective worship when the favoured deity is a pot-bellied, elephant-headed, rotund dancer.

When he is not dancing, he is reclining against a pillow, with a loaded plate — he has to remove obstacles, initiate new beginnings, support academic advancement, and patronise the arts. No play begins without his invocation. Naturally, all this needs energy, lots of it. So, the Lord is happy to wallop 21 modaks (lest you forget that mod in modak denotes joy) at one go. He is no body worrier, priding on hyped-up six packs, but a super clever "dispenser of magic, surprise and laughter" (to quote culture critic Lee Siegel) whose girth is not to be concealed. As the myth goes, once the Moon laughed at his bulging belly and then paid a price for a lifetime. The angry Lord broke off one of his tusks and hurled it at the moon, which began waxing and waning ever since.