When Navratri Becomes a City’s Pulse: Reflections on Rhea Chakraborty’s Amazement in Vadodara

I read Rhea Chakraborty’s short observation — that she was “amazed to see the scale of Vadodara’s Navratri celebrations” — and felt a familiar, quiet thrill. Her comment, shared by Ahmedabad Times on social channels, landed as a small ripple in a much larger tide: the sudden, emphatic proof that festivals are not just rituals but living civic performances that define a city’s rhythm (Ahmedabad Times Facebook; Instagram post).

As someone who cares about how culture and communication intersect, I want to linger on what that amazement means — for Vadodara, for Navratri, and for how we share and remember these moments.

Why the scale matters

There are two obvious readings when a celebrity notes the scale of a festival. One is logistical: the sheer number of pandals, the elaborateness of stage design, the traffic choreography, the volunteers, the economy around food, clothing and music. The other — deeper and harder to quantify — is emotional: the collective energy that sweeps a city, the sense of belonging people feel when they step into a circle of dancers and a crowd that has, for a few nights, agreed to the same heartbeat.

Vadodara’s Navratri is a reminder that culture can be a city’s public infrastructure. Streets, parks and plazas turn into stages; neighbourhoods donate their front yards to strangers who become friends for the evening. When Rhea described her surprise, I read it as a recognition of civic choreography that years of local work — from organizers to musicians to volunteers — have perfected.

What this reveals about modern festivals

A few things stand out:

• Community scale = social insurance. When tens of thousands turn up for Garba, the city’s fabric is reinforced. New relationships are made — vendors, musicians, neighbours. That social capital is as important as any municipal project.
• Festivals are micro-economies. Costume makers, food stalls, musicians, sound engineers — Navratri supports livelihoods. The scale Rhea noticed is livelihoods being celebrated in plain daylight.
• The performance is hybrid: ancient ritual meets urban spectacle. Traditional songs and steps, streamed now through phones and shared instantly online, reach people who cannot be there physically.

The last point takes me to something I have long said about social media: it is not a distraction from culture — it’s a new channel through which culture broadcasts itself. I’ve written about social media automation and content strategies in the past, urging that timely, authentic posts can amplify what matters (Turn up summer with social media automation; Five Ways a Business Grew 800-Fold With Social Media). Seeing Rhea’s post and the responses it generated is a practical, contemporary example of that point: a single post becomes an invitation, and an invitation becomes a conversation.

The role of media and memory

When a moment is captured and shared — a clip of a dandiya line, a photo of a lit mandap, a short reflection from a surprised visitor — those shares do more than inform. They archive the feeling for others: those who missed the night, those who plan the next year, and those who study how culture evolves.

Good reportage and vibrant social sharing are complementary. Local journalism and community posts (like the coverage I saw on Jansatta about Navratri events) create context and depth for the images we scroll past on our phones (Navratri events and Garba listings). Together they make the living archive of a festival richer.

A small, personal insistence

I’ve long encouraged my team to use every tool we have to tell stories that matter — to document, to amplify and to build community online. Years ago I urged daily reading of social media newsletters and the disciplined use of scheduling and RSS feeds so that cultural moments aren’t lost to the noise (Turn up summer with social media automation). Today, seeing a celebrity notice Vadodara reminds me why that insistence mattered: a well-placed post can turn curiosity into pride, and a momentary amazement into a sustained conversation.

The core idea I want to emphasise is simple and, to my surprise, enduring — I had raised the same point years ago about the importance of using social channels to surface meaningful cultural moments. Back then I proposed practical steps: consistent posting, thoughtful curation, and letting community stories lead the narrative. Seeing how a single observation — Rhea’s amazement — travels and sparks interest is validation that those earlier suggestions were not theoretical. They were practical, and they matter now. That moment of recognition feels like both validation and a renewed call to action: keep documenting, keep sharing, and keep making room for the city’s culture to be seen.

Closing thought

Navratri in Vadodara is not only a celebration; it’s an argument about what public life can be: noisy, generous, deeply local and unexpectedly modern. When someone like Rhea walks into that argument and says, simply, “I’m amazed,” I hear an echo of what we all know but sometimes forget — that belonging, when performed publicly, can astonish even those who encounter it for the first time.

I’m glad she noticed. I’m glad thousands danced. And I’m resolved to keep using every channel I know to make sure those dances are both lived and remembered.

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Regards,
Hemen Parekh