I failed to go see Ma even once this season.
I mean Ma Durga...
The pseudo-bengali that I am, Durga Puja is almost an integral part of my Life. Way back since the days of school vacations in the beginning of autumn, this respite from cruel teachers and boring homework was welcome. But not really for these reasons. It was more than just no-school!
It was a time of unbridled joy, a time of togetherness. Age, gender or status has never had any effect on the jubilant lot that are the Bengalis during the five days the images of Ma spend with us. Everyone is busy being happy to think of anything else. It's a time to stop and enjoy, time to change for the better, a time to welcome new things into your life. We kids would be out cycling all over town going to all corners to see the elaborately decorated Pandals and idols of the goddess. It was one time of the year when we could be on our own and free of the conventional parental bonds. It was also the only chance when we could meet outside the school premises, visit each others places and meet other families. We just felt so grown up being on our own for all these five days. There was of course that extra pocket money to eat all the yummy roadside stuff.
The evenings would bring in the autumn chill & the cardamom-like fragrance of the Chatim flowers. The sun setting on the fields lined by tall shoots of the white Kashful - the grass flowers - swaying in the wind, was a memorable sight. Freshened up after the siesta brought on by the day-long cycling, we'd step out all decked up in the new clothes for the season. The glow of distant pandal illumination lights and the filmy music floating in would remind us to gather near the Puja.
But it was impossible to contain any of us when the mesmerising Dhak begun. Our hearts would start resonating to their beat. The evening arati was accompanied by the playing of the dhak and the offering of Dhuno smoke to the goddess. Not a simple thing this. It's almost an art to do it right and we would even have competitions! With two dhunuchis in two hands the guys would enter the arena and be lost in a trance brought on by the rhythmic drums and bells. With flashing red eyes burning like the embers in their hands and devotion as profuse as the smoke they'd dance till they were in tears. Applauded by the awed crowd flanking them they'd then make way for the next performer. The priest would of course be carrying on chanting his mantras, waving hypnotically the huge set of lighted lamps in his hands, eyes fixed on the goddess' face. That is the most beautiful sight of the whole occasion.
The Mother's face... The round fair face that could be hidden perfectly only by a beetle-leaf. Shaped and painted with such elaborate care by the clay-stained idol-makers. The wavy hair framing it - a charateristic of the typical bengali mother. The eyes filled with enough motherly love to sum up that of all mothers, but also wide open to show a bit of chiding anger. The third eye almost open so as to drive fear into the hearts of the wrong-doing children of hers. The pert nose and mouth complete the perfection that one is drawn into admiring for long after one has finished praying to her for all ones wishes...
And this season, this lousy fellow broke the track record of 27 years and didn't go see her!!! The first day - Mahalaya - had been good with me listening to the Mahalaya radio recitals early in the day. But my cold and some other reasons kept me away from her. A curbed sense of smell has wrecked havoc on my enjoying this autumn. Weird how its all no fun without all those smells of night flowers, the dhoops & dhunos, the crackers, the delicious aromas etc. I didn't get that feel at all... A lousy/lazy mood over the weekend was also to blame. In spite of a 3 day holiday, I somehow ruined my leave on Friday, working, & was so cross about it that I wasted my Saturday in bed too! So no going out... Missed all of this year's Pujo...
Sunday was Bijoya Dashami... Its is the day she won the 10 day battle against Mahishasura. Its also a bit of a sad day as it is the day of her mythical departure to her husband's place, after telling us once again to conquer the Evils in our lives. The ladies gather around her in the mornign and bid her goodbye. They almost play a Holi with red shindoor signifying the good fortune of the families. I have never been to the Dashami celebrations as there is a totally different feel to it compared to the other days. Its too sad I guess to be missing her after these fun days together. So Sunday would have been spoilt too if I hadn't decided to conquer laziness. I had to go out and see Amit, who was in town.
I mean Ma Durga...
The pseudo-bengali that I am, Durga Puja is almost an integral part of my Life. Way back since the days of school vacations in the beginning of autumn, this respite from cruel teachers and boring homework was welcome. But not really for these reasons. It was more than just no-school!
It was a time of unbridled joy, a time of togetherness. Age, gender or status has never had any effect on the jubilant lot that are the Bengalis during the five days the images of Ma spend with us. Everyone is busy being happy to think of anything else. It's a time to stop and enjoy, time to change for the better, a time to welcome new things into your life. We kids would be out cycling all over town going to all corners to see the elaborately decorated Pandals and idols of the goddess. It was one time of the year when we could be on our own and free of the conventional parental bonds. It was also the only chance when we could meet outside the school premises, visit each others places and meet other families. We just felt so grown up being on our own for all these five days. There was of course that extra pocket money to eat all the yummy roadside stuff.
The evenings would bring in the autumn chill & the cardamom-like fragrance of the Chatim flowers. The sun setting on the fields lined by tall shoots of the white Kashful - the grass flowers - swaying in the wind, was a memorable sight. Freshened up after the siesta brought on by the day-long cycling, we'd step out all decked up in the new clothes for the season. The glow of distant pandal illumination lights and the filmy music floating in would remind us to gather near the Puja.
But it was impossible to contain any of us when the mesmerising Dhak begun. Our hearts would start resonating to their beat. The evening arati was accompanied by the playing of the dhak and the offering of Dhuno smoke to the goddess. Not a simple thing this. It's almost an art to do it right and we would even have competitions! With two dhunuchis in two hands the guys would enter the arena and be lost in a trance brought on by the rhythmic drums and bells. With flashing red eyes burning like the embers in their hands and devotion as profuse as the smoke they'd dance till they were in tears. Applauded by the awed crowd flanking them they'd then make way for the next performer. The priest would of course be carrying on chanting his mantras, waving hypnotically the huge set of lighted lamps in his hands, eyes fixed on the goddess' face. That is the most beautiful sight of the whole occasion.
The Mother's face... The round fair face that could be hidden perfectly only by a beetle-leaf. Shaped and painted with such elaborate care by the clay-stained idol-makers. The wavy hair framing it - a charateristic of the typical bengali mother. The eyes filled with enough motherly love to sum up that of all mothers, but also wide open to show a bit of chiding anger. The third eye almost open so as to drive fear into the hearts of the wrong-doing children of hers. The pert nose and mouth complete the perfection that one is drawn into admiring for long after one has finished praying to her for all ones wishes...
And this season, this lousy fellow broke the track record of 27 years and didn't go see her!!! The first day - Mahalaya - had been good with me listening to the Mahalaya radio recitals early in the day. But my cold and some other reasons kept me away from her. A curbed sense of smell has wrecked havoc on my enjoying this autumn. Weird how its all no fun without all those smells of night flowers, the dhoops & dhunos, the crackers, the delicious aromas etc. I didn't get that feel at all... A lousy/lazy mood over the weekend was also to blame. In spite of a 3 day holiday, I somehow ruined my leave on Friday, working, & was so cross about it that I wasted my Saturday in bed too! So no going out... Missed all of this year's Pujo...
Sunday was Bijoya Dashami... Its is the day she won the 10 day battle against Mahishasura. Its also a bit of a sad day as it is the day of her mythical departure to her husband's place, after telling us once again to conquer the Evils in our lives. The ladies gather around her in the mornign and bid her goodbye. They almost play a Holi with red shindoor signifying the good fortune of the families. I have never been to the Dashami celebrations as there is a totally different feel to it compared to the other days. Its too sad I guess to be missing her after these fun days together. So Sunday would have been spoilt too if I hadn't decided to conquer laziness. I had to go out and see Amit, who was in town.
But see her love... she came to see me! On Dashami... I rode out on SIN and on the way was the river. Just as I passed it I saw the sight that filled my eyes up. It was time for visarjan & all Ma Durgas had gathered there & I could meet them at least that small while! :) Oh I was so happy... Everything was there... The idols of the immortal goddess all crimson now, the dhak, dhuno, arati et al. The mortals too... guys in their elaborate panjabi kurtas, aunties in their red bordered saaris & the round faced bong chicks :) It was a mini pujo for me...!!! A chance miracle eh!? One that I am not going to forget...
I Promise Ma I wont give you the miss again... But do come see me if I ever fail.
I Promise Ma I wont give you the miss again... But do come see me if I ever fail.
Credits: Chikki - for the Pujo photo from London.
Rajesh Chakraborty - for his film Dhak, which perfectly complements what I wrote.
