It is that time of the year again_by Pratyush Parashar Das

 It is that time of the year again_by Pratyush Parashar Das

Good evening dear readers, as I sit down to pen this particular blog post (or type), I feel besieged by a variety of emotions, chief amongst them being happiness, anxiety, and a sense of empty resignation, for it, is that time of the year again, a time which means so many things to many people and a time signaling the triumph of good over evil.

It is a time, which is especially very unique to or for West Bengal, for it is when our Mother comes home, accompanied by five of her Children, for her annual visit to our state, and the other states where she is worshipped and respected.

Now, it may seem puzzling that I chose to talk about so momentous an event with the above emotions churning through me; however, they aren’t unfounded for it is the pandemic that induced the last two.

Indeed, for me, Durga Puja has always been but a time of jollity, happiness, and social gatherings and outings. There is something about Maa’s visit that transforms our state into a place of brightly twinkling lights, loud, cheerful film songs, and equally demure or passionate Rabindra Sangeet or Baul Songs blaring from the loudspeakers, a place where even the laziest of people discover reservoirs of energy which enable them to tramp from one end of the city to another (and quite literally on foot, for some) mingling and jostling with huge crowds (which would probably put Mumbai’s daily suburban train crowds to shame) to view the elaborately and exquisitely designed pandals with their variety of themes, from traditional to artistic, which depict various events, both contemporary and otherwise, and of course the similarly attired idols of Maa and Her Children who are shown in various poses.

And not just pandal-hopping (which is how this 5-day odyssey of traveling from pandal to pandal to view the pandals and Maa is termed), but it is the sheer joy of being there with the mass of humanity, talking with one’s friends and family to one’s heart’s content, capturing the moments on their smartphones, and partaking of the plethora of snacks from the melange of food shops that simply abound in and around the pandals, selling everything from roadside snacks, like papri chaat, jhalmuri, to full-fledged meals like veg biriyani or chicken biriyani with Manchurian, or egg curry with roti and many other such meals, not to mention the regular restaurants which do brisk business to the steady influx of customers, some as late as 02.00 am. And even now, I haven’t come close to capturing the entire gamut of emotions and activities one associates with Durga Puja, for what use are words, when Pujo is but a part of our very Soul?

My earliest memories of Durga Puja include running around with a cracker gun as a child and pretending to be some action figure from a Bollywood film, just sitting by Maa in the pandal and observing things, or watching the various programs that took place, such as theatre, dance programs, poem recitals, and so on. As I grew up, I gradually started taking part in theatre myself (indeed, my first performance was at the age of 9) and I haven’t looked back since, for the theatre is something I genuinely enjoy and connect with, but here I stray from the main topic. 

In the housing complex I live in, (and the state of West Bengal as well) Pujo isn’t just an emotion, it is a part of life itself, for it, is one of the few times in the year when our complex is virtually unrecognizable, for it transforms itself into a dashing figure, far removed from the demure and quietly genteel facade it portrays before the world.

Indeed, the month of August signals the beginning of all activities related to Pujo, with the Pujo cultural committees and sub-committees initiating a round of meetings to plan for the days ahead; theatre auditions and initial rehearsals begin, dancers, start choreographing their moves, in preparation, to enthrall the audience with their performance and lastly, but never the least, the decoration of the complex with long chains of single and multi-colored or variegated fairy lights, loudspeakers, and hoardings announcing the arrival of Pujo, along with those brands which seek to advertise their products.

However, there is something that takes place even before all of these things, something which effectively kickstarts the very arrival of Pujo and ushers in the smell and sights of Pujo (the sight and smell of kash ful or catkins in English, the rather unique fragrance of flowers, which smell different in such a manner that the arrival of autumn (and thus Maa) seems obvious and lastly but never the least, the sky which simply has but a different glow to it, in the days prior to Pujo. That something my dear readers is Mahalaya or the day which signifies the arrival of Maa arrival of Earth, and it is a day that people here on Earth (at least in West Bengal) commemorate by traveling to the banks of the river Ganga and ritually taking bath in it, to purify themselves before the arrival of Maa on Earth.

Indeed, Pujo is special for many other reasons as well, as can be seen in the fact that quite a few people manage to find love while offering the pushpanjali (chanting mantras intoned by the Brahmins and offering flowers after every round of chanting) to the Goddess or the fact that it is one of the few times in the year when harmony and jollity override everything else, save for perhaps the festivals of Ganesh Chaturthi, Diwali, Holi, etc.

And if one happens to ask people as to which particular day of Pujo is most dear to them, almost all of them talk about Ashtami (the 8^th day of battle, for Maa Durga, did after all fight a battle with Mahish-asura), for it is the day when everyone looks resplendent in their ethnic wear, and it is the day when pushpanjali traditionally starts, though it also starts from Saptami as well. Another aspect of Pujo which I love the most is the competition between the various neighborhoods, housing complexes, and thakurbaris and rajbaris (old traditional zamindari houses) to create the best pandals and craft the most beautiful idols, and the most unique themes, which is something, that aside from artistic splendor also ensures the livelihood of quite a lot of artisans.

Therefore, my dear readers, it wouldn’t be irrelevant to conclude that Pujo is something that is irreplaceably special to West Bengal, which is precisely why I had experienced the negative emotions in my opening lines, for this year, though pandals are being built, and idols being crafted, can the necessary but harsh measures required to keep the pandemic at bay truly recreate the essence of Pujo??

However, despair we must not, for it is but that time of the year again, a time which means so many things to many people and a time signaling the triumph of good over evil.

                            || Om Durgayuh Namah ||