Durga Pooja...then and now

Back home, it is time for celebration as we Bongs are at the eve of Durga Pooja (Dussehra Festival). The markets get flooded with people doing their last minute shopping else you’ll find people (like me) too lazy to pick clothes and generally wait till the last minute. Whatever be the reason, the air smells of celebration, loud outburst of laughter and kids screaming around. The familiar sound of the daakh(a localised version of the drum) will embrace the air and you can smell the festivities all round thanks to the wonderful delicacies for your palette or the wonderful aroma of the exotic spring season. As a kid, I would begin the countdown since long because for me the Pooja meant “no studies”. Schools were closed for Dussehra festivals and parents were busy organising the pandal, prasad and cultural events. So we could take a breather from the boring routine of books and enjoy as long as it lasted. I loved the Pooja so much so that the last day, when Maa Durga’s idol was immersed, tears ceased to stop and a sudden hopelessness told me that “my good old days” were over. On the threshold of my teen, I still enjoyed the Pooja because now it meant buying new clothes with matching accessories. And if I was lucky enough, maybe a little bit of make-up too would be allowed. Those four days of celebration saw me all decked up for the occasion and lots of admiring eyes followed which thrilled me then. Parents were busy in letting the events of the days run smoothly while we, teenagers were busy creating some historical love stories. Some love stories where stronger than most and succeeded in succumbing to matrimony later. As I grew into an independent adult, my enthusiasm died because I couldn’t manage to get office leaves. And whenever I did, I despised the enquiries that were made of my marital status. Marriage proposals came pouring down and would chase me down long after Maa Durga bid us farewell. I hated the all familiar discussions of the ladies encircling some extra marital affairs, few break-ups or just plain simple bitching stories about others. Gradually, I started distancing myself from the Bongs biggest event. Today, when I am thousands of miles away from my place of origin, I dearly miss the occasion. I am trying hard to breathe in the air for traces of back home celebrations. I am terribly nostalgic of the regular khichudi bhoog (rice-lentil dish served as prasad) for which there was always a long queue wherein the known aunties would give up their chance for us to be fed first. I miss the regular Indian clothes and the fanfare all together. I miss the chaos, chats and good food later. I miss DURGA POOJA. Happy Durga Pooja everyone!!