Durga Puja: then and now

(04 Oct 2013)

Our life is an ever-changing canvas; the same color means widely different when seen over a period of time. As a boy born into a Bengali family in Tripura, the biggest time of the year for me was Durga puja. That was the time when I’d be gifted new clothes, freedom to move around with friends, be out in the evening fog. I could also not study for days and not be scolded by my father. That was after all the most eagerly awaited festive season for a Bengali household. On the day of Bijoya Dashomi, when the idols were immersed into water, my eyes would be watery, for I won’t have this life of a free bird for another year, for how fast the puja days went by, for I knew my wings would again be ‘clipped’. That’s what I thought and that’s what Durga puja meant to me.

After three decades, Durga puja is still called Durga puja; but the meaning has gone through iterations. New colors have made it to the canvas! Nobody clips my wings, nobody dresses me up, I don’t get to smell the shiuli flower, I don’t get thrilled holding toy-guns and fighting with my mates, I don’t look at the Ashur’s muscles and wonder how herculean he would be, I don’t pity the lion for not looking strong enough to bear Durga’s weight, I don’t stare with disbelief that the mouse could never survive Ganesh’s heavy figure or how Saraswati could ride a mere swan or why Lakshmi had to choose a bird as ugly as an owl or why the two sisters looked alike or why Kartik had to have moustache. I also don’t feel like a child anymore and hence don’t read the ‘sharodiya’ editions of Anandamela or Shuktara or Sandesh.

May be this is part of growing up; may be this is part of over-growing your age. What I know for sure is that my prolonged absence from the core of Durga puja celebrations due to years of living away from ‘home’ has meant a diminished level of excitement for this grand festival. There is rust all over my zeal, my passion, and my participation. I felt like an alien when after nineteen long years, I experienced Durga puja in Kolkata couple of seasons back.

Now, when I look back, I know I’m not the same person any more. Durga hasn’t been out of my sight; I have been. Such is the majesty of hers, I assume, she won’t deny me a comeback should I choose to.

Shubho Mahalaya!