A festival that was part of childhood is part of youth, part of our mid-life, now an integral part of our life – that special something that helps us recreate Bengal away from Bengal, Himachal Pradesh away from Himachal Pradesh, Gujarat away from Gujarat and so on, somewhere within India or somewhere as far as Europe or America or Australia.
Just the
other evening, did you see a mother having a very late lunch at a Durga Puja
pandal with her family and within a few hours biting into an egg-roll and then
again a vegetable chop and also a plateful of momos and later biriyani?
Well..who was she? None other than me in Koramangla. It was also another mother
in BTM. And yet another mother in Whitefields. And someone in Ulsoor…Someone in
Jaymahal…Someone in Sharjapur…it doesn’t end. What were all these ladies doing?
Celebrating Mahashaptami of Durga Puja with their families obviously, with
‘good’ food – food that is always looked at with suspicion except during these
tumultuous, chaotic, quick five days of Durga Puja when the kitchens shut down
and ‘khichri’ and ‘aloo bhaja’ and ‘chutney’ taste better than the best dishes
of the world and diabetic husbands get a free run. When ‘tantuja’ cotton scores
over silks and when the young mother turns a blind eye to the little children
missing their afternoon nap because puja-pandal-hopping becomes the priority.
The
sweets (‘rasgullas’ and ‘bonday’) and ‘samosas’ have to be eaten from different
stalls at the different pandals at the oddest hours. The images of Goddess
Durga and her children (Lakshmi, Saraswati, Kartikeya, Ganesha) across pandals
have to be offered prayers and their beauty with the innovative themes behind
the pandals have to be compared and discussed! Durga Puja has been an essential
part of childhood for all these Bongs and despite the years rolling on, the
enthusiasm hasn’t died down. The festival celebrated with vigour during childhood
brings us face to face with childhood once again with love and without a trace
of regret of those years gone, because Durga Puja is something the Bongs
identify themselves with. This major festival is something we link ourselves
with since we grew up with it as a part of our life every year.
A
festival brings back some beautiful moments before us to relish, to get
nostalgic, to greet yesterday’s children as today’s youth, to realize the years
have rolled by but the festival hasn’t lost its charm. The spirit of
celebration slowly seeps into the children to help them relive these days after
three decades when they in turn will be celebrating with their children, maybe
together, or maybe over phone or maybe over the Net or who knows over what
(with technology taking giant strides, anything could be possible)!
Whether
it is a Bong celebrating Durga Puja, a Punjabi celebrating Lohri, a Tamil
celebrating Pongal – a festival helps us remain firmly in touch with our
beliefs, our culture, and the little things we grew up with, that all became
part of us and no matter where we are in the world, we don’t feel rootless and
find our own ways of living each day of the festival. It could be capturing the
white beauty of autumn’s ‘kaash phool’ growing abundantly in far-flung Europe
for sharing on Facebook with friends in India or worshipping Durga Puja in USA
or freaking out on ‘samosas’ and ‘jalebies’ and ‘shondesh’ or watching dance
dramas enacted on stage or listening to Rabindrasangeet sung by ladies in their
fifties or tapping your feet to modern Bong songs belted out by some new band
from Bengal even if the music is louder than the song, or Mahalaya songs
filling the Bong home with endearing tunes or top honchos from MNCs taking off
from work to serve “bhog” to the endless streams of visitors to puja-pandals.
A
festival that was part of childhood is part of youth, part of our mid-life, now
an integral part of our life – that special something that helps us recreate
Assam away from Assam, Kerala away from Kerala, Gujarat away from Gujarat,
somewhere within India or somewhere as far as Europe or America or Australia –
through rituals, through traditions, through food, through greeting friends and
relatives, through oblations, through prayers, through wishing and bonding.
That’s how a festival runs across states, across countries, across continents
and across generations. It’s something that helps us feel and stay rooted even
as we grow as global citizens. It’s something the children today will imbibe as
their parents did decades back and instill, in turn, into their children years
later.
A
festival is a parent – a balm to the stressed-out mind, the link between
childhood and the rest of the life - as it helps the present to bond with the
past. It is a strong thread that binds me with my grandparents who raised me
and parents too and would bind me with my children.
Years into future, when my children could
be in far-flung places, it is a festival that would ring
the bells and would prompt us to get in touch. It is a festival that
would help them get in touch with their roots, even if for a day. And
it is a festival again that would bring their childhood back to them
once again, year after year. The memories would bring tears of joy and nostalgia - happiness and sweet sadness. It would be a mix of rays and rains.
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