Another Puja has come and sadly, now gone. As it does every year, the four days of heady celebration (culminating on Sunday, 21st October) have left behind a terribly empty feeling, an equivalent of a withdrawal symptom.
Durga Puja is the biggest festival in Bengal. Its significance is not restricted to the religious aspect only. It is a celebration for the senses and the emotions. For four days the city of Kolkata is lit up with brilliant lights. Puja pandals (temporary structures where the worship takes place) sprout up all over the city - some done to a particular 'theme' and more modern, others retaining years old traditions and artistic styles. People descend on the streets all day and all night long dressed in new clothes. Puja also means a gastronomic extravaganza with everybody from the street food vendor to the 5 star restaurateur doing brisk business all day long.
Puja also means coming together of friends and families. Bengalis all over the world, wherever they are, wish to come back to their homes at this time. The lucky ones who make it feel special, the ones who don't - well, lets not dwell on their agony.
Personally for me, this Puja went like a dream. Most of my closest friends from school-days were in Kolkata. We celebrated like we always do - with good food! The meal at Sanjeev Kapur's Ivory (formerly Grain of Salt) on Saptami night was especially memorable. We also went out to Waldorf's on Park Street for Chinese food and Orchid's (a favourite small place at Elgin Road) for momo's, among others. And then of course, close friends coming together means one very special thing for Bengali's - "adda" (a very rough equivalent of what others would call 'good conversation').
Then this Sunday, it has all ended with Bijoya Dashami. The festivities are now over, my friends have gone back to the cities they work and it is back to mundane life. That's how it is every year - 4 days passing like a heady dream and then ending leaving one heavy hearted. But there is also hope for the future - idols (Bengali: 'protima's) are submerged in the Ganges amidst chants of 'Aashchey Bachor Abaar Hobey' (rough translation: 'Till we celebrate again next year')
Then this Sunday, it has all ended with Bijoya Dashami. The festivities are now over, my friends have gone back to the cities they work and it is back to mundane life. That's how it is every year - 4 days passing like a heady dream and then ending leaving one heavy hearted. But there is also hope for the future - idols (Bengali: 'protima's) are submerged in the Ganges amidst chants of 'Aashchey Bachor Abaar Hobey' (rough translation: 'Till we celebrate again next year')
Wishing everyone Subho Bijoya - let the festive season bring you happiness and joy :-)
