Festive Memories

It is exactly 15 minutes of walk in the morning from my place. Had put on my old jeans and a new top, had run the hard comb once through the unruly hairs and tied it back. Pressed the half done Boroline tube and greased the dry lips. With a few notes and some coins in the pocket slipped into the buckles of the same old black floaters.

-        “Are you ready?”

-        “Waiting for you!”

It was 5.45 am in the morning. Today is the 7^th day of Durga Puja – the biggest festival of Bengali’s have engulfed my city. When Tagore essayed his wonders, this season was meant to be different. It had a touch of morning dews, a cold breeze in the air… Times have changed (No political endorsement! I am least educated to speak on that subject!). It was extremely stuffy and the morning glory was too gorgeous to handle today. I frantically tried to follow the cloud.

Still like some yester years we walked by the lanes and headed for the pandal – the one that is on the other side of the main road, that had a few thousands of pandal hoppers each year. Yes, last night too, the news channels kept flashing the footfall counts like the stock exchange numbers on the trading sites. Lazy city was yet to wake up and the pandal hoppers who have strolled the last night must have headed for home. The road was fairly empty. Morning walkers where returning from the park.

The pandal is just behind the old school by the park. We keep landmarks every year and still miss the lane; finally circle around and walk few meters extra to get the right entry point to reach her. She must be smiling at us. Every year she comes in different look with varied themes surrounding her. Technology has made everyone a cameraman. Click! Click! Click! Must need is a perfect flash for social proclaim. This is a fairly new habit. In school days craved for ‘V.GOOD’ from maths teacher and counted them on class notebooks. A sense of pride and victory wrapped these feelings. Getting ‘Likes’ on social forums is no less a feelings.

But what is old is having something after hopping out of the pandal. Well what do you expect early in the morning? The store was right on the footpath. The owner was extremely courteous but sounded too pricey. Still we wanted to celebrate and hence ordered two for us. It was well filled fluid. With a cutter he curved out the edge and uncorked it. One pause and two sips, gulped it all. Aha!

I enjoyed the treat he gave. With added sodium and potassium started recalling the days of counting dresses, eyeing on close friend’s shoes, hoping from one pandal to the other, the community Anjali, the auspicious Bhog, gorgeous cultural programs, the drum beats, the Dunichi dance, the evening arathi and the endless chatting. That was the time for community to unite. Not all was perfect but the time had its own beauty. Boundaries were constraint and hence was connection. Hind side the time spend was real and hands-free.

Every passing year was a realization that one is growing with expected adulation to follow “Ki sundor lagche!” (Looking very nice! Such dialogues are starters not be taken all seriously), “Koto boro hoye geli!” (A graceful way of saying you have grown up! This is meant to be careful in reality :) ) and then as life takes its own course, falling apart is so natural. New ways of life take over.

It all happened too fast in last two decades. They seeded the culture of celebration on many soils and made it global. They posted the images and attempted to make everyone a part of the celebration. They started advertising… and gave her presence many branding! Yes, it was much more than wanted… And to top it up with wave of virtual reality, worldwide everyone is continuously-connected and super informed. 

So, what is still the magic that remains so special beyond the good that prevails over evil?    

Ask a friend who landed the city today to spend the remaining three days of Durga Puja. It is hidden with their family and friends … their touch and presence which makes it so different. Technology can promise you connect not the contact!

The speechless moments of drinking coconut water, on the backdrop of “Ma Durga with her family” was a gift for me and pleasure for my father. We pull each other out to make it happen, when she is here and celebrate it in some form that fits us both. Equal-Equal you see. He should feel younger and I little older :). This year it was for 25 bucks per tender coconut from the man on the footpath! I choose, he paid and we created small memories. A slice of childhood still hides in it.

Am back from the morning walk long back. The day is mostly over. The pandals are flooded once more… the footfalls is rising! 

Touch and Glow

With festive season in full swing with 'fresh and new' apparel , food, travel plans, every mind in my country is in upbeat mood. Count down has begun at Eastern India ...para lanes are gearing for Durga-Utsob. Apparel shops and beauty parlours are reaping money.

Late in the afternoon, the other day it was all by surprise when the door bell beeped, I opened to see an old time friend of my father at the door step. He was Dasgupta uncle for me. Meeting him after a while. Yes, he didn't look the same that I had in my mental record. Lost most of his hair and the remaining were grey, broken jaws suggested he had paid enough to dentist. As one grows old, meeting old time friends and refreshing old memories are probably the best gift one can have for oneself.

Unfortunately his friend was not at home and I tried my best to render a hospitality that my father would have offered. Have not listened to anyone for such long in recent past. His only son, who was Titas for us, is well settled in US - a dream that he had seen two decades back. He spoke of web cam , gtalk - that keeps him connected to his only son and grand kids. Life moves on and how quickly technology fits in our life-style.

I thought every thing was great till I heard him say - " It was 15 years back that Titas had step out for States to do his MS; it was two days before the Durga Puja celebration that year."

After a long monologue, he paused for a while. I could sense the correlation that he has between this season of festival and a deep feeling of detachment with his only son.

We had a cup of tea together. The evening was moving to dusk. It was time that he started for his home. I slipped in my chappals (home sandals) to take him down the steps from my third floor apartment to the car that was parked outside.

- "Nice car uncle!" , I remarked to make him happy as he moves on.

- "Titas gifted this three years back." He spoke of it an hour back , but must be feeling proud as a father to reiterate once more. I thought!

The engine was put on first gear and ready to roll when he unwind the glass pane and stretched his hand which provoked me to lend mine.

- "This evening was so fresh and new! Thank you for this wonderful gift.Felt like spending one with Titas. I would call your father sometime later." This was all he said, rest was communicated over the strong bonded hands of a lonely father desperately seeking connection with his next generation.

Gyan# 24 - Festival is all about being with near and dear ones - no celebration is beyond that.