Of THE Pujo...

(Written in October 2010, finished just now, with some edits and some additions...) Its been a while since I put pen to paper-or rather my finger to the keyboard- for who, other than the most old fashioned (euphemism for loser) would put pen to paper nowadays-to write. yes I've churned numbers, answered mails, written messages, processed payments and the usual drill-but I haven't written for months. No sir.

Why do I write now- because a memory is fresh in my mind and I want to write before all its impressions have been overwritten by the more mundane (and, sadly, more important) things in my life.

I am just back from the Kolkata of Durga Puja- and no, unlike most Bengalis I am not connected to Kolkata by an umbilical cord , the raw reality of Kolkata's dirty roads and wet weather, its much ado about nothing and unashamed acceptance of an organized chaos doesn't move me to tears-it always puts me to mind of an exposed jugular waiting for the end.

And yet this oldest of Indian cities, this most stubborn edifice of the roundabout way, almost has a catharsis every autumn, when all that matters to the Kolkatan rises as one to defend the Kolkata way of life- its time for a little more rush, a little more crowd, a little more confusion,a little more poetry, some more music,loads more food,and hours more of aimless conversation- "adda"-did I mention. its Puja time- time for good old Kolkata to arrive-all over again.

As I stepped on to the familiar roads and the even more familiar traffic and noise, I noticed how everything in the city spelled Puja time-hoardings of every size and shape, selling everything from toothpaste to newspaper, to real estate and education, recreated images of the Goddess in various forms- after a few dekkos I scouted for one hoarding that didn't have the Goddess on it- and found none! even advertising in Kolkata seems to be futile unless it gets a Puja makeover.

The Goddess, I thought, probably waits to be invoked every year-family and all. She waits to do her part in adding yet another Pujo to the city's memory, in the process, quadrupling the profits of its businessmen and boosting its otherwise soporific economy.

For at least a month prior to the Puja (and at least a week after it) one cannot be in Bengal and elude the Puja spirit. It is omnipresent- as I realised when, sitting in my quiet abode on the outskirts of Kolkata I was nevertheless treated to the creativity of Pandal artisans and idol sculptors, the dhak and arati competitions and the ceaseless hordes-people waiting to have a glimpse of the Goddess in this or that form, people emerging from a pandal created with this or that concept, using this or that substance. To all this I was privy, without having any intentions likewise, because every media (and one cannot escape media) was at its "Pujo covering" best.
Pujas are also the time when the larger than life culture assumes colossal proportions...it is everywhere and there is no escape.Before you ask, let me clarify that culture in Bengal is Bengali- and at a time when "cosmopolitan" is the favorite word of the cosmos, I am surely not stating the obvious. The Bengali expects every person in Bengal to be an adda-enthusiastic, food-loving, rabindrasangeet-singing, political cause-espousing, quirky, querulous "intellectual". He is not fanatic, not even clannish- he just cannot conceive of a non-Bengali way of life, cannot help pitying the non believers and subconsciously attributing to them a sense of regret at not having lived or bred on the hallowed soils of "sonar Bangla".
That the outsider is, in fact oblivious of what he is missing is anything but obvious to the Bengali...how can you not revel in the food, which in its piscine abundance cannot be compared to any other cuisine in the world...how can you prefer vegetarian over fish (o, the hallowed ilish and bhetki, no less),cricket over football (especially sans a certain past his prime Bong captain), how can you like doi that is not mishti…and how can you go through the day without debating on the current topic scorching political circles…pray, where do you belong? Certainly not in Bangla.
As an outsider just beginning to consider a long run relationship with Bengal, these oddities ( in a very benign and non offensive sense)amuse, entertain and even irritate me. After all, so much passion can and does often become too much of a good thing. Then I just remind myself that, at the end of the day,this is the one spirit that Bengal always holds on to;that of celebrating ones roots, forgetting the mundane, abandoning the maudlin, and believing that in the end, good always wins over evil... Time to leave...or as they say in Bengali...be right back...