Durga puja always fills one with a sense of pleasant anticipation. Of course, the excitement is more palpable in India, in Bengal particularly. But even here in far-away Christchurch, though we may be fewer, the enthusiasm is no less. There is an unmistakable frisson in the air.
The day is beautifully bright, and sunny – an auspicious start. The function is set to start at ten, but many hands have been busy in many ways – some preparing the feast that is to come, some decorating the school hall hired for the occasion, and some procuring the umpteen things necessary for a puja. Some have been busy for many days, some from the previous night, and some are lending a last-minute hand.
Very soon, the hall is full. The attendees are an eclectic mix with people from every region of the vast, and diverse country that is India although most are Bengali. That’s only natural. Every part of India, each community, has its traditions, its own most important day. If in Kerala, it is Onam, in Bengal it is Durga Puja. But every day like this, wherever, whenever, helps to bind the whole community together. They are also an excuse to dress up in one’s best. The women & girls, naturally, are resplendent in silk and assorted finery. Even among the males, a strutting peacock or two can be spotted.
The IT man who usually sits in front of a laptop is officiating as celebrant-priest for the day – a task he performs with practiced grace and panache. To perform this role, of course, he too needs to dress the part. This consists of a dhoti worn traditional style – not easily achieved without assistance unless one really knows how. He is ably assisted by Mrs. Karobi Ghosh, a veteran, and possibly the only one who can be relied on to blow the all-important conch shell, another notoriously challenging task.
With the puja underway, I think I can detect a hush come over the audience, as thoughts turn inwards in contemplation or out towards Durga Pujas past at home. But as I said, Durga Puja is as much about meeting and greeting, about fun and food as it is about prayer. Soon, it is time for lunch. There’s nothing like a bit of prayer, and the smell of freshly-cooked food gently wafting in to put an edge on one’s appetite. Executive chef, Samir Roy is O/C the commissariat department. Another hush … now it’s because the food holds everyone’s attention. The bill of fare includes many of the old favourites – kheer, khichuri, chholar dal, aloo poshto, and loochis. Of course, there is mishti too – Radhaballabhi if I am not mistaken. Durga Puja wouldn’t be Durga Puja without it.
Fed, watered, sated, the more senior citizens are finding themselves places for a quiet, comfortable sit-down. Adult conversation which starts off animated becomes desultory mere minutes later as energy is conserved for the digestion of food. Did I not detect a snore or two as surreptitious naps at unaccustomed ninety-degree angles were being taken? But the children, whose physiology seems to work on different fundamental principles, seem re-invigorated, and dash about madly playing their childish games. It was always thus during Durga Puja, and Christchurch is no different. Chai, and pakoras signal end of siesta time, and the start of the afternoon and evening programme. Art in all its manifestations will be on display. The kids have their drawing contest, the musically talented sing, those with the sense of rhythm, and the required degree of flexibility, dance. There are also those who only wait and watch … they are expert at it, and without them, the programme would, of course, be pointless!
Well, all good things must come to an end. So the evening draws to a close, and weary bodies and minds head home to a well-deserved rest.
Ashchhe bochhor abar hobe!
Written by: Dr Krishna Badami