The Pujo of 2013

[Photograph taken by the author in 2009 at Kumartuli, Kolkata]

This:

"Ashwiner Shaarodo Praate,
Beje Uthechhe Aloko Manji."

and then, this:

"Ya Devi Sarva Bhuteshu Shakti Rupena Samsthita,
Namestasyai Namestasyai Namestasyai Namoh Namah."

Every Bengali child is raised with the training of getting goosebumps upon hearing these words from Mahisasuramardini, especially in the voice of Birendra Krishna Bhadra. This year, I had no hope of being in Kolkata to celebrate those five days. This was not my first Puja outside India (2011 was the first), but this was the first where I was going to celebrate it so far away from home.

Sorry guys, this particular post IS going to have a lot of reference to few typical Bong cliches (behavioral and cultural) and a good helping of Bengali words regionalism (at times, I might end up sounding like a racist too). So, if you want to stop reading right away, I totally understand.

After a planning of almost a month, a convoy of cars left Lexington on Oct 12, the actual Ashtami, for Dayton, OH. The group was huge (huge) this time - Agni, Ajit, Vachas, Neelabh, Abir, Sananda, Suman, Arup, Arijit, Soumen, Moumita, Ranjan, Deboshree, Asish da, Sukanya di, Supam da, Sharmistha di, Kitu, Kousik da, Arunava, Prabuddha, Arghya and me. Anamitra and Vikas joined us all the way from Detroit, MI.

Anjan Dutta, Kabir Suman, Fossils, Cactus and various other Bengali songs (only Bengali) being played all the way to the pujo mandap. It was past noon when we reached Franklin High School near Dayton to make it to the last round of Pushpanjali. I am still not sure if it is something to be surprised or not but this was my first Pushpanjali in a Durga Puja. Who knew I would finally take part in the tradition not at my para's Purbachal Club or at Bappa da's place, but 8098 more miles away from there.

My usual calendar for Durga Pujas only includes pandal hopping and Biriyani-ing/Egg Roll-ing though out the length and breath of Kolkata for 5 days. But since, the closest Durga Puja from Dayton was more than 50 miles away at Cincinnati, I chose to take the other way many of my friends prefer to enjoy the festival - the 'endless adda at a single mandap' way. Although, my years of hopping habit was still unaltered within me, but that weekend, I sure had added the second way to list my 'ways'. It might come in handy someday, who knows.

There is no ambiguity in the statement that America is probably not the best place to arrange a full fledged flaw free Durga Puja with all the means and resources required, but the race of those insane people called Bengali, arrange for whatever best they can for the annual home coming of Maa. All the five days of pujo are squeezed within two days. Re-usable idols are imported from India. At places, it is held one or two weeks before or after. No matter what is takes, organizing the pujo is a must.

That day, there was like an explosion of traditional clothing and ornamenting everywhere. Men were in there best kurtas and women were in the best of their saaris and jewelries. At a point it had started to feel that probably the Bengali-ness in these people has surpassed the ones back at Kolkata. In Kolkata, pujo has taken some corporate and business colours, but here, it was all about being present there, in body, in mind, in spirit. It is like "I was still there, even if I was thousands of miles away from home that year."

Talking about the spirit, no second opinion says that there is something else present in the entire mandap better than a dhaak to boost and overflow the scale of pujo spirit. There was an interstate dance competition in the evening and to keep telling you the truth, I had loosened my rusty joints (and shed some inhibitions) after six long years (last was in my college fest, 2007, in dark disco lights). After Indiana and Ohio, the entire crowd from Kentucky dived in and everybody was throwing in their best move using their legs, hand, neck and waist... non-stop... and called it dancing. It was literally a gasping-for-breath-ly maddening. Tiring and refreshing at the same time. And it was the sound of the dhaak, that infused the madness in all of us. This dance surely had that same high energy trance effect on everyone present there which one gets during the dhunuchi naach on Navamis. This one was only without the dhunuchis (fire hazard reasons!)

The rest of the night was about more adda, photographs, group photographs, even more adda at dinner, halka jhaari, some PNPC and some more dance (even lungi dance) at a cultural program. Not quite like the 'whole night' programs at Kolkata, but a few of us did live up to the expectation of coming back late to sleep. 

Next day, was for the rituals of Dashami. I had never witnessed almost the complete worshiping process at the Durga Puja (too busy hopping), but when the words "Iti Durga Puja Samaptahh" were said the next day, it was a little heart wrenching. Ladies had now gathered for the debi boron. That clear expressions of merriment, that was there a day ago, was scarce now. After the boron, it was the shidur khela, something that I was looking forward to photograph. The smearing of vermilion on each others faces by the ladies (the married ones) somehow brings back that lost smile and laughter. It is probably that much required joyful end which provides every soul present there with a hope that it is only a year when Maa will come back again. People leave from the festival with an assurance that Aschhe Bochhor Abaar Hobey.

I have absolutely no idea where I would be during the pujo of 2014, but if I be in the vicinity of even a single Durga Puja and I have the spirited people to simply adda out my time in only a single mandap, I wont be able to stop myself!

Till next time,

:)

To and From The Niagara Falls

Frustration creeps in when time and again you fall out from doing the most obvious. But when you finally accomplish that obvious piece of task, you cannot help feeling proud. It was about time when I had to do something about the jealousy I used to feel upon looking at people's photograph of the Niagara Falls. Thankfully, I got the company of Ajit, Vachas, Sananda and Ankit to help me out with that.

A six-sitter babe like Chevy Traverse was at least required for that (theoretically) 9 hours of journey from Lexington to Niagara via Pittsburgh. The idea of making a halt at Pittsburgh was not in the initial plan, but when Ion made me look at some of the photographs of the city's night sky...

... not going crazy (or feeling jealous, again) was out of my control. The team gladly accepted the idea of going via Pittsburgh and once on one of those inclines, it was one hell of a view. It made me recall my weakness for the silhouette of a city's skyline. It was lost somewhere but standing there at midnight, I was glad to get that good old affection back.

It was not before 430 the next morning when we finally checked into our hotel and crashed into our beds. our sleeps were more or less complete in the next 6 hours and adding an hour to that 6, we were on the Maid of the Mist ride. We walked in through the gates and before we took elevator down, we saw what we were going to go into. We were not yet at the highest point to see the Niagara (from the American side), but the grander view had to wait till we were done with the Maid of the Mist. We went close, very close to the roaring fall (we were almost in Canadian waters) and whatever was now falling on us, was something that could only be felt, not seen. I tried to see once, but it was only the colour white in front of my eyes. White was never so dazzling, loud and wet before. 

Talking about loud, I know people were shouting vowels at the top of their voices, but all I could hear was that non-stop roar coming from somewhere very close. Finally, the boat turned and the colours started to come back - blue, white, white, blue. Taking advantage of this fact, I looked up once more only to be pinned to the believe we clearly are a boat-full of nothings in front of this over swollen line of flowing water which happened to cross a suddenly lower piece of land. Phahh!!

After the Maid of the Mist ride was over, we went up a stair-case constructed on the body of the cliff. It was an opportunity for the viewing the swollen momentum with which every drop of water falls off into that mist created just under it. It is like a regular explosion somewhere behind that curtain of water. But other than listening to my imaginary explosions, there was one more sound to notice - the absence of an English speaking voice anywhere near. To my observation, every other person was speaking in one or the other Indian language (if not in Spanish).

After some seriously over lighted and over darkened photos of our faces there, we came back and used the elevator to go up to the highest (American) point to the see the fall. We went up, stood there, and there is was in all its glory.

The water coming up to the cliff like a disciplined army band, then falling off the cliff into the dazzling mist with the last thought of being able to fly and finally the milky trail on the rocks and still water at the bottom like the bride's gown following her when she walks the aisle. All that echoed in my ears while standing there were the last words the captain said on the Maid of the Mist boat when the boat was closest to the fall "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the Niagara Falls."

But my oddly poetic side had to wait. The experience of the Cave of the Winds was still due. And that is one experience that does not odd create poets. It creates rock stars and vikings (for a few minutes). Okay! That was an exaggeration... but you can see my point, right? Wearing a yellow poncho and rubber kiitos, we went into the falling water. I don't think I was any wetter in my life till that day. It was crazy, it was mind blowing. The gust of wind that comes straight at you with those piercing shells of water (by units of gallons) - the helplessness only craves more. And that's precisely what we five did - "Once More... Once More" were our only words every time we were "finally" leaving that ruthless cove of wind and water. We were wet to our bones, but all we wanted was more.

Sorry, I don't have any picture of us (our faces) when were at the Cave of the Winds (it was impossible). But honestly, this is the place where I had determined to revive this blog after a year of gap.

We went back to our hotel but came back before sundown. This was more of the peaceful time of the day. We had heard stories of our colleagues crossing the Rainbow Bridge to the other side (yes, to Canada). And then being pushed back to USA after showing office ID cards as "travel papers". But to add to this story, that evening I came to know why that bridge is called nothing else, but the Rainbow Bridge. All I had to do, it turn around and the answer was there.

We went back to the same highest platform and waited for sundown when red yellow blue pink... all these lights were supposed to be thrown on the fall. We waited and waited but it never happened. But we were not due for a total disappointment.

[for some reason, blogger.com seems to be over sharpening the night(er) photos
So, posting more of a twilight-ish photo]

We were told to leave that platform at 8 in the evening and we did so too. But I was not complaining about the unavailability of those colourful lights. My little gadget did the trick for me. By the way, other than the silky waterfall whatever else that you see in this pic, is Canada. After a complete confusion in finding a nice Indian restaurant (and car parking) that night, we were somehow well fed and well rested for  the next day.

We drove back to Pittsburgh to have a visit to the biggest temple in east coast- Sri Venkateswara Temple. You cannot call me a fan of temples if they are not well architectured or well hygined, but the moment I set my foot in the Sri Venkateswara temple (and washed it), my complete consciousness was on it. It was a neatly constructed and very well maintained establishment. Standing in the middle of the crowd during that noisy prayer and having the most simple prasad, there was sure an addition to me bag of experience, especially serving the fact it is all happening in US. After we came out of the temple, we shot for the Taj Indian restaurant. Let me tell you guys, I generally don't endorse Indian eateries (coz I know how Indian food should taste like), but this one proved to be an exception. If you are in Pittsburgh, you must try this Indian food joint. Take it from me. it is the best you get withing hundreds of mile of Lexington (literally).

We were back by our night sleep time. The trip was like a satisfaction to my soul on so many levels (jealousy, photographs, blah blah blah)... and to top all the reasons, it made me re-ignite this blog. Thanks to the "once more" at the Cave of the Winds.

Till next time,
Cheers!