Durga pujo has a very special place in every bengali’s heart. Right from those young days when five days of pujo meant five new dresses; may be even more, to the adolescent years when I waited eagerly at the pandal entrance for my crush to arrive, the memories are still fresh. Higher studies and job hunting took precedence I don’t know when. Then started the struggle to stand on my own two feet. Every thing got left behind, including pujo. It was after seven years that I attended pujo this year.
The Bengali community at ambarnath, place where I stay was very closely knit those days. I am talking about 15 to20 years back. Every one worked at either of the two government run factories. Middle class people with small desires in life, their priority was good education for their kids, and they were quite strict disciplinarians in that aspect. Cable TV was not known about, the privileged lot had access to a second channel called the metro channel. Evening was game time and the kids were back home as the sun went down. With a life like this, durga pujo period was the only period when we could break almost all rules. Central school, in which most of us studied, had a 10 day vacation during pujo. We felt sorry for our friends who went to some other schools. Starting from the shoshti evening most of our time used to be spent at the pandaal. Be it recitation competitions, singing competitions or just fooling around with friends, there was never a dull moment during the day. Completion of these competitions meant we could have chilled soft drinks without worrying about our throats. While the elders fasted for offering anjali, we feasted on all those mouth watering sweets and snacks at the stalls manned by cheerful kakus (uncles) themselves. At nights, we were either taking part in one of the entertainment programs or watching our friends perform. One good performance and all kakus and kakimas would praise you for days. Ofcourse every one knew who you are. It was like a big family affair. Then came liberalisation. A new generation was ready with private company jobs. Their parents efforts and theirs ofcourse had brought results. They had all the money and they wanted their money to talk for them. The first dispute started with the location of pujo. The moneywallahs wanted it closer to their homes. The majority wanted it at the same place where it had been held for ages. The fight got ugly resulting in two durga pujos, both not as good as before, people got divided. They were asked to prove their loyalties by their presence. I stopped seeing some of them at the pandal any more. Seven years. I was apprehensive of all my sweet memories being wiped out by an ugly sight. I decided to have an open mind. I entered on the shoptomi evening. The place looked more crowded than I have ever seen before, but I found it more difficult to find anyone I knew. I met one, then another and the fervour started. Ear to ear grins, hugging and calling names took me back to where I had left things. The rest of the crowd stopped existing. The next morning the gleaming faces of all kakus and kakimas greeted me. They had aged, but were still as sweet. Durga pujo still rocks.
