Of Durga Puja, Kolkata and a Bengali

My ears perked up like a dog's when I heard it for the first time. They didn't actually, but I like to think they did. I turned my head in its direction, taking rapid, long strides towards it. I heard startled cries behind me calling me back, but I was oblivious to it. I'd heard what sounded like... home.

I peered down eagerly, beyond the banisters and the long, colourful hangings, and the winding escalators, my heart thumping hard in my chest, only to feel strangely disappointed. It was just a few men in tribal clothes playing the drum.

I'd thought I'd heard the beat of the 'dhak', and my eyes had been eagerly scanning the mall for the huge drums with a large, single white feather to their side, and the dhobi-clad men playing them with mesmerising synchronisation, until the beat of the dhak and your heart seem to be one. The music fills you up with the spirit of festivity, and you take a deep breath and smell the air. You know something's different, you know that 'Maa asche'. Durga Maa is on her way.

Despite being a Bengali, I'd never been that big a fan of Durga Puja. I hated the huge crowds, the madness to get into a pandal, and of course, the pressure to look good. I mean, who can get up at 5 in the morning and make sure that the colour of their bindi matches that of the saree's pallu? I know there are superwomen like that somewhere out there, but I'm not sorry to say that you'll find me drooling into my pillow at that ungodly hour and nothing more.

To me the Pujas meant packing our bags and setrting off to see some new place. Any place other than Kolkata. But this time it so happened that I stayed in Mysore, since we weren't allowed that many days off from college.

Sure, the Mysore palace looked hella grand all lit up, and true, the city looked beautiful, but I missed Kolkata. I missed the carnival that was Durga Puja. I missed the stupid ads for special hair oil and sarees temptingly promising you that it would make you look the best during the Puja, the special 'Puja offers', Maa worrying about 'Puja shopping', the sweets, the plans, the free time, the holidays. I missed it all. 

But what soothed it all was the little (hehe) 'bonus' my dad very generously put in my account (after I emotionally put forwards facts using phrases like 'only daughter', 'all alone', 'Puja time', 'growing up alone', 'hungry'. etc, etc), and after bunking classes to watch a film, my friend and I began to sniff around for a Durga Puja in the city.

We did, eventually, stumble across one near CFTRI, at the Bengali Association of Mysore, and I finally heard the sound of a real, authentic dhak. It wasn't like home, but for a while, it felt that way. You know what they say about missing something you no longer have, but not missing it when you do? Yeah, they're right.

So folks, that's how this Bengali's Puja went, at a place which is home away from home. 

And to all of you staying at home taking things like a clean bathroom and Mom's pampering and Puja fun for granted, soak it all up. One day, all these things will seem extremely precious (Wow. I managed to sound preachy to myself as I typed that). 

But believe me, there's fun to be had away from home during Durga Puja as well. When you suddenly spy one Durga pandal in a city in the opposite side of the country, it's the best feeling in the world. You feel closer to home in your heart than you ever felt living there. And that's when you know you can't ever take the Kolkata from a Bengali.

May the Goddess banish all your demons.

That's all folks.

Shubho Bijoya.

PS: Please Google all the words you didn't understand! Toodles!

 

Being Human

Leo Tolstoy said, 'If you want to be happy, be.'

I know this not because I spend my free time browsing through classic works of literature, but because I spend the time in which I really should be working, to browse through Facebook.

Like right now, I should be finishing an assignment due tomorrow.

But what had I been doing?

I'd liked and shared that post, along with some deeply philosophical quote I'd hastily looked up on Google, and then checked my page feverishly every two minutes to see if anyone liked or commented on it.

Because this is exactly what I use Facebook for.

To project an other wordly and profound image of myself to strangers on the Internet, like I totally hadn't minutely criticised some random person's over edited selfie, after which I'd proceeded to pick my own phone up and take a zillion selfies in various pretentious poses and edited one of them to the extent that I was barely recognizable and then put that up as my WhatsApp dp.

But of course, before that, I'd made very good use of time by attempting to learn the lyrics of a Tamil song, an attempt which was quickly abandoned for obvious reasons. After which out of a sudden increase in affection for my own mother tongue, I'd listened to Bengali songs back to back.

You see, I'm only human.

The only line which seems to justify all my actions off late.

Like, when I doze off in class after having slept for 10 hours straight.
Like, when I polish off a red velvet cake after having lunch that made me so full that I couldn't move.
Like, when I write random shit that comes to my mind when I REALLY REALLY should be finishing that assignment.

Bye.

luv u loads xoxo

To Every Flawed and Beautiful Soul

About to complete 20 years of my life on this Earth, I've tried to be a good person,

Tried to be less of a hypocrite, tried to be fair, tried to stick to the ultimate mission.

I have met people, I have seen places, and I have been awed at their beauty,

And I've stood in front of the mirror and cursed at the Creator for making me ugly.

I have thought sinful thoughts, have said what was not on my mind,

But I've tried to rise above it all, I've tried to be kind.

I've heard nasty things, about me, her and him,

I've blurted out words all of a sudden, have acted on a whim.

I've  wanted things I could never have, have craved some people's company,

And later I'd realized that I just had to let myself be, and that's how I was free.

I've made great friends, friends who taught me more than books ever could,

Friends who showed me what is wrong maybe right,  friends who if they could, certainly would.

I've listened to music, resonated with the lyrics, sang at the top of my voice,

Have had torturous struggles in my mind, had forgotten that I still had a choice.

But in this beautiful struggle that life is, there are still many, many roads to travel,

So many sights to see, so many souls to meet, so many stories to unravel.

Today might not have been a good day, but then again, tomorrow might,

I've got to remember that the brightest day comes after the darkest night.

And thus I shall travel, travel with a light heart, for what may come will certainly go,

There's plenty of love to go around, the world ain't  filled with woe.

And to you, you my fellow traveller, the accidental reader of this rambling, I'd just like to say,

Be brave enough to be happy, you're never alone, and this too shall pass away.

Dat College Life, doe.

'It's been a long time since I came around, been a long time, but I'm back in town...'

Felt right to start off my return to bloggerhood with a Lady Gaga song. Well, a line from one of her songs, anyway. 

If I'm not wrong (I know I'm not, because I checked. Hehe.), my last post was on the 6th of September, last year.

The past few months have been a wild, colourful blur, with some known, unknown and mysterious colours thrown in, to make a raucous cacophony of hues that had lit up my life in a shade I'd never seen before.

I have grown more in these 8 months, than I had in the 19 years before that. I have learnt about life, about people, and I continue to discover new things about myself with every passing day, with every passing moment.

Once you start living in a hostel, you realize that there were so many things that you took for granted, which you never realized before. You need to take care of your side of the room, and that doesn't only mean keeping it neat. You have to change the sheets and the pillowcases at regular intervals, you need to make sure the window sill is clean, you need to wash the bottles you drink from, regularly, you need to keep a count of your underwear, make sure none of the clothes you'd hung out to dry are missing, wash your shoes, and of course sweep and mop the floor with your roomies every other week.

You must've thought that I missed out on the most obvious thing you have to do once you start living without parents: your own laundry. Actually, I'm so disgustingly lazy, I give all my dirty laundry to the washerwoman who comes to the ladies' hostel 6 days a week. She and I share a good rapport, and every time I see her, happiness and relief burst inside me. She charges a really small fee every month, considering the amount of washing I give her every day, and hasn't yet complained about the underwear I give her to wash. That's right, I let a stranger wash my bra and panties.

Now, before you start judging me, let me list for you the other things we have to do on our own: keep our desk clean (mine is in a heinous condition right now), our cupboard orderly, and we have to do our own dishes! Isn't that the very limit?

Oh, one time, the washerwoman didn't turn up for an entire month, and I was compelled to do my own laundry twice. I made a mess of the entire process, and had it not been for my extremely helpful neighbour, Riddhi, none of my clothes would've had their original colour.

When she finally did show up, I was way too happy, way too relieved, to be angry with her, I greeted her with an overloaded bucket in one hand, the packet of detergent powder in the other and a big grin on my face.

Because we're still faltering young colts in a world of grim faced adults, we haven't yet managed to master the art of managing the money our parents send us. Thus our days go by in an endless cycle of 'Listen, from tomorrow, we won't eat out' to 'Oh crap, sambhar for dinner again!' to 'Shit, I blew up the 2k my dad sent me in a week!'

In a way, you can't blame us. The mouth-watering hostel food is the real culprit, here.

In college, you learn to let go of your inhibitions, let go of your irrational fears, you learn to stop listening to the little discouraging voice inside your head. You do it mainly because you've got no other choice, and also because you realize that once you learn to let go of all those things, you're actually free. You're ready to spread your wings, because other beautiful souls you call your friends are also ready to unfold theirs with you.