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!
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