Today is 7th Oct 2010. It's 2:30 AM. In a few hours the whole Kolkata will tune in their radio and listen to the good Ole voice of Birendrakrishna Bhadra, as they have done almost all their lives. And beyond any logical explanation, it will still be able to cheer them up as always. Today is Mahalaya, the starting of Durga Pujo. The beloved season of celebration for all Bongs.
I don't usually miss Pujo. I don’t remember missing it ever since I left home and neither am I gonna miss it this year. But a certain video post of a Bangla song in one of my non-bong friend's wall led me to some of my old loved songs and a good hour of listening to them made me utterly nostalgic.
So I dived into my long lost memory to find out the feelings I have once felt with the first touch of Autumn. I think the first trace of Pujo always occurred with Sarodiya Magazines (Magazines published during Pujo) and frequent advertisement of Tantujo and Tantusree Sarees. Then every channel will start putting the face of the idol in corner of the screen. Pujo always brought happiness and expectations. Partly because of all the new clothes we received, but it was not just about it. The light, the joy, the glamor of the city. We knew they all came just once in a year and believe it or not when I was younger a year used to be much longer than it is now. It was also a time for vacation for us, since every year as the pujo came we would head to Kolkata from our village, which was around 4-5 hours of train journey away.
Memory is a very complicated thing. It often doesn't keep track of the big events of life and still holds on to the small unimportant pieces of incidents. I don't remember what I did at every pujo, but I remember the flavor of the lemon leaves we used to carry during the train journey or how we often counted the number of cows on our way to Kolkata or how my grandma would be watching Pujo survey on TV while we'll be out seeing pandals. I remember the exact taste of “luchi –aloor dom” on Osthomis. And I can still feel the pace of breathing in those four lazy afternoons followed by equally busy evenings.
These are not the things I want to share or should be shared. But I feel like pouring my heart out tonight, as after a long time I feel like I can touch the feelings of that little girl that I used to be. I can hold the same dreams in my eyes as I have once done. I can believe in things that I stopped believing a long way back. And more than anything I can be a “bangali” for a few hours before I wake up tomorrow to be a “probasi bangali” again.
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