A Probashi's Durga Pujo

You can take the Bangali out of Bengal, but you can't take Bengal out of the Bangali.

Being a probashi, I find myself in complete agreement to this statement. We may be living miles away from our homeland, but we remain very deeply connected to our bangali culture and traditions. 

The Durga Pujo celebrated annually in my para in Jamshedpur stands testimony to this fact. It is celebrated with a lot of enthusiasm and ardency. With the beat of the dhakis, and dhunuchi dance, the presence of the goddess fills everyone with the spirit of religious fervour. The dawn of Mahalaya breaks to the tune of Chandi Path playing aloud from every household. Pankaj Mullick's voice reciting the hymns from the ancient scripture, ushers in a grand home coming celebration of Goddess Durga that lasts ten days. The festivities also mark the death of the mighty Mahishasura, who meets his end at the hands of the powerful goddess. 

The preparation start as early as a month before, with every member armed with their shopping list. For the kids, it means new clothes, footwear, and lots of pocket money. The elders are happy enough to let go of us, and have their own adda sessions. 

Once the pushpanjoli (flower offerings to the goddess) is over, it is time for lunch. Amongst all the fanfare, food remains the most eagerly awaited part of the event. The bhog served in earthen pots with labra (mixed vegetable), and payesh has a different flavor altogether. Try what you may, this flavor is impossible to replicate in your kitchen at home. 

Now that paying our respect to the goddess, and partaking of the bhog is done, we move to the next activity of pandal hopping. The pujo spirit makes our favorite uncles and aunts become more generous as we get treated to that extra bit of cash, which is to be utilised for this very purpose of pandal hopping. We not only explore the pandals that line the nearby areas, but also the different roadside stalls that sell goodies. 

Durga Pujo is indeed a special time for all of us, young and old alike. The goddess's home coming is a very joyful event, even more tearful is the moment when we have to bid her farewell. Those ten days brings all of us together in a mysterious way, it's her way of telling us about the importance of family and how they will be there for you even when you are away. My probashi self completely understands this feeling. And, I still remain very much, the bangali at heart.

Playing Columbus the Explorer

Childhood is the best period of a man’s life. Carefree and innocent, the child is still adventurous, exhibiting a quality of curiosity. He is oblivious to the fear of the unknown. In fact the mystery is even more beckoning.

When one grows up on a heavy diet of books, especially the likes of Famous Five and The Secret Seven, this idea takes a stronger form. It is easy to imagine oneself as a young sleuth trying to figure out the thief stealing Das Aunty’s prized dahlias, or as a hero rescuing the baby bulbuli bird abandoned by its mother, and at times the explorer whose curiosity gets better of him and gets him to explore the compound of the abandoned Dutta bari.

Such was my childhood. Growing up in the steel city of Jamshedpur, we were a gang of eight. Though studying in different schools, we had formed a strong friendship which is often brought by the fact of living in the same para. Our games were quite simple, hide and seek, chain-chain, lock and key, and an occasional game of cricket or football. But the real fun lay when we went exploring. Riding our cycle, we felt so free and liberated, we went round the old and familiar roads, the new and not so familiar streets, ringing the cycle bell with excitement, calling each other names, shouting out cautions, and laughing our hearts out.

It was during one such evening, that we found ourselves near Domani. This area was a 15 min ride away from our homes, and marked the meeting point of two rivers, Kharkhai and Subarnarekha. It had been our long unfulfilled dream to cycle to this spot ever since we came here for the Chhat puja celebrations. The river bank ran along for five kilometres and we had to climb down the cemented steps to reach the river. It was a forbidden spot, more so if you were a child and unaccompanied by an elder. But today, there we stood, defying the rule, infused with the spirit of an explorer, breathing in the fresh, musky smell of the river, savouring the sight of a new land! The Dalma hills with its lush green forests lay on the other side, the electric lights of the small hamlets flickered in the evening twilight; we saw people being ferried across the river to their homes; they will be back again on this side in the morning with fresh supply of vegetables and fish. It was a moment, a calm, breath taking moment in life that stayed with all of us forever.

Our moment was interrupted by the screeching sound of a powerful vehicle. A cloud of dust hindered our vision, and once it settled down we were presented with the sight of the new Tata Safari STORME Explorer edition. Our eyes admired the curves of this bevy black beauty, which in every way looked the perfect SUV. We never saw Mohit’s uncle stepping out of the car and the angry look on his face. We were let off by after a tough scolding, but Mohit had it tougher getting his ears boxed in public! Anyways we decided, it was a day well spent, with the river bank finally conquered, we felt victorious. Thank goodness for childhood and the madness it brought with it.:)

This post is an entry for the #I am Explorer contest for Indiblogger.

Monsoon Memories

The rains are finally here! Thanks to the low depression created near the coastal Andhra, Chennai has been experiencing continuous rainfall over this weekend. A fresh, washed smell lingered in the air. The city welcomed me with the sight of overcast skies with roads washed out, mud splattered on the lanes, water-filled potholes, and constant play of pitter-patter of the raindrops. Men with trousers rolled up, mothers clutching the umbrella in one hand and in another  their kid, school kids moving in groups all trying to cluster under one big makeshift shelter, these sights are common sights during the rains.  

People in Chennai have always been very welcoming to any weather.  They treat the monsoons too with kindness, for without ample rainfall, the summer months would become difficult for the common man. 

It’s amazing how the sight of rainfall, fills you with nostalgia, bringing back memories. Memories, which go back to the times, when you were a seven year old; one who made paper boats and launched them in many rivulets that ran through the backyard, who would read Phantom as Ma brought in hot pakodas. These are my memories of the monsoon season. There is of course, the unspoken, silent prayer that please-God-let-tomorrow-be-a-holiday; but inevitably this prayer always went unanswered. Somehow my salutations and respects never appeased the rain God.

Being brought up in a Bengali household, I have been especially fond of food. And the perfect recipe for a rainy afternoon is incomplete without a meal of hot khichudi, with rivers of ghee running through and beguni. Mouth watering right!

For a bookworm like me, nothing beats the combo of a good book teamed up with some good food. And with the monsoon at my doorstep, it’s my favorite time of the year!

My Indian Literature Connection

As a school student, I had read my fair share of books authored by Indian writers. Back then, it was Narayan's Malgudi Days, Tagore's works, and the minor works of Vikram Seth and Anita Desai which we got to read as part of the CBSE English syllabus. Indian Writing in English, I was was introduced to this term in my first year of college. As the name suggests, the subject is Indian literature, written in the English language. So we read RK Narayan's The Guide, Raja Rao's Kanthapura, Mahasweta Devi's Arjun, Arundhati Roy's essay on the impending nuclear war and Naipaul's idea of India.' But there was more to Indian literature, as i was to discover later in the years to come. 

College had expanded my horizon, I discovered a complete new avenue of books and authors, I savored the names of books as I pronounced them to the nearby American Bookstore uncle. What began as just a subject to study for a semester, turned into a personal interest.

My handicap of not being able to read the Bengali language, forced me to explore the books kept in the Indian translation in English section. It was the best thing that happened to me. I realized that I had just uncovered a cache of regional literature. I had the good fortune to read the translated works of some celebrated authors from different languages like Tamil, Hindi, Punjabi, and of course Bengali. My reading list now had Sadat Hasan Manto, Satyajit Ray, Amrita Pritam. What drew me to this genre is the ease with which I was able to place myself in the situation, the place where the events occur. Familiarity helps in understanding, accepting and reasoning the plot, the outcome is a pleasurable read and this feeling stays with the reader forever.

There are a few books which left me with same sentiment.

Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni's The Palace of Illusions
This one was recommended by one of my colleagues. HIgh on the feminist ideology, this book is Mahabharata retold from Draupadi's viewpoint.

Ashapurna Devi's trilogy The First Promise, Subarnalata, Bakul Kotha
She is one first female writers in pre-independence era in Bengali literature. Her novels set in the same period give a unbiased view of the Bengali society of those time, her protagonists were most often the women folk, thus helped in getting their perspective of the matters.

Kalki's Ponniyan Selvan
This is a historical novel written by Kalki during the reign of the Chola kings. As the novel was based on the lives of real people, its a real account of the society back in the Chola era. It is a record in the form of a story, told in five-parts.

Every one of these books is a wonderful read. Each protagonist lives a different life, tells a different tale. Yesterday, I added a few new authors to my reading list, and have decided to explore a new line in the same subject, poetry. 

Soul searching through the lens

Its wonderful how thought provoking a movie can be. This Independence Day, I watched an old Hindi flick. The plot goes very simple; boy dreams of making big in the world, challenged by the old players and their rules, he defies all and makes it big on his own terms, but not before being ridiculed for his spirit to be remain true to himself.

Took a step back to the real life, and I found that things are not so different at all. When we start anything new, we are faced with doubts and questions from the rest, who exhibit a complete lack of confidence in our efforts, chances of succeeding in the chosen path.

To not give in these doubts, and answer the questions without compromising the values that one believes in, is the real test. Its tough. But then when was it ever easy. 

I realized that the ability to face the situation will aid in achieving the task. To seek, to strive, not to yield; this is what defines us. Hang on there for a moment, and face the situation, answer the questions, and you will be a wiser, strong man. 

Retrospection

8PM. Mount Poonamallee High road. Rupa saw buses, trucks, cars, bikes race down the road. As she sat in the LnT stop, waiting for her bus she sat thinking about how her life had changed. Four years old in the IT industry, and she was almost losing touch with her old self. What had happened? She missed her college days, her friends, their last bench gossips, the murukku sandwich from cafeteria, Thahiya madam's Gender Studies classes, the tall, green trees that grew by the English department. She recalled the day when she vacated her hostel, after living the 3 years of her graduate life; the watchman Tatha who helped her with the luggage, the final goodbye to the wardens. It all seemed like a story from the past.

Rupa took a deep and uneven breath and looked at her watch anxiously. 8.20PM. This did not look good. If it got too late, then she might miss her dinner. They closed the mess at 9.30 in the night. Another borrowed space, where she paid the rent every month for her food and accommodation. This time she smiled. She paid her rent, bought her groceries, visited her parents once every three months, she was able to bear her expenses and had some savings too. Rupa was happy, in that moment. In the next, 88L screeched to halt, and some people got down. She slung the backpack over her shoulder, and boarded the bus bound for T.Nagar. 

Chennai ki Garmi

Most of us identify Chennai with its climate, which is hot, humid and (pardon me for us) horrid. My friends, who have come to Chennai for trainings in their professional career, thanked their good stars once they bid farewell to the city. It seems the 'heat' had got them. The month of May happens to the hottest part of the year, locally known as Agni Nakshatram meaning fiery star. This post is dedicated to Chennai’s the month of May.

चेन्नई में मई का ये महिना,

सोच के ही आ जाये पसीना।  

दूसरे महीनों में नहीं इतनी परेशानी,

मई  की अलग ही है कहानी।   

सुबह के 10 से दोपहर के 4,

बहार निकलने के नहीं कोई आसार। 

सत्तू पानी, मट्ठा, दही

इडली, सांभर और नारियल चटनी। 

मई महीने का यही है भोजन,

संपूर्ण शाकाहारी बन जाता है अपना व्यंजन। 

25 का नारियल पानी मिलता है 40 में,

कोई 19-20 का फर्क नहीं है ये। 

चेन्नई की गर्मी में बदल जाती है सबकी चाल'

सूर्य देवता की कृपा है अपार। 

चेन्नई में मई का ये महिना,

सोच के ही आ जाता है पसीना।