Durga Puja starts today. And even this year I would miss Kolkata the most during these five days.
The sound of the dhakis, the fragrance of the dhup and dhunuchi (coconut hair burning with an incense-like powder in an earthen hand held pot that looks like a very fat wine glass - couldn't think of anything else), the chant of the mantras in the pandals, spending the evenings at Maddox Square (ask a Bengali what being at Maddox Square means during Durga Puja), pandal hopping and of course moving from one roadside stall to another, following the nose as it trails the smells of food as oily, greasy, and over priced as ever, but nonetheless adding to the spirit – that’s how all my Durga Pujas, or Pujo as it is referred to in Bengali, have been since 1992, the year that I started staying in Kolkata.
Though this is the second consecutive year that I am away from home during Pujo, but I know I carry a bit of Kolkata with me wherever I go. I can feel it. What else could be the reason that every Pujo I am overcome by emotions that I never feel throughout the year, emotions that only a Bengali could relate to, emotions that I’ve always felt during Pujo when I used to stay in Kolkata. They keep coming back to me year after year during Pujo.
Pujo is much more than just worship. I would miss it all.
