Durga Pujo of a Christian Household

Trail of childhood memories line up as streets are adorned with fairylights and cacophony of far-fetched music touch my ears. The innocent curiosity of another religion, the madness of festivity and knowing that the word 'Maa' is the ultimate strength. I always asked whose 'Maa' she was? And always been told about her four children. Then I counter questioned then why do everyone call her "Maa", to which I was told, "She is a mother to anyone who call her Maa". 

Durga Puja will always be a part of my childhood nostalgia. Growing in a Christian household, I had access to Durga Puja and it's madness because of my equally enthusiastic Grandmother and Mother. Mahalaya used to mark the beginning of the festive madness. Before the sun could peep in, at the wee hours my mother used to wake up and turn the radio on to Birendra Krishna Bhadra's voice welcoming Maa Durga.

"Jago, Maa tumi jaago..."

A chill ran down my spine as the cool breeze entered from the window. Clinging onto my grandmother's saree, I could visualize a giant green monster being battled by a motherly figure. Someone who wore a saree like my grandmother and had the fury in her eyes like those of my mother. I waited till Bhadra chanted "Yaa Devi Sarva Bhuteshu Vishnu Mayyeti Shabditah

Namas Tasyai Namas Tasyai Namas Tasyai Namo Namah."

By then my mother brought in cups of steaming coffee and a packet of Banana Chips. Munching on the chips and sipping onto the coffee I used to hear both of them speak. They used to talk about their times when everyone used to wake up early in the morning in their compound and gathered around the radio set every Mahalaya. I used to ask innocent questions which were always answered by my Grandmother with her wits. 

 

Grandmother left us in 2010 and my mother in 2016. Mahalaya dawns are lonely but equally thrilling. With my earphones plugged in my ears I visualize scenes in my head. I imagine my grandmother and mother sitting right with me humming the songs one by one. 

Durga Puja marks the festive celebration and sparks nostalgia every year. That's the magic.

There were plans of covering pandals of the area. Plans of wearing this dress on that day and eating this from that shop. Rickshaw-wala or an autowala was to be summoned to take us around. My grandmother always said that hiring a taxi would be better. Then we could go far into North Kolkata and see Lebutala, Sovabajar Rajbari, College Square, Telenga Bagan etc. That was left for my Dad to arrange. 

I never felt it was not our festival. I had every speck of enjoyment my Hindu friends would have. New clothes, new shoes and good food to eat. Durga Puja taught me that no matter who you are, if you accept it Kolkata will embrace you with open arms. Maa Durga is a mother to everyone and Durga Puja, the festival of all.