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(Hi! Play Maa Durga Quiz during Pujas and win Exciting Prizes…To Play Maa Durga Quiz Send sms MA to 123.…)
My mobile service provider, Hutch, is spamming me with the above enticement of exciting prizes. Can it get funnier than this?
She is here and it’s Saptami day today. I am sorry I missed out on an instalment of this posting. The press where we print the journal was flooded and there was disruption in power supply. But we managed to bring out the journal in time. I am a bit down with a bout of rhinitis that the puja-packed Calcutta metro has given me. Well that’s my guess at least.
Saptami is like the official start of pujas. Many offices remained open till yesterday (sashti). In the morning my work took me to the Chaltabagan puja pandal which is among the famous pujas of north Calcutta. This time they have put the goddess and her children in a great horse-drawn chariot – a mix of the scene from the Gita, where Krishna who drove Arjun’s chariot, egged the undecided Arjun to join the battle of Kurukhsetra. The goddess has taken the place of Arjun which might have mythological echoes but what is beautiful about Chaltabagan is the idol of Durga. Its an enchanting image created no doubt by an expert image-maker - a blend of sophistication and understated classicised beauty. The newspapers tell me next day that the Chief Minister’s wife came to visit the puja of Chaltabagan. Does it mean anything…who knows?
To the uninitiated the city suddenly looks like a museum of Indian heritage. Here you find the towering shikhara of a temple from Orissa spanning a street, built with near-perfect craftsmanship, a few blocks ahead an architectural marvel from Rajasthan transported as if by magic for a few days to this city of the east and again and again proud representations of a rich heritage of an ancient land. And in the evenings when the lights come on and the city moves into a scherzo of excitement these magnificent structures whisper (sometimes at forty sometimes at hundred decibels) the memories of a vibrant culture where tradition mixes with modernity and art with craftsmanship seamlessly and for ever.
In the afternoon yesterday I had to take the metro to the south and was almost suffocated in the crowd. Who are my co-passengers? Are offices letting of their employees early or maybe people have come out to do some last minute shopping. And of course there is the great number of people moving into the heart of the city from the suburbs and outlying areas and even far off villages to get a feel of the city pujas.
There are basically two kinds of pujas organised in the city. The first are the neighbourhood pujas (barwari pujo) which are funded by subscriptions from communities, people living in an area and organised mainly by local clubs, people of influence, cooperative societies and such like. The others are the more traditional family pujas (barir pujo) organised in homes by families who have been long time residents of the city. These other kinds of pujas also attract a lot of interest because of the traditions they invoke and appeal to.
I felt thirsty and tired after the metro ride and had a drink at a crowded Park Street bar. And then at last Shalini had called. After much hard work I got a taxi but when I reached our rendez-vous (about an hour late) she had gone. Having missed her again I concentrated on the lights on my way home. If you are travelling down Central Avenue or College street one of these days, Central Avenue more so with those ancient buildings built by rich Bengalis or their rulers on both sides, the imposing forms lit up by thousands of incandescent electric dots take you into a reverie and you know that your city is even more beautiful than the much more famous City of Lights.
There are apsaras and elephants, flowers and horses rampant, decorative art and abstraction in the coloured light work leading to the pandals and the sea of humanity waiting patiently behind the bamboo barricades to take their turn to look at the face of the Mother. I pass Kar Bagan, almost gaudy with light and lament the lack of aesthetic sensibility of some of these puja organisers.
The rain gods are busy with other things. Today there was one or two smart showers but not the incessant downpour of last week. The flood situation has also improved which everyone is happy to hear. People are visiting pandals in thousands and the organisers are also advertising their difference over the blaring public address systems. One puja in College street went on repeating again and again the display of more than four-hundred kinds of dolls from all districts of Bengal in their pandal. Begins to smell like post-modern kebab isn’t it? A huge advertisement possibly of some financial company near Seladah rail station is saying that sister Lakshmi and big-brother Ganesh (Lakshmi di and Ganesh da) – children of Durga – are coming to take care of your financial woes.
Near my home, past the grand display of lights and ideas, the imposing pandals and the teeming millions out to get their fifty rupees of fun and devotion, a small pandal in plain white and orange cloth attracts my attention. There is no fancy structure no decorations or grand display of lights. A single spotlight at the entrance shows the name of the club which is performing this puja. A muted amplifier is playing Debabrata Biswas’s rendition of a Tagore song that one can only hear when one enters the pandal. But under the simple fluroscent lighting of the pandal and through the smoke and haze of a tired Sashti evening, I behold one of the most dignified of Durga images that I have seen for a long time. She is an ocean of compassion while her pupils sparkle with the faint traces of great power – stilled frozen fires. The dhunuchi naach (the dance with the censers) is mesmerising and the aroma from the censers is heady.
I am happy but a little drunk when I reach home and get a trifle irritated when the puja organisers in the next block begin to play the Kaanta Laaga on the loudspeakers.
(©Copyright reserved by author. Published work.)
(The photograph shows Dhunuchi naach before the Goddess. It is copyright of a website.)
(Hi! Play Maa Durga Quiz during Pujas and win Exciting Prizes…To Play Maa Durga Quiz Send sms MA to 123.…)
My mobile service provider, Hutch, is spamming me with the above enticement of exciting prizes. Can it get funnier than this?
She is here and it’s Saptami day today. I am sorry I missed out on an instalment of this posting. The press where we print the journal was flooded and there was disruption in power supply. But we managed to bring out the journal in time. I am a bit down with a bout of rhinitis that the puja-packed Calcutta metro has given me. Well that’s my guess at least.
Saptami is like the official start of pujas. Many offices remained open till yesterday (sashti). In the morning my work took me to the Chaltabagan puja pandal which is among the famous pujas of north Calcutta. This time they have put the goddess and her children in a great horse-drawn chariot – a mix of the scene from the Gita, where Krishna who drove Arjun’s chariot, egged the undecided Arjun to join the battle of Kurukhsetra. The goddess has taken the place of Arjun which might have mythological echoes but what is beautiful about Chaltabagan is the idol of Durga. Its an enchanting image created no doubt by an expert image-maker - a blend of sophistication and understated classicised beauty. The newspapers tell me next day that the Chief Minister’s wife came to visit the puja of Chaltabagan. Does it mean anything…who knows?
To the uninitiated the city suddenly looks like a museum of Indian heritage. Here you find the towering shikhara of a temple from Orissa spanning a street, built with near-perfect craftsmanship, a few blocks ahead an architectural marvel from Rajasthan transported as if by magic for a few days to this city of the east and again and again proud representations of a rich heritage of an ancient land. And in the evenings when the lights come on and the city moves into a scherzo of excitement these magnificent structures whisper (sometimes at forty sometimes at hundred decibels) the memories of a vibrant culture where tradition mixes with modernity and art with craftsmanship seamlessly and for ever.
In the afternoon yesterday I had to take the metro to the south and was almost suffocated in the crowd. Who are my co-passengers? Are offices letting of their employees early or maybe people have come out to do some last minute shopping. And of course there is the great number of people moving into the heart of the city from the suburbs and outlying areas and even far off villages to get a feel of the city pujas.
There are basically two kinds of pujas organised in the city. The first are the neighbourhood pujas (barwari pujo) which are funded by subscriptions from communities, people living in an area and organised mainly by local clubs, people of influence, cooperative societies and such like. The others are the more traditional family pujas (barir pujo) organised in homes by families who have been long time residents of the city. These other kinds of pujas also attract a lot of interest because of the traditions they invoke and appeal to.
I felt thirsty and tired after the metro ride and had a drink at a crowded Park Street bar. And then at last Shalini had called. After much hard work I got a taxi but when I reached our rendez-vous (about an hour late) she had gone. Having missed her again I concentrated on the lights on my way home. If you are travelling down Central Avenue or College street one of these days, Central Avenue more so with those ancient buildings built by rich Bengalis or their rulers on both sides, the imposing forms lit up by thousands of incandescent electric dots take you into a reverie and you know that your city is even more beautiful than the much more famous City of Lights.
There are apsaras and elephants, flowers and horses rampant, decorative art and abstraction in the coloured light work leading to the pandals and the sea of humanity waiting patiently behind the bamboo barricades to take their turn to look at the face of the Mother. I pass Kar Bagan, almost gaudy with light and lament the lack of aesthetic sensibility of some of these puja organisers.
The rain gods are busy with other things. Today there was one or two smart showers but not the incessant downpour of last week. The flood situation has also improved which everyone is happy to hear. People are visiting pandals in thousands and the organisers are also advertising their difference over the blaring public address systems. One puja in College street went on repeating again and again the display of more than four-hundred kinds of dolls from all districts of Bengal in their pandal. Begins to smell like post-modern kebab isn’t it? A huge advertisement possibly of some financial company near Seladah rail station is saying that sister Lakshmi and big-brother Ganesh (Lakshmi di and Ganesh da) – children of Durga – are coming to take care of your financial woes.
Near my home, past the grand display of lights and ideas, the imposing pandals and the teeming millions out to get their fifty rupees of fun and devotion, a small pandal in plain white and orange cloth attracts my attention. There is no fancy structure no decorations or grand display of lights. A single spotlight at the entrance shows the name of the club which is performing this puja. A muted amplifier is playing Debabrata Biswas’s rendition of a Tagore song that one can only hear when one enters the pandal. But under the simple fluroscent lighting of the pandal and through the smoke and haze of a tired Sashti evening, I behold one of the most dignified of Durga images that I have seen for a long time. She is an ocean of compassion while her pupils sparkle with the faint traces of great power – stilled frozen fires. The dhunuchi naach (the dance with the censers) is mesmerising and the aroma from the censers is heady.
I am happy but a little drunk when I reach home and get a trifle irritated when the puja organisers in the next block begin to play the Kaanta Laaga on the loudspeakers.
(©Copyright reserved by author. Published work.)
(The photograph shows Dhunuchi naach before the Goddess. It is copyright of a website.)
1 comments:
It was worth waiting for this post! Thanks!
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