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A tale of resurgence

Writer's picture: SambandhSambandh

Updated: Oct 12, 2024

J o y i t a R a y

USA


“There is nothing permanent except change” - The words of the Greek philosopher found a new meaning to Anoushka as her gaze wafted to the cotton-like fluffy clouds through her dorm window alone in her room on the Ashtami morning.

In the erie cold of the Midwest in the United States, it is her first year of staying away from her home during Durga Puja after she joined the university as an undergraduate. Her essence of this festival in the forlorn country has been offbeat right from the day of Mahalaya as the homesickness wrapped with the grief of her grandfather whom she lovingly called Dada made her longing for her family evermore—for her, time seemed to stop like dark monolith acting in stark contrast to her cheerful days of festivity during her growing up years in Kolkata.

Her misty vision blurred the horizon through the window as her childhood memory brought back the splendid days she spent at her grandfather’s home during Durga Puja. Recalling a typical Ashtami morning from the pages of her memory took her to the realization that life changes are like blind curves.

“Didiiii....., how many more garlands would you need to complete the decoration?”, Dada called out loudly from the garage, about to drive away to the market while Anoushka was busy decorating the Puja room for the Ashtami Puja in the third floor of her grandpa’s house.

Being the apple of her Dada’s eyes, their hearts shared the same music of love from the day he took her in his arms for the first time. He affectionately called her Didi.

“Dadaaa.., I would need 20 more garlands and please arrange for them quickly as Diyaan would come in no time!!”, Anoushka replied aloud filled with haste and anxiety as she had to complete the Puja decoration before her grandmother (Diyaan) would come in for the Ashtami Puja.


Every year Anoushka would eagerly take the initiative to decorate the Puja room and the idols of all deities with innovative ideas. Both Dada and Didi would elaborately plan the decorations and arrangements in advance. Such a subtle joy encompassed with satisfaction used to creep in her heart when her parents, grandparents, and other family members would applaud her creation while she would bask in glory!!

As the dolls of a puppet show, her heart would dance perpetually during the days of Durga Puja when the entire house echoed with the mirth of festivity decorated with colorful fragrant flowers and the heavenly aroma of Bhog preparation.

On the days of Ashtami and Navami, the revelry had no bounds as it used to flow through the day with a sumptuous feast cooked on the terrace (by professional cooks or Radhuni) and shared with friends and family till pandal hopping in Dada’s car throughout the night with the man himself at the wheel.

Today, another Ashtami day of Durga Puja has found her in a different city situated on the other hemisphere of her home following her grandfather’s dream to win a scholarship to this prestigious university for her undergraduate. However, without him, this change has created an emotional void in her life and her festive spirit has lost its vigor.

Wiping her tears, she started her usual day by picking up her bag to study in the library after having her breakfast in the dining hall.

As she was walking to the library counting her steps on the dried orange Maple leaves, all of a sudden her third-year senior Pari met her on the university road by lake Luverne.

“Hey, where were you? I have been looking for you in your dorm!!” asked the pretty girl.

Startled, Anoushka fumbled “Breakfast!!”

Pari rolling her blue eyes in surprise asked, “Did you just have the boring pancakes on Ashtami instead of Luchi-Alur Dom?!!” She continued, “Quickly get yourself in your ethnic finery and we will dash off to the Durga Puja celebrated by the City’s Bengali Association. I have planned for the entire day and we will be leaving for the venue in an hour.”

With lightning speed, Anoushka returned to her dorm room to get herself ready for the day.


Later, she was joined by Pari and a few more of her Bengali friends in the university. Together as a group of graceful swans merrily they reached the school compound where the Durga Puja was being celebrated. Immediately, the familiar ambiance of Ashtami awakened her senses. Ma Durga Pratima along with idols of - Ganesh, Lakshmi, Saraswati, and Kartik, the fragrance of dhoop, chanting of strokes, and aroma of Bhog gradually pushed her away from melancholy.

Her soul stirred as she devotedly looked at the deities. She could hear the deep voice of her grandpa whispering in her ears, saying the familiar words “Didi.. in your happiness lies my peace.”

Soon, she found herself surrounded by the laughter and cheery chatter of the Bengali crowd in the Puja compound hailing from different parts of the city and university.

Among the newly met people, Anoushka softly asked whether she could help with Puja activities. Immediately, she was accepted into the Puja group where she began decorating the Daala for

Pushpanjali amidst happy faces. Though the emotion of this Puja decoration was much different from her home she still felt a profound connection with the culture.

The school compound turned into a festive venue akin to Durga Puja mandap, Pushpanjali and the reverberating sound of dhaak put her in the official Durga Puja mood. She could finally feel the excitement of festivity tiptoeing in her mind. Not surprisingly, her palate increased as the day progressed with Luchi-Alur Dom, Ashtami Bhog, and plenty of sweets. She decided to share her joy with her family and friends in Kolkata through video call. Back in Kolkata, Anoushka’s video call lit up the dim face of her grandmother as a ray of sunshine. Her chirpy voice eased the pain of the elderly lady’s loneliness. The smiling voices spread across the silent rooms that lifted the dark clouds looming on the house. The two heartbroken souls felt the rekindling spirit of joy touch each other even though being a thousand miles apart.

Her school friends were thoroughly excited about receiving the call. They even made a brief virtual pandal hopping with Anoushka along with her new friends in the City’s Bengali Association Puja. Her enjoyable day ended with thanking the group that helped her to enjoy the day of Ashtami in a new joyful manner. As she bid adieu to her friends and walked through streets lined with hued trees, the chilly autumn evening with the sounds of Dhak still in her mind gave her the vibes of Sharodiya. She was feeling glad to acquire a new color to the savoring of experiences in her life.

Eventually, when she returned to her dorm room, sitting by the lampshade and with her favorite coffee, she took out her journal and began writing about her day-long journey. The pages of her journal gradually got filled with her realizations that as situations change in life, the various experiences help to adapt us to new adjustments. She might not be able to enjoy the days of Durga Puja with her family but the sweet childhood memory would remain embodied in her soul throughout her life.


She then penned a few lines in remembrance of her late grandfather....

We may not know how to regain the past,

As the moments never return.

But the reminiscence in our hearts will last,

To ensure that we do not mourn.

However eventually we must harvest,

The days of joy that we yearn


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