Sunday 24 November 2013

Turned on by the cavalcade

Life is a vintage ride. More so when the journey's quest is for the unknown. That spells theistic.

This autumn my soul's indefatigability drew me to the shores of "dhak" to drink in the soft small billows of white clouds hanging like a canopy over swaying "kans grass" lazing in the lap of exuberant mother earth. To the port of Calcutta, India ushering in Sharadotsav.
 
Bagbazar Sarbojanin, 2013

"Sharadotsav" or "Durgaotsav" is a Hindu festival celebrated by people of Bengal across the world over a period of five days - "Shasthi, Saptami, Ashtami, Navami and Dashami". Religion has never been a charm for me. The quintessence of being a fleck but holding onto the universe allures me to an odyssey. I worship the solitude and serenity that life springs up for us. Having said that the festival of autumn in Bengal is loud and lively, vivid and vociferous braiding the familial thread solid and secure.

With a surge of human wave thrashing the roads of Calcutta and the priests' Sanskrit hymns blaring loud over the microphone from the Durga Puja pandals lulled my senses. The mesmerizing beats of the dhak accompanied by inebriating "dhunuchi naach" spreading the sweet smelling thick smoke of powdered incense braced my inner self de-cluttering all that is not worth living for, all that flanks our spirit, body and mind everyday of our lives.

Chatubabu Latubabu bari Durga Puja, 2013
 
The aura of the autumn in Bengal acted as a cleanser strengthening my mind, heart and soul over the body which is nothing but a veneer of hatred, selfishness, jealousy, pride and arrogance. The festive clamour, the glitzy fashion and fiesta, the ravishing splendour, the gastronomic delights, the home-coming of family and friends, the versatile culture of Bengal filliped its people and tourists like me to come out and celebrate defying Calcutta's stifling weather.

Calcutta is distinctly divided into north and south. The north displays the city's soul wrapped in sheaths of archaic buildings of erstwhile rich landlords of Bengal raped of its glory by passing eons, narrow alleys, the colonial dignity marked by austerity, tradition and unvarnished hospitality.

Raja Nabakrishna Deb bari Durga Puja, 2013 Shobhabazar Rajbari
The contemporary swanky Calcutta defines the south of the city embellished in thoughts and actions fit for the e-age. Though I did some pandal hopping, resplendent in decor but painful for the limbs after hours-long queuing for a glimpse of the goddess Durga yet my inner-self turned me on to "bonedi barir pujo" (pujas celebrated in the house of age-old landlords adhering to the strictest term of tradition).

A Durga Puja 2013 pandal

Keeping with the unyielding times especially after the roll-out of "Zamindari Abolition Act" post Indian independence, the once extended families of these opulent landlords went asunder. Their riches dwindled away. Many of these families could not afford to celebrate Sharadotsav except for a handful who still celebrates the festival with the same age-old fealty and reverence minus the splendour. The candor, the modesty displayed in the "bonedi barir pujo" has a homespun ambience. The aesthetic principle of these celebrations does not get enmeshed in ornamental facets.

Shobhabazar Rajbari entrance














A number of tour guides map out a plan for "bonedi barir pujo" stopovers guiding you through and through. The travel agencies accomodate tourists with a guide, packed food and bottled water and the conveyance selected depends on the tourist's budget. The impeccable hospitality of the people of Bengal acts as an edge to tourists rounding up in its capital regardless of its shoddy state of infrastructure.

Amidst the ululating sounds of the women of Bengal offering "aarti" to goddess Durga and "sindhur khela" before she makes way to the Ganges for immersion on Dashami, the chime of oneness reverberated within myself. What I felt is extreme buoyancy and solace devoid of human fatigue. The litheness of these moments made me to avow to myself of the rugged roads that life has to tread on for all who walk over the earth's arena.

The biggest annual carnival of Bengal may end in kaleidoscopic five days, however the quest for our inner godliness and theology and the constant drive to win over our bodily utilitarianism continues. The land and its people yearns for the true essence the spirit of the festival leaves behind - goddess Durga's footprints that are meant never to be blotted from one's mind, the good fighting over the evil.