The Misty Eyed Goddess

One of my favorite columnists, Jug Suraiya proudly calls him a Hon Bong (Honorary Bengali), having spent his formative years in Calcutta and willingly succumbing to its charms before shifting base to Delhi. Taking a cue from that perhaps I can say I am a Bon Bong (Born Bengali), born and brought up in the city and state, however have not stayed there much after that except for a short stint what with career options forcing me to drop anchor in Mumbai for several years now.

There are many like me everywhere else in the world who have chosen to move out of the city or the state but there is always one time of the year for a Bengali, Hon or Bon, when the Bangaliana (the essence or spirit of Bengali-ness) comes out to the fore most and that is when Goddess Durga comes for her yearly trip with all her entourage to be with us for five days to bring cheer to every home.

During this time of the year, my mind flies back in time to those days when as a kid I used to wait patiently for these five days. I remember as kids we used to take pride in monitoring every progress as the neighborhood pandal used to go up in height with its bamboo structure, then watch with bated breath as the artists used to mould the cloth to replicate some monument or some other piece of architecture with such care. From the day of arrival of the idols to the day of their immersion used to of great significance and excitement all through. As children, one of our major sources of happiness during the Puja days used to be the new clothes and gifts. In the evenings was the sheer joy of going from pandal to pandal watching the Pujas.

I remember an old song eulogizing the deity which goes on to express that the eyes of the Goddess Durga change during the days of the Puja with each day. The first day or Mahashashthi when she arrives and is welcomed in the pandal her eyes are happy with expectation and they depict a sheer glee to be with her children on this earth once more. The happiness and joy increases with each day leading to a sublime grace to her face on the day of Mahashtami which is considered as the pinnacle point of the Puja festival. The gaze becomes a little somber, a shade sad by the night of Mahanavami , as the inevitability of the end of the stay draws nigh and a long wait till next year again beckons. On the morning of the Dashami , the last day, the eyes turn tearful, blessing the devotes always as ever, but with a tinge of melancholy as the time has come to go back. I remember in my childhood as I listened to the song and carefully checked the face of the Goddess every day I could actually see it happening and my heart reflected the same feelings from deep within with same synchronicity.

Long after I bade farewell to my childhood I have tried to watch the face with equal attention and have relentlessly searched for the misty eyed Goddess on the day of Dashami and have increasingly failed to spot it.

Alas, the harsh realities of mundane life have dried the mist from my eyes.