The religious demarcation does not leave as much an unfathomable impression on the aged mind as it does on a young soul. Being grown up, you make a choice and take a decision, but for the younger ones, who are yet to conceive the true essence of religion, it is baffling as well as sometimes heart breaking not being able to realize why Durga Puja is “their” festival where as Eid is “our”s.
All my close friends till date are from non-Muslim background & I never seemed to have questioned why. Neither had I any prejudice of considering their religion before making friends, nor my traditional parents ever forced me to be friend with “Muslims” only .They were my closest circle and they still are and I never found difference in religious beliefs making any interventions ever into that sacred territory.
But it was that time of the year, when the two biggest festival of both these religion, the Durga Puja & the Eid, were celebrated I used to find myself secluded from this known circle of mine. Neither did they do it intentionally, nor did I keep myself away. I was never fascinated about wearing new clothes during festival, but when they used to boast of their increasing count of Pujo’r Jama (Puja shopping), I wished the same for me, too. When I saw all their houses coming to live with pre-puja preparation, it was the usual day-in-day-out in our house. The gentle touch of the sweet breeze without the suffocating humidity from the previous rainy season, the blue sky above except a cluster of clouds scattered throughout, the huge puja mandaps being built and the roads being lit up to embrace the Mother Goddess, everything in the whole environment seemed to have gone for a facelift except my nearest vicinity being the usual same, everywhere I used to sense that pujo pujo gandho (I could not translate it into English, but here are the ingredients to make that "pujo pujo smell" in the comments section of this post ) , except no activity, no hustling bustling in and around our house.
Of all the four days, I missed the Ashtami the most. All the people used to gather at the pujo pandels to offer the Anjali to Debi Durga. While for the elders, it was devotion time, it was that unique golden opportunity of the year for the Gen Next. The boy would anxiously wait for her since morning and plan the timing for Anjali together (the girl will obviously come with her family, so the enactment had to be perfect with precious timing as if they just bumped into each other to sweep away any suspicion). Therefore, on the D-day, while all my friends would be rigorously working on their self made assignment, I would be trying my heart out to concentrate on my studies, just to distract myself from being left alone, just to brush off the despondency of not being able to offer my Anjali with her, not being able to contemplate that rare glimpse of her in those gorgeous sarees (Well…for those looking at me with a suspicious look, you know most of these were one-sided that time & today I don’t have slender idea of where she is & I am happily married, happy ha?).
Nabami night is the one, I would be earnestly looking forward, when all of us would go for our puja darshan. This was the only breather for me in those suffocating four days, when, I would be among them again and enjoy the festival, which is as much of mine as of theirs. We would roam around the town for Debi darshan with most of us eagerly looking for the "other" debi, the love of our life, how fabulous they look in their puja dresses, we would also keep an vigil so that we don’t get caught off guard by any of our teachers, and we would finally end our excursion by having an sumptuous meal in a restaurant (in those days we did not have cultures of eating at places every now and then and so we would look for this day to have a full meal outside, of our choice and most importantly sponsored by parents :D)
And when it was Eid for us, my day would start with praying Eid er Namaz at the nearby mosque in the morning, taking blessings from the elders and giving blessing to my younger sister too, a 100 rupee note,and then having delicious meals in friend's & neighbor's places. Somtime it also included various sports competition arranged by a local club. But amidst all these, I would still feel solitary, my celebration being incomplete and would be impatiently looking for the afternoon, when all my friends would visit our house. Then only, my Eid celebration would be in full swing. Without them, it would be just another day gone by.
Today, staying away from Kolkata I don't miss Durga Puja as much as I did then and I also don't miss Eid without my friends, for my very own circle has grown up with my wife, brother-in-law, nieces and likes. I have also realized friendship is not about meeting them day in day out, more importantly be there when they need. But the silent solitariness of those 4 days still scrape my inside, and the ineffable pain of missing those precious moments makes my heart tattered at times. My sacrosanct childhood questions my profane adulthood "Was I incomplete? And why was me different from my coevals"? Is it because the month long Puja'r chuti, the family vacation, the Rabindra Sangeet being played out at almost every Puja pandels, everything created an exuberance that wrapped the whole ambiance which Eid never did for me.Or is it because somewhere the thin underlying religious difference played its part, if I was to offer Anjali with them and if they were to pray Eid er namaz with me, religion would have reached the pinnacle of divinity. If i had Muslim friends, would the celebration be different? Whatever it may be, the aged me never had an answer to the question of that effervescent child and I will never have the answer...
All my close friends till date are from non-Muslim background & I never seemed to have questioned why. Neither had I any prejudice of considering their religion before making friends, nor my traditional parents ever forced me to be friend with “Muslims” only .They were my closest circle and they still are and I never found difference in religious beliefs making any interventions ever into that sacred territory.
But it was that time of the year, when the two biggest festival of both these religion, the Durga Puja & the Eid, were celebrated I used to find myself secluded from this known circle of mine. Neither did they do it intentionally, nor did I keep myself away. I was never fascinated about wearing new clothes during festival, but when they used to boast of their increasing count of Pujo’r Jama (Puja shopping), I wished the same for me, too. When I saw all their houses coming to live with pre-puja preparation, it was the usual day-in-day-out in our house. The gentle touch of the sweet breeze without the suffocating humidity from the previous rainy season, the blue sky above except a cluster of clouds scattered throughout, the huge puja mandaps being built and the roads being lit up to embrace the Mother Goddess, everything in the whole environment seemed to have gone for a facelift except my nearest vicinity being the usual same, everywhere I used to sense that pujo pujo gandho (I could not translate it into English, but here are the ingredients to make that "pujo pujo smell" in the comments section of this post ) , except no activity, no hustling bustling in and around our house.
Of all the four days, I missed the Ashtami the most. All the people used to gather at the pujo pandels to offer the Anjali to Debi Durga. While for the elders, it was devotion time, it was that unique golden opportunity of the year for the Gen Next. The boy would anxiously wait for her since morning and plan the timing for Anjali together (the girl will obviously come with her family, so the enactment had to be perfect with precious timing as if they just bumped into each other to sweep away any suspicion). Therefore, on the D-day, while all my friends would be rigorously working on their self made assignment, I would be trying my heart out to concentrate on my studies, just to distract myself from being left alone, just to brush off the despondency of not being able to offer my Anjali with her, not being able to contemplate that rare glimpse of her in those gorgeous sarees (Well…for those looking at me with a suspicious look, you know most of these were one-sided that time & today I don’t have slender idea of where she is & I am happily married, happy ha?).
Nabami night is the one, I would be earnestly looking forward, when all of us would go for our puja darshan. This was the only breather for me in those suffocating four days, when, I would be among them again and enjoy the festival, which is as much of mine as of theirs. We would roam around the town for Debi darshan with most of us eagerly looking for the "other" debi, the love of our life, how fabulous they look in their puja dresses, we would also keep an vigil so that we don’t get caught off guard by any of our teachers, and we would finally end our excursion by having an sumptuous meal in a restaurant (in those days we did not have cultures of eating at places every now and then and so we would look for this day to have a full meal outside, of our choice and most importantly sponsored by parents :D)
And when it was Eid for us, my day would start with praying Eid er Namaz at the nearby mosque in the morning, taking blessings from the elders and giving blessing to my younger sister too, a 100 rupee note,and then having delicious meals in friend's & neighbor's places. Somtime it also included various sports competition arranged by a local club. But amidst all these, I would still feel solitary, my celebration being incomplete and would be impatiently looking for the afternoon, when all my friends would visit our house. Then only, my Eid celebration would be in full swing. Without them, it would be just another day gone by.
Today, staying away from Kolkata I don't miss Durga Puja as much as I did then and I also don't miss Eid without my friends, for my very own circle has grown up with my wife, brother-in-law, nieces and likes. I have also realized friendship is not about meeting them day in day out, more importantly be there when they need. But the silent solitariness of those 4 days still scrape my inside, and the ineffable pain of missing those precious moments makes my heart tattered at times. My sacrosanct childhood questions my profane adulthood "Was I incomplete? And why was me different from my coevals"? Is it because the month long Puja'r chuti, the family vacation, the Rabindra Sangeet being played out at almost every Puja pandels, everything created an exuberance that wrapped the whole ambiance which Eid never did for me.Or is it because somewhere the thin underlying religious difference played its part, if I was to offer Anjali with them and if they were to pray Eid er namaz with me, religion would have reached the pinnacle of divinity. If i had Muslim friends, would the celebration be different? Whatever it may be, the aged me never had an answer to the question of that effervescent child and I will never have the answer...
