Durga Puja, On The Rocks

Trisha hugged her mother and wept like a baby girl.

“I don’t feel like leaving you folks, Mom!”, she sniffled.

“Mad girl!” her mother said, kissing her forehead, “Do you have any idea how proud me and your father are today? Our daughter has made it to BITS Pilani! All our years of hardships, your studies..all those running to coaching classes have finally paid off!”

“Ya Mom…but it’s the new campus at Hyderabad, “ Trisha still wept, “ I’ve heard from some students who are already there…that there are still constructions happening, there’s jungle around it.”

“Look you’ve already made friends!” chuckled her mother, wiping off her tears.

That was true. You see, being a Bengali girl child without any sibling, Trisha had indeed grown up behind that typical shield of her parents. Although she wept genuinely because she felt sad about leaving her home and staying away from her parents for the first time in eighteen years…..she couldn’t deny the fact that she felt an undercurrent of excitement simultaneously!

There was an online forum for students across all BITS campuses. Trisha had been hooked on to it gathering every detail about the Hyderabad campus. While she received responses from students and seniors alike from other two campuses (Pilani and Goa), there were only a handful of students from Hyderabad campus who could answer her. That was because, it was the very first batch of Hyderabad campus. And the students answering Trisha were those who had reached campus only slightly earlier on getting admitted in first iterations. Apurva was the first person to answer Trisha’s query on if cycling was necessary to commute within the campus…..a major, major concern for Trisha as she used to be a coward kid, who hadn't ended up learning cycling ever since she had fallen off while trying to pedal a small one in her childhood! From Apurva’s response on how it was very easy to walk from hostel to the academic block and back, despite the terrain being slightly hilly; Trisha could make out she was a very lively, bubbly girl ! Among the others, there was this boy called Atanu, who had also been helping Trisha quite pro-actively with all her queries. Well, it wasn’t mere help, Atanu had also been telling her how important a personality he had already become , within those few days, on campus…..as he had been gathering folks to kick start a multitude of clubs : Robotics, Dance, Drama, Mime and what not !

Wow, Trisha was impressed. She, honestly, couldn’t wait to meet these people once she would be on campus. They had also told her the campus was surrounded by beautiful little hillocks, with a few large rocks located right in front of the academic block…which eventually had become hang-out spots for the students. So, often, when they would be asked about how life was on campus, they would just say “on-the-rocks”.

Trisha didn’t find it too funny. She didn’t even understand what it meant. Could it possibly have some thing to do with drinks? She didn’t know….she had never touched alcohol.

Along with her parents, Trisha had reached Hyderabad by travelling on Falaknama express. During evening, the train would run exactly along side the Chilka lake of Orissa. It was a gorgeous view to watch. At one point, there would be gentle waves from the huge sea-like lake splashing playfully over the green grass right by the railway track, just outside the train window. If you would look up from there towards the water body, you would see fishing boats floating hither and tither, with the Bay of Bengal sea glistening in the horizon, in the mellowed twilight. While Trisha’s parents tried taking a short nap, Trisha kept watching the lake……creating her own dreamy version of how the college would be…especially how Apurva and Atanu would be, in person (those were the days when social media hadn’t yet started reigning over the Internet. Trishas and Apurvas and Atanus of the world would have to put in much effort in describing their worlds to one another). And Oh my God ! Did Trisha just blush a little as she thought how she and Atanu had been texting for hours for the past few days, with Atanu excitedly telling her every single detail about the campus? Nah..she wasn’t blushing, probably. Trisha had always been a studious child, with zero experience in this department, so she wouldn’t think too much about it…but she sure would meet Atanu in person on campus and say a “Thank you” ! After all he had been so helpful. But, why did the idea of saying a “Thank you” seem to be so exciting? A novice Trisha didn’t understand…….and just allowed the butterflied in her tummy settle.

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Several weeks had passed by. Trisha’s hostel wing comprised of girls from various parts of India – Andhra Pradesh (back then, Telangana hadn’t yet formed), Tamil Nadu, Maharashtra, Punjab. There were very few Bengali girls. Majority of Trisha’s friends were from Andhra and Maharastra. In fact, Trisha had learnt that both Atanu and Apurva were also from Maharashtra. Oh, by the way, Trisha could never say that long-planned “Thank you” to Atanu, as he had refused to meet Trisha after having seen her from distance. He apparently was disappointed that Trisha didn’t look as good as he had expected her to be. A modestly dressed girl with round spectacles resting on a small nose in an even rounder face didn’t match up to his standard for glamorous girl. Apurva, on the other hand had gathered her whole group of friends from Nagpur and brought them to Trisha’s room to get her introduced to everyone. Each day, Trisha was meeting new friends, learning new things, experiencing new pains. But somewhere amidst all of it, she had started feeling very comfortable and snug in that lush green piece of land guarded by brown hills and green forests.

It being a new campus, Trisha’s batch would be the one to start everything – clubs, activities, associations! Needless to say, there was lot of enthusiasm and talent across the campus. Trisha had already become a part of Dance club, thanks to Apurva’s friend Payal, who had pulled her. But Trisha was looking for doing something else where she could be a more prominent member…like a founder or something, you know? Not only to sound “cool”, but also to add a CV point.

Very well, so; after a few meetings over tea at mess with the Bengali people on campus, Trisha became the founder of Bengali Association. Yeah, I know, it didn’t sound as glamorous as Robotics Club for the protagonist of a story……but it’s okay, deal with it.

“You’re in Bengali Association? So what will you guys do? Like…arrange Bengali food in mess”, chuckled Siddharth, one of Trisha’s friends when they were having dinner along with Apurva, Payal and others.

“Ya, that..and organise Durga Puja on campus..” Trisha tried to think and add.

“Whoa whoa whoa..hold on, Durga Puja? Are you serious?” Siddharth said, “I lived in Delhi, amidst an association of Bengali people. I have seen them organise Durga Puja. It’s a massive arrangement. You think just a small bunch like yours can do it?! And who would even do it? All Bengali people will rush for home for Durga Puja!”

Yeah Sid was right. Trisha pondered over his words and called her mother up, while walking lazily back from mess to her hostel.

“What will you do by coming during Durga Puja?! You’re anyways coming home a few months after that…during semester break!”, her mother said.

“Ya Mom…but apparently every Bengali person on campus would be gone for Durga Puja..” Trisha tried explaining.

“So? Bengali people would…..others won’t right? Be with them…you’ve got so many friends, “Trisha’s mother added casually, “and what would you do by coming home? We anyways stay so far away from main Kolkata….it’s so crowded during Durga Puja…you yourself don’t feel like going out ! All your friends are also now studying in other cities…I doubt how many of them would come. No need, just stay there.”

“You could’ve let her come home !” Trisha’s father said, turning the pages of his newspaper, after her mother had kept the phone.

“I know you always find an excuse to bring your daughter home,” her mother said, smiling” You think I don’t miss her? But trust me on this……..let her stay there ! Let her gain experience, and grow.”

That evening, Trisha got in touch with those Bengali students who, like her, were not planning to go home. Now, for Bengali folks, the festive mood of Durga Puja gets started on the day of Mahalaya itself. This day marks the end of Pitru Paksh, and onset of Devi Paksh, with people across Bengal starting the day by offering Tarpan to their forefathers. Formal rituals aside, on this day, Bengali people wake up to Mahishasurmardini (a two hour musical audio program, recorded as early as in 1951; and is broadcast till date, every year on this day sharp at 4 am by All India Radio Kolkata). With Birendra Krishna Bhadra’s chanting of the entire story of Durga killing Mahishasur, accompanied by songs, Bengalis gradually get drifted into nostalgic onset of the festive mood. Over endless plates of Mysore bonda that was being served for evening snacks at mess that day, along with tea (till the large can containing tea actually got empty and was removed by the mess workers); Trisha and her team mates decided that they would play Mahishasurmardini on speaker, sharp at 4 am near the mess, on the day of Mahalaya, and they would also start collecting funds from hostels for getting idols, pandal decorations and priest to conduct their very own, first Durga Puja on campus.

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Unlike most of the religious festivals across India, Durga Puja is more about feasting on non-veg delicacies, wearing new dresses, hopping marvellously manufactured Pandals; than following any strict ritual. In fact it would be five days WITHOUT any ritual. Sure, on the morning of Ashtami, people would get decked up for offering Anjali at the pandal. But the open secret behind most of the men’s inspiration behind waking up early that day, taking a shower, and visiting a pandal for the same would be the bevy of gorgeous women in their traditional glory who would adorn the pandals that morning. Big Bengali eyes lined with rich, black kajal, neatly drawn eyebrows flaunting a red bindi right in between; would be the chief highlight of the glowing faces sporting jhumkas and smiles.

That new boy in Trisha’s neighbourhood who had once flown down from London to witness Durga Puja by staying at his maternal uncle’s place, couldn’t wait for the anjali to be over so that he could go ahead and strike a conversation with that girl in white saree with red border, hair tied in a messy bun that let some fringes play over her smooth shoulder donning a rich red sleeveless blouse. She had been standing at the corner of the Pandal, chattering away with her friends. Trisha, as a school kid in new jeans and kurti with her family at the pandal, had observed how smitten and foolish that boy looked, as he had been eyeing that girl all the while, and how nervous he looked as he was grooming himself while walking up to her. “What rubbish”, Trisha had thought, almost laughing slightly aloud, when she had seen how the girl had earlier thrown a flower from the Anjali to the innocent boy’s head, giggling away with her friends before closing her eyes and pretending to pray, as he looked back puzzled. After the prayer was over, the lad had walked up, almost jittery, to the girl in saree and stammered,“Hi….y-you..well…I’ve been noticing you a lot ! You look beautiful!”

All these intricate charms of Durga Puja would be missing here, Trisha told herself, but nevertheless it’ll be different ! It’ll be ours…let’s see how it goes.

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“Swastika…..for God’s sake wake up,” Shouted Trisha, brushing her teeth as she banged the door of this Bengali girl staying one floor below hers in the hostel. They were supposed to wake up and reach the mess by 4 am to start playing the Mahalaya. But it was already 4:15 am.

“Is it really needed?” grumbled Swastika sleepily, after opening the door, as she walked back towards the bed and fell straight face-off.

“Yes it is..” said Trisha, stepping into Swastika's room.

“Shut up, you yourself are just up, brushing your teeth..you’re so sleepy you don’t even know there’s paste from your mouth drooping all over my floor”, said an annoyed Swastika, sounding like she was weeping, “God it’s so cold outside too!”

By the time every one had arrived near the mess, it was 5 am. Failure 1.0, Trisha thought. But never mind, it would be a different experience listening to Mahalaya with every one, although it was an hour late. They were some 7-8 people, a group big enough to enjoy this with.

The sky had just started fading, there were light pink clouds gathering against purple sky in the East. Mahalaya was being played, with the Chandipaath and songs filling up the atmosphere….just then, a window was thrown open from the ground floor of the adjacent boys’ hostel.

“Oii…what on earth is going on?” shouted Sayan with a sleepy voice, tucking his head out of the window,” Reduce the volume folks , I have an exam tomorrow”.

“You have an exam TOMORROW and you’re studying NOW already? Come out!”, screamed Swastika back, “Aren’t you ashamed? And aren’t you a Bengali too?!” she said, before murmuring something about betrayal, and reducing the volume.

After some time, Samarjit came out of the hostel, and walked towards the place where they all had gathered. He was the tall, fair, stout Bengali boy with a reserved personality who had caught Trisha’s fantasy. But he was an atheist who didn’t have much enthusiasm for Durga Puja, so Trisha saw him only in a few meetings. He used to be more absorbed in Quiz club or having guitar sessions at music club. With a nostalgic song from Mahalaya playing in the background, Samarjit emerged from the light, autumn fog that had been covering the area, calmly , with both his hands tucked into pockets of his grey track pants. Just as Trisha thought the dawn was going to get more charming with him joining them, Samarjit addressed the group and said, “ Hey….I never thought so many of you would turn up for Mahalaya! Good ! Ok bye guys…I’ll get going for the gym..”, and did he went.

When the last song of Mahalaya, “Rupam Dehi..Jayam Dehi” started playing, all of them decided to take a walk around the campus. Every year, Trisha didn’t understand how, this decades old audio recording could set the mood, magically, for the entire State of West Bengal. Today, she saw the same happening, in a land far, far away from Bengal. The reflection of the rising sun shining off the glass-dome of their lecture theatre, the green trees of the campus peeping above the fog, the distant hills becoming gradually visible………..everything seemed to be happening at an extra-happy rhythm with the Mahalaya coming to a close, declaring the onset of the season of Durga Puja.

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The next few days were a roller coaster. Some how finishing off the exams during the day, and bunking the next few classes, Trisha and others would spread out with different responsibilities. Some would visit the professors’ quarters to get utensils and groceries arranged, some would spread out in the market to get idol procured, others would engage in collecting funds from the hostels. A few of the professors’ wives even volunteered to cook the bhog (meal offered after the prayer) and arrange for all traditional items from their own household.

The pandal had been set right in front of the mess. As per ritual, usually the idol should arrive by Panchami, so that the priest could carry out Bodhon ( ceremony for invocation of the deities) on the day of Shashthi, after which the idols were said to come alive. However, due to lack of fund, Trisha’s team couldn’t get the idol till Shashthi ! The auspicious hour for Bodhon was gone. On the night of Shashthi, past 11 pm, all the boys of the Bengali association including Samarjit and Sayan, entered the college campus carrying all the five idols on a small truck, cheering “Joy Durga Mai ki Joy” . Trisha and other girls could only watch from their hostel balcony as it was already past in-time for girls.

A few minutes after the initial excitement had settled down, the boys were seen getting their laptops from hostel, some carrying printouts and others still trying to search online in the weak Wi-fi outside mess, on which weapon would go to which arm of the Goddess Durga. Ideally this would happen as a part of the prayer offered on the day of Shashthi....strictly executed by the priest. But they were already a day late.

“Okay….let’s get done with the easier ones first, guys, ready?” said Rahul, like a leader, keeping his eye on the laptop, “Trishool- check, Gada going to Ganesha – done, bigger bow and arrow gone to Karthik – remember the smaller one goes to one of Durga’s arm.., the veena is unmistakably going to Saraswati, cool !”

“What on earth is this?!” asked a puzzled Soumyo trying to fit some thing on Laxmi’s hand.

“Heyyy are you crazy?” laughed Swastika from the girls’ hostel balcony.

“That’s a shankh, Soumyo for God’s sake! That goes to that top arm of Durga ! Laxmi has her separate ghaut !” directed Trisha aloud, standing beside Swastika, from the hostel.

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“My mom said Durga would curse us for letting the pooja happen this way, “ a sleep deprived Soumyo said during the Saptami Puja on next morning.

“Don’t worry ..I’m sure the Devi herself is laughing at our immaturity,” Trisha winked, “She can only find it funny…if anything at all!”

After the Anjali of Ashtami was over, all of them along with several more people of the campus, spent the evening by playing antakshari in the pandal. That year, Sandhi Pooja ( the ritual that marks the transition period between Ashtami and Navami, and is the most grand time of the five day puja, when final offering is made to the Goddess Durga with 108 lotuses and lighting 108 diyas) was scheduled to happen at 1 am in the night. The college authority had permitted the girls’ hostel to remain open till late. Till then, every year, Trisha would see her mother, aunts and grandmother go to the pandal in their locality for Sandhi Puja. She herself had accompanied them some times. But it was never a mandate for her, nor was she that eager to attend it every year. But this time, she felt so sad that the Durga Puja was already coming to an end, that she made it a point to stay awake and be very much present for the entire preparation of Sandhi Puja, and make it as beautiful as possible.

Along with Rahul, Swastika and Soumyo, Trisha drew an alpona (a kind of Rangoli, but made only in white, instead of multiple colours, usually found in Bengali households) in the shape of “Om”, and placed all 108 diyas along that shape. At 1 am, the pandal was filled with a noticeable crowd comprising of all the students(not only the Bengali ones, but even the Marathis, South and North Indians, and those two students who had just come to India from Dubai) on campus, who of course hadn’t gone home for Dussehra; the faculty with their families, the mess workers and security guards. Girls and women were all decked up. Trisha herself wore a white sleeveless kameez, with a white churidar, and had put a deep, hot-pink dupatta on side, with matching bangles and ear rings. She had taken out her contact lenses for the first time in months as the round spectacles didn’t quite go with the jhumkas, she thought. Men…meaning, the professors and mess workers….had come in their new kurtas, while the ladies were in grand sarees. Boys…college students….were, however, still mostly spotted in their shorts and daily T-shirts, eyes puffed from being awake from a nap. Still, everybody was very much present ! They were all there, voluntarily, out of faith and interest.

Suddenly, there was a sound of Dhaak (a drum-like instrument whose sound is a must for all Durga Pujas in Bengal).

“Now now…where’s THAT coming from?” asked a startled Swastika.

“Here..” answered Sayan, playing it on his mobile via speakers,” I had downloaded it last night. There wasn't enough funding left to get a real Dhaaki. We should make sure our juniors do all these planning in ahead, next year.” He said, with a little frown.

“At least increase the volume now, “ asked Swastika, with a smile, “No one is studying tonight!”

Nodding, he raised the volume.

Before the prayer was about to start, while Trisha was standing at the corner, chattering away with some of her batchmates, Samarjit came up to her, and said a “Hi”.

“Perfect!” Trisha thought, as she waited for him to stammer and tell her she looked beautiful, just the way she had seen that boy from London tell his lady love years ago. Finally, Trisha would have HER moment…after all, what’s Durga Puja without such innocent flirting?

“yes?” She asked, in a nonchalant way, hiding her curiosity; while she noticed he indeed looked a bit nervous.

“Y-you..well..I’ve been noticing that you and me are in this same Microelectronics elective class,” he stammered.

“Yeah, so?” asked a puzzled Trisha.

“Well…I had been bunking all classes for last whole week…could you give me your notes?” he enquired, “we have quizzes and practicals lined up in the next week..im a bit worried.”

Trisha burst out into a little laughter.

“What’s funny?” asked Samarjit, perplexed.

“Oh God..I thought..oh no, nothing. Nevermind. Yeah sure I will !” said Trisha, still smiling.

“Okay, not-so-perfect,” Trisha corrected herself in her mind.

With dhaak being played on background, and all 108 diyas shimmering in the dark hour of the night, as the priest started the prayer…. Trisha, however, felt she hadn’t had a more enjoyable Durga Puja before! It was so perfect with all its imperfections.

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Several years and several jobs later, Trisha was once sitting with her colleagues at a pub in Mumbai.

“So, Trisha…you’re a Bengali right? Won’t you be going home for Durga Puja?” one of her colleagues asked.

“Oh no..not this year..” Trisha said.

“Why? Isn’t your manager approving of leaves?” another colleague asked.

“Nothing like that, “ Trisha said, “I would actually not mind seeing some Durga Puja in Mumbai…I’ve heard there are some big ones that happen here”

“Oh yes yes, absolutely,” added another Bengali colleague of hers, “in fact most of them are organised by Bollywood stars! They’re grand ! I, however, am going home! I can’t afford to stay out of West Bengal for Durga Puja…..you know, the ones that happen at Kumartuli and Triangular Park are my favourites,” she added, “ which ones are your favourite, Trisha?”

“Mine is..well..Hyderabad,” Trisha smiled, letting her memories drift away from the sea-side city, off to a world buzzing with young students, fresh energy, amidst hills, large rocks and forests. It had been close to a decade……”founder of Bengali association” no more remained a pointer in Trisha’s CV as it had to make way for other, more meaningful bullets. There had been three more Durga Pujas that Trisha could witness on campus, before graduating. All those three were pretty well planned, more systematic, with things already in place in advance, with more number of people from across batches organising it. The pandal was bigger, funding was more ...so idols came on time. Still, every single detail of the very first Durga Puja that she and her batchmates had organized, remained as fresh in her mind ..as if it had happened only a day ago.

“Really? When did you go there? Oh ...my bad..your college was there ! Right..”, her colleague said, “so how was it? How did it feel to arrange it all from scratch?”

“Ohh it was anything but a cake walk, I must say ! “ Trisha said, rolling her eyes, “It was not smooth, it was tough, but the high that we got from all that fun and arrangement..was one of its kind ! It was..well Durga Puja, on-the-rocks” she said, smiling, raising her glass of whiskey.

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