Those were the Pujas, my friend…..

When I came to Delhi as a bride in the late 70s, I was determined to hate everything about the city. I loved Calcutta too much to share my affection with any other. Delhi’s Chittaranjan Park, where I settled in, however, did not seem too different from our house in Kolkata ‘s Salt lake. Narrow streets with Gulmohars, Neem and Bel trees on either side, single storeyed  houses, and the strains of RabindraSangeet wafting out of homes on Sunday mornings, along with the aroma of mutton curry, a staple on the sabbath for all true Bengali households.One could hear Bangla being spoken all over.Yes I was convinced that come Puja, Delhi would never measure up to the grandeur of the festivities in Kolkata.

But things turned out to be a little different. From early October,the shiuli trees in almost every garden,bloomed in plenty and so did the pink sthalpadma.Puja chanda collections began in right earnest and there were music and fancy dress contests as well as alpana and shankha blowing contests.There was a festive air all around with special stalls selling savouries and moghlaiparanthas.

But the most pleasant innovation, and for me a welcome change was the AnandoMela at all Poojapandals on Panchami or Shashti.On that day, stalls were put up by the women, with home-made muttonchops, ghugni, payesh,radhaballabi and patishapta.Prizes were given for stall decoration and innovative presentation and the entire area was abustle with joy and pleasure.

There was bonhomie then, that I so miss now. Everyone in a particular block knew the others,and though we never interacted much through the year, we made up during the five auspicious days of the Pujas.Once the morning ritual of the pushpanjaliwas over,it was time to sit in large groups and indulge in the latest gossip, the current political situation, the newest fashion in saris and jewellery and stories of the kids. The adda would be interspersed by visits to the nearest pandals, crowds of happy, noisy folk for whomthe annual Durga puja was the most awaited celebration of the year.And as the evening deepened into night, we made way for the senior citizens, who arrived with their muras and cushions to watch the jatras,performed by groups that were invited from West Bengal to stage the classic plays on Sri Ramakrishna or Rani Rashmoni or Saratchandra’sPatherDabi and Tagore’s Teen Kanya.

Those were days of pure unadulterated joy when life was uncomplicated and everything was a cause for laughter and joy.

But as the years flew past, the ambience of the city, our colony and the puja pandals were transformed.Gone was the closeness and the bonhomie, the laughter and the uncomplicated conversations. In their place , The crowds grew larger and more unruly , the gossip was mean and sensitive, the clothes more garish and vulgar and the evening programmes, amateur takes on Bollywood and Tollywood. There were few addas as people had either left the city or were too busy for puja adda, the kids had grown up and had their  own little parties and the elders were no more.Jatras were now a thing of the past and the AnandoMelas were taken over by professional cooks and small eateries. With global warming and dependence on ACs, the afternoon addas were a thing of the past. The evening arti was thronged more for the dances by svelte young women with their beaux cheering raucously. Despite the incense laden smoke and the beating of the dhaak, something was missing somewhere.

Some old traditional pandals have managed to retain the old fervour and atmosphere.Here the arti is still performed with a lot of piety and grace.performances by local residents and old Bangla films are still enjoyed here. People still congregate in the sultry afternoons to chat and catch up with the latest.There the Anandomela still sells home cooked goods at nominal rates. Even the image of Durga in such pandals are cast in the traditional dakershaajmould and had none of the Lady Diana or Priyanka Chopra look.Women in red bordered saris still climb rickety ladders on Vijaydashami, to bid farewell to Ma Durga with tears in their eyes and longing on their faces.
The blend of the old and the new, the traditional and modern, and the coexistence of the two ,is what characterises the modern city of Delhi.While some
have changed with the times and catered to popular demand, others have steadfastly stick to traditions and refused to compromise. In a country that is still searching for the right balance , the Puja celebrations in Delhi represent a microcosmic view of the larger picture outside. While some of us may lament the passing away of an era, the younger lot is glad that we no longer meaninglessly cling on to the past.There is value in each. But what is most heartening is that Durga Puja is celebrated with the greatest enthusiasm and fervour and will hopefully continue to occupy the same degree of importance in the hearts of all.

Paramita Ray

Advisor

AGA