It was raining the whole week. And though yesterday morning at least did not welcome with a rainy face; it was cloudy, gloomy. I had much things scheduled to do at work. After the work I had language class. It was supposed to be a long tiring day. And yet it was different in every sense.
I was thousands of miles away. I had nothing around me that reminded of this particular time. And yet I remembered. And yet my mind was fleeting and my heart happy. It was not there and still I felt it all around me. I felt the mirth. As I said, it was a different day.
It was Mahalaya, marking the beginning of ‘Debi Pakhha’ and of our greatest festival. The Durga Puja. And therefore, it had to be different even when I was thousands of kilometers away from all the fun without any hint of the festivity around me.
Mahalaya has its own religious traditions. But each Bengali associates it with something completely different than what is just religious. Mahalaya for most of us is synonymous to Mahishashuramardini. Undoubtedly one of the most successful programs aired on the radio ever. First played in early 1930s by All India Radio, it is still aired on the same day for all these years and decades. And almost every Bengali diligently listens to it at 4 a.m. of the crisp chilly autumn morning. Chanting of Chandi Slokas by Birendra Krishna Bhadra marks the beginning of our greatest festival.
I do not have memory of listening to the Mahalaya for the first time. I just know I have listened to it all my life, and will continue doing so. I remember the radio on the central dining table of the old home all ready already the night before. The old tape deck would also be ready with the cassettes. Sharp at 4 a.m. both would be switched on in their full volume and the deep voice of Birendra Krishna Bhadra would echo through the rooms telling the story of the Goddess. At the same time all other houses around would resonate to the same welcome of the Goddess. I would wake up to the ‘Agomoni’ songs.
It would be a bit coldish in those eerie morning hours. Snuggling in a thin shawl or blanket I would settle myself on the sofa. Listening intently I would let each word seep in my soul and vibrate there. I would not understand everything of the Sanskrit or the complex poetic Bengali back then. And yet it would move something somewhere deep in me. I could perfectly associate with it even back then when I was little. It filled my soul with happiness and exuberance. It brought smiles to each face around. The goddess is coming with her four children; and bringing along with her all exhilaration, fun and merry. It is Durga Puja.
As a little girl I would fall asleep sometime in between the long Mahalaya. I always tried hard to stay awake. And when I could not, I would just pretend in the end I was actually awake. But every time I fell asleep, I was sad a bit within to miss the parts. I waited for it the whole year. I would wake up again as the ardent chanting of Slokas grew faster towards the last parts. The day breaking as good wins over evil. A very different fresh crisp new morning with its air filled with festivity.
Each year I wait for the Mahalaya and I wait for this morning. I associate with it rather philosophically than religiously. But in the end these terms and classification does not really matter. Every year as I listen to it welcoming the eternal all-giving power, I feel calling my true self and all positivity within me. The whole ambiance is created and filled with this very strong positive connotation; and mirth, festivity feels the air. Every time I simply feel good within myself and all around me. A very happy feeling it is always.
I welcome the new morning with a radiant smile. The delicate blue sky, with only a few cotton clouds floating across. The green around me fresh and brilliant from the last rains. The reddish orange sun. I touch the golden sunbeams warming my heart. I smell the fresh air. I remember each time without fail how festivity smells in the air. I smile. My mind is fleeting, my heart happy, and I am feeling Puja. The little me would run barefoot on the grass to pick the gentle smelling ‘shuili’ flowers that fell on the ground heavy with dew the previous night. The dewdrops still glittering. I would shake the tree to let those little specks of happiness shower on me.
It did not matter that yesterday it was not yet dawn when the Mahalaya ended. The days are already shorter in this part of the world; and clouds made it darker. It did not matter that all the houses around did not reverberate with the familiar Slokas and songs. It did not matter that I was far away from all the festivity. I still smelled the festivity in the air. Mirth was all around me. I was delighted and cheerful. I was happy. And I smiled radiantly.
My mind did float away to my land. I imagined with impatient anxiety all the preparations going around there at every corner. I missed every little thing. But, no matter what, I was happy and radiant. My soul was a cheerful mixture of excitement and tranquil. And the sun finally did shine breaking through the clouds as the day was almost about to end.
I realized all over again that no matter where I am, I will always feel the same on Mahalaya. Everything else just makes it merrier. But this fluttering happiness that Mahalaya brings deep inside me is so much an inherent part of the person I am that it will remain the same always. Wherever I am, it will remain constant.
It is Mahalaya. And this is what it always is.
I was thousands of miles away. I had nothing around me that reminded of this particular time. And yet I remembered. And yet my mind was fleeting and my heart happy. It was not there and still I felt it all around me. I felt the mirth. As I said, it was a different day.
It was Mahalaya, marking the beginning of ‘Debi Pakhha’ and of our greatest festival. The Durga Puja. And therefore, it had to be different even when I was thousands of kilometers away from all the fun without any hint of the festivity around me.
Mahalaya has its own religious traditions. But each Bengali associates it with something completely different than what is just religious. Mahalaya for most of us is synonymous to Mahishashuramardini. Undoubtedly one of the most successful programs aired on the radio ever. First played in early 1930s by All India Radio, it is still aired on the same day for all these years and decades. And almost every Bengali diligently listens to it at 4 a.m. of the crisp chilly autumn morning. Chanting of Chandi Slokas by Birendra Krishna Bhadra marks the beginning of our greatest festival.
I do not have memory of listening to the Mahalaya for the first time. I just know I have listened to it all my life, and will continue doing so. I remember the radio on the central dining table of the old home all ready already the night before. The old tape deck would also be ready with the cassettes. Sharp at 4 a.m. both would be switched on in their full volume and the deep voice of Birendra Krishna Bhadra would echo through the rooms telling the story of the Goddess. At the same time all other houses around would resonate to the same welcome of the Goddess. I would wake up to the ‘Agomoni’ songs.
It would be a bit coldish in those eerie morning hours. Snuggling in a thin shawl or blanket I would settle myself on the sofa. Listening intently I would let each word seep in my soul and vibrate there. I would not understand everything of the Sanskrit or the complex poetic Bengali back then. And yet it would move something somewhere deep in me. I could perfectly associate with it even back then when I was little. It filled my soul with happiness and exuberance. It brought smiles to each face around. The goddess is coming with her four children; and bringing along with her all exhilaration, fun and merry. It is Durga Puja.
As a little girl I would fall asleep sometime in between the long Mahalaya. I always tried hard to stay awake. And when I could not, I would just pretend in the end I was actually awake. But every time I fell asleep, I was sad a bit within to miss the parts. I waited for it the whole year. I would wake up again as the ardent chanting of Slokas grew faster towards the last parts. The day breaking as good wins over evil. A very different fresh crisp new morning with its air filled with festivity.
Each year I wait for the Mahalaya and I wait for this morning. I associate with it rather philosophically than religiously. But in the end these terms and classification does not really matter. Every year as I listen to it welcoming the eternal all-giving power, I feel calling my true self and all positivity within me. The whole ambiance is created and filled with this very strong positive connotation; and mirth, festivity feels the air. Every time I simply feel good within myself and all around me. A very happy feeling it is always.
I welcome the new morning with a radiant smile. The delicate blue sky, with only a few cotton clouds floating across. The green around me fresh and brilliant from the last rains. The reddish orange sun. I touch the golden sunbeams warming my heart. I smell the fresh air. I remember each time without fail how festivity smells in the air. I smile. My mind is fleeting, my heart happy, and I am feeling Puja. The little me would run barefoot on the grass to pick the gentle smelling ‘shuili’ flowers that fell on the ground heavy with dew the previous night. The dewdrops still glittering. I would shake the tree to let those little specks of happiness shower on me.
It did not matter that yesterday it was not yet dawn when the Mahalaya ended. The days are already shorter in this part of the world; and clouds made it darker. It did not matter that all the houses around did not reverberate with the familiar Slokas and songs. It did not matter that I was far away from all the festivity. I still smelled the festivity in the air. Mirth was all around me. I was delighted and cheerful. I was happy. And I smiled radiantly.
My mind did float away to my land. I imagined with impatient anxiety all the preparations going around there at every corner. I missed every little thing. But, no matter what, I was happy and radiant. My soul was a cheerful mixture of excitement and tranquil. And the sun finally did shine breaking through the clouds as the day was almost about to end.
I realized all over again that no matter where I am, I will always feel the same on Mahalaya. Everything else just makes it merrier. But this fluttering happiness that Mahalaya brings deep inside me is so much an inherent part of the person I am that it will remain the same always. Wherever I am, it will remain constant.
It is Mahalaya. And this is what it always is.
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