My celebration

The past month was the month of biggest Indian festivals. Having grown up amidst this cheerful festivity, during this month, my heart runs back to Kolkata. And in some unexplainable way, festivity touches me even though I sit here kilometers apart from all the lights and crowd. I wonder, what is festival and festivity? What is celebration?

The four years I was in Pune for my studies, I missed the Kolkata Durgapuja. The first two years I visited the local Durgapujas in Pune along with my other Bengali friends. However, it was not the same. It was not the same place. There was no crazy and euphoric crowd, no grand displays of lights and pandal decorations. No street food. No planning the exclusive lunches and dinner for family. No family, friends and relatives. No new pujabarshiki. Kolkata Durgapuja is the one and only of its kind. Nothing can be compared with its exhilarating ambiance. Being in Kolkata for Durgapuja is a lifetime experience and nothing can substitute that. Yes, I did miss all of these in Pune, but I never missed the festivity. I celebrated. And I was happy.

In those years, I would go back home during Diwali, when the whole city is yet again lit up with lights. As sun would set, we would decorate the house with little lamps and candles; and wait for the moonless night when beautiful firecrackers will light up the sky. The classic mutton preparation would be on the menu. The day would end with a late night walk to the various nearby puja pandals and through the fair. But then again, now along with the festivity of Durgapuja, I had left behind the lights and crackers of Diwali as I came here to Slovenia. And yet somehow the festive mood came along with me.

In the later years in Pune, instead of going to the local puja pandals, I started celebrating in my own way. I celebrated in taking time just for myself and in doing things I love. It did not matter if I did anything special. As I did things I love (however mundane or commonplace those things are), I made my day special. I would maybe wear a new dress, or the dress that made me feel good. I would cook something special and enjoy in it. I would go out for a lonely walk. I would snuggle with a book. I would look out at the sky. I would indulge in the pleasure of simply doing nothing at all. And I would make sure to do all these things along with the demand of regular work. My day would be special. Doing things that give me happiness and pleasure made it special. It was festive because I celebrated being myself. I celebrated in little things around me that make my world.

The celebration still continues in the same way. When the Durgapuja came this year, it brought with it the festivity. My heart was fluttering and happy. I celebrated being with Blaž each day after work, talking and doing nothing. I cooked special dinners. I made the classic rasogolla for the first time. For the most important day, Blaž made it special by cooking my favorite chicken. I dressed myself up, and everyone at work knew I am celebrating something. The last two days required me to be in Belgium for work. I was alone there amidst strangers. And then I went to the zoo to watch the lovely cute penguins. Looking at them for hours, I smiled. I felt my day is special. I celebrated Durgapuja doing and experiencing things for the first time. I celebrated as all these little special things touched my heart with happiness. Festivity was all around me even when I was away from the crowd and lights.
Diwali came with a very beautiful sunny day. My hand was decorated with the dark pattern of mehendi, and I could not stop myself from admiring it. I went out for lunch. It was a bright autumn day. As the sun touched me seeping through the colorful leaves, I was exuberant. I walked on carpets of dry leaves; and leaves danced in the wind. I satisfied myself with a yummy cheesecake. A quick trip to the bookstore made it perfect. Few hours in the afternoon was spent in cooking delicious Indian desserts. And then as it turned dark outside, I lit little candles. Arranging them in patterns, I switched the lights off. The gentle warm candlelights filled the dark room. And my heart was filled with warmth and happiness of the festival.

I celebrate in little things that do not exactly look like a celebration. I definitely do miss my family and the festivity in Kolkata. However, I never feel sad thinking the festivity could not touch me. As it does touch me, makes everything cheerful. I would of course love to be with people whom I love on these festive days, and do something together. Go out in the crowd. But when I am alone, I would rather be alone doing little things that can bring this little special feeling inside me than be in a crowd and yet be alone. It is then when I realize the true meaning of festival and celebration for me. It is being with family, friends, doing something together, something special, something that radiates happiness. The people, the crowd, the lights add to the enjoyment. But, ultimately it is not about these things. It is festival because I am with special people, doing something special. And it is celebration because I feel special. In the end, this festivity is something that is simply a part of me. Festivity and celebration is when my soul smiles.