Memories of Durga Puja

[Guest guest]

Memories of Durga Puja

Fakrul Alam

2007-10-20

The Daily Star

 

The very first time I heard Shah Abdul Karim's heart-

stirring song, " Age Ki Shundor Din Kataitam " I was

transported to my childhood years in Dhaka's

Ramkrishna Mission Road and the Durga Puja days we

used to revel in then. Karim remembers lyrically " how

happily " he and other village youths would spend their

childhood days, " Hindus and Muslims /Singing Baul

and Ghetu songs all together. " Karim's song always

strikes a responsive note in my heart because I recall

how joyously my friends -- whether Muslim or Hindu --

and my family members would spend the Puja days

every year in our Ramkrishna Misson Road para or

neighbourhood. Although my memories of those days

have dimmed considerably by now, one thing I still

remember clearly is this: after the two Eids, Durga Puja

was the most important festival to light up our young

lives then. Alas, those days are gone, not only for me,

but for most people growing up in a para in Dhaka.

 

One explanation for the spontaneity with which we

would participate in the Ramkrishna Mission Puja

festivities was demography. Our para consisted mostly

of Muslims but also of not a few Hindus; our nearest

neighbors, for instance, were two Hindu families. True,

the events leading to 1947 Partition had created a divide

of sorts between people speaking the same language but

belonging to different religions, and yet on most

occasions we interacted freely with each other. Every

day we would hear the ululations linked to prayers in

our Hindu neighbor's house just as they would listen to

the azan drift into their homes five times a day from our

neighborhood mosques (sans loudspeakers!) summoning

the faithful to join the congregation. On puja days they

would send us prasads and we too would share sweets

our mothers would cook for our religious festivals with

them. [....]

 

Another reason for the ease with which we moved in

and out of Ramkrishna Mission stemmed no doubt from

the attitudes of the people who directed Ramkrishna

Mission. Much like the Catholic American missionaries

who ran the school and college where I would get my

basic education, the saffron-clad men of this mission

were always tolerant of para children irrespective of

their religion. We were allowed to play football in the

Mission field, bathe in its pond for hours, pick the bokul

flowers from its trees or while they were strewn in the

shades, chat for hours on its lawn, or read in its reading

room. Occasionally one of the missionaries who would

spend most of their time meditating or leading prayers

for Hindus would even drop in for a chat with my

parents, both devout Muslims but very pleased to have

our " others " in our midst. Sure, there were limits even

then, for we would not go inside Hindu prayer rooms

and our Hindu friends would never disturb us during our

prayer times, but open-mindedness and forbearance

ensured that most of the spaces we lived in our

community were shared ones.

 

In any case, Durga Puja in Ramkrishna Mission was the

most memorable experience of another religion I have

ever had. The moment we would hear the tak dum tak

dum of the drums pervade the spaces of our

neighborhood in the mostly warm but occasionally hot

and humid end-autumnal days full of fleecy clouds in

nearly always blue skies our hearts would flutter. Those

thrumming, magical beats announced unmistakably that

the time for another fun-filled Saradiya Puja week had

come! The dhakkis or drummers, I do believe, were our

Pied Pipers, for we would sprint like the spellbound

children of Hamlin then to the open field in front of the

Mission Prayer hall the moment we heard them. We

would find them there pounding away on their drums,

swaying and smiling and showing off their skills on

those ponderous-seeming but colorfully decorated and

deep-echoing dhols!

 

The whole of Ramkrishna Mission became a spectacle

of sights, smells and sounds for the next few days. No

matter where or when we went to the Mission during the

festival season we would experience a riot of colors, a

medley of sounds, and a range of flavors that made the

Durga Puja days unforgettable. Durga Puja in

Ramkrishna Mission was truly in the carnivalesque

mode, for there was an unmistakable mela or fair-like

quality to it. Hindu men and women would come

dressed in their fineries, the married women glowing

because of their vermilion smeared-foreheads and multi-

colored saris, the men looking happy and yet self-

conscious in their bright but heavily-starched new dhotis

and the children beaming and giggling because of

anything and everything. We too would dress up for the

occasion because whether Hindu or Muslim this was an

occasion to meet people, mingle, chat, display and (for

the boys) ogle. The sound of the drums would merge

with the tinkle of mandiras, the chiming of bells, the

unique note coming from conch shells, the ululation of

women, the chanting of the mysterious but solemn-

sounding Sanskrit prayers and the incessant chatter of

not quite focused devotees. Indeed, there was a constant

buzz in the Mission compound everyday from mid

morning till late in the evening. In the Mission field

hawkers would sell hot and spiced-up pickles and

chutneys, delectable sweet and/or sour savories and

flavored and syrupy drinks. At times the missionaries

and volunteers would serve watery but delicious labra

khichuri to anyone who cared to line up and eat from the

plantain leaves. The smell of the different food items

sold throughout the day would blend with the smoke and

scent of the ceremonial dhups or incense lighted for the

occasion. The press of the crowd, the feeling of

excitement exuded by the people who sat to watch

events or wander from place to place and the assorted

Bangla dialects heard all around us created a matchless

mix. But of course Puja was mainly a holy occasion for

the Hindus of the city. While we Muslim children did

not understand a lot of what went on and were often

mystified by the seemingly endless cycle of rituals, there

was much to keep us absorbed in at least a few of the

religious events. At the centre of the Puja, undoubtedly,

were the idols built for the occasion. They are

traditionally unveiled on the sixth day and placed on a

pandal, a temporary structure erected for the veneration

of the goddess Durga. Even if we did not know the

import of all that we saw who could not but be

overwhelmed by the centerpiece, the resplendent

goddess, ten weapons in her ten hands, a benign smile

on her face, glowing in light golden colors, draped in a

flaming red sari, standing on her lion mount, taming the

demon Mahisasur? Also awe-inspiring were the

attendant deities (how " filmy " are the idols made now!).

We were captivated by the welcoming melodies of

agamoni and intrigued by the chandipat or reading from

the Hindu scriptures. Day and night we were captivated

by the rituals of anjali as the deity was offered flowers

and prayers. For most of us one of the more fascinating

moments of Durga Puja came on the ninth day, when a

little girl was made the kumari, symbol of pristine

beauty. But the climactic event was the immersion of the

deity in the Mission pond on the tenth day. From the

morning of this day we would witness intense activity.

First, devotees would begin preparations to move the

deity, then the pandal would be carried to the pond to

the sound of ululations and finally the Durga would be

immersed in the pond water to chants affirming her

victory and predicting her triumphant return the next

year.

 

The Durga Puja days mesmerized all of us in the para in

many other ways. For instance, the dhaakis seemed to

punctuate the days and nights of the Puja week with

aarati or ritual dances, gyrating and drumming with

abandon and delighting us children. In the evenings,

kirtans or devotional songs absorbed older people who

were content to muse to musical tunes even in the

middle of a crowd. But what fascinated most people

young or old was the jatra that was staged in any one of

these evenings. Like the morality plays that I would read

about later in my English Studies when studying the

history of the theater of Elizabethan England, this folk

genre had angels and demons, characters like Vice and

Conscience, music and dance, pathos and farce. In short,

it was made out of a recipe guaranteed to please. Its plot,

typically taken from an episode of a Hindu epic, was of

the kind that would keep children as well as adults

spellbound.

 

All in all, Durga Puja was a truly enthralling and

synaesthetic experience; no wonder our senses were

satiated by the end of the Puja week! The most

important thing, I now realize, was that for nearly a

week our para came alive and we had become part of a

carnival that had gone on for days. And in the process

our neighborhood had managed to come somewhat

closer, for this was one religious occasion where

differences were overcome to a great extent.

 

In 1967 my family moved from Ramkrishna Mission

Road to another part of Dhaka and I have never been to

another Durga Puja held there since then. [....]

 

Will coming generations in our part of the world ever

rediscover the joy that comes from knowing that despite

different beliefs, people can participate spontaneously in

each other's festivals and even delight in them fully?

[....] It is thus that Shah Abdul Karim's song has so

much resonance for me that every time I hear it I keep

thinking of the Durga Puja celebrations in Ramkrishna

Mission that I had been part of once upon a time: " How

happily once we village youths/Would spend our days,

Hindus and Muslims/..../ " I keep thinking: we'll never be

happy like then./Though I once believed happiness was

forever/Day by day things get worse and worse " .

 

http://www.thedailystar.net/story.php?nid=8038

Fakrul Alam is professor of English at Dhaka

University.