itrus

October, 2014

 

WHEN I decided to feature the biggest carnival on Earth in CITRUS, I was a bit doubtful. Wondering if I was doing justice or being borderline partial. Considering the festival not only hails from my own country, it's from my own city and my OWN COMMUNITY! 

Then I did some research and realized I was needlessly worrying! No other carnival/festival can match up to the grandeur of this one, and the undefined fragrance in the air that can be inhaled during this time. It's an ethereal combo and is NOT wholly a trick of the mind. 

Then I was wondering, should I write this as the editor of CITRUS? As a non-resident Bengali? As a global citizen? Or as a Kolkatan at heart? In such a short column what should I speak about?

Maybe I should write as a child who’s grown up in a house where the idols of Durga goddess were made from scratch using bamboo for the scaffold and clay from the Ganges river. ...And as a child whose heart sprung with joy whenever she came back from school and saw piles of bamboo strewn on the courtyard, indicating that the Mother of all Carnivals is just days away!

 

Should I talk about our night-long rendezvous while in college and the overpowering aroma of street-food? Or about my first love, the momentum of which amplified during the night-long outdoor movie shows’? Or how our eyes conversed during those four euphoric days?

Should I talk about how my son got his first colic pain due to the sounds of the 'dhaak' (drumbeats) or about how he spent the rest of his childhood jumping awake in glee to same beats? Or maybe how he avoids the same warm caress of the air from ruffling his toughened, teenage hair now? Or should I talk about the moments of Mahalaya, the chants trickling in through my groggy sleep?

 

I was getting uncomfortable. Yes, I didn't want to say that the omnipotent deity had been through my real and unreal. Through my childhood, my unsteady adolescence and my uneasy youth. She has been a part of my non-beliefs and my atheism, my revolt and my acceptance, been a witness to my struggle and success. She has been my wings, when I flew into foreign lands alone with my son, with nothing but a stamped piece of paper… and no return tickets.

 

She's the Mother. The Mother of all! A celebration of all religions; a triumph of power descending onto Earth to eradicate all evil; a jubilation of rising hopes that all is not lost — it’s never lost.

That's the magic of Durga Puja — the four-day tsunami festival that engulfs the Bengali community all over the world, and multiplies its alchemy across entire humanity — smashing all religious trenches. It’s not a religious festival, it’s a honorary bash-up of non-humans. It's a spinning of wizardry across the messed-up society. Those who have tasted the madness of Durga Puja haven’t gone back to the confinement of religious and community barriers ever again in their lives.

 

Yes, I am talking about the three-eyed, 10-handed, FULLY-ARMED goddess. In this age of women-abuse, (and general abuse) don’t you think a three-eyed goddess with weapons in all of her 10 hands is the need of the hour? The festival marks the victory of the 10-handed Goddess Durga over the evil buffalo demon, Mahishasura. This is clear inspiration for women to take up arms... And that day, by Jove, all of Earth's circumference will not be enough for the modern-day Mahishasuras to escape! May she descend upon all war-torn lands, and rescue every single victims of violence. 

 

Durga Puja has been celebrated since the medieval period, and has evolved and adapted to the world as time passed. Goddess Durga, according to Hindu mythology, is the divine daughter of Himalaya, (ahem… the mountains!) and his wife, Menaka, a daughter of Brahma, the Creator. She was born fully grown, created out of flames emerging from the mouth of Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva and other Gods, all embodied in their collective energy. All the Gods had created her to kill a fierce demon called Mahisasura who had been terrorizing the Gods in heaven and the people on earth. She was armed with the weapons of every God so that she could kill him. She sat on a lion and went on a rampage to kill Mahisasura.

The goddess is also the wife of Lord Shiva and the mother of four children — Laxmi, Saraswati, Ganesh and Kartikeya. So, in a way, she depicts every woman in us, with a family, husband and children, adopting a terrorizing form whenever needed to kill an evil soul who threatens to harm our universe. Durga also indicates that no woman is weak, neither in form, nor in strength.

 

The festival, today, as I said, goes far beyond religion. It's a celebration of all religions. Of art, and humanity. The ‘pandals’ or the temporary tents where the goddess is worshipped, have been considered the largest outdoor art festival on earth. The art motif extends to elaborate interiors, depicting various themes, places, history, with political innuendos, carefully executed by trained artists, with consistent stylistic elements, bearing the name of the artist. The art scaffoldings and the painfully crafted statues of the goddess are destroyed only after four days of use. (There's something to learn from this, if you can.)

 

The sculpture of the sculpture itself has evolved. In the olden days, Durga and her four children would be depicted in a single frame, traditionally called ‘Chalchitra’. Since the 1980s however, the trend is to depict each sculpture separately, integrating modernized aspects of entertainment and technology, while still maintaining the religious worship.

 

In Kolkata alone more than 2000 ‘pandals’ are set up, all clamoring for the admiration, praise and yes, awards. The city is bejeweled with lights. People from all over the world visit the city at this time, and every night is one mad carnival where thousands of people go 'pandal-hopping' with their friends and family. Traffic comes to a standstill, and indeed, most people abandon their vehicles to travel by foot after a point. A special task force is deployed to control law and order. Durga Puja in Kolkata is often referred to as the Rio Carnival of the Eastern Hemisphere.

 

Here in Canada, no bamboo poles herald the ascent of the Devi. No lights adorn the streets. I do not get that familiar fragrance anywhere. Durga Puja is held in its own ‘big’ way among the Bengali community.

Even though it’s a hot pot of melting cultures, many in Canada do not know anything about Durga Puja. Or even if they know, they know it to be one more festival from Asia.

 

But now you know it's not just "one more festival from Asia".

So wherever you are in the world, my dearies, if you want a bit of madness ruffling your hair, and want that touch of supernatural convincing you that miracles can happen, and are looking for a reason to rebel, head for 'Home': Home here means 'Kolkata'.