The main Durga Puja in our neighbourhood is resource-rich. This is not surprising as, about a month ago when the pandal for it was coming up, I saw the head of the local syndicate (anybody building a house has to buy stuff like bricks and cement through it) cast a watchful eye over it. It was clearly his do.
Pandals start coming up all over the city a month or more before the pujas, blocking parts of roads and leaving a narrow one-way passage by a side. Then a good 10 days before the pujas, firm bamboo fencing starts coming up along pavements to create a dedicated walkway for the unending streams of puja pandal hoppers. So by the time the pujas actually begin, road space is severely curtailed.
And if you live anywhere near a prime shopping area like Gariahat (in Kolkata), you can guess how slowly the traffic moves. When the regular diversion that I use to avoid the Gariahat crossing was blocked by a puja pandal, I tried another route and came to grief. A major crossing that takes 10 minutes to pass in the evening on a regular day, took 30. It seemed a good part of the city was headed for a large shopping mall down the road.
This getting into the puja mode became clear when I had to rush through a bit of work at a state government office. The person concerned was courteous and agreed to rush through his part of the work as he said, "We will be shut from tomorrow and reopen only on the ninth." That made it a 12-day break.
As the pujas came nearer, the full look of our big neighbourhood puja become clear and impressive. It was the Kedarnath mandir inside which Durga would reside for four days. The theme being celebrated was how miraculously it was saved during the deluge a couple of years ago. You did not need any more proof of god's existence or grace, did you!
Then from two days before the pujas the microphones came alive. That changed life indescribably. One of the several loudspeakers placed down the different streets that led up to the pandal was perched atop a leafy tree right in front of our apartment. First couple of days it went on from early in the morning till midday. Then it resumed at six in the evening and went off again at around 11. But on Thursday night, the day before the actual pujas, it fell silent only at 3 a m.
The wife said her blood pressure had shot up and she was about to have a nervous breakdown. I asked her not to be silly and assured that "Ma" would protect her from any such calamity. She retorted and asked since when I had started believing in the miraculous powers of "Ma". So a specially potent quarrel built up on the foundation so thoughtfully laid by the loudspeakers.
Aside from the incredible decibel level and the long hours, what added to the experience was what was being broadcast. The message that pop music was out had gone home. Two professional voices held forth in eloquent Bengali on a range of topics from the miracle of the yearly visit of Ma Durga to martyalok, to the need to park your car a bit away from the pandal and help the old and disabled. There was even a bit about donating blood, which was like giving life. In between were spliced snatches of Rabindrasangeet and devotional songs.
The first time I heard it I was impressed by the professional quality, a bit ornate but nevertheless well done. The only problem was that it was a pre-recorded track that kept being played over and over again - till 3 a m. The wife could not make up her mind as to which was more abnormal, this endlessly repetitive blaring or my ability to sleep right through it.
This morning, as I enjoyed a glass of rich tea at my favourite roadside shop at the end of my walk, I was introduced to a gentleman whose apartment was right next to the pandal itself. I was about to ask him how he had remained alive and normal through last night's ordeal but instead politely enquired how he liked the pre-recorded track.
He said that part of it was ok (the look on his face said "bearable") but what got him was the recorded sound of torrential flows being played in between the word-and-song number to recreate the atmosphere of the natural calamity. That was quite unnerving.
The syndicate head had spared no pains to create a lovely replica of the Kedarnath temple and the trauma which it had survived miraculously. Our little loudspeaker trauma was insignificant in comparison.
subirkroy@gmail.com
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