Shubho Bijoya to all. This year pujo started for me from Saptami only, which alone
can prove my dwindling enthusiasm about pujo over past few years. I am getting
old I guess. Or perhaps my priorities have shifted. Weird things priorities are
– sneakily changing positions without one realising it. Before you know it, you
are standing in the middle of the room full of people, sweating and secretly
hoping for the pujo to end as quickly as possible so you can go back to your
regular, lacklustre life where nobody would pay you much attention. People like
us like that very much, the quiet corner far away from the limelight. We are
scared of the light, we know the moment the blinding patch of light would fall
upon us, and everything would be exposed, that how unfulfilling our life is. We
have nothing to boast about to our family, friends and acquaintances. The fact
that we so carefully keep hidden for the rest of the year, behind our ‘cool’ social
media posts.
I spent most of the time this year suffering from the
hangover of my trip and hiding insecurity behind nervous laughter. It seems
almost unbelievable that there was a time I used to pray to Ma Durga to extend
the festival for few more days. Wishes do come true sometimes, but by that time
we change so much that they become useless to us. I finally understand why
there is always that hint of a slightly detached smirk on every god’s face.
On Saptami my mother finally dragged me out of the house for
some pandal-hopping. She is not too fond of walking a lot so we only stuck to
the pandals within our vicinity. After about an hour of roaming about we came
back home licking chocolate ice-cream and telling each other how good our decision
of not eating phuchka had been. I barely share such uninterrupted (by quarrel),
good moments with my mother so it was almost like winning lottery for me. Not
to mention she agreed to click my pictures which, surprisingly, came out pretty
well.
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