Waking up

Disclaimer: the observations here are my personal opinions on a city and should be treated as that. I do not wish to hurt the sentiments of any community or residents of the city in any manner.

Weeks before I left for Calcutta, my Bengali colleagues in office started preparing me for the `pujo’ (yes, I learnt the `a’ of puja is replaced by an `o’ like all things bong, perhaps). They told me about the decked up city and its people, the pandals, the frenzy.
Calcutta, I was told at least 29 times on last count, was splendid during the pujo. Now, I must admit that my last two visits to Calcutta had left me rather disappointed with the city. I found the city of joy’s pace sluggish and I could sense sitting in the yellow-painted cabs a strange dullness and sadness around me. I would inadvertently draw comparisons between Calcutta and Bombay and wonder how the latter was so strikingly vibrant and zestful. The comparison only worsened my dislike for Calcutta. And carrying such an impression about the city, it was difficult for me to think of any festivity shaking Calcutta out of its slumber.
Predictably, I wasn’t in the least excited about my impending trip but decided to view the city and its big festival objectively. Now that I am back, my friends have been asking whether I liked the pujos? Much to their joy, my answer is in the affirmative.
I am not really a festival person and have tried to refrain from community festivities all my life. For this reason I sparingly took part in the Ganpati festival in Bombay when I was there and perhaps never really observed the festival closely.
I did that with Durga Puja in Calcutta and found that it was simply beautiful. I would have not realized the beauty, had I not been dragged out of the house and shown around the pandals in South Calcutta. And it was not just the idols of Goddess Durga and the carefully designed and decorated pandals (some so gorgeous that Bhansali’s Devdas sets would appear sober in comparison), but the activity on the streets was the most striking. The city appeared to be holding an all-night mela with people in their finest clothing (as someone rightly said that people dress up for the pujo as is there is no tomorrow) hopping from one pandal to another, with well-lit buildings providing the perfect festival backdrop.
My better half, who is from Calcutta but was attending the pujo after a long gap, told me about one pujo when he walked 15 kms to cover as many pandals as possible. This time, we moved around in a cab we had booked for the night and saw people walking, sitting on cycle-rickshaws, cars, bikes.. whatever.. but moving around through the night, mingling, talking and yes, like in dandiya nights in Bombay, eyeing strangers and falling in love with them.
When I reached home after my first pandal hopping, I for the first time felt the gloom lift from the city. Calcutta, does wake up from its slumber, to celebrate.