The Pujas are  here yet again. The streets lined with pandals in stunning bright colours the abode for Ma Durga  for a few days. Bengalis probably wait the whole year for this celebratory festival. New clothes, food, bonhomie, chalking up a list of pandals viewed, gawking at the resplendent skill of the artisans. The enterprise and genius is truly mind numbing. If only we channelized it in a continuous stream of work, our state would not be languishing at the bottom of the financial performance pile.

This year I took some guests around the Pujas for three days. And the customary five pujas around my house extended to about 25 in areas beyond a set perimeter. The tour was an emotional back and forth journey in time. I witnessed around me girls in fancy gowns, trousers, men in Tshirts jeans, the food stalls were bohemian – modern. The people milling around me looked like clones from a mall. Where were the days of yore, young girls tripping in sarees, gold earrings, boys in kurta pyjamas, women would don beautiful  Kanjeevarams sitting in lazy groups, conversing laughing and partaking in local Pujas, helping the Purohit rustle up the Prasad, getting the idol ready, prepping for the ceremonies. The Pujas have been impacted by the so called OTT culture. The Pandals are unique, the people thronging the pandals reflect a sameness, not so unique.

Times have moved out of the comfort of homes to friends, cafes, chilling out, being cool. Pujas are no longer a paean to the Goddess of power, fertility, peace, it has now  become an occasion for revelry which I feel is superficial and fleeting, exhausting. The happiness with smaller pleasures have now expanded its focus to having more and some, to belonging and problems of identity, to excelling and being better, competing to be the best.  It goes on and on. Even the Goddess is not spared from this one upmanship and competitive spirit. Corporates bestow hefty rewards for bigger, better, greater.  The spirit of this mega festival has now become a spree! Not spiritual within but spit and polish without.

Nostalgia, impractical reminiscing, clinging to the past, wondering if some things should stay the same. A generation gap? Maybe I am old world conservative even though I imagine myself to be progressive.

The Pujas have now become theme based and with larger investments they are works of art at an unimaginable scale. The city is a marquee for craft, creativity and sheer excellence. The usual trio Mudiali, Tridhara and Shibmandir were good but the usual behemoth paled in comparison to some others. Tala Pratyoy was a magnificent opus by artist Sushanta Pal. “Kahan” was a trip into a realm of the surreal. A grand home furnished, an interplay of light and shadows, copper and glass kissing the clouds. Abol Tabol was a quirky take on the writers work of nonsense rhymes. This neighbourhood in Haatibagan was painted black and white with caricatures. The main area had the Goddess with the Printing Press, reams of paper, some objects and loads of toilet paper highlighting the needs of the environment.

Chakraberia, with a theme “Baksha Badal” depicted the olden days with distressed colours, trunks, old furniture, mirrors dotting the wall. A transition into new breaking down old structures. The broken walls at the entrance were stark. The entrance was a delightful red and white pandal reflecting the simplicity of the olden times. Rajdanga celebrates “Parampara” and a woman welcomes us with head bent amd and urn. The list is endless and social themes rule the roost. There was brick mortar metal embracing themes as varied as “Tushti” (Puchka) “Durga Sahay” , the monetization of this religious festival, “Dosar” (Companionship), Destruction and Creation, Ram Mandir, Disneyland, Ambition, Marg Darshan, Utsav, Praan, Kathabali,Mouchak, Possibility. Etcs. One felt that more would have been better. But, some are missed. Alas!

In my journey I felt that the Puja has acquired the status of an art exposition, a Biennale. On the one hand  Shakti and Durga have brought out the exceptional talent and creativity of the Bengalis. On the other hand while I was sifting through my photographs I found that the Durga and her family have morphed. These idols are stunningly beautiful with almond shaped eyes, lustrous hair, lusciously painted lips. The lion changed into a horse, a unicorn and often was an ancillary prop. Mahishasura mostly was a handsome guy meditating, in penance or kneeling asking for forgiveness, sometimes with ten hands. The buffalo was mostly supine quite lacking the ferocity it may have depicted in earlier times.

This benign form of the Goddess is pleasing, has a calming effect but I am a purist at heart. I like my textiles to have the authentic design and even Shakti somehow I kept rewinding to a form that is angry, glaring, posed menacingly over a ferocious demon. The lion mauling the petrified bull. There was blood and gore. I feel it symbolizes victory over evil better.  The bad looked really evil and Durga in standing over Mahishasura is a powerful image to take home and imbibe. The purity of the soul, ahinsa, penance, forgiveness  are laudable motives and need representation. However…

The dhaak beat rolls, Ma leaves us with sadness, yet strong with hope. Things will be better in the world!