The sound of dhaki wakes me up and twenty minutes later I am standing in the Pandal. I am in front of
the magnificent murti of Ma Durga which takes my breath away every single time I look at it. I wait for
elders to give me some work to do, though I know they’ll hardly give any work to a five year old girl.
I see my mother and aunts prepare thalis for puja and help purohit (Hindu priest) in various ways that I
don’t understand. A few minutes later, I find one of the aunts calling me. I run towards her eagerly,
trying not to miss the opportunity to do some effort for the puja. She asks me to sit with them and make
sandalwood paste, for which I rub a stone vigorously on a small round surface with a bit of water.
I enjoy it with all my heart and do the task with all my dedication. After every minute a light brown
coloured liquid assembles on the surface and with my finger, I shift it to a miniature bowl. Soon
someone looks at the bowl, says it’s enough, and keeps it near purohit.
I am not allowed to eat anything unless I give the pushp-anjali. The first thing that goes into my mouth
is the proshaad which generally consists two to three fruits and tiny, round, white coloured sweets
which I consider to be my favourite.
It’s noon and the dance competition takes place. As I look around, I see kids of my age think for steps
with great speed as the competition starts five minutes from now. I don’t want to get my name
registered for the competition. I don’t dance well and am very shy. But then I am told by some dear
ones of mine that participating is what matters, you don’t need to be skilled at everything you do. So I
participate. I stand on the stage next to about four girls who seem to be good dancers. I am about to
step out of the stage but then I remember what I was told. The music starts. I simply move my hands
because I have no idea what to do. I see someone laughing at me from a distance and thus, my
movements get worse. Finally the music stops and I run off the stage. Fifteen minutes pass by and the
results are announced. I don’t get a prize. It doesn’t matter to me as I see beautiful women in saress
and suits, including my mother, walk through the roads, bare-feet, with their heads covered with some
sort of cloth and their hands holding bowls and dishes which I figure out contain deliciously cooked
bhog. They make a high pitched sound through their tongues which excites me exceedingly. I notice
them walk straight to the pandal and thus, I run and reach there first. As I go to Ma’s murti, I find two
men I never saw before on the murti stage. There is nobody I know standing beside them. I start feeling
unusual and retreat. And now, they do something very strange. They hold a huge cloth and cover Ma’s
murti.
This scares the heck out of me as I stand there, dumb-struck, craving for the murti which is not able to
take my breath away any more. I turn around and run to inform everyone what’s happening…..
….To be continued
the magnificent murti of Ma Durga which takes my breath away every single time I look at it. I wait for
elders to give me some work to do, though I know they’ll hardly give any work to a five year old girl.
I see my mother and aunts prepare thalis for puja and help purohit (Hindu priest) in various ways that I
don’t understand. A few minutes later, I find one of the aunts calling me. I run towards her eagerly,
trying not to miss the opportunity to do some effort for the puja. She asks me to sit with them and make
sandalwood paste, for which I rub a stone vigorously on a small round surface with a bit of water.
I enjoy it with all my heart and do the task with all my dedication. After every minute a light brown
coloured liquid assembles on the surface and with my finger, I shift it to a miniature bowl. Soon
someone looks at the bowl, says it’s enough, and keeps it near purohit.
I am not allowed to eat anything unless I give the pushp-anjali. The first thing that goes into my mouth
is the proshaad which generally consists two to three fruits and tiny, round, white coloured sweets
which I consider to be my favourite.
It’s noon and the dance competition takes place. As I look around, I see kids of my age think for steps
with great speed as the competition starts five minutes from now. I don’t want to get my name
registered for the competition. I don’t dance well and am very shy. But then I am told by some dear
ones of mine that participating is what matters, you don’t need to be skilled at everything you do. So I
participate. I stand on the stage next to about four girls who seem to be good dancers. I am about to
step out of the stage but then I remember what I was told. The music starts. I simply move my hands
because I have no idea what to do. I see someone laughing at me from a distance and thus, my
movements get worse. Finally the music stops and I run off the stage. Fifteen minutes pass by and the
results are announced. I don’t get a prize. It doesn’t matter to me as I see beautiful women in saress
and suits, including my mother, walk through the roads, bare-feet, with their heads covered with some
sort of cloth and their hands holding bowls and dishes which I figure out contain deliciously cooked
bhog. They make a high pitched sound through their tongues which excites me exceedingly. I notice
them walk straight to the pandal and thus, I run and reach there first. As I go to Ma’s murti, I find two
men I never saw before on the murti stage. There is nobody I know standing beside them. I start feeling
unusual and retreat. And now, they do something very strange. They hold a huge cloth and cover Ma’s
murti.
This scares the heck out of me as I stand there, dumb-struck, craving for the murti which is not able to
take my breath away any more. I turn around and run to inform everyone what’s happening…..
….To be continued
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