London beckons

In London, one does not need the Bengal chief minister to lengthen the duration of the festivities. It happens due to convenience.

While Puja was over in our neighbourhood of Reading (which followed the Calcutta calendar), the action was starting in London. Next weekend, we enthusiastically undertook a 40-minute train journey to the British capital to witness Ealing LSU (London Sharad Utsav) at Ealing Town Hall and then, Prabashi Durga Puja at Ashiana Banqueting Hall in Hounslow. These are two of many Durga pujas held in London.

The idols of both were newly acquired, replacing older ones that had been worshipped over the last few years. That had generated a lot of excitement among the Indian expatriates. In fact, the crowd was so intimidating at the Hounslow puja that it reminded us of the FD Block puja gathering. There may not have been a theme, or a pandal for that matter, but the tasteful silver and black idol was worth the jostling. It was also gratifying to bump into friends and acquaintances there (just as one would at Maddox Square), all decked up and eager to make the most of the weekend puja.

And guess what, at the Ealing puja one got to see not one but two sets of idols! The old one, I was alerted on the way out, had been kept on the floor below where dresses and accessories were being sold. Now, that is something I have never seen in Calcutta!

I was overjoyed to find pujabarshiki editions of Anandamela, Desh and Bartaman being sold for £5 each at Ealing (something we had thought we might have to do without this year), while my husband was enamoured of the gorgeous golden jewellery adorning the goddess (the new one).

Lunch was biriyani at the famous Hyderabad House in West Hounslow. We returned home quite late, tired but contented.

Durga Puja would just not feel the same with half the family across the seven seas. Here I was in Reading, Berkshire in southeast UK, joining my husband at his IT onsite, where kash phul and autumn sky had been replaced with deciduous leaves and single digit temperatures at dawn. Without the beat of the dhak or the mantras on loudpeakers, I could not help feeling wistful about the marvellous madness that engulfs my hometown Mahalaya onwards. Was it to be only through Facebook memories that I would vicariously experience Durga Puja?

After marriage caused me to embrace a second home and family in Kalikapur southward on the Bypass, I still spent Ashtami and Navami afternoons savouring the distinct ambience of the Salt Lake pujas, especially my own in FD Block. Eight ecstatic years with my friends there — memories of shopping, dressing up, pandal adda, parar bhog, watching and criticising cultural programmes and giggling over photographs — would always be a part of my idyllic autumnal moodboard. So my husband Kaustuv and I, along with our toddler Bubo, would join my parents and sister in offering pushpanjali, savouring the vegetarian Ashtami fare, followed by reunion and adda with neighbourhood friends. Navami would be spent pandal-hopping across Salt Lake. Over the years, these visits to Salt Lake became a ritual of sorts. Until this year.

Virtual darshan

My sister Moitrei was determined that distance should not deprive us of puja vibes. So as soon as I made the first wistful enquiries about our para puja over phone, she created a Whatsapp group with herself and us as members. Via this group, titled Durgotsav Calcutta 2018, she kept us updated with pictures of the FD Block pandal in progress and later, with stills and videos of the Dinosaur Park-themed puja, pushpanjali and boron and the dhak being played. Over a Whatsapp video call, she even gave us a comprehensive tour of the pandal, right from the woes of locating the entry gate to the convoluted route they had to take to return home punctuated in between with shrill PE teacher-type whistles of guards urging visitors to keep walking. We even managed virtual glimpses of some of the cultural programmes live. But technology could go only that far and no further.

London Sharad Utsav, Ealing (Suranjan Som)

English autumn

Our thakur dekha materialised when on Sashthi evening, we headed for Rivermead Leisure Complex, 25 minutes away, hosting the BCS (Bengali Cultural Society) Reading Durga Puja. The huge parking lot was almost full! We were pleasantly surprised at the number of attendees despite puja happening over weekdays!

Ashtami and Navami saw larger numbers throng the gigantic hall housing the protima right at one end in the middle, with a dais for cultural programmes, stalls selling toys and costume jewellery, a portrait photography booth and a cordoned-off oblong on the right for bhog-eaters.

Children and adults performed beautifully choreographed dances. Guest bands presented evergreen Bengali and Hindi numbers. Sari and panjabi abounded, with the rare salwar suits. A separate room near the entrance served ghugni, fish chop, singara, phuchka and even kosha mangsho! With my new-found friends, I happily continued our FD Block tradition of watching ‘functions’ at the pandal while stuffing ourselves with roll or phuchka and checking out others’ pujor shaaj!

Along with my husband’s colleagues and their families, we posed and preened for groupfies as well as met members of social media groups of local Bengalis that I have become part of since I settled here five months ago. The atmosphere was magical and it was heart-warming to see Indians of other communities participating with equal vigour.

The bhog menu varied every day — from rice to pilaf to khichuri, accompanied variously by dal, a vegetable curry or paneer, chutney, pnapod and mishti, mutton being the highlight of the Navami dinner — though I missed our para-style cooking. But there was no coupon system like there is in our block. The snacks were to be bought but the bhog was free everyday. And subscription to the puja was voluntary. This was true of all the pujas we visited.

Sindoor khela took place with great pomp on Dashami afternoon. A conchshell-blowing contest, which saw men perform better than women, followed the dhunuchi nach. Just as we would cheer block members back home we turned impromptu cheerleaders here, sometimes embarrassing the men.

Then the ladies decked in red patiently awaited their turn at dorpon dorshon and the final boron. We were awed by the intimate involvement showed by NRIs in organising every aspect of the puja here. The only thing we really missed was the immersion, as the idol here was stowed away for use next year. The accompanying revelry, however, almost compensated.

Gargi Mukherjee tries to catch a glimpse of the goddess reflected in the mirror kept on a chair on Dashami at Reading, Berkshire (Gargi Mukherjee)