Durga Puja, Rest Camp and some memoirs

Autumn has arrived, the cool gentle evening breeze blowing from the mighty Brahmaputra, the dew in the grass, the mild fragnance of the Xewali/ Shiuli flower as we embark on late evening walks, the wavering of the Kash flowers, the beats of the dhak from some far flung land is here to flutter your heart once again.  The week long celebrations which all Bengalis wait with bated breath for over a year is back. 

Yes, it's Durga Puja; the time for shopping, rituals, bonding, merriment is back. But, this year 2020 is a stark different from the ones we celebrated over the years. The decor is missing, the idols have shrinked in size, dance of the dhakis and the dhunuchi dance is nowhere to be found, no competition for winning the best lighting, pandal or idol. Pockets are empty, clothes and jewellery limited, relatives and friends missing, fun and excitement to pandal hop is gone. Oh! how cruel it is to see some of the best themed pandals ordinarily done. The other day when I was moving around Rest Camp area, I found the glory lost, my heart ached a bit to see the small pandal. I remembered the excitement of youngsters discussing the theme of the puja pandals, the late evening dance, drama and music rehearsals, the madrush of television crew to highlight the decor, theme etc. This time around there were no food stalls, no merry go round, horse and aeroplane rides. Everything was missing except for the fragnance of the Shiuli, it was a sad feeling remembering the good old times when we walked hand-in-hand with our parents, cousins and friends. Remembering the good old times when the late night para addas were common. The whole evening on Dashami and Bijoya were spent in the company offers music, dance, poetry recitations and relishing on goodies. This year, there was a sadness in the air, how a virus can leave its impact on the fate of humanity.