"Meri awaz hi pehchaan hain...."

Warning: Entry of arguably offensive nature ahead, read at your own risk. Reader discretion is advised.



With only 2 days to Puja, I have been feeling predictably mellow. Like several last years. Not that I used to make a big war cry on the absolute necessity to see the Kolkata pujas when I was in Kolkata. But I miss the warmth, the new feeling, the being-happy-always kind of feeling among others....and just that generic sense of sweetness that incredibly prevails in those times, in spite of doubting the general aura of happiness like a a Yash Chopra movie, sans the sarsho ka khet but replete with lots of family and friends and unnecessary giggling.

We were just discussing last night, how much of it we have missed, and for how long; the last usual commonplace Kolkata puja was seen in 2001. 8 years have gone through and probably 2 more will go before we will be back to the soil.

Last year, being new in the city, we hardly had friends to go to the Pujas in Toronto. But still we did, as two friends came over and we decided not to miss the dada-boudi exhibition, the Helen-of-today-wearing-the-Mallika-Sherwat-Choli of today things, and such other sinful pleasures. So off we went. At least we have the right to be amused, if not anything else--we told ourselves.

That was one of the 4 big pujas held in Toronto--it was the one arranged by robust NRIs--the quintessentially named Probasi Club pujo. We had khichuri and bhog and etc, looked around, and came home by 3 pm. The whole thing, took 4 hours, including driving for 45 mins (one way) and waiting in queue for the watery khichuri. Somehow we had got tired of the whole thing just on reaching the venue. It was the same old sights, the same old glitz, the same old skins wearing make up, the same old hairs with haircolours.

This year, we have quite a lot of friends to accompany and co-ordinating them has been a little puzzle, towards the objective that we enjoy the puja with everybody albeit at various times, and nobody feels left out. The pujas do not mean anything to me any more, not here, definitely not with the people who arrange it and fill it up, but being with friends, does. So I was planning.

And my husband kept referring to the Probasi Club puja by a certain name, which I understood came from an incident last year that has truly, left a mark, and which to him, characterizes the people who frequent the puja. Whatever it is, with the usual authority vested in me by 7 years in a marriage, I tried to submerge the referral in that particular manner, as was done by him. This was way different than we are used to refer pujos--like the "bharer thakur" (Bosepukur Sarbojonin), or "rail accident thakur" (Santosh Mitra Square), or the Chowringhee Thakur in my mamabari (it is a small "mofoswol" town with a chowringhee no less); this particular name would be an interesting example of onomatopoeia.

The incident was like this: S (my husband) went to the washroom. Saw that a kid of 8 years and his father were also relieving themselves. Incidentally, somebody started making some sounds, but of course, under closed doors. The kid started jumping up and down and cried in glee, and in perfect Bangladeshi Bangla, "Paadla saarse....paadla saarse paadla". And he kept repeating.

The father went on doing whatever he was doing without interrupting the kid who also carried on with his expression of happiness, with the word he was using and was allowed to use.

S was so disgusted that he refers to that pujo as "paadla pujo" now. With me trying to correct it and see the positive in everything. Either way, it still remains the P Pujo. Abbreviations, sometimes, are saviours. Truly.




Pujo bhalo katuk.