Blog / Durga Pujo Chronicles

Durga Pujo Chronicles

18.09.2024 | Bhaswati Roy

Durga Pujo to Bengalis is like oxygen. Our entire year revolves around this grand festival, and as the days draw nearer, I can't help but reflect on how much has changed over the years. Durga Pujo is often depicted on the internet through vivid images of themed pandals, delicious food, and reunions with friends. However, let me take you on a journey through memories that are often left unspoken—memories of a tradition that defined my family's identity.
 
I come from a family that takes Durga Pujo to a whole different level. We were once a large joint family, living together under one roof, but over time, as people moved to different cities, our gatherings became less frequent. Yet, Durga Pujo was always the exception. Every year, regardless of where we were, we would all come together to celebrate the festival. Our family, being Zamindars, had our own Pujo—a tradition we called ‘Ghoroa Durga Pujo’ or the homely Durga Pujo.
 
In our home, Durga Pujo was not just a religious observance; it was an event that brought the entire community together. From Shashti (the sixth day) to Dashami (the tenth day), our house transformed into something out of a Bengali movie set. People from all around the city would come to our place to be a part of the celebration, and no one left without sharing a meal with us.
 
The preparations would begin days in advance. By Panchami (the fifth day), most of our family members had arrived, filling the house with laughter, chatter, and the unmistakable excitement of Pujo. On Shashti, I would wake up to the rhythmic sound of the Dhaak (traditional drums). There’s something incredibly magical about the sound of the Dhaak in the early hours of Durga Pujo morning, especially when the Pujo is happening in your own home. It’s a sound that resonates deep within, marking the beginning of something sacred and beautiful.
 
Durga Pujo was also synonymous with feasts. Each day had its own special menu. Saptami (the seventh day) was simple yet hearty—Bhaat (rice), Sona Moog er Daal (golden lentil soup), Pabda Macher Jhol (Pabda fish curry), and a sweet and tangy Tomato Chutney to end the meal. Ashtami (the eighth day) was all about purity and tradition, with a vegetarian spread that included the famous Bhog er Khichuri (a spiced rice and lentil dish), Labda (mixed vegetable stew), an array of Bhaja (fritters), Papad, and the essential Mishti Doi (sweetened yoghurt). Navami (the ninth day) was reserved for pandal hopping, exploring the other grand Pujo setups in the city, while Dashami was a bittersweet day, marked by the slightly melancholic yet comforting meal of Kosha Mangsho (slow-cooked spicy mutton) and Pulao.
 
Food, however, was not the only thing that made Durga Pujo special. The festival was also a time for innocent love stories. In Bengali culture, these Durga Pujo romances are quite legendary. It’s a time when you might see someone who catches your eye, and if they like you back, their eyes will say it all. The subtle glances, the shy smiles, the casual following around in a non-creepy way—it’s what we call Jhari Mara. Some of these love stories last a lifetime, while others become just another memory of Pujo.
 
But as with all good things, our Ghoroa Durga Pujo eventually came to an end. With the passing years, balancing work and life became harder for everyone, and the gatherings became less frequent. Last year, we made the heartbreaking decision to sell our shares of the ancestral house, and with that, our chance of ever bringing back the old days slipped away. The memories, though, will last a lifetime.
 
The Durga Pujo we knew and cherished is no longer, but its spirit lives on in our hearts. The sense of community, the warmth of family, the love shared over meals, and the innocent romances—these are the threads that weave together the fabric of Durga Pujo, making it a festival like no other.
 
Durga Pujo is a celebration of life, love, and togetherness. Even though the times have changed, the memories of our Ghoroa Durga Pujo remain etched in my heart forever.
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