So is this what my life has come down to? Working day in and day out throughout Pujo? Grrrrrrr

I have installed a software for counting the no of visitors who come to my blog. I do not know why I did that. Maybe I wanted to be sure of what I always suspect: that no one visits my blog. But then it's been a miserable one week after I put the software up. The loneliness and the sheer 'unreadness' of my blog gets too much on my face with the visitor locator. I think I am going to do away with it.

More misery on the workfront: I finish my wonderful and relaxing 6 months Africa sojourn soon and come back to the usual uncertainties which have plagued my work-life for the last 6 years and which I just can't seem to get rid of.

Anywhere but here

So Pujo is almost here. And for the second year in a row, I will not be in Cal. No matter where else you are in the world, pujo just doesn't feel the same if you are not in Cal. And how does one even begin to explain what pujo means in Calcutta? I have been in Bombay during Ganesh Chaturthi and in Delhi during Diwali, but none of these festivals (admittedly with their own charms) can even capture what pujo means to a Bong born and brought up in Cal. I remember when I was studying in Bombay, I had a large number of Bong batch mates and off we went, dressed in our sarees to the BARC pujo right next door. We stood in the line for the pulao bhog and missed many classes that day, but we just didn’t want to come back leaving the sight of the goddess, the sound of the dhak, the scent of crisp tant sarees, and the twinkling of all the jewelry. After Bombay, which boasts of one of the biggest pujos outside Cal, I shifted to Goa where I lived for one year, and trust me, most of which was spent in utter misery. But nothing could beat the desperation of Ashtami, which fell on a weekend and I roamed around the streets of Vasco, looking for a puja pandal-where I could feel home. It seemed cruel that the world didn’t bother that I was alone on a pujo day, all by myself. But when I finally located it-by the sound of the recorded dhak beatings, I was disappointed. And I didn’t know a soul. So I just prayed to the goddess and came back heartbroken. And it was on that day that I promised myself that no matter where I am on the globe, for pujo it will always mean Cal for me. It’s been two years running that I have not been able to keep that promise. Last year I was too drunk on the sights of London to miss it, but this year in Delhi it’s a heart-wrenching feeling. But the best part is that at least unlike last year, this year maa-baba will not be alone in Cal, but will be with us here. That does bring some spirit back.
So what is it that I miss about the pujos in Cal? I am not a religious person..and I think for us Bongs, pujo holds memories more for cultural and sentimental reasons than anything else. And I like it that way, that those 5 days are so full of joy for an otherwise increasingly glumy city, the smell of festivity that you can breathe in..that even the saddest person can not but be touched by the sights and sounds of 1 million happy people out on the streets. But I am digressing. Here are a list of things I miss about the pujo in Cal;
• The air of anticipation which clothes the city for more than two months in advance..when you start counting days
• The planning that I used to do..dividing each of the 5 mornings and evenings into neat little squares meant for different groups: friends, cousins, parents. Answering that question: pujoi ki korchish?
• Eating out…maneuvering the longest queues in the world to finally reach your destination.
• Shopping and going crazy in those pre-mall days of Cal, spoiled with choice over Gariahat, AC Market, Shriram Arcade, New Market..dragging my exhausted mother to yet another shop.
• Meeting with school friends on every shashti..a ritual performed faithfully ever since we were 15-16..gpoing for Thakur Dekha to Ekdalia and Singhee Park and then Biriyani at Bedwin.
• Planning what to wear on each day. This was even more difficult than shopping since I now had to prioritise them.
• Showing pujo to A. once we went to see the pujos in the old zamindar houses of Cal..a heritage tour and we had a great time which finally ended at Shobha Bazar Rajbari with a sumptuous lunch.
• Wearing new shoes and limping through the day because they would leave boils on the feet the size of a tennis ball.
• Reading up on the pujo barshikis..a doomed attempt to recapture childhood through the vastly downgraded copies of Anandamela and Desh.
• Thakur Dekha, with cousins, maa and mashi after a sumptuous meal at mamar bari every saptami.
• The lights, the crowd, the sounds..

In Remembrance

I have never seen any Patrick Swayze film. The main reason why I know of him is that he had come to shoot in Kolkata (or did he not come?) for Ronald Joffe's City of Joy, which ran into a lot of CPI (M) led protests against stereotyping Kolkata through the Western eye. However, ever since I learnt of his death today due to pancreatic cancer I have been in a mood to remember him through songs of Dirty Dancing. And that's what I am doing today-playing his songs on You Tube and remembering a life cut short at only 57. Why does death choose some people early? Is it because of bad karma? Something that you did in your past life that catches up with you? Do we suffer in this life because of the sins of my other life? Isn't that so unfair? If there is no cause and effect in this life then it's a frightening thought, of a life with no set pattern, where goodness doesn't guarntee goodness in return.

A Jagjit Singh Concert. Today evening.

My working hours are somehow made more bearable by songs from the 90s played every morning on Radio Mirchi. But at times while listening to the songs nostalgia grips my heart so tight that I find it difficult to breathe.

The song 'Pehli Baar Muhabbat ki Hai' from Kaminey always transports me to a rain-soaked balcony where I stand looking out at the sea

I do not know why I have this recurring dream that I am in New York. I dreamt it last night again. And that I was spending one day sight-seeing in NY, and taking a two hour plane ride to Namibia from NY. I was going to spend a day in Namibia and come back.
Some times my dreams don't make any sense to me.