From Afar
BY KASTURI BHATTACHARYA
Tantalizing.
I wonder how smoke could smell so tantalizing. How the grayish tendrils floating out into the air could bring such an amount of joy and happiness accompanied with a mesmerizing scent. I wonder how I could still smell that same smoke wafting away from the courtyard of some aristocratic Bengali household on one of the five dazzling days of Durga Pujo while sitting miles away in a small hostel room preparing for my next exam.
The thought pushes a blatant sigh out of my lips making me realize that I am just daydreaming of home instead of focusing on the next math problem, Or was it a question on engines? A horn honks outside once again dragging my attention to the street overlooking through the window of my room. In my homesick state, my mind almost mistook the honk for those ear-splitting loud gibberish songs played on speakers during Pujo.
“Right, there is no Pujo here”, I muttered to myself. My mind still somewhere caught between the hypnotizing aroma of the Dhunuchi and the reverberating sounds of Dhak, could hardly focus on the notebook opened in front of me- my table littered with pens and post its and the dark screen of my phone that occasionally lit up with the new
post chimes. The said chimes could be so annoying at times that I was tempted to either block my social media friends or just delete the app entirely. I grumble silently grabbing my phone, almost ripping the charger socket from the wall in the process. In my defense, I was feeling a little cranky. I pull up the notifications panel and without reading the
notification I click it open. Instantly my eyes are blasted with the highly edited pictures of people posing at different locations in front of the Pujo Pandals. One thing I can be grateful to them for is generously adding the locations. At least that way I could see a seven-inch Pujo Pandal and a Durga Idol cramped into an Insta square box. Oh, how fun it is to have the internet!
I scrolled through the million posts, swiped past a dozen stories, paused on a couple reels and videos. Liked a few hazy shots of the Shribhumi. Rolled my eyes at a few boomerangs on Shiv Mandir. Patiently listened to people list out five best Pujos in some 50 reels of different variations. But in the end my eyes snagged on that integration glaring at me in a bluish haze through the white sheets of my notebook. Putting the phone faced down, I tried to focus on solving the problem. It was not easy to focus. Truth be told nothing seems fairly easy when you are living miles away from home
except for maybe trying new hairstyles and bizarre food combinations. But today felt different than most other days. Today felt like a loud jovial music was slowly receding into whispers with a faint yet bright hope for the future. Maybe that’s why the scents and the sounds seemed so clear and close at first.
After a few more tries of getting the sum solved and miserably failing, I shut the notebook finally and closed my eyes. I willed my ears to hear the sounds, my nostrils to catch the scent, my skin to feel the heat, my eyes to see the light, my tongue to taste the air of all that was Pujo. I would be lying if I said I was somehow able to transport myself to the streets of Gariahat in a massive crowd while trying to nd my way to Ekdalia Evergreen or to choose between Deshopriyo Park and Tridhara Shommilani. I am no
Xavier or whoever that person from the Volverine movies who could read and control minds and track people through their minds. Because if I did, I would track my own mind back five years ago when I was still a kid holding a camera and capturing pictures of the College Square Pujo or exploring the miraculous pandals themes of Shruchi Shongho. I really tried to feel a bit of what I had felt all those years but it seemed quite impossible especially with the constant ringing of my phone. I ignored it first but
quickly realized it must be some classmate in dire need of a syllabus clarication. I wish I could just ignore and try one more time to play Doctor Strange and drift away to Kolkata in my Astral form. I suppose that would be messy if I don’t manage to get back in time to write my exams. But at least I would witness the Castle at Shribhumi, the glilttering lights of Ekdalia, the earth shattering blissful sounds of Dhaks at Tridhara, the
odd theme at Shuruchi, the traditional idols of Maddox Square or maybe just the annoying songs of a small Pujo in some locality one last time before we repeat this cycle all over again next year. This can’t be too much to ask.
“Yes, We got three chapters for today’s exam. And exactly one hour before the exam starts. Good luck!”, I hung up just as abruptly as I had picked up the call. A little cranky, a little sad, a little lost, I dressed up in the newest outts for a day I wasn’t quite celebrating. Strapping my bag and the necessary items for my exam, I open the door to my room and march out for the exam knowing full well that festivities are sometimes just in our imaginations and we might be able to celebrate parts of it even from afar. Even while sulking about it.
