The Yearly Ritual

There is a slight nip in the air as I walk along the road that is almost devoid of traffic at that early morning hour. Last evening's thunderstorm has left it dotted with  the creamy white, long stemmed, fragrant flowers of the cork tree . 

The thunderstorm of course is the result of the returning monsoon ,but I prefer to call it hastacha paaus as it heralds the advent of the eagerly awaited Durga Puja or the Navratra. Hasta incidentally is one of the nine nakshatras or asterisms that bring rain to the waiting arms of the earth. 

Another beautiful sight that always gladdens my heart is that of the twin kanchan or Bauhinia trees in full bloom, their pink and almost purple flowers smiling in all their glory. Also known as the Orchid tree as the flowers resemble pink orchids, it unfailingly blossoms in the days preceding Navratra. 

But to my disappointment there were no flowers to be seen when I checked the trees last week. Sadly the weather seemed to have played havoc here too. 

In recent years the festival has come to be associated with different colours, a belief that doesn't have its roots in mythology nor tradition nor culture, as it was simply a sales gimmick adopted by a newspaper that somehow clicked and caught on. 

So each of the nine days got a colour of its own which was replicated in women's apparel. There is no compulsion there, just a willingness to follow a trend. As is the case with all trends this one too has had its share of ridicule. But I simply look at it as a feel good factor for all those who abide by it. It offers a change from the daily routine , a chance to forget your troubles for a while and to bask in the comfort of being with your colleagues who are also your friends. 

The picture was a lot different when I was a kid. Except for the flowers of the cork tree that we would collect from our neighbour's front courtyard to make venis, Navratra was something else. 

My earliest memory is that of the glistening white walls when our kitchen and the deoghar was whitewashed by the regular mistri. This was done just a few days before the beginning of the festival. 

The goddess was worshipped with great devotion and we would sing the very melodious and meaningful aarti that describes the nature of worship on all the nine days and how on the tenth day she killed the demon Mahishasur. 

The biggest attraction would be the Durga Puja exhibition that would be held every year during the nine day period. As it would be held in the huge grounds of a school in the vicinity, our evenings were spent in happy anticipation of the visit. As the venue was just a few lanes away we could hear all the announcements, songs being played, jokes being cracked and the funny sounds made by the PA system. Actually it would be our lullaby as we would often fall asleep listening to them. 

The exhibition was a definite crowd puller with stalls selling everything from toys to books to footwear and what have you. Our first visit would be with my parents, the second with all our cousins and the third with any member of the family who hadn't yet been there. 

The three idols of the goddess Durga were erected atop a platform. Their sparkling silver coloured adornments, the beautifully painted faces and the lustrous black eyes looked lovely in the gathering dusk. The air would be redolent with the fragrance of incense and dhoop. 

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After having had our darshan, the first stop would invariably be at the person selling candy floss. I remember being mesmerized by the process. The coloured  sugar went round and round the container spinning itself into a huge ball of fluff on a long stick. Licking the pink stuff, trying to take a bite and making it stick all over the mouth was nothing short of heaven. 

Then there were stalls selling pretty mojadis with colourful motifs. 

Another hot favourite was the keychain stall. Keychains of all sizes and shapes would be hung all over the place, that glinted as they moved in the light evening breeze. 

 The shapes ranged from hearts to arrows to plain circles or rectangles to squares. They were pieces of colourful plastic that somehow had a glass like appearance. And the best part of buying one was that you could get your name printed on it in the colour of your choice. To be the proud owner of one, completed our happiness as we walked back home with our prized possession clutched firmly in our hands. 

Vijayadashmi or Dasara being the tenth day would be spent in seeking blessings from all the elders in the family. The ritual of exchanging Apta leaves would be followed religiously by everyone. But now with the changing scenario of the trees being cut with blatant disregard to environment, we have stopped buying and distributing them. 

The ritual is the same year after year but always brings new energy and joy to our lives. Let us hope that we alllow nature too to follow its own ritual year after year so that the future generations can live happily ever after.