Why the wait for Durga Puja is almost as fun as Puja itself

Kolkata is a city where you can smell months. And no month smells quite like that of Durga Puja. From the scent of fresh clay in Kumartuli to the fragrance of new clothes in your wardrobe, from the whiff of temporary roadside eateries to the aroma of kaash phool, Kolkata transforms into a smorgasbord of odours — the mild, the strong, the magical — as it awaits its greatest festival. The five main days of Durga Puja (increasingly becoming 10) are the inevitable highlight, but the fortnight that precedes them is almost as fun. Partly because it allows Kolkatans like myself, who often prefer anticipation to fulfilment, to get immersed in imagination. How will my parar pandal look when complete? Which friends will I meet on which days? What gobsmacking food will I partake of and with whom will I be doomed to share it? The most obvious questions become the most interesting right when Puja is around the corner.

Every year before Puja, Kolkata wakes up to its full potential

Kolkata likes to sleep because it likes to dream. But come a few weeks before Puja and the City of Joy wakes up to its full potential. As idolmakers and pandal-builders toil around the clock, stores that are usually shuttered before 9pm stay open till midnight. New Market, Gariahat, Hatibagan and the other shopping hubs of the city prattle and pounce, with more bargains in the air than rain. The Metro stations acquire their own rustle, with little embellishments distinguishing one from the other. I implore my local phuchkawalla, mobbed by foodies in every direction, for an extra serving. “Rama was willing to give an eye for Ma Durga and you can’t give me an extra phuchka!” I bark in Bengali. Amidst a sea of hands, he relents.

Even the cold neighbours put on a layer of kindness ahead of Puja, plastering a smile instead of the “I-don’t-care-about-your-life” glare that covers their faces for the rest of the year. “How many clothes did you buy?” becomes tiring to answer, but not when the answer changes every three days. Plans are made, cancelled and remade as WhatsApp groups go into overdrive. In between wrapping up professional deadlines (exams were easier, at least you could pretend they were not important) and rekindling personal equations, the heart throbs with excitement every time the eyes catch the date and find it one day closer to the promised land.

The week of almost-readiness between Mahalaya and Sashthi

Perhaps my favourite part of Puja is the week or so that separates Mahalaya and Sashthi. It is the time when an old friend (or flame, or both!) suddenly shows up in town. When a Puja bonus is the only thing on my account’s credit sheet. When I quietly resolve to not make my intestines plead for mercy. It is the time when Puja is here but not quite, with everything around me in a state of almost-readiness, on the verge of transforming Kolkata into an endless amusement park. It is also the time when I put the final touches to my Puja schedule, before it is invariably pulled apart by traffic, tantrums and the trepidation of trying to pack a lifetime of memories into four sleepless days.

I enjoy this build-up to Puja the way I enjoy re-reading my favourite novel. I know the familiar script that lies ahead, but everytime I embark on it, I crave to discover something new, not least about myself. I remind myself of 2019 and 2020, the only two years I was not in Kolkata during the days when Kolkata, of all places in the world, is the place to be. I reassure myself that even if I miss the next Puja, I will always have this year. Just like all the previous years when every Puja arrived with the hope that it will be bigger and better than ever before.

Waiting for next year

Another special aspect of waiting for Puja is contemplating the face of Durga that will strike me the most. Every year, there is at least one Durga, of the hundreds I see in person or online, that seems to peer into my soul. The splayed arms and the exquisite costume recede into the background as, for a few stretchable seconds, Durga remains neither a warrior nor a mother, but a unique woman with her unique story. Be it sheer ferocity or sheer compassion, delight, despair or duty, I take back with me a new way of understanding Durga every year. A way that helps me appreciate my mother, sister, lover, friend, colleague, or even a wistful stranger on a familiar route in a way I had not before. I wonder what it will be in 2023 that makes me ignore everything else and stare into the eloquent eyes of an idol that did not exist a few weeks back and will not exist a few weeks hence.

Ultimately, the wait for Durga Puja is almost as fun as Puja itself because the emptiness of pandals and hearts is still a long way off. At least as long as a few dozen hours of unfettered celebration can feel. After all, once the sandhi puja on Ashtami is done and bisarjan is only a whirl of drumbeats away, the idea of what is starts fading into what might have been. The mind starts moving on to next year, waiting anew for Durga and her retinue to bring heaven on earth. Such a wait is longer, harder and much less fun. Sometimes you forget you are waiting at all. Until you can smell a particular month. Until you can smell Durga Puja.