Basanta ese gechhe, and Saraswati Puja is here too. This festival brings back a rush of memories to a ’90s kid like me. It goes right back to hazy recollections — now preserved in photographs — of myself as a toddler trying to snatch a piece of chalk from my father to scribble on a slate to mark my first step into the world of words as part of the haate khori ritual.
The train of memories rolls on, and includes many more firsts — some of them captured in now sepia-toned photos in heavy albums, carefully preserved by my mother.
Saraswati Puja — a celebration of many innocent firsts
Yellow outfits, a must for Saraswati Puja, on sale at a shop in Kolkata My Kolkata Archives
Saraswati Puja was the first time a sari was bought for me — the customary basanti sari with red border and golden zari. I was five years old and the tiny sari was exclusively for my Saraswati Puja outfit. While I don’t have vivid memories of how the day went in a sari, there are photos of me striking poses for my father. My mother, the nurturer of memories, has kept the sari in pristine condition in an almirah, and on some days, when I touch it, the softness of the fabric, the smell of naphthalene, makes the heart feel long for days that are now blurry memories.
Innocent prayers, stacked books at the feet of the goddess, and ‘haate khori’ — something that hasn’t changed generationally on Saraswati Puja Wikimedia Commons
A few years later, a big girl of eight, I went shopping to the local grocery store for the first time. Accompanied by friends from the neighbourhood, we set off to buy the essentials for the Saraswati Puja in our locality. Even today, a couple of decades later, when I make lists for this day, that first ever phordo (list) on a long, white paper in red ink, written by the purohit, flashes in front of my eyes. I remember how I held on to it with all my strength lest I lose it! I read out loud the items on the list to the kaku at the grocery shop, and ticked them off as they went inside the bag — a tip that came from Ma. A friend was the cashier, counting the change and asking for the voucher — a term picked from the elders — from the shopkeeper and it was all done with a grave seriousness that an important job like this deserved.
It was only during the Saraswati Puja that the parents would let the kids roam around without adult supervision. We could even go as far as the pandal on the next lane. There would be a festive special pocket money — a whopping Rs 20 — and we would all pool together to buy exotic treats like chocolate-coated candies, mouth fresheners in boxes shaped like guitars, and chocolate ice cream.
Preparations of ‘kul’, or jujube, are a must on this day Shutterstock
This day was also when we’d get to eat the first kul (jujube) of the season, but only after pushpanjali. The belief that if you had a kul before the puja, then thakur paap debe (goddess would be irked) was strong enough for an onkey kancha (weak in maths) kid like me to stay away from the kul makha sold by the chaat seller in front of school, no matter how tempting the treat. Once the anjali was done however, the first thing we did was eat topa kul and narkel kul — as many as possible. Then began the two months of feasting on all jujube delicacies like kul makha, kuler tok, and kuler achaar.
Pandal hopping to pandal crush — celebrating the Bengali Valentine’s Day
Vasant Pachami is also often called the Bengali Valentine’s Day Shutterstock
With schools and colleges celebrating Saraswati Puja, and students getting to dress up, visit without supervision and generally have a good time, it’s no wonder that Vasant Pachami is also often called the Bengali Valentine’s Day. On this day, Cupid wakes up on the right side of the bed and generously serves up all the feels of first love. It is on a Saraswati Puja, aged 16, I had my first crush — the cousin of a friend, who was visiting during the festivities. I blame it on the basanti panjabi. Butterflies fluttered in the tummy, lungs refused to cooperate, and for the first time in my life, I thought someone was really special in a romantic way. All that I had read about this feeling, and all that friends had told me about it, just became real.
The journey from crushing hard to eventually falling in love happened much later in life, with someone completely different. But those first stirrings of the heart at sweet 16, the innocence, and baffling emotions so palpable and new, remain special.
An heirloom tradition
There’s no Saraswati Puja without ‘khichuri bhog’ Shutterstock
As with any Bengali festival, a feast is mandatory on Saraswati Puja as well. For as long as I can remember, Ma has never deviated from her Saraswati Puja menu. The festive feast at home has always been khichuri and notun alur dum. The khichuri, fragrant with ghee, has winter vegetables like peas and carrots, and is accompanied by beguni — sometimes with posto (poppy seeds) in the batter. A kuler tok is a must, and of course, some payesh.
With adulthood, the idea of home has evolved. Leaving the nest, finding the one I intend to spend my life with, and building a new home — through all the loops of adulting, what hasn’t changed is replicating Ma’s recipes, especially on Saraswati Puja.
Not just another day…
An idol in the making in Kolkata on the run-up to the festival builds the mood for the special day My Kolkata Archives
From then to now, the special spring-time festival has also changed. On most years, Saraswati Puja is a working day. If it falls on a day off, like this year, then adult life takes over and chores take precedence. However, no matter the plan of the day, the mood from the morning is inadvertently festive. Watching the little ones in the neighbourhood, dressed in basanti outfits, much like my little yellow sari, reminds me of bygone days. Teenagers in their saris and kurtas heading to school in groups, giggling and sneaking glances at each other takes me back to that crush at 16. And I head off to the kitchen to make khichuri, notun alur dum and beguni, and if the time permits, some kuler tok too. Wearing yellow does not always happen on this day anymore, but there is always little celebration, in any way possible. Sometimes just by picking up a kurta or sari to wear to work.
