Escaping the Pujas

The feeling closed in on me with unerring single-mindedness. I increased the volume of my music system, took refuge in a pen & paper, moved from standard to Patiala measure…but it was a losing battle….When I moved from city-ex to city-why, career was the driving force. And sure enough, I love money. But like again, during so many moments, the aftermath of my decision stands before me and quizzes me on my preference map. Friends, house of memories, at least one face, one known touch- or a rung more on the professional ladder? Do I say, the time stood still then, or do I say it was stagnant?

I am sure I could have escaped this deluge of uncomfortable queries- if it wasn’t for the time of the year. Strange- for the harder I try to severe the umbilical chord with Kolkata, it re-surfaces in some way or the other. E-mail forwards with stills from the latest creation from the potters of Kumartuli puncture my defense. Vir Sanghvi writes with élan what Pujas mean to Bengalis. The skies of Bangalore take on the ‘Sharat’ hue…the indigenous season. Even the sound of ‘ Dhaak’, the vengeful beats leak through the armour of an alien city. Broken images of my city roads, disparate smell of bastard noodles mixed with gleaming beads of sweat on enthusiastic pandal-hoppers , the quiet rustle of new leather on new feet- all prey on, feast on my solitude like ruthless vultures faced with an overgrown wildebeest.

Mauled, homesick, I reach for consolations. Words like pragmatism, professional, stoicism, grown-up, mature are propped up cushions for my aching mind- the walls of my yellow room affectionately ruffles my hair, the floor beckons me to its soft lap. The crystal glass tenderly caresses my lips, AR Rehman medicates my wounds with his latest offering- but as I said before it is a losing battle. In which one is reduced to mendicancy…begging for refuge from city-ex, begging for company from city-why, begging for a uni-dimensional preference schedule from providence, begging for either plain genius or plain mediocrity from life….O yes, I hate the Pujas. Or love it beyond reason.