The Oshtomi Post

Oshtomi brings a certain feel of religiosity to many and I am no exception in this regard. I remember how pushpanjali made for my quota of annual prayers for easy question papers ( and good marks). But now its only the "sobaike bhalo rakho" routine that the elderly follow. One's perspective widens with age, perhaps.


This Oshtomi morning was the usual panjabi-pajama routine in the parar pandal. For the last 7-8 years it has been the only day when I go there for the maiden dorshon of the Debi and that's it. No more ties before or after with the parar pujo. I feel too guilty at times, thinking of those good old days of childhood when the para pujo meant the world and I would not budge an inch from it. The lines, " chhera dhuti apnar dher beshi daam tar

bhikkey kora shartin-er cheye"

rings loud inside my mind sometimes when I weigh if its only the grandeur of the mega-pujos which keeps me hopping from one end of Kolkata to another or is it the simple fact that I hardly have any somoboyeshi bondhu (same age-group friends) in the para. The only ones I have, I only meet rarely on my way, going in or coming out of the para and that isn't much to hold me back during pujo.


Anyways, luchi-torkaari is another ritual at home on Oshtomi mornings and as soon as it was done away with I was off. Off with friends to cover the Central parts of Kolkata, the traditionally big-crowd pullers and by Heavens didn't we get to see some crowd! The entire Ganesh Chandra Avenue was swarming with people. Subodh Mullick Square looked more like Brigade Parade Ground on rally-day and once we joined the serpentine queue that seemed to go on forever we felt like microscopic cogs in the giant wheel of human enthusiasm that was so visibly ubiquitous. We joked that when pandal hopping in Central Kolkata all you have to do is join a queue and the queue guides you,there's hardly any effort required from your end.


First stop was Md. Ali Park. They have over the past years attempted the unconventional and come out with the outrageous but this time the theme was clear at least. It was a medley - a mixture of pollution awareness and deforestation that seemed inspired from the Pachauri Nobel initiative. But, the double chinned Shiv overlooking the Goddess was a hilarious hit. We could instantly draw parallels from our circle of knowns. Also the sundered head looked more like Barack Obama's for some inexplicable reason. Some political overtures there.


Next was College Square which figures on every ardent pandal hopper's list due to the sheer visual spectacle it offers after nightfall. Between our slow progress within the sea of humanity I noticed that the tuni-bulb lighting had made way for the power efficient LEDs. Inside, the dazzling sight of the mammoth Jhaarlonthon was breathtaking. Ekdalia Evergreen can't hold a lamp to such an imposing collection of....ummm......lamps. One could just sprain one's neck looking up and getting lost in its splendour.


Santosh Mitra Square was next on the list. It was a 20 minutes walk away which ultimately took more than half an hour because of people getting lost midway. Couple of old friends joined in on our crusade there. The 'Nata Mano' theme based on the Singur fiasco had attracted people by hundreds of thousands and we were now one of them. A locked-out factory does not make for a pleasant sight in times of festivity but reality finds favor with many and no one's complaining. After all its just a theme. The awareness part is just an appendage, a sure-shot crowd-puller.

What followed afterwards was a harrowing walk through the very characteristic narrow lanes of Central Kolkata to the Chandni Chowk Metro Station which took us 20 more minutes. Then there was this Big Debate. The topic 'To be or not be in Maddox Square'. I was very much against it but public opinion ( which started as a whimper and ended as a roar) sealed it for Maddox. My point was, " Why Maddox?" They said, " What else ?". How was I to reply to that without breaking into a discourse which would end up as futile as the Singur initiative, and I for one did not want to end up looking like a statesman Governor with no takers or backers. So we were now at Maddox Square ( yes, again!). The melting pot of pandemonium is always at its manic best on the Oshtomi evening and today was no exception. Newspapers, which are rarely ( if ever) given a first look were being bought from vendors at 2 rupees per double-page (i.e the 1.5 rupee Hindustan Times I did not find time to read in the morning was being sold back to me for 14 rupees in the evening) so that people could spread it out on the ground and sit on them. Silver sand looks bad on branded clothes, I guess. And hence the little precaution.

Anyway, the 8 of us managed to get hold of a good spot and took possession hurriedly. Life would be tolerable with some promise of adda emanating, I thought. Two hours later, when it was time to leave we found to our disappointment every semblance of an eatery struggling to keep order in the wake of imminent riots. We managed to push into a dhaba and got ourselves a reasonable dinner considering the situation. With full stomachs and aching legs we headed home, only to meet tomorrow. To celebrate the beginning of the end of the pujo.


Nobomi can be painful.
Thinking of all those lights, banners and barricades evaporating in just two more days.
All the multitudes of people suddenly vanishing into their secret burrows not to surface for another year.
It can be very painful.
Rather, it is.


I guess one has to be in Kolkata to feel that.
One has to be a Bangali.