By Mahesh Verma
Plutarch, born around 45-46 AD was correct to a certain degree when he pontificated, “Painting is silent poetry, and poetry is painting that speaks” but then he took all the resultant accolades a bit too seriously, and without really knowing or understanding the psyche of those hailing from the land of Ashoka the Great and Gurudev Tagore, went on to further pontificate that “For the wise man, every day is a festival”.
For us, hailing from the states of Bihar and Bengal in India, we take our festivals very seriously and if that makes us appear wise, then let no man think otherwise. Every day may not be a festival but the festival of Navratri or Durga Puja (referred to as Durga Pujo by the bhodrolok – the gentlemen, and their gorgeous significant others) is something entirely different.
The nine-day long Durga Pujo, which ended this Friday, evokes a mixed sense of pride, love and camaraderie among the people who celebrate it, and one does not need to be back in the para of Ballygunge in Kolkata or mohalla of Kadam Kuan in Patna, to celebrate it in our own non-ritualistic way. During my school days, Durga Puja was all about the excitement of the fortnight-long school holidays when we would head back home from the hostel and look forward to mom’s delicious home-cooked food, the new set of clothes that she would have got made for all of us siblings, and in the evenings after lighting of the diya (the traditional lamp), would gather around as a family, listening to dad recount the stories of the goddess’s arrival on earth and her fight against the demon Mahishasur and her vanquishing the evil and putting the faith back into humanity – that good always necessarily triumphs over evil.
So Plutarch, my man – what you missed out was the fact that though every day is a festival for the wise man, the Durga Puja is not merely a festival. It’s a bundle of emotions…emotion is the predominant and integral part of poetry and we know poetry is life. You, yourself said that “poetry is painting that speaks” and then your friend Wordsworth went on to define poetry as “the overflow of powerful feeling recollected in tranquility”.
Durga Puja encompasses all these emotions and the ability to differentiate Navratri from Pujo, and highlights being in love with the kaleidoscopic life that only a city that celebrates them can bring – Muscat being no exception, what with the ‘garba’ and ‘dandia’ as part of the Navratri being celebrated in Wadi Kabir while the dhak baja kashor baja being played in the temple in old Muscat.
With Goddess Durga returning to her abode the Durga Puja and Dussehra celebrations are practically over for this year. You could see many getting emotional while bidding adieu to Durga and celebrating the end of Ravan and an ‘evil era’, but if you thought the festivities were over you couldn’t be more wrong, for now begins the auspicious period of ‘Bijoya’, in celebration of the victory of good over evil, which goes on till Diwali.
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the world the #metoo movement seems to have been resurrected and an Akbar and a Seth have already fallen on the way side. A lot more are waiting to called out. Pepperfry continues to lower its own already poor standards of customer service and in the place which boasts of being half in Europe and half in Asia, a groom-to-be left his fiancée stranded, wondering if a half-nelson did him in or will the perfect excuse eventually surface? In the terminology of logic, such claims will be ‘arbitrary’ i.e. devoid of evidence.
And before I sign off, a few random thoughts:
Do you know that I stopped going to the gym because I was becoming allergic to it as I used to get hot and sweaty, short of breath, heart rate would go up and the skin would get flushed?
Do you know that I am now getting allergic to my evening walks also, and am displaying similar signs of getting sweaty, short of breath, heart rate up and skin getting flushed?
Do you know that to avoid these allergies, I plan joining this group who as a form of exercise, watch the earth rotate and when they get bored after 24 hours, they just call it a day?
Till next fortnight…hope you had an extra piece of the cake and a draught or two or three of the vintage from our side Mr Atal – Happy Birthday, albeit a day late! And Shubho Bijoya, Dassehra Mubarak everyone… .
