Was not aware that it is Mahalaya today. But probably a sheer coincidence..I woke up today with the thought of Mahalaya, the Pujas in Uzan b and Aita.
Years ago, when we were still in Sh, I remember Ma tuning onto a radio station, at the break of dawn to listen to the Mahisasuramardini (The Annihilator of Mahishasur). For the maternal side of the family, the pujas only meant the almost century old family run puja in Uzan b.
With most of the older generation now gone...it has somehow lost its spark but the evening arti with the octogenarian priest, slightly wobbly on his feet, dancing in a trance like state..still manages to create quite a web of magic for all present.
****
The mornings during the Puja would be frenzied for everyone at Aita's...her retinue of faithful workers, up in the morning, plucking the freshest flowers from the flowering trees...xewali, joba, khorikajaai, ixora and the ubiquitoius, bel leaves, heaped in a wicker basket or a khorahi. Aita, looked forward to the pujas eagerly year after year. It was as much a family reunion of sorts as a significant social event--reliving, fun, shared memories from her childhood with her cousins and siblings, liberally peppered with honest narratives of aches and pains, medicines and doctors, deaths..a telling reminder of how most of them were very close to bidding goodbye to the lives they lived.
To be continued..
***
Durga Puja, Aita, flowers
Xewali flowers..the quintessential reminder of the Pujas
(image taken from http://weloveourbangladesh.blogspot.in/2011/05/night-jasmineshiuli-ful-or-shefali-ful.html)
Years ago, when we were still in Sh, I remember Ma tuning onto a radio station, at the break of dawn to listen to the Mahisasuramardini (The Annihilator of Mahishasur). For the maternal side of the family, the pujas only meant the almost century old family run puja in Uzan b.
With most of the older generation now gone...it has somehow lost its spark but the evening arti with the octogenarian priest, slightly wobbly on his feet, dancing in a trance like state..still manages to create quite a web of magic for all present.
****
The mornings during the Puja would be frenzied for everyone at Aita's...her retinue of faithful workers, up in the morning, plucking the freshest flowers from the flowering trees...xewali, joba, khorikajaai, ixora and the ubiquitoius, bel leaves, heaped in a wicker basket or a khorahi. Aita, looked forward to the pujas eagerly year after year. It was as much a family reunion of sorts as a significant social event--reliving, fun, shared memories from her childhood with her cousins and siblings, liberally peppered with honest narratives of aches and pains, medicines and doctors, deaths..a telling reminder of how most of them were very close to bidding goodbye to the lives they lived.
To be continued..
***
Durga Puja, Aita, flowers
No comments:
Post a Comment