Yes I am!!

It is confirmed now - all the hours my mother spent in the puja room fretting over our lack of religious fervour has borne fruit. God got fed up and granted her hippy children the power of religious bond, though subtly and quite late in the day. I realised yesterday evening standing among a melee of  Bengalis in CR park, with the strains of Rabindra Sangeet wafting in the air along with the smell of delicious egg rolls, that this is who I am. A hardcore non-veg Bangali!! The pursuit of happiness in a soul-sucking city like Delhi has not been able to kill my Bengalipana. The atmosphere in CR Park actually transports me back to my good old Cal days. We used to go pandal hopping after 10pm and every Durga Mata murti and intricate lighting arrangements just fascinated us.

The CR park pujas do not have that kind of glamour - but what they lack in that department they make up with a crowd that is actually holding up the Bengali tradition lock, stock and barrel. They have no fear of long queues both outside the pandals and in front of the food stalls. They dance to the dhaker bajna and just revel in the fact that they are Bengalis. For a brief moment, I feel sad that Shayan will probably have no clue what I am talking about - but then I turn around and see him standing in front of Matadi with his hands closed in prayer and eyes shut tightly. There is hope yet!!

Will be going to the GK and Noida pujas in the coming days. Hopefully will have more to share. Do check out the Shib Mandirer puja in CR - the white idol just takes one's breath away.

Am I Still a Bengali?

For all those following my gym trials - well I am still struggling with inertia and leachy men but the good news is that the weight is definitely going down.

On a completely different note, I just realised with a jolt the other day that my children are getting cut off from the culture that I grew up in. And although we were pretty secular(My dad went to the Brahmo Samaj and Mom was the quintessential hindu rajmata) my brother and I were pretty iffy about our religious inclinations. We both prayed fervently for 10 secs on the day of the examinations and we quite rightly felt that we had done our Godly duty.

Cut to the present. My son is 6 and my daughter is 4. The former follows the dad to the tee- so he can spout the Gayatri mantra and seems to like having a chat with God before he brushes his teeth in the morning. He knows that Diwali means crackers galore and any other festival means that he gets new clothes and we eat like there is no tomorrow. But that's not all of it, is it?

So this Durga Puja I have decided to (a.) Tell him the story of Durga Mata in the simplest Hinglish possible. (b.) Drag him to the pandals at aarti time and try and put the fear of the lady goddess in him. Shreya is still too small to appreciate all these efforts of mine,  but I am sure the sweet prasad will please her to no end.

So to all the Bengali gals who have married into other cultures hoist high the flag of the Bengal Spirit minus all the negativity, with great pride!!!

Pujor Hawa laga!