Something of Myself
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Durgotsab
It's that time of the year again - I am always so surprised by how swiftly flies time's wings - Durga Pujo is here again and the smell is in the air.
Having grown up in a joint family for a good number of years, Pujo means much more to me than it is to many people who wear new clothes, exchange gifts and indulge in night-long 'deity-seeing.' Pujo to me, is that time of the year, when I get in touch with my roots. My family. All those people who have had some influence in making me what I am today. Some disciplined me, pushed me to succeed, taught me how to listen, made me realize that the most important thing in life is not to make money but to be a good human being. Dad, being the first one to tell me so.
I am going to try my best to not think of Dad during this time. It inevitably leaves me forlorn. But then again, how much can a man try when he is what he is because of the father that He was?!
That was a digression. This post was meant to be on Pujo. But then, I am infamous for my inconsitencies. How boring it would be if life were regimented, if words were clearly etched in our minds before appearing on paper, if emotions were programmed to deliver, if senses were coded to feel, if humans could break free from their consciousness...
It is these that make life. Intuitive logic that is flawed. Heartening sensations that are numbed. Fluttering emotions that are caged. Beauty that ages. Love that looses. Pain that causes. Death that closes.
I can hear the beat of dhaak somewhere deep inside my ears. The familiar faces - frail, old, wrinkled faces, the babies that have just been born, couples that have just fallen in love, sons who have returned home from the war, daughters who are getting married...These I see.
There are others that I don't. They play havoc inside me. As Pujo arrives...
It's that time of the year again - I am always so surprised by how swiftly flies time's wings - Durga Pujo is here again and the smell is in the air.
Having grown up in a joint family for a good number of years, Pujo means much more to me than it is to many people who wear new clothes, exchange gifts and indulge in night-long 'deity-seeing.' Pujo to me, is that time of the year, when I get in touch with my roots. My family. All those people who have had some influence in making me what I am today. Some disciplined me, pushed me to succeed, taught me how to listen, made me realize that the most important thing in life is not to make money but to be a good human being. Dad, being the first one to tell me so.
I am going to try my best to not think of Dad during this time. It inevitably leaves me forlorn. But then again, how much can a man try when he is what he is because of the father that He was?!
That was a digression. This post was meant to be on Pujo. But then, I am infamous for my inconsitencies. How boring it would be if life were regimented, if words were clearly etched in our minds before appearing on paper, if emotions were programmed to deliver, if senses were coded to feel, if humans could break free from their consciousness...
It is these that make life. Intuitive logic that is flawed. Heartening sensations that are numbed. Fluttering emotions that are caged. Beauty that ages. Love that looses. Pain that causes. Death that closes.
I can hear the beat of dhaak somewhere deep inside my ears. The familiar faces - frail, old, wrinkled faces, the babies that have just been born, couples that have just fallen in love, sons who have returned home from the war, daughters who are getting married...These I see.
There are others that I don't. They play havoc inside me. As Pujo arrives...
3 Comments:
Damm good, i also share the same feelings. Nothing beats the mahaasthami aroti, when the idol seems to come alive in the midst of dhaak,dhuno and chants. However, every pujo reminds me of a passing year, a year of broken hopes and everlasting wait... Hope this pujo fulfils all our dreams and give us strength to face life with a new vigour.
Wonderful writing Pele. I really love coming here..it is a calm and lovely place. I suppose I need the calmness of words at the moment. I always find this a very spiritual place. Very moving and just lovely. So thankyou. It is all I can do to stop myself from having a bit of a blub when I read your words. The part about your father...and the beautiful descriptions. I haven't got a computer yet..but I come and have a peep when I can.
Hi Misti - thanks for the message. Sorry it took so long to get back. There is something enticing about the phrase you wrote, i.e. "a year of broken hopes." We should talk about it soon! :)
Molly - Great to know you are dropping by. Thanks so much for your kind words. :) I am glad you like this place. You are always welcome, in moments of pain and laughter.
Post a Comment
<< Home