To those who wait - Durga Pujo Part 2

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To those who wait,

Last year, through the flower residues in your folded hands, indistinct murmurs of ‘Onjoli’ verses and eyes filled in admiration, I have heard about your belief in me. Your skilled clayey hands have provided me with an aura that I had to learn to bask in. Each year, you learn to dress me just the right way. Modern, yet traditional. But above all, you have given me an identity embracing me into your homes. And I promise, even this year, I haven’t come empty-handed.

I remain an enigma to mortal minds balancing the fierceness of my strength and being the source of joy you all deserve. I reside within toiling mothers from every section of this society, weather-beaten yet calm. I thrive in the outpouring happiness at train stations and airports alike because it is not just your homecoming, it is mine too.

I thoroughly enjoy the gradual crescendo as one day turns into another but at the same time, I remain a symbol of unification. I am as much yours as I am to the girl in the shabby eatery earning her meagre bonus. My blessings find you, eventually.

Each time when you send me off with tearful goodbyes, I want you to break the taboo and smear the widow at the corner with vermilion. In those tiny moments, when you are busy sharing your happiness with the rest, you have missed the smile on my face. These are times I feel the happiest and proud. It makes me come back each year for even more.

I take away memories that help me last a year or sometimes even more if I am running late. All good things must come to an end, even this precious life, doesn’t it? When you have immersed me each year, I have just been happy with the way you celebrated this separation and danced to ‘asche bochor abar hobe’.And I have felt content that my visit has served its purpose.

Wouldn’t you ask me what I got for you this year?  Hope. Like every other mother.

Yours,
Maa

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