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Goddess of Festivities!


Glittering lights, wild amplifiers
Crackers and loud voices,
Drum beats and a crazy banjo…
The brand new clothes,
The happy faces…
Plans of meeting friends
And relatives and acquaintances…
Decked up in the best new clothes
And the gaudy new accessories…
Durga Pujo is the occasion
And Bengalis are lost in festivities…
One old man sitting in his balcony
Gazes down the street…
A pandal close by…
The idol is hidden from his sight…
Too many people, a blinding halogen …
He tries real hard…He can’t see the idol…
He gets up, goes to his room
Takes up his stick and walks out
Into the street…Into the pandal…
Mother Durga is yet to be found…
The customary ritual
Of bowing of a thousand heads
That walk away in a hurry
Towards a brighter gathering
And a blazing speaker…
A fiery glance at that pretty girl there
Or that cute guy around the corner
Or the discussions about a happy marriage
Or a successful businessman
Or a goon who’s made it big in politics…
The old man feels suffocated…
The idol feels sick and diseased…
Extreme sickness…Mother seems to moan…
For the first time the old man seems to hear
The voice of the clouds
Over the noise
Of voices and loudspeakers and crackers…
As if in a frenzy, he feels young again…
He starts at a brisk pace,
His feet feeling light…
He raises his stick closes his eyes
And smashes the idol
To a million pieces as the rain comes down…
The people are stunned…
Everything falls silent
But the splashing of the rain…
The old man begins to laugh…
Laughing his heart out as the people look on…
He looks up and laughs louder…
The voice changes to that of a woman…
A voice unknown to mankind…
No more disease, no more sham…
All is calm now…All is calm…

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