Joi Maa Durga

(roughly translated as 'Hail The Divine Mother Durga' )



Durga Pujo, as experienced by a Bengali cannot quite be comprehended by anyone who has not experienced or observed it firsthand. It is romantic, it is an affair like none other.The thrill of festivities, the numerous new clothes, the mouth watering bhog, the late night outings, the pandal hopping, all these are just the superficial joys, but this festival means a lot more to a Bengali, the joy and anticipation of it runs in our very being. From the day a child is born into a Bengali family, he learns to anticipate those five special days of the year. It is the kind of anticipation that fills you with happiness and hope, joy and contentment. Five days of fun, enjoyment, new clothes, good food, entertainment programs, the mindblowing sound of dhaak (a kind of drum), the smell of dhoop, the mouth-watering bhog(food distributed to the devotees), hanging around with friends, late nights and a lot lot more. In all my years as a true-blue Bong, this is the festival that has always been awaited with bated breath all year long, and it was all about festivites, and very little of it was religious. Most of our friends and family went about these five days with full gusto and enthusiasm to celebrate. And so it was for me, five of the most awaited and enjoyable days of the year. New clothes saved up all year round to be worn on these days, enough stocked up, so that I can have a couple of change of outfits each of these days. It is not quite describable in words, the emotions, and love associated with this festival. The day the festival got over, the wait would begin for the next one.

Even during my hostel years, I would either manage to wriggle a few days of leave and get home, or make sure I dropped into the local pandals. Just being in the pandal, smelling of dhoop and bhog would make my heart beat harder with joy. Those were five the most important days of the year to me, besides my birthday and way to often they both the things would come together.

However, things don't remain constant. My association with Durga Puja has reduced considerably post my marriage. The first year was the toughest, because the reduced association had to be enforced, it was not one that came naturally. I shed many a copious tears, for the lack of being able to celebrate it the way I always had, that first year, but over the years the disassociation has worked its way into me. My first Pujo after marriage, was in Bombay. I had no idea where the celebrations took place, the DH had to bear the brunt of my frustration. Found out about just one place, a long way from our place, and visited that on just one day of the Pujo. And that one time made me realise, that it would never be the same for me again. Cannot really feel at home in a pujo pandal, if one does not speak full blown Bengali.This was not going to happen for me with the DH. He does not speak Bengali, and I don't expect him to either. We have two languages available to us for communication to us, and that works out just perfectly. It is difficult to visit a place where people see us with strange eyes, being obvious outsiders. This makes us even more conscious and the the whole cycle of events gets worse. So since then, Pujo for me is not longer about festivites, but just about going and paying my respects to the Goddess. Though Durga Pujo still remains special to me, but not in the way it had been to me as a child. In foreign shores, where people of the community are fewer, I am further discouraged to visit and be gawked at for being an outsider, joining in not that easy either, because I have no wish to explain my choice of husband, or why he does not speak Bengali and now more about the BB. So I have reconciled to letting that festival be a small window of happiness now, and hopefully with one sighting of the Goddess in her full glory.

And hence I was fortunate enough to participate in the Ashtami Anjali, as well as attend the Nabami's Aarti in the Pujo this year. With the BB dressed up in the most amazing clothes, these are memories that will remain with me forever. It was wonderful being in Bombay and attending the local Pujo this year. Photography was prohibited the first couple of days, and only allowed on the last day, so I took many mental pictures of the Pujo. Pandal hopping was not an option due to the swine flue scare and the overly protective GP, but attending the one I did, made me happy enough.

Here is wishing everyone a Shubho Bijoyaa (Happy Dussehra).

The Ring That Fits The Finger

is the one that makes me exuberant. My first ever diamond ring, the one the BG bought me, for my birthday four years back. Nothing fancy or expensive, but my first diamond jewelery none the less. I remember our after office sojourn to the Tanishq store to find the ring, have it resized and then finally my wearing it. Diamond happens to be my birthstone and I was so excited to wear it, and I imagined life to be better after I wore the ring. As they say, it is all in the mind. I wore it all the time, along with my wedding ring.

Then I conceived. The pregnancy involved a lot of eating, and complete bed rest. To say I ballooned up is putting it mildly. The fingers started swelling up, and I got the rings off my finger before they could get stuck. And that is the way they remained till date. I bought a couple of new larger sized rings, ones that fit my finger, and wore them. I got rid of all my pre-pregnancy clothes, convinced I would never get back to where I was. For a clothes' lover like me, that meant wardrobes full of clothes, some barely worn, some still awaiting their first appearance. My heart broke, in ways only I will know. More than a year after delivery, when my weight was not coming down, I gave up hope, I felt I was stuck in my huge form for life. I looked bloated, unhealthy and enormous to say the least. I am not giving figures here, but I am not the kind who would cry at gaining two hundred grams, here I was closing in on a century. I used to take the rings out of my safe once in a while, trying them on unsuccessfully, and mournfully returning them to their box.

Moved in to a new place, with central air conditioning, and yummy fattening food easily available, fast food joints at a few seconds walk from home, and I piled on some more pounds. The clothes I had stitched just before leaving India, fit a bit more smugly than when they were stitched. Things just went from bad to worse. I was tiered of being huge. My dreams of being a yummy mummy forever dashed, and trying to reconcile with the idea of being a huge, comforting pillow instead.

This year started on a new note. I found a new friend, Roop. If there is a guardian angel for each one of us, then mine, put me onto Roop. In the real world, I would never have been her friend, really. And we are as different as chalk and cheese in the most obvious ways, and yet there are the commonalities, in the more basic things in life, like principles, beliefs, thoughts. This world of blogs has given me such amazing friends, and she is one of the finest. Gradually she started urging me to do something about my weight. She helped and guided me to start, taught me how to work smart about it. Her own eating habits, and tips on cooking, made me more aware of my nutritional needs, and helped me get over my emotional eating habits. She was candid and genuine, and called a spade a spade to shake me out of my unhealthy, unfit slumber. And the process started working, like nothing else ever had, every time I got stuck, she showed me a new way to try. She motivated me to keep at it, and encouraged me to work harder. If there is one person who deserves appreciation for my efforts, as much as myself, it is her. The weight finally began to drop. "A" and Sraikh, gave me amazing inputs, having treaded the path themselves. It is amazing how they took the efforts to respond to each and every query I had, write in detailed replies, document all the information and share it with me. I love you guys, you rock. "A", actually made me a worksheet, and offered more help at every step, and she did it even without me asking. All my efforts have been based on advice from blogger friends and their encouragement.

It was beyond my wildest beliefs, when the scales started tilting downward. It had been so long, with only gains, that a drop was quite unbelievable. Even the BG did not take notice till the first five kilos were gone, and it changed the figure in the tens place.Then in May, my heart broke, when blood tests revealed somethings, which sent me into a pit of depression. I dreaded my very existence, and poured my heart out to Monika and Roop. They both actually supported me better than I could have imagined, Heard out my sorrow tales for days, till I snapped out of it, and knew that I am going to be good, and fine. And as I usually do, I emerged out of the ordeal stronger than I was before.

So over the last five months, the weight has reduced, the stats are shrinking, but more slowly than I would like them to. And as the weight melts I get motivated to work more for it, and I have so many wonderful people I can ask for help, whenever I feel something is not working for me. But there are always dampers. Like a relative who saw a recent photo of mine, and spent precious bucks to call me up and ask me if I have lost weight, because it seemed so in the photo, and expressed concerns, that I may in fact become thinner than her. Considering the fact that she is well into her fifties, this was really a corny statement. On the face of it, she always encouraged me to try and lose weight, and look good. But the reality became apparent with her call. I should remain the fat one, who she can shower sympathies on, and advice, but dare I actually lose weight. This incident totally got my goat. I had to actually mail her some fat bad photos of mine, to convince her that I am still enormous, and no threat to her beauty. That also made me more determined, and wiser about her true nature. So all in all good for me I say. Such strange people are the reason, I am not sharing my news with anyone, but the wonderful friends I have here.

I am yet far from my normal BMI, a long way off actually,have just managed to move into the overweight category from the obese, but atleast now I have hope that I will get there, the process has started, my efforts are showing results. And I am happy. The BG actually went out and bought me some diamond jewellery when I crossed one of the milestones, and we were both so happy, not just because I am losing weight, but because I am gaining health. Coming with a family history of cholesterol issues, high blood sugar problems, heart disease, excess weight can actually be a killer for me.

About the title of the post? Well, the diamond ring, fit back on my finger today(actually 2 days back, July 22nd). Ecstatic is what I am. Last night before sleeping, I felt my current rings almost slip off my my fingers, I was pleasantly surprised. Today morning I took them off, to keep them aside, so that I don't lose them. And just on a whim, I tried on my first diamond ring, and it slipped onto my finger. Slightly smug, but got there alright. And that has been the most sure shot sign of the fact that I indeed am getting thinner. Wish me luck, and hope that I reach the goal I have set for myself for the end of this year, not the final one, but just a reasonable one. The final weight goal, which will basically be my entry the normal BMI range is set for end of next year. Not a size zero, but a healthy body is what I am aiming for. And yes, the ring is back on my finger.