A day or four

Durga Pujo. Can't be bong without it, can I?

If there is something people in VIT and now IIMS know, its that I can't stay away from Kolkata during the Pujo.   This has come to define me to a certain extent.

Theres a pujo celebrated at my mamarbari in Akrur Dutta Lane, which is over 250 years old. I have been present for each pujo apart from when I was in the 6th standard. You see, that year, my family had decided to go to Goa. The fact that I missed the pujo made me promise myself that I wouldn't, unless absolutely necessary, miss the pujo at my mamarbari.

http://www.telegraphindia.com/1091115/jsp/calcutta/story_11738594.jsp

I am an atheist. Or at least, an agnostic. But however, during these four days every year, I become a believer. Of what, I don't know.

Pujos for most people mean a time to celebrate, socialize and eat cheap but awesomely tasty food. To me, pujo means going to the thakurbari every morning and evening. Morning for arati and pushpanjali, evening just for the arati. Pujo, to me, means staying for four days at my mamarbari in Wellington (Bowbazar area, not New Zealand). Pujo means, to me, a time to look forward to for months.

I still remember the sadness I would feel when I realized that for 2 years, the pujos would be for only 3 days. Then after a gap of 2 years, they were held over 5 days. The joy I had felt was endless.

I would love hearing stories of how the Gods had combined their efforts to create Durga and how she slayed Mahishasur. I would love hearing stories of Ram's invocation of the Goddess by offering to sacrifice his eye instead of a blue lotus.

A lot has changed. Last year, my dean asked me to forget about all this nonsense and focus on being a manager ready to challenge the world. But I can't let go of it. I tried. I don't want to.

Maybe that is why I'll never be a successful manager. Only time will tell.

All I know is that if I'm ever unfortunate enough to miss a Pujo at my mamarbari, I'll have a tough time sleeping at night. Even if its for a day or four.

Music

When I first learnt that I would be coming to Shillong, I was thrilled beyond bits. Firstly, getting into an IIM without any preparation was a feat by itself (at least, I consider it to be). Secondly, Shillong is the rock capital of India. After a dry 6 month spell in Bangalore (in terms of music) where I played the bass a sum total of once, I thought I would get a lot of time to play and get into the music scene.

But, it has been tougher than I expected. Mostly because

1. I am not as good as I thought I was
2. No band wants a bass guitarist who will leave in 2 years
3. I don't have much free time

The third point was so influential that I had to give up practicing.

My fingers have cramped up.

When I think of how fluently I used to play the piano, it hurts me inside to know that I can not play at that level anymore.

I want to play again.

But me being the directionless, goalless excuse that I am, I am pretty sure I won't.

But sometimes just thinking about it helps me to escape to this wonderful place.

As Lennon and if I'm not mistaken Ozzy once said, "you may say that I'm a dreamer"

I am a dreamer. And I know being a dreamer I will not do anything concrete about it.

Maybe because both my dad and my granddad were musicians, but only as a second profession. I can't seem to muster up the cahoneys I need to take it up as my first.

People like Gokul and Cherry, I envy them.

I am such an idiot.

Credits

Firstly, I would like to thank the greatbong Arnab Ray for inspiring the name of the blog.


Secondly, I would like to thank the great Bihari or was it Jharkhandi who knows who cares Priyanka Pepe Pandit for trying to prove to me that I am not a Bong on the comparative basis of the beauty of our Bangla Lipi.


Thirdly, I would like to thank all the readers of my previous blog for bearing my nonsense.


Fourthly, I would like to thank all my English teachers (Yes Mr. Ritchie, this includes you educating us about Baywatch and Pamela Anderson Lee's assets and how one should look at them from under the TV) for teaching me English that I took all of 4 months to forget in VITU.


And finally, I would like to thank you for reading this. Not really. I don't even know who you are.


May I be able to, with your best wishes and muttered abuses, unleash my FakeBong fury on you.