Come, September. No, Im not referring to the famous Rock Hudson, Gina Lolobrigida starrer. Im referring to a time every Bengali, by birth or by association looks forward to. It is after all a time of anticipation. It’s a time best described by one of my favorite authors, A. A. Milne.
“Well,” said Pooh, “what I like best,” and then he had to stop and think. Because although Eating Honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn’t know what it was called.”
But, unlike our inimitable Winnie, we do know what this time is called. Every Bengali knows, the moment we are done with welcoming the son, the first born, it is not long before we will welcome the Mother. Im, of course, referring to Ma Durga, and the run up to Durga Puja.
Its September already, and in a fortnight or so, we will be revering Lord Vishwakarma. The Mahabharata describes him as the Lord of the arts. He’s the son of Brahma, the apex God of Hinduism, and is often described as the architect’s architect. Within a bit more than a fortnight will be Vishwakarma Puja, without which the engines that drive the Bengali economy will fall silent.
Its also in this period that, in a certain dingy serpentine lane in North Calcutta, Kumartuli, work is reaching a crescendo. There’s order emerging amidst the chaos as idol after idol is being dispatched to places far and near. From Mumbai to Delhi, from the US to New Zealand, from London to Singapore, you have a piece of Kumartuli almost anywhere you care to search during this festival time.
And how long is Kumartuli been in business? Well, frankly not many who live there now, know. But The Bengal Journal of 1707 does give an account of the kumars (the potters) who apparently drifted from Krishnanagar in Nadia district in the late 17th century to Gobindapur and then Sootanuti (two of the three villages that ultimately turned out to be Kolkata), and occupied some 75 acres of land on which they eked out a living.
If you go there now, the place is humming with activity 24×7. On the eve of Durga Puja , there isn’t a second to spare. The place is abuzz with potters, brush in hand, giving the finishing touches to the rotund paunch of Ganesha, or working on an endless array of goddesses — Durga, Lakshmi, Saraswati — all waiting for their heads to be fitted in place. Take half a turn to the right, and the frozen roar of a lion will make you gasp. And there, inside the potter’s studio, you will find a rather handsome Lord Vishwakarma, sitting high on a shelf, for the paint to dry, waiting for his turn, with a smirk on his face, knowing that its his turn first.
He’s the God of deadlines, as he is the mark on which the tailors have to finish their stitching, boutiques have to deliver their last orders, the odd job contractor will have to deliver as many renovations he can finish, as the daily labourer will finally get an idea of how much money he can spare for his family to spend this Durga Puja.
Its also the time when all shopping has to be completed by, those projects have to be turned in, all holidays have to be booked by, and the final spring cleaning has to finish to ready the home for the daughter.
For it is the time that the daughter is coming home.
And “ei bare didi’r haathe kintu ekkebaare shomoye nei, Mahalaya’r aage blouse ta baniye ditei hobe” !!!
So are your deadlines met, yet?
