A repertoire of festivals & festivities

A repertoire of festivals & festivities

 

Bonfire during Lohri

 

Having spent my childhood cocooned & nestled in the hills in Himachal Pradesh, we were pretty much isolated from the mainstream festivities of the Bengalis living in the plains. During the early seventies, transportation was not as easy as it has become today and to add to this predicament further, we could only descend to the plains below during the months of December to February, when our schools closed for annual vacations. During this period there were hardly any festivities in Bengal, except for the ‘Makar Shankranti’ festival that coincided with the Lohri festivities in North India read Himachal Pradesh. Since our sojourn to the plains usually took place only once in two years, as my late father, being a Government Servant, was entitled for ‘Leave Travel Concession’ for his home town, only twice in a block year of four years. This journey in itself an Herculean effort, as we did honors to almost all kinds of means of transportation available, having started our initial journey by Bus upto Kalka and from thence by train i.e. the famous Kalka-Howrah Mail, a travail of three days & two nights, which culminated in Air travel from Calcutta (as it was known in those bygone days) to Agartala and final stretch by Bus/shared Taxi. Thus, as we mostly stayed put in Himachal and enjoyed the fervor & pitch of the local festivities, rather than that of our own kinsmen.

 

Being snow clad during the winter months, with heavy woolens as compulsory companions, the festival of Lohri was enjoyed with much pomp & show during the month of January every year. The local lads would gather together during the evenings of the days preceding the festival day and move from house to house, singing in chorus or more appropriately a cacophony, of a song dedicated for the occasion, which started and sounded as – “Sundri, Mundri ho! Tera kya byahaya ho!........”. This cacophony would continue till such time that the master of the house would make some monetary offering to them and in those days a 25 np offering was considered a handsome amount. The children would then add up all the collections and go to the market to buy the necessary condiments for the festival i.e.Mungphali (Peanuts), puffed maize (something like pop-corns) and Rewris (confectionary made of raw sugar (gur) coated with til/sesame seeds). Since the other main ingredient i.e. fire wood, was available in plenty and free of cost, these children would collect the same from the nearby woods and build a huge fire in the evening and celebrate Lohri by tossing in a few of the condiments and consuming the remaining to their hearts content. 

 

Juxtaposed to this, the festival of ‘Makar Shankranti’ that is celebrated in Bengal, here the celebrations started very early in the morning, the children and adult alike would get up much before sunrise and take a bath. Thereafter, they would all proceed to the grounds where the children & young men would have constructed a straw hut, which would be set alight just before sunrise. This ritual was said to be indicative of end of winter solstice and harbinger of the spring season. The day of rejoicing would continue with ladies of the house engaged in preparation of various sweet meats called as Pitha & Puli, which were essentially made of rice powder, Coconut & sugar derivatives including raw sugar extracted from the Palm trees called locally as Nalen/Patali Gur. We all had a blast eating the sweet meats to our hearts content. These were the only festivals which I had a chance of experience first hand during the yesteryears.

 

Saraswati Puja in Himachal Pradesh during 1960's

 

Saraswati Puja celebrations at present

 

The next festivity that comes to mind is Basant Panchami & Saraswati Puja. As there were very few Bengalis in our township, yet the community got together to celebrate the festival. Due to lack of artisans & proximity from Bengal, the idol required for worship was not available in its clay form idol as is used in Bengal, but our parents did the honors by installing a cardboard painted image of Goddess Saraswati, praying for our prosperity & dexterity with the pen & the knowledge of books.   Next to this Bengali festival, came the joyous festival of colors or Holi, which was celebrated with much pomp & fervor. Although by the time this festival arrived in Himachal, the nip of extremely cold air would all but have disappeared from the air, yet it was not all that warm enough, so as to afford us the luxury of playing Holi with water colors. Thus, the Holi essentially was restricted to use of dry Gulal (natural colors), rather than water colors as has become the norm of the plains in North India at present. Being a small township, where most people knew each other, more or less, the day would begin with people gathering on street corners and from thereon proceed to houses of all known families, where we would exchange colors & pleasantries. However, the main interest of children like us was to gorge in as many sweet meats that were made available to us. Thus, this festival has remained etched in my memory as one of my favorite childhood festivals.

Children smeared in colours during Holi

 

There were no other festivities during the summer season and just after the monsoons started abating, first came the local fair/mela, which was an annual event that we all looked forwarded to. Being a small nondescript Cantonment area, we were not exposed to the new toys & other smaller products that the children staying in the cities & towns in the plains were privy to, thus, we children especially looked forward to this fair to buy a few new products etc. (read toys). The fair also hosted, at times, moving Zoo wherein we could watch the dancing bears, Lions & tigers in small cages, alongwith few deformed creatures and the motorcycle in the well stunt was the main attraction. But the event we kids looked forward to was the local ‘Dangal’ (Wrestling tournament), which carried a prize money as trophy and wrestlers, both known & unknown, came from the nearby villages to try their skills & luck to win the coveted prize money. Huge bodied, pot belied, lanky, tall, short, squat etc., that is in short, men of all connotations & descriptions, attired in miniscule langots (a kind of undergarment) and with mud from the arena smeared all over their bodies. There were several rounds of wrestling bouts amongst the contenders, with the drummers (read ‘Dholki-wallahs’) moving around the mud pit (‘Akhara’) beating up a crescendo and the commentator eulogizing the credentials of the participating contenders and also simultaneously describing the various postures being adopted by the contenders. The sound of the beating drums alongwith the announcements being made over the loudspeakers would reverberate across the valley.

 

Shortly, after this annual fair, the township would celebrate the joyous occasion of birth of Lord Krishna, known locally as ‘Janamasthami’. This event was celebrated with much pomp and show, with various temples and institutions jumping into the fray of creating illuminated shows depicting birth of Lord Krishna. As the availability of coloured illumination, through display of an array of coloured lights was a rare sight in those days, we would accompany our parents to as many venues as possible, just to witness these displays, which appeared nothing short of spectacular to us.

 

Heads of Ravana being readied for Dusshera

 

The next festival that invokes very sweet memories of yesteryears is the festival ofDusshera. This festival remains etched my memory because of the sheer pleasure of pomp & show that I enjoyed therein. A few days ahead of the festival, the daily rendition of Ramyana through staging of Ramlilas as stage shows, was an event we looked forward to eagerly. As I have already informed that the place was a Cantonment area and thus, there was strict vigil on entry & exit of persons etc. and this resulted in lack of permission for mass public gatherings. The festival of Dusshera, which is known for the culmination in death of Ravana and consequential traditional depiction of the same by burning of effigies, was held at a small hamlet about 4 Kms. downhill. It was an annual pilgrimage for us and my earliest remembrance of the event was that we all, accompanied with our family friends, would trudge downhill to this small hamlet. Wherein the area staging the event got even more constricted and at times got so congested with the crowd of people that I almost got claustrophobic, until I would be lifted on to the shoulders to watch the demise of Ravana by the hands of Lord Rama. As I was afraid of sounds emitted by fire-crackers, this part was not all that special for me and my favorite part came thereafter. After the demise of Ravana, we all started our trudge back uphill towards our home. My father would purchase about 2 odd Kilos of piping hot Jalebis (a kind of sweetmeat), packed in two large paper carry bags. We would consume one such packet on our way back while trudging uphill, piggyback riding my father & his friends (usually from the Armed forces) and the remaining would be consumed at home alongwith piping hot pakoras & tea, whence we returned home. With the weather taking a downturn towards the colder winter days ahead, this journey was almost like a pilgrimage for me.  This joyous occassion is also celebrated asDurga Puja by the Bengalis with much fanfare and runs over several days.  However, since the number of Bengali families residing in this small township were very few, one could not manage to perform the Durga Puja, but the festivity was remembered and celebrated in form of a community lunch organized and prepared by them as Vijaya Dashami.

 

Community lunch being organized in 1960's on occassion of Vijaya Dashami in Kasauli

 

Present day Durga Puja celebrations

 

Closely followed by the Dusshera, came the ‘festival of lights’ called Diwali, which was celebrated as the joyous occasion of return of Lord Rama to his Kingdom in Ayodhya after defeating Ravana.   As I have already placed on record that I was much afraid of the sound generated by fire-crackers I despised this festival, except for the fact that it brought in loads of sweet-meat & candies of many sizes & shapes, which I devoured over the days succeeding the event. However, the scenic beauty generated by the series of burning candles, placed in rows on the long wooden verandahs, against the backdrop of dark looming valley, speckled with dots of lighting scattered here & there, was a true visual treat which can not be described or perceived through words and is to be seen to be believed. During this particular festivity, the Bengalis celebrate the festival of Kali Puja, which is another joyous occasion, with the actual puja being performed at around mid-night. Although, it may not appear to be very appeasing for the taste of some sects of our society, yet this Puja is marked with appeasement of theGoddess Kali, with animal sacrifices and these offerings being made are cooked into a Prasad and distributed amongst the devotees. Bengalis are known for their affinity for non-vegetarian food and thus, this festival is a favourite of many including me.

 

The festival of lights - Diwali

 

The festival of lights - Diwali being celebrated in Kasauli in 1960's

 

Kali Puja being performed on the night of Diwali
 

            The end of season came with the advent of Christmas and we having studied in a Convent School, would trudge through the snow to greet the Sisters in the Convent, who stayed back during the winter vacations for the occasion, during those years when we did not visit our native state. We would be fed with copious amounts of ‘Plum Cake’ by the Sisters and on our way back, we would also make it a point to meet the local Pastor, who would give us beautiful Christmas Cards, which we kept as treasured collections for years to come. 

 

All clad in snow - Kasauli church - harbinger of Christmas

 

Life at a nondescript place, in a erstwhile remote hill state, during the early seventies, may seem to be lackluster for many, but these repertoire of festivals which we enjoyed, as being our own, shall for ever linger in my memories, ‘Cultural unity amongst diversity’ in its truest sense & meaning.

(The black & white photographs are courtesy my father's collection - Late Sh. J.N. Roy Biswas)

© S Roy Biswas., all rights reserved.

THE OFFICERS’ HELL HOLE

 During my extended years of service and the compounded experience gained by me viz a viz Public Servants (read Government Servants), I have come across many such incidents, which can be compiled into an anthology of bureaucratic gaffes. However, the time is not as yet ripe to either disclose or publish them, as they can still adversely affect my career in the service.

 

            But one of my recent experiences has been so pathetic that without naming the organization, I am compelled to share this with the viewers of my blog. The organization I am working for, is one of those run down bodies, which are manned by some people (read Officers) who remain stationed in the same organization throughout their tenures. With the passage of time the so called officers have developed such bloated egos & ethos that one has to experience them first hand to understand the apathy displayed by them, just to affirm their status as an Officer. The organization I am referring to occupies a block or part of a huge Institution, with adequate public facilities available all around the huge complex.

 

However, on the very first day that I joined this organization, I was duly informed of the placement & location of the said officer’s loo, being an officer having newly joined this elite club.   The loo was placed adjacent to the room of the top ranking officer of the organization and it was the prerogative of the officers only to utilize its services. Having been duly informed of the norms in vogue, I too joined the bandwagon and arrived at the loo to relieve myself. But to my utter dismay, I had to beat a hasty retreat as soon as I entered this ‘hell hole’, because of the gut wrenching nauseating odour emanating from the most filthy & stained interiors. The other public utility, maintained in the complex, is barely ten yards from the hell hole and I immediately moved over to this facility and have thence been using it. However, all the officers who belong to the cadre are not only keen but also make it a point only to relieve themselves in this particular hell hole only, even if they have to wait for this in a queue. At times, I just ponder as to whether this practice has emanated from the fact that since the ‘Head of the Office’ puts in his efforts therein, that all the others ‘Officers’ have also follow suit/the leader or else is it that in order to establish the fact of being an ‘Officer’, that they have to use this facility only, despite all the odds one has to face to enter this ‘hell hole’.

 

Waiting from your lucid comments to enlighten me.

© S Roy Biswas., all rights reserved.

A walking corpse?

Samuel is my childhood friend and presently employed with the merchant navy. Trisha was his daughter and stayed in our neighborhood with her mother Patricia & older brother Abraham, as her father was out for his maritime assignments most of the time.   Although staying in one of the port towns or cities would have been more preferable for the Samuel family, but considering Trisha’s congenital asthmatic problem and on advice of their family doctor, instead of leaving her all alone in some hostel in a far off hill station, her family preferred to move lock stock and barrel to the Mussourie, as it housed a few renowned Schools. As I was also employed with one of the big hotel chains and posted in Mussourie itself, I was entrusted the additional burden of being the local guardian of Samuel’s family. Accordingly, I would visit their home almost every day while going back to my cottage which was housed on a vintage ridge above the township. 

 

            Since presence of Samuel was almost negligible, the kids got very attached to me with passage of time and Trisha particularly became very much attached to me and would wait for me eagerly every day to narrate the happenings in her School & class room during the passage of the day. I would sometimes help out with her homework whenever her mother was running some household errand. Days passed by and slowly Trisha started growing into a wild boisterous girl who would participate in all kinds of cultural activities that were happening in her school, even at the cost of neglecting her studies at times. Trisha’s character was totally juxtaposed to that of her bother Abraham, who was a quiet & studious boy unlike her. As days passed by, her mother was getting more and more anxious by the day, because of her lack of application towards studies and Trisha was at the receiving end of her mother’s verbal lashes almost on daily basis. The last straw on back of the proverbial Camel was broken, the day when Trisha flunked her class 4^th final examination and all hell let loose in their household, with Trisha being severely scolded and reprimanded by her mother. When I visited their house that day in the evening, during late November and their School was also scheduled to be closed for the winter season, I found their house uncommonly quiet. Having entered the house, Patricia poured out her woes to me about how stubborn Trisha had got over the years and that despite umpteen attempts by her she had failed to mend her ways. I pacified her telling that every child was special and that one should look for the hidden talent in every child and hone it, instead of pressurizing a child to abide by the books. Having assured her of the fact that I would talk to Trisha in this regard, I called her name aloud. However, there was no response and when I enquired from Patricia about Trisha’s whereabouts, she was also taken aback, since she herself had also not seen Trisha after that morning session, when she had rebuked Trisha. Suddenly, the aggressiveness in Patricia’s attitude gave way to that of concern and she started looking for Trisha in the various rooms of the house and thereafter in the lawns outside as well as the store room at the other end of the lawn which was Trisha’s favorite hideout. But despite a thorough search all around in the house, Trisha could not be located and being late in the evening the entire valley had by then been engulfed in darkness and chilly winds had started sweeping across the valley. Suddenly a pall of gloom set over the Samuel household.

 

            The search for Trisha continued throughout the night, but to no avail and in the morning the local police authorities were informed of the fact of disappearance of Trisha after she could not be located even at any of her friend’s place or the School. Gradually hours passed by but there was no trace of Trisha, having got the message, Samuel too had flown in from the Mumbai port, but all our efforts were in vain. Since Samuel had to leave in a hurry because of his prior official commitments, he specifically sought my help to assist his family in this hour of need. After almost five days had passed since Trisha’s disappearance, a rumor started circulating amongst some locals regarding the sighting of a little girl in the vicinity of the house of Sir Everest, which was a very unlikely & distant place for a little girl of such tender age to have traveled to. But despite all kinds of logic, Patricia decided to recee around the area and accordingly we moved to the locality and housed ourselves in one of the small villages around. Next morning while traversing a narrow hill road running parallel to the jungle area I suddenly heard a giggling sound akin to that of Trisha and I stood rooted to the ground waiting to hear and locate the sound. But strangely, Patricia who was just behind me did not hear anything and on her insistence, I again visited the area alone. To my utter surprise I heard the same unmistakable giggling sound again and this time I caught a glimpse of her bright red skirt too and followed in the direction where she had gone. Suddenly I was greeted with a sight which I could not fathom in my wildest dreams, Trisha was standing on the edge of the ridge giggling and her voice was unmistakable but her face was a pale shade of her usual self and ashen. After being dumbfounded for an instant, I asked Trisha sternly as to what she was doing here in the wilderness, but she just giggled back and started running along the ridge dangerously and I lost her in a few minutes and had to retract back to the village. This sudden development of events had rattled me badly and when I went back to the village I developed chills & rigors accompanied with very high grade fever. Incoherently I was describing what had happened and the Villagers called the local headmen and the Priest who immediately embarked upon some rituals with sprinkling of water and burning of dry chilies and other condiments accompanied with chanting & mumbling of some ritualistic connotations. I had recovered sufficiently by late evening and narrated the incident to Patricia with the villagers in attendance. The Village Priest requested us to perform some rituals, as according to them the soul of Trisha had got entrapped in her earthly body and he advised us that the earlier we leave it would be better for both the family and Trisha as Trisha’s soul which was yearning for her near & dear ones would gradually leave her earthly body for the eternal journey or else she would follow us back home which would brook bad omen for the entire family.

 

            Being a loving mother and with the weight of her daughter’s disappearance being tagged to her outburst, Patricia could not over come the guilt feeling, she trashed the locals and decided to seek Trisha all by herself. The villagers had distanced themselves from us fearing the worst and I had no other alternative but to trudge back to the spot. When we reached the particular desolate spot Patricia started calling aloud for Trisha and wailing simultaneously begging for forgiveness and behold Trisha appeared from the ridge where she had disappeared the previous day. Although now she appeared all the more paler, Trisha started speaking in monosyllables and told her mother that after getting the scolding from her she had consumed some pesticide kept in their house and run away to the jungles to meet God, but was still waiting to meet him as every time he came to take her back to Heaven she felt tied down. Gathering my wits, I held her hand and found it to be very cold & wax like and parts of skin were coming off, presuming this to be effect of the Pesticide, we rushed back carrying her and found that all the villagers had by then shut their houses and even bolted the windows from inside. But strange happenings started all around as soon we had brought Trisha out of the jungle area, suddenly all the electricity bulbs in the village area started flickering without any rhyme or reason. Thereafter, while on way back to the cottage, the vehicle which had been hired by us at exorbitant rates, first refused to get started and thereafter just as we were getting past the jungle pathway, the entire roof of the Jeep got blown away in a freak manner as if torn off like a piece of paper by some very strong unknown force. This not only unnerved the driver but also had an immense impact on my psyche as well. The driver started chanting the name of the Gods and intermittently would seek their forgiveness for being greedy and having agreed to ferry Trisha.

 

            Having reached the cottage we took Trisha inside and being a small place the news had spread like wild jungle fire and every other local resident had shut his door & bolted their windows to avoid the ill omen. Despite best efforts, we could not locate a Doctor in the vicinity, who could have a look at Trisha due to fear of ill omen. Finally, we were able to convince a Bengali Doctor posted at the local dispensary, who agreed to have a look at Trisha, more out of curiosity rather than for rendering service. He checked her vital statistics but was aghast at what he had recorded and he informed us that he had not encountered anything like this ever before during his entire professional career, as his instruments could not record any readings regarding pulse or heartbeat in Trisha and even her body temperature was recorded as 15° Celsius which was not possible for any living human being and he immediately fled the house scampering, as if he had seen a living ghost. Later I came to know that he too had developed chills & rigors and had to be attended to by another local Priest. During the entire night the electric lamps in the Samuel household continued to constantly flicker, sometimes very vigorously accompanied with strange rumbling noises on the tin roof top. Since no local electrician was willing to come & attend the Samuel household boding ill omen, despite a thorough search I could not locate any electrical or mechanical fault in the entire household. These strange happenings even rattled poor Abraham and finally Patricia was convinced to call in the local Bishop to resolve the matter. 

 

Bishop Francis was a very old and soft soul and as soon as he entered the house the rattling and flickering increased, as he told me later he too felt a chill run down his spine and the more he tried to perform the rituals of chanting verses from the holy Bible, the more intense the cacophony of the ensemble on roof top seemed to increase its tempo. Despite his best efforts, after putting in about an hour or so, finally Bishop Francis informed us that he could do little by himself in such a situation, that it was some kind of Poltergeist activity and that he needed to discuss this with others and he would return the next day. Trisha, meanwhile seemed to be aloof of all the happenings around her kept sitting on Sofa set kept in the corner of the living room which was the favorite couch of her cat called Timber, but the cat and all the stray dogs that used to loiter around their house for snacks from Trisha had all disappeared, as if into thin air, neither to be seen nor heard during the entire night. Gradually as the next morning dawned, the Bishop came in along with some local Pundits who reiterated the advice that had been tendered by the village Priest and advised Patricia that Trisha was dead, except for the fact that her soul could not be liberated, as she could not sever her ties from her near & dear ones and the only remedy was to destroy the body so as to liberate her soul. Thereafter, the debate raged on for hours as to whether Trisha should be buried or burned on a pyre lit akin to Hindu practices. Finally Patricia was convinced by the Bishop & the Priests that the only way that Trisha could live in peace was only if her body was destroyed by fire. In order to ease her guilt feelings, on advice of the Bishop Patricia gave Trisha some sleeping tablets along with fruit juice, which she drank with a knowing smile on her face. As soon as Trisha fell asleep or acted to do so, only God almighty knows the fact, we all sought her forgiveness and requested her soul to depart in peace. As soon as her sleeping body was taken, out all sorts of foul smelling articles & missiles started appearing from thin air, but determined that we were, we went ahead with the advice of the Priests and amidst chanting of Hindu mantras along with recitals from the Bible, Trisha’s body was put to fire and it burned like wax. That was the last of Trisha and her family moved away never to return. Over the years my contact with Samuel has also all but been severed, maybe the memory of their loss as also the strange & weird mannerism, had been too much for his family to have maintained contact with such godforsaken place.    However, even now, at times, while returning late from my sojourn at the Hotel while passing by the cottage, which has remained unoccupied over the years due to the tag of evil omen, I hear a sudden giggling sound but dare not look back.

© S Roy Biswas., all rights reserved.