..A Lost Soul..

It is an uncomfortable stillness that is surrounding me right now, a day into the bench period (my hectic busy project just ended yesterday); I am feeling a little lost. The last time I was like this, I was in Bangalore - restless, awaiting my transfer...before that, a whole bunch of us were in the same situation, so it hadn’t really mattered. Discussions, time pass, pulling legs, lunches, treats, talk talk talk, driving lessons - all had made up for the free time.

I miss a certain friend....we spent many a day just talking; sometimes books - a favourite author of ours, a new movie, comparisons between a Rajnikanth and Amitabh… Our discussions would be so involving to us, that sometimes even our manager would be curious and ask as to what it was that we were both so concerned about. Now, when I turn to my side, to the next cubicle, he is not there - to listen to all my meandering thoughts, to answer my endless questions, to respond to my teasing. He hasn’t been in my adjoining cubicle for quite some time now, since our project ended and he went onsite to USA, and then I shifted to Gurgaon; but now his absence is no longer temporary, there is no impractical, even somewhat forlorn hope that we might again be working together...he is gone forever. He has left us, and this unbelievable shock has left us all in a state of seemingly ceaseless sorrow. I believe he is looking down upon me, and smiling, wanting to give his comments on my current situation; now that he is at a place where he can observe all that goes on down here.
The finality of death is so difficult to accept; it brings with it the yearning for the people who will no longer be with us, laugh with us, it is something that has not even the distant possibility of reversibility, - once you lose someone to death, you cannot ever regain his/her presence. Death leaves behind so many memories, so many words unspoken, so many things inexperienced, so many thoughts unshared…He was a good person; an exceptional human being - everyone loved him, and everyone still does. Another common friend (colleague) still cannot accept his loss; sometimes, he forwards previous mails sent by our dear friend... his words, his mirth, his comments seem to revive this person, lessen the grief, the inescapable loss of a dear one. There are others who chose to mourn and pay tribute to him in their personal ways; some visiting his home in Ooty, some opening his photos, some reading his mails to them over and over and over again, some remembering him in the back of their consciousness whenever some common thing they shared come in front of their eyes, some look at the gifts they got from him, and see his smiling face in front of their teary eyes. He will never come back, but he has left such a powerful impact on our lives that we have all created a memorial for him in our hearts..I have lost a friend, so close being so far, so near to my heart, so understanding… its hard for me to accept his absence; there have been so many things he has helped me with....from the minute technical problems to the major confusions in my professional life...he has been a guide..My first impression of him three years ago was that of a super technical fellow who worked a lot, hard working, serious, silent - that perception changed along our journey together in the same project, when we started interacting due to my endless doubts. He transformed from the silent diligent colleague to a talkative funny smart worker friend, who knew how to finish his work smartly, how to delegate responsibilities, how to pretend that he had a lot of workload, when actually the only time he worked was after the entire team had left.
It might seem that I am demeaning him, his work, but it is not so. Our conversations were always honest and I don’t intend to change that now, no matter how inconsiderate I might seem; and we both had frank open opinions about each other which we always made sure the other knew. I was the one always chatting, mailing, music, writing, even in the middle of a full day of work, while he was the one fooling around, teasing, this and that, chatting (offline), then sitting at his desk, working with some word/pdf/excel documents; the seniors members seemed to notice only that part of his day, (i.e. the work at his system) perhaps, because he always managed to finish his work in time, even if sometimes somewhat imperfectly..He had a fetish for organizing; he could not do something before properly planning and organizing; his To Do lists which I sometimes helped create and execute, his excel sheets with all his personal and financial data... I used to tell him, if that got into wrong hands, he would be in a fix. He would smile and wave his hands in a gesture of nonchalance, indicating his carefree attitude. His plan for the Andamans trip, his trip to USA; last moment and yet everything done perfectly.
All that organizing and he used to call ME a smart worker... managing work, fun, chat, everything at the same time…

On of the most patient people I've known, I miss waiting for him as he was always the last to finish lunch, chewing slowly, every grain of rice a singular delicacy, not wasting much; he use to tell me that some great personality had said, food should be chewed to the extent that you don’t eat it , you drink it. He has told me so many quotes, thoughts of so many great personalities….he was really influenced by the great writers; the author Krishnamoorthy, whose views so matched Ayn Rand's, was his favourite thinker.
So many debates, so many incidents we shared, so many stories we told each other…. he read to me even his father’s notes about writing. His father had written some notes on the skill of prose. He wanted me to understand that, and perhaps use them to improve my blogs. He admired my amateur literary works, but he was frank when it came to negative comments; if he didn’t like it he said it. He was always an encouragement to me…in his absence, his memories continue to do the same…He made me relax when I was tense, always showing me what was the worst that could happen (which usually wasn’t much)…
Sometimes modest (professionally), sometimes proud, always cheerful, always calm; I have never seen him tense in all the time I have known him. He lived life to the fullest, pursued all his interests, without any regrets. He and I used to discuss this all the time; where did our interest lie; was it this software industry where we would be spending our entire professional career? Neither of us wanted to, neither of us were interested enough. He too wasn’t really technically inclined - still we survived and persisted, knowing that a cushier job didn’t exist. He too knew that to leave all this, risk the financial security that this career carries (of course now that is no longer true) was tough….I agreed..However, both of us had come to the conclusion that this job was a means to an end. An end we had to decide, a passion we had to discover, no matter how long it took. In the meanwhile, this job is there - a comfort, a way to justify the education of engineering, a way to allow extortionate spending on electronics, clothes, dinners, gifts, trips….., but all the while, the restlessness should not cease, we should continuously be searching, pondering, discovering ourselves in the process. I hope I continue doing that.I have seen him restless many a time, sometimes for days at stretch, because of the monotony around him. He would be disinterested in the work, somewhat dull, as if some deep battles were going on within the mazes of his mind. We’d have a hearty discussion on the state of our lives, the careers, the endless tedium of routine, the same people, the same team and then sometimes, we’d frame some things to do to change things. I usually didn’t go through with them, but we certainly felt better after pinpointing some actions to do.

Once the project closed, we both had the anticipation of new beginnings, and yet we were sad. Good changes always bring unwanted adjustments along with them. Projects changed, locations changed…he went onsite; the day he was leaving, he gave me a gift; we were not to meet again (at least in the near future), since I was getting transferred before he retuned. There was a melancholy in that parting; the moments we spent, sitting next to each other in adjoining cubicles, not having to move anywhere to speak out your feelings to someone who understood and empathized… they had come to an end….

He left, and after some months I got transferred; we still kept in touch, like we had when I was onsite in Beijing(for 10 days) - mails, chat. He occasionally told me, he missed the fact that when he wanted to share something with me, I wasn’t sitting in the next cubicle. I missed that too, but I never told him the same…now I never can. When I got to know about the tragedy, I was sitting in office, lots of work pending for the day; I was shell shocked and didn’t know what to do. I sat there, staring at the mails, silent - I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t move, I didn’t know who to contact, I just had to get out of there. My throat got dry, I was mentally frozen; another friend who knew the person called me up; she was upset, and somehow that broke my unnatural state. I spoke to her, but words were limited…a current colleague passed by my desk, with a common joke; I somehow managed to tell him to please not start any joke; a dear friend had passed away….Another five minutes, I just sat there, robotically trying to get some work done. I asked a friend to drop me home. As I left, I told that previously passer-by colleague that I was leaving, to please tell the others; I broke down…From that instant, and for the next couple of hours or so, the tears just wouldn’t stop. His face kept flashing in front of my eyes, his smile, his voice; the harsh realization that I was never to see or hear him again was unbearable. I could not stand the loss - I had so much to say, discuss with him, so many things I needed to tell him; they would remain unsaid forever… For me the grief was overwhelming. I felt guilty smiling or laughing; that would mean I wasn’t mourning him. I felt that I couldn’t forget the tragedy, because that would mean I was forgetting him. However, now I know that the tragedy isn’t the only way of remembering him. There are better memories of him to cherish - of happy times, of funny jokes, of silly teasing, of serious thoughts. At that time, everything felt unreal. Time heals everything it is said; time is healing the wound, but he remains in my consciousness. I want him to always exist there, to give direction to my thoughts, to give clarity to my dilemmas. I wish I could be sure of a heaven, then I’d be happy that there was a second chance of meeting him again.
At this point of time, the only gladness I can feel thinking about him is that he lived a full, though unfinished life; he never left any of his desires for the future. If he wanted to do anything, he did it, be it learning karate, tabla, driving or anything else; I am happy for his soul. He has left all of us, to a distant world, where I hope he is enjoying as much as he did here; he is in a better place, then why do we mourn him? Because his absence has left a void in all of our hearts. The circumstances of his death will always distress me; I hope he did not feel much pain. It aches to imagine his cheery self in agony…I hope it was all over before he knew it..

Death brings one so much closer to life. His leaving us, made me realise how every moment is a gift - you never know when the next moment is the last. I still regret that the last time he pinged me, I was busy in office and couldn’t chat; I wish I had taken out the time. Now, as I am left with nothing more to say, the thoughts just swirling around the same face, the same smile, I pray for his family; I hope they have the strength to accept the stark reality. I can almost feel that Senthil is looking up from above, reading this, smiling and saying…. “Chalo yaar”..

So Many Words Left Unsaid..

This post is dedicated to my friend, philosopher, guide, Senthil Kumar Mahalingam, who had been an avid reader of my lengthy blogs, who read each line patiently, noticing minute details, commenting on each and every post he read.

This piece took a long time to be penned down, and as usual, he kept asking me if I had finished writing it; even though I had shifted cities, we kept in touch regularly. So finally, I sent him however much I had written, incomplete and full of type errors. He cleaned it all up for me, and sent it back to me, along with comments because as he said “I cannot wait until you post it”.

A few days later, he passed away in a tragic accident.

He sent me back the post on a Tuesday if I remember correctly, after which he pinged me on Gtalk, but the busy bee I was those days, I told him we’d talk later; he agreed.
A day later I replied to his mail but I didn’t get a reply, which was odd but I really didn’t get much time to think about that. Come Monday, I shot off another mail, asking if he was very busy these days. No reply and yet I thought, maybe he had gone home. Wednesday, I received the news that the previous Friday, he had met with an accident and died on the way to hospital, but nobody had come to know until Tuesday; I couldn’t believe it, I still thought it was a very distasteful joke he was playing.

It wasn’t.

The news has sunk in finally, but the mind refuses to accept the finality of death; I didn’t realize how much he mattered to me, my musings, until I lost him, his thoughts, his suggestions, his advice.

The post below is only slightly changed from the cleaned version he had sent back; it is incomplete, as was his life, and so I have left it. An unfinished existence, who will always remain in my consciousness, whenever I write something, whenever I need guidance at work, whenever I like some book, music, Senthil.....you have left imprints in my life, mind and heart…………..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Its 10:20 am on a Monday morning and here I am sitting at my office desk, sipping bad machine coffee, earphones of my I-Pod locked into my ears, listening to a random list of endless songs. Having finished checking the weekend mail and playing my share of minesweeper…I am wondering what next to do…

My team members haven’t come yet, all mostly coming between 10 to 11am. After 3 weeks of joining here in Gurgaon, today, I am experiencing the familiar feeling of being relatively free.... yet.

I look around me and think how sometimes, things change so soon, while sometimes, things remain the same for years together…

I had been working in Bangalore for the past 3 years, same company as now and in the same project for the past two years; rather two and a half years. The project had gotten stagnant, with no scope for growth, no onsite assignments, no much challenges; it was a relatively easy-going project, with twenty members, all doing work which, we sometimes felt, even a school going kid could do, given a few days of training. Of course, that’s mostly true for a lot of work done in the IT industry, but lets not go there…

Maybe I am being a little harsh now, maybe time has distorted my perception but yes, this much I can say, there was a lot of scope for self learning, which I didn’t utilize. There was ample time, ample opportunities, but rather than advance myself technologically, I took to writing; lengthy winded blogs…about things which had left an impression on my mind… but which to an impartial/neutral observer would not seem to be very important….small temporary sand sculptures, to be washed away by time…

Nevertheless, for me, they were significant enough…

The project had become a sort of comfort zone, with people I had become comfortable with, easy work, easily acquired leaves, holidays with family, trips with friends. I had my fair share of fun while in the team. You see, the advantage of being in a large team is, less responsibility, less accountability, and best part of all, there’s no such work that can be done by one person. I, being a fresher when I joined the project, took full advantage of the circumstances; I have traveled to more places in the last 2 years than most of my colleagues in different demanding projects. Some of these trips were publicized, some hidden, (I lied through my teeth); people who knew about my absences, and the reasons thereof (who didn’t belong to my team) kept wondering, with what I assume a feeling of general envy, as to how I managed to get away with it all..

Luck, coupled with manipulation and scheming, thinking about every distant possibility (no matter how improbable), every question that could be asked, every untruth that could be revealed...

It was after I returned from one such trip, this time publicized, to Allahabad, to attend a friend’s wedding, and also to visit my alma mater, that I was intimated by a friend in the team that something big had happened in the last few days; some shocking news. The same friend had been supposed to travel to client side that same weekend (when I was on leave). The very fact that he hadn’t, put some seeds of doubt in my mind… but I wasn’t sure. Wild assumptions ran in my mind… but I knew for sure only when I ran into a colleague in the lift as I entered office, who said, ’ Hi… can you believe what did ? it is too bad!’.

I asked what happened,

‘Hey you don’t know? closed the project until further notice..!’

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

It was difficult to believe and digest….

When I reached my seat where the whole team sat, the environment was somewhat unnatural….it wasn’t silent and nobody was sitting in trauma or shock; everyone was in fact discussing the recent development. However, I felt an underlying feeling of insecurity.

What next? Why? Besides me, there were other people who were used to this project, and the mere knowledge that the project no longer existed was unnerving…

I was unsure whether I was happy are not; During the later stages of the project, I had grown to realize that if I had to move ahead, I had to either shift from the project, and since that was virtually impossible while the project continued, or change companies..

So maybe a natural death of the project was a boon in disguise, an involuntary change in environment..

I am not naturally inclined to be ambitious, especially in the field I am in, merely because I am not interested enough. I am not interested in coding, getting lost in the intricacies of C++ or Java. I never was; that’s why I was glad I got into testing. it has a lot opportunities and if one is really career oriented, s/he can go places…provided one takes the initiative. I did not do that either.

My plans were half formed; sometimes I was sure I would do MBA, but never prepared thoroughly, and hence did not get through. Maybe I did not want it really. It was just another means to same end - a career with lots of money, but again, in a field, I couldn’t be all that interested in. I sometimes wonder, where is it that my potential lies - few people have told me it is my writing…I don’t know.. I write when I have the inclination. If someone told me, ‘Give me an article of 1000 words about this issue’ (where the issue could be about current affairs, politics - something important in the context of publishability (if that’s a word), I would be lost. I would not know where to start; so what do I do?

But yes I do think, that out of everything I am capable of, writing is the one thing which I think I like best doing. And yet I don’t where to go from there…

Anyway that wasn’t what I was going to talk about…

I was talking about change….after three years in a city that had become my third home; familiar, friendly, despite all the cons - the traffic, the autowallas, and the expenses, to a different place. There, the pros like friends, the weather, the safety, made my stay there, my first flight into independence, a memorable period …

In Gurgaon, the life is different; initially I hated it; but as it is natural, I am getting used to it. The one thing you cannot avoid is the dust. It is everywhere… despite the trees, the place is like a greenish brownish desert…the weather is extreme, the place known to be unsafe, especially for girls; one learns to adjust accordingly…

8PM on a Wednesday. Gosh! I never imagined that I would sit eleven hours at office… and still waiting… now also, I am so annoyed. I am waiting for another person to give me the code, which I have to test, and finally then I get to leave. The waiting is worse than actually working.

Aaarghhhh!!

Life in Gurgaon Aricent… its different. I miss my old office, my old team members, my cafeteria, the fresh tea/coffee every morning at 11 AM or so (depending upon my arrival in office) and every evening at 4 (almost exactly)…never missed a day. The comforts of familiarity, even the cafeteria people, the juice shop person, the tea/coffee person, the dosa counter people – they all seemed to know me (not by name, but by face). I didn’t even get time to say a word to them; the people who made my work hours easier, my hunger and thirst easily conquered. They probably never missed me in that midst of the crowds of employees … and if they did they probably assumed I’ve moved to greener pastures in a different company.

Here, people seem strangers - no one seems to be a known face to me, the offices lack soul. In all probability, its my personal biased illogical opinion, but even so, the simplicity of the offices (the square-like large stoned buildings, each not more than three floors) – a far call from the modernistic glass structures that are the norm for all IT companies in Bangalore, seem rather cold to me. Added to that the scattered nature of the different buildings of the company… there doesn’t seem to be any charm. I guess I can safely say that I am being extremely prejudicial, now that I am using words like ‘charm’ to describe work places.

There (Bangalore) I lived far from office, and yet I had gotten used to the hour long commutes (one hour on the lower side), that too sometimes changing three buses, standing at the bus stops, waiting. Then in the buses – if I was lucky I would get a seat immediately; sometimes later, rarely I didn’t get one at all. Then, the whole roads were mine to observe - the kids going to school, the kids playing at the schools near the roadside, the ladies carrying baskets of flowers (sometimes some of them sewed them into garlands while sitting in the buses), the daily laborers, with their tools, on their way to another hard day at work, the IT professionals like me, laptops in shoulder bags, burdened by the weight, moving uncomfortably, struggling to release the load, people with folders in their hands, the first page displaying their names, qualifications – resumes; they looked to be going for interviews. All of these people, I observed them… not gaining anything, not interacting with them… yet seeing something in each. I guess now that I try to put it into words, I find it inexplicable, why I liked to see everyone around me. But I loved to watch the crowd; each person with a different aim, a different story, a different expression on his/her face, a different place to go to….

The variety of lives, not all happy, not all sad, not all rich, not all poor, yet all in the same vehicle… moving to their destinations….

Anyway, here in Gurgaon, office is very near and I travel mostly with a friend, or office cab, and the commute time is negligible. I see people, but in autos which seat two people in front, four plus four people in middle (facing each other) and three people at back, facing outside in the open back of the vehicle, looking at the traffic behind. One cannot observe much, but yes I do save time in transit. Here transportation is a pain; there is almost non-existent public transport - no autos where you and you only are the passenger. Like described above, you shared an auto with thirteen others. Public buses... I have seen a few but I’m not sure how regular they are. So you mostly depend on private transport or office cabs…

The dependence irritates me, as I’m not fond of depending on others. But I strive.. I am thankful that at last a few friends are there who drop me and pick me etc.…

The life here is different…

When I came to Bangalore three years back, there was a huge group of classmates there. But then as it happens with time, only the people who mattered stayed in touch, and in a year or so, we had a substantial group. The amazing part was - some people were batch mates, some were roomies of batch mates, one, a cousin of a batch mate, some friends of batch mates… whatever. We had a nice time - the group remained… people came and went. There were many trips, many treats, many unbelievably mad times….

But good times, like bad, never last…

Gradually, changes started happening. Come 2008 and changes became drastic.... a friend got married, one friend got a long term onsite assignment at United States of America, another got a long term assignment in Singapore, another got transferred to Mumbai... all between Feb and June.

Some other personal changes were also happening in my side and I decided that Bangalore had had its share of me. It was time for change…..

And indeed I think I chose the right time; by June end, Bangalore had become desolate for me - my closest friends had left. A few remained, coaxing me not to move… but I knew it was time. They bemoaned each time I mentioned my transfer. But what had to be done had to be done.
I had always loved the city, but the people had made it special… without them, I would rather be somewhere else where I had people I cared about..

8:45PM: Now he tells me that the build is not possible today, and I can leave. Arghhhhh
A quote from my favourite comic strip Calvin & Hobbes explains how I feel right now, “Life's disappointments are harder to take when you don't know any swear words”. I wish I could scream in anger… Haha that would vent it out…I think I am writing all sorts of nonsense….so I’ll stop.

10:24 AM on a Monday morning - a Monday morning after a week at home; home as in Shillong, and I am feeling miserable, missing the last week.
With the advent of low cost flights, the transition from heaven at home to hell at office, doesn’t take too long. When I was in college, from the point I left home, somewhere about one to one thirty in the afternoon, till the time I reached Allahabad, there was a gap of about forty eight hours. This included the overnight stay in Guwahati and the train journey to Allahabad, which never got delayed when going, but invariably always got delayed when coming back home. Additionally, there were friends who also traveled together, so we got used to the impending change by the time we arrived in college. Also, that was college and usually the start of a session; so one generally looked forward to the semester…

But here, in work life, well what is there to really look forward to? Previously in Bangalore, I had gotten used to my team, and although that time too I was miserable, it was not so bad once I got back. Now, well, I was still in the process of getting used to this office in Gurgaon, and this trip has become a severe setback.

Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to share..

The trip back home, after a year; last year too I went during Dussehra. Although after that, I did meet my parents several times, but not at home. Those trips I mentioned earlier – there.

Going home is always a different feeling – the place you grew up in, the streets you walked through to go to school, to just get to a taxi (Shillong being a hilly place, several areas are such where public transport is not available and one has to walk to reach a place where the same is available), the shops with their owners growing older day, the ‘Chanachur’ (local equivalent of Bhelpuri) vendor, who has been selling the same spicy mixture at the same locality for as long as I can remember, my home, the feeling of sitting with a hot water bag beneath my cold feet, TV remote in hand, or a novel, my parents always around, sometimes arguing (mostly), complaining about each other to myself or my brother..:), and then, finally the Durga Pujas - the four days of festivities that bring together, not only families, but communities, localities, colonies…

There is the general perception, that Durga Pujas are celebrated only in West Bengal, mainly Kolkata; Bengalis come only from Kolkata. Most people don’t know that there are a large population of Bengalis living in other parts of the East, mostly Shillong, Assam, Tripura, and other states of the North East. There too, the Durga Pujas are celebrated with as much fervour, as in West Bengal, maybe not in as grand a scale, but in proportion to (and considering) the populace of Bengalis in that place, excellently.

Born and brought up in Shillong, I have almost always celebrated the Pujas there, and the times I was someplace else, I missed Shillong terribly during those four days…

Durga Pujas, to a non-Bengali (and many Bengalis too), is a religious event - the worship of the Durga Goddess. But to us in Shillong, it is more of a social festival, a culmination of many days of organization, arrangements, and events; the Pujas might happen for five days, counting “Shashti” (literally means ‘Sixth Day’ but actually is the day before the actual start of festivities) and “Dashami” (literally means ‘Tenth Day’ but actually is the day after the actual Pujas), but the work behind it starts from months before – meetings, planning, collection of funds, sponsors, and hundred other assorted jobs. It’s not an easy job, but people in our colony have been doing it for seventy three years - people changed, the crowd changed, the sponsors might have changed, but the Goddess remained, every year at the same place, the mini field of the Laitumkhrah Bengali Girls High School, Upper New Colony. The school has always been the venue, with some of its classrooms used as storerooms, a hall used as space for Prasad bitoron (distribution and/or serving of the lunch Prasad for all who wished to eat).

I am not a religious person by nature - I guess I am agnostic; but I look forward to the Pujas as much as all others, because that is a time to spend with family, sitting in our colony’s pandal, looking around at the kids playing with their small guns, running around, screaming in general, the dhaak (large percussion instrument) playing on and off, shouting to each other during the playing, feeling an unnatural silence, when the musicians stopped playing, the competitions like Quiz, Musical Chairs going on, the aura of light in the pedestal where the idols were placed in their magnificence. Durga, the conquered Asura, Lakshmi and Saraswati at her sides, followed by Ganesh and Kartik at their respective sides; Durga Puja is not only about Durga Goddess, it is a Pujas of other Gods too -wealth, knowledge, success, and war…

There are so many aspects in the worship of Durga during these four days; I would not be able to say much given that I am not into idol worship as such. But for most people, especially ladies, every ritual has a meaning, a significance, which has to be performed in a particular way and no other way. All I can say is that, standing in front of the beautiful idol(s), Durga, with the most divinely benevolent, at the same time, fierce expression on her face as she destroys the Asura, the dhaak playing continuously, loud yet inevitably suiting the place, the incense creating a sweet sense of beauty; I can only be awed. This is how it can only be… all of this…or none of it; one cannot worship the Goddess with lesser. Many people spend all day in the pedestal, arranging things - the incense, the prasad, the lamps, the flowers, the fruits, while some sit below, just looking at the Gods; as if just looking at Durga’s idol would suffice for their devotion. I don’t pay that much attention; but that first glance at Durga, on Shasti, or Saptami, all decorated, all powerful, magnificent in her opulence, her 10 hands holding weapons as well as other things (which I do not recall, rather I do not know), I feel …at peace.. as if in her aura, there is strength, I am unable to describe the feeling….I think it is contentment, mingled with awe.

In our colony, nowadays, the celebrations start from quite before the actual Pujas, a lot of cultural competitions – Yes, Bengalis and culture are inseparable. Singing competitions; it doesn’t stop just at that.. Nazrul geeti, Rabindra Sangeet, lok geeti (Kazi Nazrul Islam’s songs, Rabindranath Tagore’s music, folk songs) — competitions for different categories for different age groups, dance completions (these also have categories but I can’t recall), Elocution, (Bengali, English) again with categories for different age groups, - these all are conducted before, (I guess in the school itself) in progression before the Pujas.

Then comes Shashti, the day Durga arrives in her vehicle, (hypothetically); our house is located at such a distance and position from the pandal that, if one stands outside when the dhaakiyas (musicians who play the dhaak) start playing their drums, heralding the welcome of Durga this year, one can see her face while she is being carried to the pandal. We used to do that when we were kids; Come evening; we couldn’t wait to put on our new or almost new apparel (depending on the number of new garments one had been gifted from relatives) and stroll to the pandal to offer our first prayers to Durga, to see the Shasti puja, the finished pandal, the decorations and the cultural functions.

The pujas in our colony have been the same for as long back as I remember; the structure, the arrangements etc. As one enters the gate of the school, and walks down the steps of the school, one can start seeing acquaintances… people of the colony, down there. The first glimpse of the pandal - the mostly maroon cloth, with decorations in white, some steps then a landing where some stalls are being arranged for tea, coffee, snacks, etc. Further down is the actual pandal; the moment one enters, one can see the idols far ahead at the other end. The space between is occupied by chairs and the stage at the other (near) end of the pandal; i.e. imagine if you can a rectangle with the shorter ends containing the gods at one side and the stage at the other…people switching from one to the other side…according to the activities taking place..”

This was Senthil’s comment:
“Few comments - I cannot wait till you post it.

You are almost killing IT professional's dignity. Is it not a dignified job for some dignified people like me? :-)
Try to squeeze out every juice IT job has to offer... before OBAMA's foreign policy come into action or 2nd great economic depression. Save and make good money for the rainy days ahead.

[I look around me and think how sometimes, things change so soon, while sometimes, things remain the same for years together…]
Just a closer of a project has changed much... Imagine someone offering us pink slips.... [my friend was offered recently]. We might get lost in the intricacies of "CHANGE++"... advanced version of change !

[Traveled to most places....some hidden, (I lied through my teeth);]
Hmm... I knew it. You lied in ESS as well

[But for most people, especially ladies, every ritual has a meaning, a significance, which has to be performed in a particular way and no other way. All I can say is that, standing in front of the beautiful idol(s), Durga, with the most divinely benevolent, at the same time, fierce expression on her face as she destroys the asura, the Dhaak playing continuously, loud yet inevitably suiting the place, the incense creating a sweet sense of beauty; I can only be awed. This is how it can only be… all of this.. or none of it.. One cannot worship the Goddess with lesser.. Many people spend all day in the pedestal, arranging things… the incense, the prasad, the lamps, the flowers, the fruits, while some sit below; just looking, at the Gods; as if just looking at Durga’s idol would suffice for their devotion. I don’t pay that much attention; but that first glance at Durga, on Shasti, or Saptami, all decorated, all powerful, magnificent in her opulence, her 10 hands holding weans as well as other things (which I do not recall. Rater I do not know)… I feel …at peace... as if in her aura, there is strength, I am unable to describe the feeling….I think it is contentment, mingled with awe….]

Above is very nice paragraph..."