A Page From The Fashionista's Durga Puja Diary

Hey! Check out her sari, S whispered in my ear. The lady who glided into the hall was wearing the lightest blue silk with a rich gold border, skinny gold bangles, and an antique brushed gold pendent on a thin chain. Stilettos and silky hair hanging loose finished the look, and naturally we were envious.

We women tend to check out what other women wear…. more than the men folk! And in Indian ethnic attire there is this fine line between gorgeous and omg gaudy.

Hey! One more nudge and a whisper. The prom queen came in now, a fuchsia pink sari with black and gold border, tons of heavy gold bangles on her wrist (I am rich and belong to the 18th century) a thick necklace (from where did you get that pretzel?), having a bad hair day (a birdie just finished a nest, need eggs), humongous earrings (hanging lampshades?), red lipstick (my friend is count Dracu from Europe). The art of the bindi was totally destroyed with a huge fuchsia moon plastered on her forehead (the third eye????).

It's totally rewarding and funalicious to watch the puja crowd.

The gentleman wearing a transparent dhoti and a transparent kurta bothered me. ( Future playboy model? Sir, pujas are no place for Tarzan-ism. Hide your assets please.) And also the lady with a huge butterfly clip on her hair that looked like a helicopter ready to buzz off. Nice orange-pink sari, watermelons are meant for the store or your refrigerator.

Wow what liberal use of gold jewelry. We Indians do not win too many golds in the Olympics, but when we wear the stuff we make up for everything. Just keep a piece on; the rest will suffice ten generations to come. Ouch! is that a plastic flower in your hair?.... since when have you become a vase in a motel doorway? Sir, interesting artwork on your shirt (kurta). Do you intend to become a picture in a museum? And why have you wrapped that scarf tenfold around your neck……please please change your decision and stay alive for the puja.... think positive. Is that a salwar kameez (shirt and loose pants for women)?... welcome to Benihana…..

Yeah I know I am  catty.

Bata Shoes And The Speedo Lookalikes

For those of my readers not familiar with the phrase Durga Puja, please read “The Topsy Turvy Calendar”, an August 2008 post. In short, it is the worship of goddess Durga, a colossal occasion for the Bengalis as Christmas is to the Christians; and we celebrate it over a five day period with preparations ranging for weeks.

With Durga Puja at our doorsteps, dinner talk usually involves reminiscing about our childhood. The evening temperatures have started falling outside, and even a leaf or two. With steaming plates of rice, salad, baked fish and a curry, we sit at our cozy kitchen table, the children avidly listening to our stories.


Ø Bata shoes for her
It’s hard to describe the joy I felt when we stepped into the Bata shoe store before Durga Puja. And every year we would go through the same ritual. I would try on four to five pair of sandals, dad would look at my feet, make me walk in them, and finally choose a couple. As I grew older, the sandals started having higher heels. Maa took over from dad, and Bata gave way to other stores. Once I brought the shoes home I would keep the precious boxes for at least a week next to my bed. Everyday I would parade before the mirror, putting on a splash of gloss, and admiring my painted toe peeping through the sandals.

Ø Bata shoe for himMy husband was brought up in a one parent household. Till middle school he used to get just two pairs of shoes for the whole year. And when the new shoes were brought home, the shiny box would somehow be hidden beneath the pillow. And there it stayed  till the beginnings of the festival. Everyday, after returning from school he would give it an extra shine, and the day he walked out wearing the shoes ……. he knew for sure that all the pretty girls were looking at him.

Ø Clothes for herI would get five dresses for durga puja, one for each day of the festival. As the shopkeeper unrolled lengths of cloth before us, Maa would look at each material and comment on their merits. I used to run my fingers lovingly through each fabric and visualize myself in the dress. Then, the trip to the tailor, gazing through fashion magazines for the latest designs and finally waiting for the finished product. (I still love the scent of new clothes.) And once the dresses came home, the model would be parading before the mirror a few times each day. With a touch of gloss of course!

Ø Clothes for him
My mother-in-law stitched clothes for my husband till he was in the sixth grade. Once the shorts turned out to be somewhat like Speedos, clinging and about eight inches above the knee. The poor guy had to endure endless ribbings from his friends and a lot of giggles from the girls! But he had no choice; either sit it out at home or wear the skinnies and enjoy Durga Puja in the spirit of superman!

The Cow's Husband

Mia: Did I tell you…. in India ….you can get puppies for free. Oooh…. cute…. Cuddly little things.

Lena: (wide eyed): Ooooh!

Mia: And did I tell you of the time when this cow chased my mom and her friend Pam when they were riding their bikes to the university? They had to cross a field. It was summer.

Lena: Wow!

Mia: And there was this time when the cow wandered near the dorm and gave birth to a baby. A cute little baby. Oooooh!

Lena: Oooooh!

Mia: And once, a group of monkeys were passing by this place where my mom went to school, and one chased my mom and her friends and took the bananas from the shopping bags.

Lena: Wow, I wish I could go to India.

Mia: And then the monkey slapped a dog. Sometimes they steal cameras.

Lena: Wow!

Mia: Mamma, is a bull a cow’s husband? Well, our piano teacher is Mr. S, his brother-in-law had gone to Agra in India, and a bull nudged him from behind.

Lena: Gee!

Mia: And once there was this goat……and then the snake...

By this time I desperately wanted the conversation to end. I wonder what Lena will tell her mom Cindy? I made a note in my mind, to keep the animals of India out of our subsequent conversations.

Only we understand the seamless co-existence!!

I Wish India Was Right Next To The US

My grandparents live in India. I love the cool stuff they bring when they visit us. Especially the necklaces, earrings and the sweets. They bring a lot of presents for me.

I love to hang out with them. The guest room becomes so cozy when they come. I call my grandma nini and
my grandpa dada. During summer vacation we stay up late. Grandma tells us stories about mamma's childhood and grandpa sings us to sleep. Sometimes we drink coke together.

Most of my friends have their grandparents in the US. They visit them often. I miss my grandparents during Durga puja, Thanksgiving and Christmas. I wish India was next to the US. Then I could visit them often.

Mashima and Mr. Kitojima

Mashima is a new permanent resident of the U.S and a much loved part of our group. But though in her heart I’m sure she feels some affection for the US, as both her children live here, outwardly she denies any and all attachment to this country. Her disenchantment with the US, she cites, is due to the mosquitoes and crickets in our Long Island backyards, the lonely afternoons when her son and daughter-in-law are at work and the grandchildren at school, and also the country's foreign policy (not necessarily in that order).

One summer evening during the Olympics we were having one of our weekend parties. Swimming was on and we were enthusiastically rooting for the US swimmers. Mashima was looking disinterestedly at the TV screen. In the absence of India she declined to support any other country! But then adjusting her glasses, she suddenly pumped her fist in the air with a “come on Kitojima”. Kitojima - who??? Along with US representation, there was this swimmer from Japan. Some of you may feel that the similarity between the names Kitojima and Mashima must have endeared the Japanese swimmer to our dear Mashima, but that was not the case. After India, Mashima’s next love is Asia, and hence Kitojima! All hail to the Indo-Japan water coalition, and talk of extreme......continental patriotism!

"The Crow Fainted", "Motherland" and other poems

Gripe! Maybe, because I lack the talent, I'm a tad tired with the singers and poets around me.

Last year at a Durga Puja gathering we had this fabuloso singer from India entertaining us with some old melodies. I sighed in pleasure as I looked forward to a very enjoyable evening, when this guy sitting behind me started humming in sync with the singer on stage. Peace is elusive; the humming turned to vocal gymnastics, and there I was sitting with a finger delicately pressed against one ear, listening with just a single ear to the voice on stage.

We have had our share of great poets, ennobling thoughts, controversial lines and also publications in magazines like:

The crow fainted today
Was it the heat?
Or thoughts of a bygone era…..
The lines haunt me now, as increasingly some folks have started reciting their self-composed poems at our gatherings. Some have merit, sure, but after a tiring week I just want to relax and not use my brains to decipher why:

The sorrow of the river
Knew no bounds
Like a lazy snake
River of my hazy dreams
O Kaveri….. Kaveri
The bird flies over you
Dropping - a feather
O Kaveri…..Kaveri

Thank God for just a feather. Now, I have a malady; if I start to laugh, I just cannot stop.

In the U.S. the Bengalis often put up shows……. a kind of music and dance medley or home theater productions. We were sitting in the middle of one such show, when from behind the wings it was announced that Mr. Y would recite a self-composed poem. Electrified with memories of past experience I tried to quit the room in a hurry, but too late......

Remember me O motherland
Though I do not want to be a great poet

The poem was about the problems of modern India(a verse for each state, we have more than 22 states) and after each verse the refrain in a high pitched whisper, as if every government agent was after Mr. Y:

Remember me O motherland
But I do not want to be a great poet

Now Sir, if you do not want to be a great poet, why bestow on us the gift of your sublime imagination? And every time a member of the audience discreetly tried to leave the room, Mr. Y would ask us to sit down in a stern voice.

That night, I had nightmares about my motherland.

Tying The Knot On Ganesha's Trunk

Maa says that if you really wish for something (within reasonable limits of course!), tie an imaginary knot on Ganesha's trunk and don't open it till the wish is fulfilled. Every time my parents board the return flight to India, I tie this imaginary knot on Ganesha's trunk so that I get to see them soon.

What do you choose at a certain point in life: your parents and relatives, or your life in this country, now the birthplace of your kids? The kids know no other world, loving America and all things American with a natural passion. Obsessed with our lives, have I become too accustomed to the lifestyle here, how easily all jobs get done, the cleanliness, the dust and pollution free weather, the American dollar? Lifestyle and jobs are great in India too, but I dread settling in a "new" land and starting all over again.... what if I find India too chaotic....and besides, the U.S. has been my home for the last fourteen years. I was excited with Abhinava Bindra’s gold at the Olympics, but not so much, as when I was screaming myself hoarse with my kids, for Michael Phelps to win gold in the 100 meters butterfly.

My parents have never asked me to return to India, nor has my husband’s mom. But what happens when they decide that this twenty hours plus journey from India to the US is too much for them. Does my conscience, and love for them, accept the summertime visits as enough? Other American Indians must have had similar thoughts, they have made short trips to India to be with their family in times of happiness and in times of loss, and then returned to the US and resumed their lives. Are they at peace?

A courageous few I know have returned to India. With the festive season approaching, it’s easier to push back these thoughts and just focus on the present …… kids, their activities, daily life, job, parties, friends, books, music, Durga Puja, Thanksgiving, Christmas........it is easier to believe that there is no option except the present.

My Basement Is Yours!

Participants: "Me", Leah (American friend), Pam (modern American Bengali Friend), Sumita (traditional American Bengali friend).

Me: had a fight last night.

Leah: We have so many of those.

Pam: Tell me....

Sumita: Wow!.... was it bad

Me: Guess so. Men...

Pam: Last week, the nerve of Jay, he asked me to leave him alone.

Sumita: Oh no, never leave him alone, you know how they are...

Pam: Give me a break honey, he brought orchids in the evening.

Sumita: Still, we make it a point not to fight.

Pam: Sweet!

Leah: Well Al was late last night. He had gone to the library to pick up some movies and books. That's fine, but he could have at least called me. You know..... Robbie was waiting to go to his soccer practice.

Me: So what happened?

Leah: We had a chat and he stormed out...... won't communicate.

Sumita: Try counseling.

Pam: Come on darling, marriage is bliss and fights...... I love the make-ups.

Me: Somehow last night's arguments...

Pam: Hey girl, wear something glam this evening

Leah: (with a laugh) and fill us out on the details tomorrow....

Sumita: But if you are still upset, come and stay in our basement for a day or two. I'm always there for you.

Me: (In my mind...... and can I kill you?????)
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Later, a telecon...

Sumita: "N" had a fight with her husband last night. He is such a nice guy, so calm, I wonder.....

Sonali: I hope things are okay with their marriage, must be stressful for the kids.

Sumita: Let everyone be happy. After all, so far away from India.....did you hear of that girl abandoned by her husband......living in a shelter...... you never know with men...... got to pamper them..... why do you think so many American guys are marrying into the Orient.....

Editor's note: Please get a life!!!!!!