Goat Tales

Serengeti in Northern Tanzania is a dangerous place on earth. Here Darwin’s theory of survival of the fittest is seen at every moment and in every inch of this gorgeous jungle land. An antelope has to run fast or else the lion will eat it up and the lion has to increase its running speed every day or else will go hungry and die. This is the home to the most ferocious animals including lions, cheetahs, leopards, wild dogs and hyenas. It is here that tourists like us throng to see the great migration of the wildebeest from Serengeti to Masai Mara in Kenya. In this migration, anything that comes in the animal way is trampled and crushed to death. In short, this is no place for weaklings and docile ones.

As I watch through my magnificent Nikon binoculars, the spectacle of the animal world and fauna in this beautiful part of the earth, I suddenly see a strange sight….. I train my eyes… can’t believe in what I am seeing so rub my glasses clean and look again…. Am I hallucinating?  I look at my fellow tourists in the open top jeep and their jaw dropping looks tell me that they too are bewildered at what they are seeing…. Four goats are walking freely and no one seems to be attacking them. Instead they are giving these four goats the right of way and standing aside. The elephants are raising their trunks and blowing their trumpets in full glory. The giraffes are standing on either side as if giving the goats a victory parade. The lions are keeping their distance and not coming close to the path these goats are treading and also keeping the wily hyenas away from harming the four friends.

As the goats come closer, the visibility gets better. I can now see the faces of the goats. The two at the back seem to have beards and the two in front do not even have a speck of hair on their faces… they are clean shaven. While three of the goats look slightly mature, one looks relatively young and impatient. He often runs ahead of the others and then returns to the flock. The goats are now not just walking but have a gait which looks more like the steps of a trained Flamenco dancer…. Each one of the four has the flexibility of a ballerina. The other animals now start offering the goats fruits. The two at the back are given a musk melon each. The two gracefully manoeuvre the fruit between their feet and dribble to the right and left and between the large herds of onlooking animals who exclaim with joy at this wonderful sight. One elephant throws a melon high in the air and one of the goats in the front of the pack jumps on his front two feet and reaches the height of the standing elephant and crashes his head on the melon breaking it into smithereens and spilling it over to the other animals who laugh and make a happy sound with the loud tapping of their feet. Balu, the bear, rolls another melon to the youngest goat in front and the youngster holds the fruit close to his feet and runs speedily throwing up mud all around and after a burst of almost a hundred metres, hits the melon with his right front foot. The melon suddenly bursts out like the volley from cannon on a galley. The melon travels hard and fast and I can see it approaching the place where we are watching this wonderful sight…. But before we can take cover, the melon crashes against out vehicle and all we hear is a huge bang… we almost fall off the jeep. Fortunately, we find ourselves safe and we get off the jeep and find a huge dent at the back of the vehicle as if it has been hit by a massive sledgehammer.

Having survived the melon attack, we go up the vehicle once more and cautiously stand up to see the movement of the goats. Now, even without the binoculars, we are able to see the drama unfolding. As the dancing goats move ahead, we see a convoy of camels and horses which seem laden with treasures, big and small, of gold and silver. I am pretty much bedazzled at this sight… what is happening? Who are these goats? Was I still mentally living in the times of the World Cup and seeing everything through the lens of the ball playing on the green fields. I put down the binoculars and see the goats passing by our vehicle with the convoy following them religiously.

I ask our driver and co-passengers to drive behind these magical goats but they refuse. It seems they have had enough of a crazy and unbelievable day and cannot stand it anymore. I get off the vehicle and start walking behind the convoy…. even running fast to get a better glimpse of the goats. The four, nonchalantly, keep moving ahead oblivious of any other soul right, left or centre. In some time, the four reach a huge structure which is shining brightly as sun’s ray’s fall on it. It looks like a huge dome with a big gate in front. The place looks  quite like a temple of old. There is a big, burly guard at the entrance who opens the gate even without asking any question, as if he is waiting for these goats to arrive. But the moment I try entering, he just says, No…no one but goats can enter here.

I am a journalist who writes in newspapers. Even your gods want us to write good things about them so you need to let me in.

Ok but no photography inside the temple please.

Ok. Thanks.

As I walk in, I see the four goats who have all gone inside the temple and are looking at the huge life like statues and pictures of the Champions of the Past….

Maradona with his locks of hair and fist raised in the sky…
Cruyff with his straight hair and slim body wrapped in orange….
Garrincha the dribbling genius….
Eusibio ,the Portuguese legend ,who almost singlehandedly took his country to victory…
Puskas the Magyar who is oft regarded as the most gifted player of all times…
Lev Yashin, the Russian goalkeeper was seen in a diving posture….
Zico, Zidane, Platini, George Best, Charlton…. You name it and they were there…The Gods of Football!

A man walks up to the goats and announces…. Hello. I am Franz Beckenbauer and I am the Master of Ceremonies here. We shall be examining your credentials first. How do you want me to start…alphabetically or age wise?

The youngest goat shouts…age wise and the youngest goes first.

Kylian  Mbappe

World Cup: 1 2018
Golden Boot: 1 2022
French Championship: 5
UEFA Championship: 1
French Cup Winner: 3
European Under 19 Winner: 1

At a young age of 24, you sure have achieved a lot and I am sure you will bring more glory to the game and your country in coming times. But I am denying you entry into the sanctum sanctorum now for this recognition has to be earned with consistent performance over many years. Wait for a few more years and I am sure your list of achievements will grow bigger than anyone in this hall. But, for now, the answer is not yet ready to be anointed.

The young goat sat down on the floor looking utterly dejected...what more do they expect of me?

Next, who wishes to come forward.

Forward…me…Ronaldo.

We already have one too many Ronaldos here. One is simply a Ronaldo and then there is one Ronaldiniho in the hall of fame. We can’t add another. It is getting very confusing.

No confusion. I am CR7… you can call me Christiano and here are my credentials. Don’t you dare keep me out of the game. I simply go mad. I want to be there, right up there forever!

Ballon d’Or: 5 times
Champions League, English Premier League, La Liga……..the list is unending.

You do have quite a list ,CR7. The only thing missing from your glittering showcase is possibly World Cup. Other than that, you’ve won everything. A very deserving candidate for sure. Please go and sit on the golden chair to the right there.

Ronaldo, in his typical style after scoring each of his thousand goals, jumps high, puts his fist together in an arch and then as he hits the ground, spreads his legs wide, chest out and arms stretched out as if saying….I am the Best! Oh yes, you are the Best!!

Now the third goat walks up to Franz and shows him his trophies and medals…

Luka Modric

Ballon D’Or: 1 2018
Champions League Winner: 5 times
La Liga: 3 times with Real Madrid
Player of the Year: 7 times
FIFA Best Player: 1 2018

You’ve been such a Champion for your country having taken them to World Cup Final and Semi-finals almost single-handedly. If you were born a Brazilian, French or German, you surely would have had a few World Cups in your closet. Your credentials are very impressive Luka but not enough for the place we are in. My apologies O Champion of the Balkans.

The last goat is sitting quietly, patiently waiting for his turn. As the goat is unloading the cups, trophies and medals, Franz comes over to say…. Not required dear Messi. We already have all the details and God himself awaits your arrival eagerly.

Can I just take this one piece of trophy that I finally won…? Just can’t let it out of my hands or sight…

Sure…you’ve earned it and deserve to keep it with you. How hard you’ve worked for it, how long you’ve waited for it, how many abuses over the years you have heard for it…. Now it is yours and yours alone. We shall make your statue here sleeping with the trophy…. It will be unique and a wonderful tribute to your legacy.

CR7 and Messi go into the inner room which is dark till they step in… it is immediately illuminated in the most beautiful ,colourful lights. The music begins to play a victorious tune. Inside they see a man on a large couch with thin tubes hanging all over his arms, legs and face. As they approach him, they can see that despite the pain, his smile is intact and his eyes are dark and welcoming…. He raises his arms and signals to them to come closer. As they go closer, the man takes out a sceptre from under his pillow and touches the two goats gently on their heads and Franz sprinkles rose water from a Persian sprinkler vase he has just picked up at Doha, Qatar.

I, Edson Arantes Do Nachimento or just Pele in short, with the authority vested in me by the people of the world, anoint you CR7 and Messi as GOATs…. The Greatest of All Times. Your place in history is now permanent and you will always find yourself in the company of the greatest players of each generation forever. This is what you have earned for yourself with all your brilliant work over the years and having entertained the world with your own brand of beautiful game.

Franz made an exception to the temple rules and lets me to take a picture of the two new full time GOATs. I take out my phone and click the GOATs, click the God himself, now old and infirm, and Franz, too, who is a GOAT himself. I see the inner sanctorum which has flags of all the countries the GOATs have represented and am surprised to see the Indian tricolour. My hand goes up instinctively in salute… Jai Hind…Bharat Mata ki Jai and I ask Franz…. What’s this doing here? I do not recollect any Indian having even qualified to be called a GOAT.

You see, this Temple of Gods is made by an Indian whose name I keep forgetting but it sounds like an Italian name. It starts with A and ends with I …. who knows someday we may see an Indian Professional League for Football and we may see an Indian in this pantheon of GOATs. If not that, then this one is for the innumerable crazy fans in India like the one below who never stop watching this beautiful game.

SS

PS. Pictures courtesy internet 

Joga Bonito

Never, if possible, cover any road a second time -Ibn Battuta

As the World Cup enters the knock-out phase, here are some sideline stories in this edition of the journey of the game for you.

Touchline: Balls2You

In…Out..In…Out….was the ball in or out. The referee went to the VAR screen and watched the replays, over and over again, for the fortunes of two nations were in question. He, finally, discussed the issue with the VAR backend team and did his usual screen signal to the players and crowd and, finally, put his hands together and pointed it to the centre of the field. You did not have to be a champion dumb charades player to understand that the final verdict was that the goal scored by Japan off a pass, in which it appeared as if the ball had crossed the line, was confirmed to be in play and had not gone out for a goal kick. Four different reactions were seen. Japanese players and fans went into an ecstasy, the Spanish players kept questioning the verdict and fans and German players, in another stadium, went into a state of complete depression and , to top it all, the spectators worldwide glued to the television sets went into a frenzied state of tweeting…In..Out…In…Out…Right…Wrong.

Later in the day, did a check of the International Football Association Book rulebook which said that a ball is defined as being out when “it has wholly passed over the goal line or touchline on the ground or in the air.” So while VAR showed on one side that the ball had indeed crossed the touchline on the ground, the bulge of the ball was still within the touchline in the air. So the referee was, indeed, right in awarding the goal to Japan which relegated Spain to second position in the qualifying group and knocked four times champions Germany out of the World Cup in the first round itself.

This brings me to the next question…what was Al Rihla doing when all this was happening? Al Rihla is the official football made by Adidas for the World Cup 22. In Arabic it means ‘The Journey’. The name is said to be a reference to a travelogue written in the 14^th century by Ibn Battuta who travelled extensively in Asia, Africa and Europe. Al Rihla has sensors that send ball data to the video operation room 500 times per second. There are 12 dedicated tracking cameras mounted underneath the roof of the stadium which tracks the ball and up to 29 data points of each individual player, 50 times per second, calculating their exact position. So I am sure the VAR would have proven to the referee the exact position and the decision which we can question seeing it with our naked eyes but technology proves it otherwise. Maybe, we will see robots playing in some future world cup matches or they may play Digital World Cup…. India stands a chance there for sure.

On a lighter note, if you’re wondering why Al Rihla, the traveller, sided with Japan, the only answer I could find was in a children’s poem where the two had a connect of old.

इब्न बतूता पहन के जूता

निकल पड़े तूफान में

थोड़ी हवा नाक में घुस गई

घुस गई थोड़ी कान में।

कभी नाक को कभी कान को

मलते इब्न बतूता

इसी बीच में निकल पड़ा

उनके पैरों का जूता।

उड़ते उड़ते जूता उनका

जा पहुंचा जापान में

इब्न बतूता खड़े रह गये

मोची की दुकान में

Exit Line: Please Don’t Go!

On 27^th June, 2016, Leo Messi declared to the world that he had decided to hang up his boots and end his days for the Argentine football team. His disappointment stemmed from having lost the World Cup in 2014 to Germany, losing to Chile both in 2015 Copa America Final and again in 2015 at the Copa America Centenario. Messi had by then won almost every major club tournament with Barcelona and had multiple Ballon d’ Or trophies in his cabinet but success at the national level eluded him. On that fateful night, when he himself missed a penalty, the emotions came through. “I tried my hardest. It has been four finals. I want more than anyone to win a title with the national team, but unfortunately, it did not happen. I think it is best for everyone, firstly for me and for a lot of people that wish this. The tea, has ended for me, a decision made.”

“Don’t go Messi!” There was huge outpouring from every Argentinian asking Messi to stay. Among the people who were shattered was a teenager, Enzo Fernandez, who wrote an emotional letter to Messi which read like this:

How are we going to convince you? How are we going to convince you? We never had 1% of the pressure that you have on your shoulders. You wake up in the morning, you look in the mirror and you know that a crowd of over 40 million people wants you to do the perfect thing and it has been ridiculously imposed that they can demand it.

How are we going to convince you? If we fail to understand that you are a human being, a person with incomparable talent, the best player on the planet, but a person after all.

How are we going to convince you? If we don’t stop for a moment to realise that you are not responsible for the anger that losing causes us, which often has more to do with our own frustrations that are reflected there. Let’s look in the mirror and ask ourselves if we demand from ourselves 1% of what we demand from this guy we don’t even know.

Do what you want, Lionel, but please think about staying. Stay and have fun….in a world of ridiculous pressures, they manage to get the most noble out of the game, the fun. Seeing you play with the light blue and white is the greatest pride in the world. Play for fun, because when you’re having fun, you have no idea how much fun we have. Thank you and forgive us.

After a week, Messi relented and reported that the Argentine no. 10 shirt and armband would still be worn by him. The game was saved and Messi has been playing for fun since then, enthralling his billions of fans globally.

Fast forward 2022, Qatar World Cup. Argentina had surprisingly lost their first match to Saudi Arabia and hence winning the remaining two matches was extremely critical. Argentina was playing an energetic and strong Mexico and were leading 1-0 through a wonderful strike by Messi in the 64^th minute. In the 87^th minute, Leo Messi deftly passed the ball to a 21-year-old player who curled the ball into the far corner of the goal, beyond the reach of the Mexican goalkeeper.  The youngster was none other than Enzo Fernandez who because the youngest player to score a World Cup goal for Argentina since Messi in 2006. The celebrations that followed were for all to see… Enzo was seen kissing his badge and was mobbed by none other than Messi in front of screaming Argentines. The master and the pupil together in one frame…a shot that will remain etched in everyone’s mid forever.

Life Line: Being Human

World Cup football is about heroes scoring fantastic goals, saving penalties and winning the trophy. But in all this humdrum of the glorious game, lies some moments of human character and spirit.

In 26^th of November 22, in a Group C match between Poland and Saudi Arabia in the Education City Stadium in Al Rayyan, Qatar, Piotr Zielinski scored the opening goal for Poland. Poitr plays for Napoli at Italy and is extremely talented as a player whom almost all clubs, like Manchester United and Liverpool, want on their teams. But there is more to him than just playing top class football.

Piotr’s parents used to help children from difficult backgrounds. They ran a foster home since 2015 but have been helping children from difficult backgrounds since 2022. For nearly 13 years, they looked after children in their home at Zabkowice Slaskie which was some 40 miles from Warsaw.  In the first months of his parents’ new work, Piotr could not accept it. He was eight and so jealous that he hated the fact that he had to share his room with strangers. He used to write his name on the toys so that people knew they were his. He would put tags on furniture like ‘my wardrobe’ and ‘my desk’.

Slowly, the young Piotr became friendly to his ‘temporary siblings’ and began opening up. He invited them to play football together. He often played in the yard with a boy who had a leg contracture. The true footballer gave his heart to children in his own way; quietly, without the attention of the media. Today, this 28-year-old Polish footballer has bought two buildings with his own money, renovated them and turned them into children’s homes run by “Peter Pan” foundation. Piotr is Peter in Polish.

The proud father of Poitr says that whenever his son returns to Poland, he visits the kids, plays football with them. He also gives away electronic equipment that he does not use: a laptop, a game console or a tablet. At a holy communion of one of the charges, no one from the family appeared. Poitr came from Italy to please the boy. “This is what he is”.

Last Line: Tail Piece

If anyone in India is mad about football, it is the insane people in the states of Kerala and West Bengal. The choice of teams these madmen support is clearly divided between Brasil and Argentina. A walk down the streets in even remote corners of these states will bring out the intense rivalry of the fans of these two Latin American countries. Arnab Ray, a columnist for TOI wrote about them as, “Begani shaadi mein Abdulla deewana.” He goes on the say this first love happens to be Argentina from the time he saw Maradona, “ giving the old colonial masters, the British, a hand and then a foot, the greatest goal ever to be seen….”So he promises to back the Argentines till the time they get eliminated and, thereafter, he will support Brazil. For me it has always been Brazil first. It started with the reverence for the name Pele, the first team to win the Jules Rimet Trophy thrice and make it their own and then of course it was the World Cup squad of 1982 led by Socrates which, to me, was the greatest team ever even though a lot from an earlier generation would claim the 1970 Brazillian team to be the greatest. Since then I have always backed them first and last. Surprisingly, the three jerseys at school, college and club teams I donned in my playing career, all had  the green and gold colours that are also part of the colours Brazil wears. Football to me will always be Joga Bonito, the Beautiful Game,  that the Boys from Brazil display every time they take to the field.

SS

Pictures: Courtesy Internet

Hayya Hayya

The flight landed at Doha International Airport. The plane was beautifully decorated with pictures of the great man and his team mates in their traditional blue and white. All the journalists were waiting to catch a glimpse of the GOAT. The fans were playing the drums and dancing on the tarmac. They were all waiting for the man of the moment who would brighten up the championship with his magical play and take home the biggest prize on planet earth.  The door opened and one by one the players came walking down, waving their hands to the people gathered. One…two…three…thirteen fourteen fifteen….yet there was no sign. The coach and his support staff members also came down the stairs and boarded the bus to go to the terminal building but there was still no sign. Where was he if not here?

Somewhere in Rub al Khali desert in Saudi Arabia, a camel is seen walking across one of the world’s driest regions of the world with sand dunes, sabakhs (salt flats) and sand sheets. It has hardly any vegetation and habitation but beneath it lies one of the biggest oil reserves. Atop the camel, a diminutive figure is seen sitting and trying to converse with the only living creature around.

Courtesy: Internet

Can we move a little faster?

No. My best speed is twenty-five kilometres per hour but my master has told me to go no more than ten per hour. This is for your own safety and comfort.

But I have a match to play today. I just cannot miss the same.

You should have known it when you accepted the invitation.

You know about the invitation?

Anything that happens in the desert, I have my friends who inform me. After all I am the royal camel who is respected by one and all. Anyway, how was the shoot?

They wanted me to be the brand ambassador for Saudi Tourism and I agreed. The money was good.

Courtesy: Internet

Ya, for sure. The loaded cars following us are a proof of how much the Sultan has given you for the modelling. No wonder the Spanish tax authorities are on a wild goose chase when it comes to Neymar and you.

I am thirsty.

I am not…..

You must have stored it in your humps.

That’s a wrong notion Mr. Goat and you may know a lot about playing football but nothing when it comes to camels. We do not store water in our humps. The hump stores fat and we use it for nourishment when food is scarce. We can go a long time without water. We drink up to twenty gallons of water when we find it and then it is stored in our bloodstream.

How far are we from the Lusail Stadium? The match starts at 1pm.

Don’t worry. I will reach you on time. You can save some time by getting ready for the match. The team kit and your famous number 10 jersey and Adidas X Speedportal boots are there in the pocket of the carpet you are sitting on.

Thanks O Royal Mount but can we go a little faster…. You see I have to play. Can I not drive in one of these eighteen Rolls Royce’s following us. Surely the horse power will be much more and I will reach well in time.

Don’t mess with me Mr. Messi! In the desert if you praise a horse before a camel and that too the Royal Mount of the Sultan, all I need to do is to whistle aloud and the Bedouins will come charging from behind the mountains in no time. And you know what they do to the captives. So shut up and let me do my duty.

The GOAT atop a Camel sat quietly, desperately trying to reach his team mates over the phone but it seemed there was no signal in the desert. The only satellite phone available was a direct connect to the Sultan of Arabia who did not understand a word of Spanish. The sun was beating down and our man covered his head with the keffiyeh or the red and white scarf in one of the many pockets of his silken carpet he sat on.

Slowly the convoy made its entry into Qatar where the border guards quickly recognized the GOAT.

Autograph please….photograph please….

Guys, I am getting late for the match. I promise I will do all the autographs and photographs after the match.

You don’t have passport. You don’t have Hayya Card. Then there is no entry for you.

I have my passport but what is this Hayya Card?

Hayya Card is the entry permit to Qatar for the World Cup. No Hayya then say Bayya to Qatar.

Ok I will do all the photographs and autographs…. Then will you let me go…

Of course, Messi…anything for the Greatest Footballer of All Time.

Messi managed the situation well and got atop his Royal Mount….he looked at his watch… still thirty minutes to go for the match….. Giddy up….let us now speed up to Lusail…

Yeah…lightning speed Boss for you.

The camel speeded up to over thirty kilometres per hour, much faster than the average speed of the Ship of the Desert. With the convoy of RRs following, the Royal Mount dropped off Messi in front of the magnificent stadium which looked like a huge bowl, intricately carved and shaped.

Messi got off the mount and started running into the stadium when the sturdy guards caught him…. You can’t enter the stadium like that. No ticket, no entry.

I am a player and I do not need to buy tickets.

Player coming on a camel with a keffiyeh on his head…. Which team do you represent?

Messi took off his head scarf and shouted….. I am Messi…Lionel Messi of Argentina. I am supposed to be playing in the match today against Saudi Arabia.

The team has already taken to the field and the national anthems are being played.

Messi put his one hand on chest where the logo of AFL was and one hand held high as a mark of salute as he started singing:

Oíd, mortales, el gritosagrado:
"¡Libertad! ¡Libertad! ¡Libertad!"

(Hear, mortals, the sacred cry:
"Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!")

The guard recognised the GOAT and exclaimed…. Allah… if you are Messi then who is there on the pitch wearing your shirt?

Messi put his palm on his forehead and then took out his phone, showed the guard a picture of an aging and balding man… is this the man who is playing as Messi….

Yes…yes… that’s the man. But he had all your papers.

Can’t you see, he has Messi written in front of his T-shirt while I always have it at the back! That’s an Indian fan of mine to whom I had shared some of my papers. He has used them to get into the stadium and the team and is now playing in blue and white of Argentina.

The man told me that another man who is his look alike will come. I should give him this ticket and ask him to see the match from the stands. He has also left behind a bag of goodies….Fanta and Coke bottles without the caps, a packet of chips, some dates and Gaz. You can use this to watch the match. That’s the best you can do now.

Messi took the ticket in his hand, went up the starts and just managed to reach his allotted seat when the kick off happened. He sat with the fans watching his team go down 2-1. All the time he was seething with anger at the Sultan of Arabia and his body double on the pitch. He even had the audacity to score a penalty goal.

After the match, Messi came down to the place where the Royal Mount sat. The camel smiled at the Goat as if he knew the results even before the match had started. Then there was a huge commotion as the Saudi team was cheered out of the stadium and they all came to the place Messi and the camel were waiting. Each one of the sixteen players took to the seat behind the wheels of the RRs. The coach also took one of the cars. Then there was another person who did not look like a player also got to sit in the magnificent Rolls Royce Phantom.

Who’s this last man?

The camel replied….Mr. Varkey…. He was the referee for the match today. He played an important role in today’s match.

What was his role…

You will see in tomorrow’s newspapers tomorrow how VAR (Video Assistant Referee) made sure the Argentine goals were denied…that’s our friendly Mallu Mr VARkey…. The secret key to our success. He too had to be rewarded!

In the end the body double of Messi came out and he walked to the Royal Mount, climbed atop and waved bye to the GOAT.

Play well mate in the next two matches and beat Mexico and Poland. I’ll be cheering for you.

SS

PS. World Cup is Frenzy, World Cup is Fun…. This one is jesting around and spreading cheer all around.

Fish Fury

Mommy why do I need to go to school? Why can’t I swim with you?

Cloe darling, the sea is beautiful but it is also a dangerous place. If there are wonderful corals and weeds, there are big, predator fish and other creatures too out there to kill you, to eat you and, even if you survive the wrath of the sea monsters, there is the ever-growing fear of the men in their fishing trawlers who will hunt you down and make a meal out of you. The school will help you become stronger and show you ways to survive in dangerous waters.

How will the school help? Our Teacher Han is not even a fish. How will he tell us fishy tales and tactics?

Don’t underestimate Teacher Han. He is a very experienced chap. His father helped me and my friends when we were young. And now it is your turn to be groomed. While I go hunting for food for you, Cloe, stay here with the other kids in the school. Don’t go out of the ring. Be good, do as taught and you will never regret it.

Mama kissed little Cloe as she swam into the HanFinSchool where the young fish had already assembled for the day’s sessions. There were the small fishes and not so small ones, and then there were large, baby fishes….there were numerous, colourful fishes and not so colourful fishes, there were gentle, sweet looking little ones and there were sharp teethed, dangerous looking little ones too…. all were welcome at the HanFinSchool while their parents were out in the seas searching for food.

Good Morning Finos. Today, we will do something new. It is called the One for All and All for One drill. This is a must learn technique which involves all of you to act as one solid unit. So far all the survival techniques taught were for individuals and playing to one’s strength. This is where we present a unified face to the enemy and fend off an intruder who may be much larger and stronger than any one of us.  Are you ready?

Yea…Yea…Yea!!

Make two triangles back to back. The fastest amongst you should come to the front. The bigger and sturdier ones go to the sides and back. The others fill the box in between. Cloe, since you have the sharpest voice, you take the absolute centre. All of you should face in front. Stop pushing around… go slow and listen to my instructions. Ok now smoothen the sides and make a curve in front and rear as I am showing you on the sand below. Yes… yes…yes… very good.

So now instead of you being just a small fish, you have now given an appearance of a huge fish… even bigger than blue whales.

The exercise does not end here. The person in the centre has to be like the captain who will direct…. Go straight… go right… go left… turn around and if required command all to attack the enemy. So depending upon how you fare in your different tests in my school, the leadership team will be decided. It is not just prestigious but carries with it a lot of responsibility… the safety and protection of our community lies in fighting battles of survival together. We will pick a few of you during the course of your grooming and give some extra leadership skills.

A few more things that you need to keep in mind.

You need to trust one another. The whole strategy will work only if you all time your moves together in the manner commanded by the captain in the centre. Even if one of you misses a step, the structure will fall because the fish by your side will also get confused and start making more mistakes. Once that happens, then you will become easy prey for the intruder who will see through your big fish bluff and destroy not one but kill many of you in one big swoop.

The ones in front will have to be the fastest. They will constantly change place with the leader in front because while swimming fast, you tend to get tired and the speed of the one in front will determine the speed of the pack. A slow fish in front will become a liability. So the next fish quickly takes the lead and the one earlier in front will get breathing and resting time. This will ensure the speed of the group will remain constant.

Now, coming to the ones in the sides and back. They have to be the strongest for the attack by the intruders will be at these points. So I need the bravest and strongest of you to take the wings and the tail. These are the real fighting heroes and in case of a war, will have to be ready to sacrifice for the safety of all.

I shall work to give each of you kids all that I know and also enough time to practise your skills here before you launch yourself into the big blue seas. So now let us practise the Big Fish game a couple of times now.

Cloe found this game pretty interesting. Han would often come up with games which made learning so much more fun. No wonder Mommy has so much trust in him.

Cloe and her friends were having fun making the formation and then moving together. They were all making mistakes… wrong signals were going from the centre, the switchover of speed makers in front was quite a disaster and the biggies who were in the wings were quite amused. But Han was not! He was furious…

I have taught so many fish in the past and your batch seems to be the dullest of all. You just cannot function in unison. If you do not master this technique you are dead… enjoy your next lives inside the stomach of the giant fish!

The kids kept trying and trying…. Slowly things started taking shape and movements were happening as Han had taught. The teacher wanted perfection and was not impressed with little improvements. The little ones kept on repeating and each time got better. How much they craved for a line of appreciation from their teacher but, alas, it didn’t happen so easily. The kids were tired but Han would not let them rest. Rest now and die next, he would say… life in sea does not give you time to rest and relax. It is do or die!

Just when the kids were perfecting their new survival game, Flashy’s mother came rushing to Han….

We have a problem?

Yeah, what happened?

Cloe’s mother was caught in the net of a trawler just now and she has been pulled up from the waters.

Hmmmm… this is serious but wait a moment. We cannot just accept that Cloe’s mother is no more. The Japanese are the ones who fish in our waters. They do not kill the catch. Their people back home like their fish to be fresh and alive when they buy on land. They usually put the catch in big containers and take them ashore. We have hope and a chance to bring Mommy Cloe back if we act now. And please do not let Cloe know that it is her mother we are going to try and rescue.

I am going with my Kiddo Gang to the rescue. You get the others.

Ok Finos. We have a live drill of what we learnt today. Since we have not practised enough and the core leaders and their calls are not yet ready, I will lead the drill. I will stand outside the Big Fish and give the commands. Those who do it right today will be given a treat at McPlankton Café. So remember all the things I told you and all that we did together. Come on , let us give our war cry….All for One and One for All….

The water around rippled as hundreds of little fishes made a whale of a noise. Then all started moving in a formation of five with smallest ones in front and others following, depending upon their sizes. Teacher Han was moving fast and he looked at one of his hands which held what looked like a round box with needles moving left and right. The school of fish now moved closer to the surface and could hear the sound of an engine…..it was not loud but the tiny creatures could hear the faintest of noise. They looked up to see a big dark portion of the water where sunlight could not enter.

Stop… above us lies the biggest fish of the waters. It is also the most dangerous creature. It is big and heavy. Its body is like no ordinary fish. It is made of a very strong skin that no fish can pierce. We cannot fight it outright but we have one thing they don’t…this is our waters and we can create magic with the waves. Our job now is to stop the movement of this big fish and ensure its movements are restricted. We will now move fast, ahead of this fish and create our Big Fish formation and slowly move menacingly towards the enemy. It is possible that the enemy comes straight at us and showers us with deadly flying teeth. Some of you may get injured…..that I will not let happen. Just follow my instructions and we will be safe and yet accomplish our mission. So let us now get battle ready…. This is our chance to show that we are ready for the big life out of school.

The little fishes moved fast forward and turned quickly…. Took shape of the Big Fish with Han directing them and then he made the direction of moving slowly forward… right in the path of the trawler. The fishermen on board could feel something was not right. They checked through their binoculars and could see a huge dark patch moving in their direction…. Captain… Captain… Danger ahead!

The Captain looked at the approaching dark shadow…. What can this be? I have never seen a fish as big as this in my thirty years of sailing. Is it a nuclear submarine or what? Let me lower the periscope below the water to check.

Oh my God! This is a Giant Fish… much bigger than the blue whales we have seen. We have to avoid hitting it or our ship will collapse.

Sir, we do not have time to manoeuvre it to the right or left. Our only chance is going reverse.

Then do it… full speed in the reverse… all hands-on deck and get your weapons ready to fight the sea monster.

Han saw what was happening…. Finos… we are doing good. The enemy is retreating and this will give our biggies to come and do the final act.

No sooner had Han spoken than a huge flotilla of big fishes arrived. Whally, the eldest and wisest of the flock spoke to Han… You have done your job well. Now leave the rest to us. Take the kids to safety.

Han nodded and asked the little ones to break the Big Fish formation and create the size wise line… they quickly got into the lines and started swimming a little away from the action site from where they could now witness the Big Fight. Whales, sharks, piranhas, dolphins, squids, sting rays, octopuses…. You name it and they were there… they surrounded the trawler and all started flying out of the waters and diving back. The Japanese fishermen were bedazzled and mesmerized. They just could not see what was happening…. They were stuck on a vessel and the fishes gathered around were showing as if they were attacking them, yet not confronting them directly. The men with firearms stood frozen and couldn’t move their fingers on the triggers. This went on for some time before the Captain spoke to his men….

Hold your fire, boys! This is not a war but a sign from the fish to us. They think we have captured their friends and want us to release them. They do not want to fight with us but want us to let them live in peace. We have enough firepower to fight the fish but as Buddha said…. Non-violence is the way to peace and God. We will not fight unarmed fish and we must accept their wishes. Release all fish in the tanks immediately.

The mechanical cranes lifted the huge containers one by one and opened the lids. The captive fish along with the water in the tanks splashed into the sea. As the last container was emptied, the sea went calm. They fishermen could no longer see the flying fish. What they now saw were a hundred thousand tails come up the waters and shake from right to left as if waving to them to say thank you and good bye and then they all disappeared into the waters.

Down below Cloe’s mother kissed her little baby and all the fishes went away to their peaceful abode and lived All for One and One for All.

SS 

PS. Each year, around the same time of the year, a bunch of Kiddos from 10-C of 1980 batch, SCS, Delhi, come together from different parts of the globe to celebrate and relive their childhood memories and friendship of over half a century. This is My Shoal of Fish and My Band of Brothers...All for One, One for All. Happy Children's Day.

Mountain Dew

Mom I don’t want to work. This is my summer vacations and I want to relax and enjoy home food, family and friends. You know how difficult it is for me at the college hostel in Delhi.

Arrey Chimmi, this is the peak tourist season and we don’t have enough hands to manage the people. We need to do good business now because once winter arrives, we hardly get any guests. I agree that you need to relax and enjoy your holidays but a couple of hours during the day are all that I am asking for. If your dad had been around, I would not have asked for any help.

Now the mother had touched an emotional chord, Chimmi would find it impossible to say no to the mother’s request. Five winters ago, her father, Norgay Namgyal had braved a blizzard to rescue two tourists stuck in higher regions of Chakrata but he himself succumbed to hypothermia. He had started the café at their hometown in the upper regions of Uttarakhand after quitting his routine job at Delhi. He loved the hills and always wanted to be close to nature. With all his savings NN had built the café as an extension to their ancestral home. Locals had made fun of him to even think of setting up a café where not many visitors came but NN was clear in his mind. He would serve the local food to tourists and it would not be for profits but to keep the fire in the kitchen burning and stay engaged. Chimmi was his only daughter and he gave her the best of education while at Delhi and she managed to get admission into Miranda House at Delhi University and stayed in the college hostel. To the amazement of all, including NN, the café soon gained prominence and with the advent of the social media and Chimmi’s skills on FB, Instagram and more, good name spread far and wide and a visit to the NN Café was a must for every tourist in the region.

That’s not fair Mom. You always bring up dad’s name whenever you want anything from me. Okay, I will give you a hand but won’t promise the greatest service to the visitors. Plus, I don’t like those young men who come in from the plains. They think us Tibetans to be easy meat for them. Their looks are so piercing that I can feel them even with my back towards them.

Don’t worry Chimmi, if anyone acts funny, you know what to do… kick him out! Your dad has taught you everything on self-defence that even the great Shifu hadn’t taught the Kung Fu Panda.

Ok mom. At your service.

It was a quiet day and a few tourists trickled in. Chimmi and Sonam, the Man Friday of the café, made sure the service was good while the mother took care of the cooking. Chimmi made sure she played the latest music instead of the usual folk songs and the youngsters quite liked it.  In her spare time she would go through the response book where most of the people had written well about the food and the service. Chimmi felt a sense of pride in what her parents had built brick by brick. The tips given by the guests were always handed over to Sonam, as a matter of tradition, and never kept back by the family. He too had been part of the NN journey over the years and more of a family and partner than a help.

By evening, more people came in and it included a bunch of good-looking youngsters. Their hair cut gave the impression that they were from the armed forces for the school for guerrilla warfare was in this remote hilly town. One of them shouted… Hello… can someone take the order. Chimmi looked at Sonam to go to them but our Man Friday had his hands full with plates he was clearing from another table. Chimmi reluctantly went with her small pad and pen in hand…. Yes…

What’s good here?

Everything we serve is good. What do you wish to order?

Please serve the goodie goods then….and he started laughing with others joining in.

Chimmi looked at them angrily and was about to shout when the young man quickly got up from his seat and with folded hands…Sorry Ma’am. Didn’t mean to mock you. We’ve had a terrible day at the course today and just wanted to laugh it out to forget the pain. If we have offended you in any way, please accept my apology.

Chimmi was taken aback at this sudden change of stance and the look in the young tall man’s eyes seemed genuine and she just couldn’t charge him. Instead she smiled back and made a loud announcement that all guests could hear … one round of dim sum on the house for the brave soldiers here!

All seemed good and the folks ate a lot of food and hot beverages and were mighty pleased from the way they left behind a hefty tip. Sonam was delighted. On his way out the young soldier pushed forward his hand towards Chimmi…. Captain Vikram D’Souza. Hope you are not angry with me anymore?

She at first gave him a smug look and then smiled and then, finally, shook hands…. Chomulungma Namgyal…Chimmi.

The army officers were regulars at the cafe when they were at Chakrata.  They were usually here for a short special program. From their talks at the cafe that Chimmi and her mom could overhear, it seemed that the course was very difficult where they were taught the most difficult of survival tactics as well as the art of warfare. This was a vital arm of the defence forces and prepared a contingent of the best fighters… almost Indian equivalent to Rambo.

Vikram was of course the most regular of the guests that came and would find excuses to chat with Chimmi almost every day. She too did not mind his company. They seemed to be on the same wave length and spoke freely on many subjects from politics to art to music and more. Soon she too got so used to the soldiers coming that she, in fact, waited for them anxiously. Chimmi’s mom noticed and so did Sonam and the other locals.

Chimmi…you can take a few days off.

No Mum, I want to help you.

Hmmmm… help me or you are having ideas about the army-wala? Let me give you a piece of advice that only a mother can give. These people come here for a little while and often the local girls get carried away in the hope that they will have a good life as wives of army officers. It never happens. They are here just for temporary fun. So don’t fall in love, darling.

Love… no never Mum. You think I am a fool. Your daughter is smart and will always be a step ahead of these city smarties.

Good. That’s what I wanted to hear. Now carry on with your work.

Things were going good for the Café as the place was full round the clock. Chimmi ‘s summer break was soon going to end and, for once, she wanted to stay back longer. She stayed up one night with the lights out, gazing at the sparkling diamonds in the clear sky above,  and thinking about what to say to Vikram before she went back to the college. She wondered how he would react…will he get angry…will he get surprised and, most importantly, will he reciprocate or was she just being a fool on the hills as her mother said…. She hardly slept that night and then the next day she dressed up better than usual and put an extra pack of make up for she was determined to speak her heart out to Vikram, no matter what happened.

That evening Chimmi kept waiting but none of the soldiers came. The café was full and the guests kept her busy and, despite being distracted, she continued serving all with an eye to the door, wanting to see Vikram walk in. It never happened. Late into the night the mother and daughter finished their dinner and retired for the day. Chimmi slipped inside the blanket and sobbed like a little girl. She took courage to text Vikram for the first time…. She saw his smart DP…. So far she did not have to either call him or text him but today she was disappointed and sad and wanted some answers from him.

Hi V… hope all good. You and your friends did not come today. Missed you all.

She did not know whether to sign off with the usual emoji or write the four letters… she just wrote Chimmi and touched the send button.

She saw the two grey ticks… the message had been delivered and she waited for the ticks to turn blue and then of course the response from Vikram. Every two minutes she would check her phone but the ticks remained grey. Maybe he had kept the settings such that he did not want people to know about the read status. That is fine but why doesn’t he reply to me… she wondered. Maybe in the army cantonment, the soldiers are not allowed to communicate as freely as we do… she thought and consoled herself.

Next day, too, the people from the army unit did not come to the café. There was no message from Vikram either. Chimmi was now worried and upset. She had to find out.

Mom, I am going off to Delhi day after tomorrow. I will take a day off from the café and meet my friends and spend some time with them.

Ok, go ahead Chimmu… you’ve been such a darling. You deserve a break.

Chimmi reached the gate of the army cantonment next afternoon and was hoping to meet some of Vikram’s friends coming out. She kept waiting but none of the known people came out except a few large trucks and jeeps. She even went to the gate to speak to the guards stationed there and asked them about Captain Vikram but they did not say anything. Disappointed, she returned home. The café was still bustling. She went to her room to pack her bags, quietly crying alone. Next morning, she took the bus to Dehradun from where she got the bus to Delhi.

Once college started, Chimmi got along with the new life but when alone in the evenings, she would keep looking at her phone…. No call… no message. Then one day, the hostel in-charge called her to her office.

Come down here. There is someone here to meet you.

She did not ask who and just rushed down to the warden’s office where she found herself facing a smart and elegant couple in their early fifties. The warden left the room to the trio.

Hello Chomulungma or should we call you Chimmi. You have a lovely name…. Mount Everest is what it means, right?

She nodded her head and looked surprised.

We are parents of Captain Vikram D’Souza. He told us about you. He would talk about you every night that we spoke to him while he was at Chakrata. Maybe you do not know, while doing one of the survival training sessions, Vikky missed a step and the mountains are not the forgiving kind. We lost him forever. He was our only child. He was like the morning dew which shone at the break of day and brought life into our home. We just wanted to meet you once and so we are here.

Chimmi rushed into the open arms of Vikky’s mother and broke down. It took quite some time before they could calm her. Then the father spoke...

Will you come and stay with us. We stay very close to your college and will love to have you at home with us while you are studying.  We will find our way out of the grief together.

SS

Picture courtesy: TT, my friend from the hills.

THE JOURNEY

Mrinmoyee to Chinmoyee
(From Clay Idol to Supreme Consciousness)

The first day we tried entering Kumartuli, we were stopped by the barricade put up by Kolkata Police stating that only vehicles picking up idols were to be allowed.  It was Chaturthi and only two days were left for the auspicious day of Sashthi which marked the first of the five-day long festivities. We returned disheartened. On the next day, we reached early in the morning to find a parking for our car on Rabindra Sarani in Baghbazar in North Kolkata, and then slowly inched our way on foot into one of the many narrow lanes and by-lanes of Kumartuli . Kumar-tuli or Kumor-tully or the potters’ colony is where the famed artisans or idol makers of Kolkata reside and work.  Months of hard work go into creating the magnificent clay idols sculpted to perfection by the artists and sculptors of Kumartuli who take the orders not only from the innumerable Durga Puja committees in Bengal but even from various cities around the globe. They even travel to distant lands to make these images on site.

      

As we walked down this narrow, crowded lane, we saw the master craftsmen giving their final touches with their paint brushes to the last few idols of Ma Durga and her children, Lakshmi, Saraswati, Karthika and Ganesha. These were the smaller ones meant for homes and residential complexes since the bigger idols had already taken their positions in the sanctum -sanctorum of the various pandals of Kolkata and the neighbouring suburbs. For other distant places, they would have been shipped long ago. Most of the idol makers were busy working in their workshops on massive idols or pratimas of Ma Kali, who is worshipped on Deepawali night in Bengal, and also on the much smaller murtis of Ma Lakshmi , who is worshipped on the Kojagori Purnima ( full moon ) night that comes soon after the visarjan or immersion of Ma Durga. All around us we saw people carrying or carting away the idols of the goddesses in hand-pulled carts to small tempos or pick- up trucks waiting on the main road. If the distance was short then four or five labourers simply carried them on their heads. Utmost care had to be taken during transit since the idols were all hand-crafted from clay and had to be protected from damage and even, untimely, rain. Shops glittering with chandmalas, chalchitras and other items of decoration adorned both sides of the narrow gully. The idol makers went about their work unaffected and unconcerned with the likes of us who were busy trying to capture the sounds and sights of these streets in their cameras and mobile phones. As we carefully maneuvered our way further into the lane we found a bust of the poet Nazrul Islam lying in a corner or had the towering figure of Swami Vivekananda looking down on us from a pedestal. The statues, busts and figures of man and god, angels and demons , animals and apsaras are scattered in every nook and corner of Kumartuli- all created by the deft fingers of these unknown and unsung master sculptors.

   

The Kumartuli Sorbojonin Durgotsav this year paid its greatest tribute to the shilpis or master craftsmen and artists of this place belonging to the Pal community, who have for generations created the idols of Durga and her family, by having their names engraved, printed, painted, sculpted on every inch of the pandal ,the makeshift home of the goddess for those few days. As we entered the puja pandal and admired the massive pratimas or idols we could not but read the names of Soumen Pal, Nitai Pal, Paresh Chandra Pal, Jitendranath Pal, Kanu Pal, Shyma Prasad Pal, Mintu Pal , Moni Pal, Ramkanta Pal, Kartik Chandra Pal and so many others as we bowed our heads in obeisance.

Kumartuli Sarbojanin Durgotsav

To make the idol of Ma Durga, clay from the river Hoogly, a tributary of the Ganga, is obtained by the potters or idol makers of Kumartuli from river bank. It is not just the clay or mrittika (mati) from the holy river that goes into it but also cow dung, cow urine and, most importantly, soil from outside the brothels or nishidhdho palli (forbidden locality). This soil, called punya mati or pure soil, cannot be just collected from outside the brothel but the idol-maker has to ask for it and receive it from the hands of the sex-worker. This has been the tradition and is followed till date. The rationale or reasoning behind it could be one of inclusivity -all are included and no one is an outcast- and that the festival is all about equality and respect, brotherhood and compassion. The second explanation which I read about is that the soil outside the brothel is blessed as it is believed that people who visit the place leave all their virtues and piety behind before entering through its door. So the soil outside absorbs all virtues and is blessed or is ‘punya mati’.  The third explanation is in the tradition of Shaktism- worship of Shakti - in which Navakanyas  or the nine forms of women, depicting the various manifestations of the Divine Feminine, are worshipped during the ritual of  Durga Puja, namely Nati (dancer), Vaishya (sex worker),   Rajiki (washerwoman), Gopala (milkmaid), Napita (barber),Malakara (gardener), Shudra (backward class woman), Brahmani (upper class woman) and Kapalini ( skull bearing worshipper of Lord Shiva). Whatever be it, the ritual is still followed by the idol makers.

The job of these idol makers is a long and tedious one, stretching into months, which they have been doing for hundreds of years through several generations. The art and skill are passed on from one generation to the other. It also involves a lot of responsibility since they can make no mistake in creating the gods and they do so with full devotion. First, the kathamo or wooden frame , is made from bamboo and wood. This begins on the day of Ratha-yatra in the month of July. The body or the torso is made from specially cut straw or hay, after the harvest of rice, and limbs take shape as the straw is bound by ropes keeping the proportion of the human body in mind. Then the clay is mixed with water, strained and kneaded to the right consistency, and mixed with rice husk and jute fluff, before being plastered over the straw. When the first layer dries, the cracks are smoothened and further layers of clay are applied before sculpting the figures to perfection. Every muscle, sinew, curve is contoured by the hands of these magicians from clay. Faces of the gods and goddesses, made of plaster of paris, are separately cast in moulds or individually handcrafted with clay and attached to the figures. This is followed by spray painting, colouring every feature, crease and arch with the deft strokes of the paintbrush.Then comes the varnishing, polishing and powder colouring to give the deities the human forms with divine aura. Finally, the hair, generally made of jute fibre, is fixed, once the clothes, embellishments and ornaments have been arranged. I gathered from one of the organizers of a community puja that they actually select and buy the saris and dhotis for Ma Durga and her family and hand them over to the idol makers for draping and, in some instances, gold jewellery is used. These days artistic innovations and sustainability are driving many artists to make idols of from other materials ranging from ashthadhatu to waste products, environment friendly organic fibres, even chalk and wooden ice-cream sticks  have been used, but for the actual puja small clay idols on a ek-chala frame are still made by these idol makers from Kumartuli , which are placed at the feet of those massive artistic creations, for the priest and devotees to carry out all the rituals.

It is on Mahalaya, which falls a week before Durga Puja, that the ritual of chakshu daan or painting of the eyes on the trinayani devi is done by the senior idol makers who specialize in this. Mahalaya also marks the end of Pitri-paksha (when prayers are offered to our ancestors) and the beginning of Devi-paksha. We wake up on this day to chants of Chandipath, agomani  songs welcoming the goddess and the beat of dhaak .It is believed that on this day Ma Durga leaves her abode in Mount Kailasha, her husband Shiva’s home, and comes down to her maternal home on earth with her four children. She chooses any one of the four vahans– palanquin, boat, horse or elephant – to transport her.

It is through the various rituals of the next few days that the clay idol or mrinmoyee becomes the chinmoyee or the Divine Goddess who is omnipotent, omniscient and omnipresent. Sashthi, the sixth day of Navaratri , begins with the invocation or bodhon and other rituals to welcome the deity. Since the ritual of Durga puja also has its origins in the worship of dharitri or Mother Earth, the source of all creation, the worship of nature or the agrarian touch is still continued in the ritual of navapatrika snan (worship of nine leaves) on Saptami, the  seventh day . This is also the day when the ritual of pran pratishtha or giving life to the idol is performed. On Ashtami , the Kumari  Puja takes place in which the goddess is worshipped in the form of a young girl child. The Sandhi  puja  performed in the evening marks the last 24 minutes of Ashtami and first 24 minutes of Navami. During this time the deity is worshipped in her Chamunda form, the slayer of demons or the evil in us. 108 lotuses are offered and 108 lamps are lit. Dashami, or the tenth day, brings an end to all the festivities as it marks the day of visarjan or immersion which begins with Devi baran or bidding adieu to the Mother. Every woman worships the goddess in the form of a woman and mother and applies sindoor or vermillion on her forehead and feet while praying for the wellbeing of her family.  All devotees can, if they wish, offer puja in the form of pushpanjali or offering of flowers while chanting the mantra with the priest on all the four days. On the tenth day the images are immersed in the river from where the clay came. Immersion of the idol in the water is symbolic of Ma Durga returning to her cosmic world. The lamp burning in the desolate podium of every puja mandap is the hope she leaves behind of her returning again. As the dhaaks or drums beat, the cymbals chime, the fumes and aroma from the incense and dhunuchis fill the air,  devotees standing before the goddess can see the changes in her facial expressions beginning with joy of homecoming on the first day to that of sadness and pain of leaving on the final day.  Perhaps the credit for this can only go those hands which create such masterpieces blending the divine in the human and the human in the divine.

From Female Cult to Mother Goddess: History and tradition

A visit to an exhibition at the Indian Museum, Kolkata on Durga: The Divine Power was very enlightening as it traced the evolution of the tradition of worship of the female principles, representing fertility, motherhood and creation as the embodiment of earth, into the worship of Devi Durga in the form of matrirupena (mother goddess) and shaktirupena (goddess of strength and justice)as a personification of womanhood and salvation for humanity. The exhibition also highlighted that the tradition of worshipping the feminine form is traceable to the Neolithic period which continued into the early agrarian communities. The Harappan Civilization, like the other great civilizations of Assyrians, Babylonians and Egyptians, have also yielded a large cache of terracotta figurines as evidence of the worship of Mother Cult. As time passed and history progressed, the tradition of worshipping fertility deities evolved into the form of divine mother goddesses. Since the beginning of the Christian era, Devi Durga was being worshipped as a demon slayer. One of the earliest sculptural representations of the Devi is from the sites of Bhita and Mathura in which she is seen in a typical Kushan era style dhoti, girdle and carrying a trishul or trident. She is also seen as Simhavahini devi in gold coins of the Gupta era.  The fifth century epic tale of triumph of wisdom over ignorance described in the Devimahatmyam of the Markandeya Purana narrates how Devi Durga was created as a warrior goddess to fight the demon Mahishasura. After being granted a boon by Brahma that neither God nor man would be able to defeat him, Mahishasura invades the Gods and unleashes terror on heaven, earth and the netherworld. The Gods then create Durga who, after a fierce battle that rages for days, finally vanquishes the demon on the tenth day and becomes Mahishashuramardini (Slayer of Demon).

Mahishasuramardini at Indian Museum, Kolkata

Over the years, Bengal has become the cultural heart of the national and global celebration of Durga Puja. The earliest mention of such public celebration of Durga Puja is in the 14^th Century CE text, Durgabhaktitarangini by  the Maithili poet Vidyapati. Since medieval period Durga puja has been held within the private precincts of wealthy and influential families. The Sabarna Roy Choudhury family has been celebrating Durga Puja since 1610 in their ancestral home in Barisha.  Raja Nabakrishna Deb started Durga Puja in Sobhabazar Rajbari since 1757. Rani Rashmoni also celebrated Durga Puja at her residence in Kolkata. The descendants of these families still continue with the tradition. As time passed, the private celebrations of the elites were taken over by the masses as Baroyaari Puja or community celebrations and with broader participation came to be known as Sorbojanin Pujas (including all in the community). As early as 1790, twelve residents of Gooptipara, Hoogly, organized the first Baro-yaari puja by collaborating and collecting contributions from local residents. It is believed that Raja Harinath of Cossimbazar brought the Baroyaari puja to Kolkata in 1832.

Puja at Rani Rashmoni Bhawan

In December 2021 UNESCO listed the Durga Pujo of Kolkata as an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. The inscription states, “Durga Puja is seen as the best instance of the public performance of religion and art, and as a thriving ground for collaborative artists and designers. The festival is characterized by large-scale installations and pavilions in urban areas, as well as traditional Bengali drumming and veneration of the goddess. During the event, the divides of class, religion and ethnicities collapse as crowds of spectators walk around to admire the installations.”

None of this could have been achieved without the painstaking efforts of the organizers of the community Pujas over the years, the people who maintain law and order, those who arrange and observe all the rituals, and above all the creative brilliance of hundreds of idol makers, artisans, craftsmen, decorators and illumination artists who create this artistic splendor which is not just a visual treat but a soul-awakening journey.

DS