Tap Dance and Percussion-Fusion Pujo

I spent close to 5 hours at the Woodrow Wilson Middle School, Pasadena last night at the BASC(http://www.basconline.org/) Pujo Mondop -which is the longest I have stayed at One Pandal ,second only to the time (not hours, not days, cumulatively certainly months.....) spent at the one right outside my home at Jamshedpur!

Having caught the festive-devotional bug at about 10 a.m. last morning, I slipped in my intention of visiting Pasadena to Sagar(my ever willing roommate) in our conversation, supplicating to his charity to drive us there.
And so it was that at 7 pm last evening We found ourselves on I-10 scrambling East and then North On Del Mar Bl. and then turned the corner at Madre in Pasadena, trying to reach before 8-the scheduled end of dinner and commencement of the music programs. To get us into the mood we entailed Anup Jalota-arguably the greatest catalyst to temporary devotion for a lot of opportunists like myself.






The Goddess was as beautiful as ever.
The Mondop was the very same room the puja is being held in for the last couple of years. The same decor and ambience of the room in place. Same stalls of ethnic Indian wear and jewellery.
Scrambling to an ATM and back again for $45 in cash required for the food tickets and program entry we finally managed to feast sumptuously on the Rice, Dal, Palak Paneer, Kofte and Mutton. (Chutni and Halwa too!)
The program, we missed a large part of, was the "Biplober Gaan" (Songs of the revolution)- It was a sort of Musical-verbal drama with landmark stills from various stages of the Indian freedom struggle right upto the Nandigram shootouts in 2007 being projected onto the background. The songs ranged from paeans for the martyrs of the freedom struggle to voices of support for Naxalites. Interestingly the whole presentation sought to address the woes of Bangladesh and West Bengal together-expressing similar scorn for administration on both sides and reiterating solidarity of the united Bangla-as far as I could understand.


The program I witnessed every minute of, was the much awaited "Jambination" fusion music by Abhishek Basu's group. Drums, Tabla, Tambourine, Bass, Electric, Beat Boxing and Taal recital all together- spiced up by dances, of styles I am not qualified to comment on, by Shibani Thakkar and Holly Shaw. Basu had trained at Bikram Ghosh' school and just like him I think he overdoes the improvisation part. For one thing the person at the equalizer controls did a very shoddy job and for another the auditorium was far from being acoustically "sound".
Highlight of the show?- Tap Dance by Shibani Thakkar as the last declared piece of the show.



....and so the celebration of the Bengalis being garnished with the Hallmark Irish gesture of Joy- the Tap Dance- performed by a Punjabi Lady to the beat of the Tabla, a Pan Indian music instrument and the Drums being played by a drummer from Africa-All this in California-diametrically opposite Calcutta- the real abode of the goddess.
The World really is a small place!

References
a)Memory
b)http://www.basconline.org/

Festive Rhythms

When you spend some time in a country culturally very different from your own, you begin to notice that one very important change is the difference of Festive Rhythms.

The rhythm of the season of convivial expectations, legal work breaks, visits and visitors.The time of the year one is expected to look forward to as a time of celebration, and its very nature.

Having spent two years away from the mayhem of Durgo Pujo in dear Ole Baridih (in case you were wondering, Baridih is my hometown,actually a small part of Jamshedpur) I can, may be, begin to paint a picture of the things I miss.

Knowledgeable readers would agree that Autumn as compared to spring is the best time of the year in most parts of India. The earth having slaked it's thirst after the tormentous summer months looks forgiving again. The green flag of truce it covers itself with- a soothing sight for the eyes .....and the promise of an infinitely more comfortable winter all add to the man made gaiety that coincides with Autumn.

For about two whole months the succession of select gods and goddesses descend upon the, by now, lush terrain of the whole of India- heartland,plateaus, coasts and Hillside alike. The minimal resources of a lot of the devotees now buttressed by the standing crops in the fields provides ample possibilties for the ritual gratification of the gods. If you ask me , their moment of arrival could not have been better chosen: poor monsoons can always be supplemented with divine benediction and in case the rains have been merciful already -well ,then everyone knows who to thank it for!The manner of thanks though is to be dictated by the caste of people who as a birthright (and some rudimentary training) know, how to convey lesser mortals' token of thanks to the high and mighty.

No....!The cynic within can wait for it's turn at Push button publishing !

I write today to lament the lack of deafening drumbeats surrounding me,of incantation barely comprehensible , of blaring loudspeakers through the extent of my small city, of foodstalls that come up overnight, of the chilli chicken served at such places (the origin of the chicken in question at best being apocryphal), of swathes of humanity moved by devotion, of women and girls draped in beautiful sarees and their legions of followers-who give "Devi-Darshan" a whole new meaning at this time of the year, of the nouveau-rich feeling a fifty Rupee note induced in me for such days, of being allowed to wear crisp new shirts on the 3 main days of the pujos (contingent upon rising early, showering and subsequent praying), of some of us school friends who would tour the city together- pool our estates together to manage some grub from the overcrowded stalls-hop from pandal to pandal ,mainly on foot-return home late with only perfunctory repudiations, of the despondent devotees on Dashami-the tenth and the final day of the Navaratri (better known as Bijoya), of the sublime food and sweets that day that took some of the pain away , of the smell of air thick with incense and cheap perfume and fragrant talcum powder at this time allover my city, of .......

Yeah, I think I lament the lack of an aid to Nostalgia.

I remember that the three days of the Pujos happened to be the only other time except for Saraswati Puja that my mother did not tell me to study.Infact she insisted I don't study. Apparently the books in order to disseminate knowledge had to absorb it first from the Goddess and they could only do so in-situ . This was the express purpose of keeping them unused for the duration of the Pujos and on Dashami taking the books I thought to be particularly important to the deity herself and smearing some sindoor to rub in some of the benediction -visibly.

Made perfect sense to an eager believer.(and not in the least cause it gave me 4 days to absolutely while away !)

I lament how I got ideas into my head that took some of the magic away.

I had verbally expressed my disapproval of some of the things I mentioned above to Maa, when she had asked me to be a bit more enthusiastic about the whole affair of the Pujas over the last few years. How hard did I strive then to be different! Knowing better, being objective ...you know ...the whole Logical approach to Faith thing!

But I have discovered that my soul has a rhythm tied to the rhythm of the land I was born in- and that will never change.

I remember that for most of my childhood I had been the one to pester Bapi mama, my youngest maternal uncle to take me around during Puja time. This changed when I grew up to be in class 9 or so when I decided that such frivolous forays into the multitude were a waste of my time and had to be convinced by him to come tour the city with the rest of the family.

Today, I remember my indifferent saunter and supercilious smile when I did so and wish I had Bapi mama now, to convince me to go round the city with him.

Someday, Someday.

To end on an optimistic note, though it does not befit the end exactly. Let me repeat what the Bengalis say when they meet on the last day of the Pujos- On Bijoya:

"Aasche Bochor Aabar Hobe"

(Next year, we Shall celebrate again!!!)

References

a) http://www.durga-puja.org/photo-gallery.html

b) dictionary.com