Shreya Sen-Handley - Handle With Care: Travels With My Family (To Say Nothing of the Dog)

To my family and other animals (because for this book,only a Durrellesque dedication would do!)

Contents

T here is magic in the air in Kolkata tonight. The autumnal night sky is lit with rainbow hues. These colours reflect off the pandals, those magnificent, glittering, multicoloured marquees. Tonight, our pandal-hop starts from south Kolkatas Selimpur and ends at Park Circus. The Gariahat road on which we walk is long and busy. We see hundreds of pandals, big and small, all decked up as distinctively as can be. We spot everything from a giant-bird marquee to the slightly less fantastical South Indian temple. We stop at a pagoda-like one in Ballygunge. It is stately, not serene. Nothing is serene during the Pujas. Though the air is filled with loud music and voices, the pagoda is worth a halt and deserves a better look. But thats precisely our problem. We two little children and their diminutive mom dont think we will get that better look tonight. In fact, close to the ground as we are, even the magic in the air slightly eludes us. Air itself does too, hemmed in as we are by a large, surging crowd, jostling and jabbering.

Oh, Mommy, said my seven-year-old daughter, its bootiful, but I can barely breathe.

It was clearly time for the Himshim Manoeuvre. Similar to the Heimlich Manoeuvre, Himshim brings release from a peculiar kind of choking particular to Kolkata at Pujo-time. I was about to find out if Id grown rusty from my many years away. Gripping my childrens hands tightly, I ploughed through the palaver of people till we breathed refreshingly un-regurgitated air on a quieter side street. There were enough people there still to fill a small hall, but it was undoubtedly easier to breathe. Soon spirited home in our car down similar back streets, the children were relieved but also eager for more. Shall we do it again? asked our young man of nine.

Of course we would! Thats why we were in Kolkata for the Pujas after twelve long years. We visited annually but till this year, the kids had seemed too young to enjoy the colour and chaos of the Pujas to the full. And much like the Goddess Durgas own homecoming, as celebrated by the Pujas, this was meant to be a triumphant one. We werent meant to scuttle away after a single attempt at rubbernecking. We had not covered ourselves in Pujo-hopping glory on our first foray into the festivities. I was, however, determined not to be deterred by a puny crowd of thousands. Did Durga down arms and slink away when confronted by the macho Mahishasura? No, she grappled him to the ground instead. And so would I, I decided, find a way to master the Pujas all over again, introducing its magic and mayhem to my eager young uns in the most painless way possible.

I could no longer, I had to admit, flow through crowds like Saraswatis swan through water, or match Ganeshs nose for the finest grub. This time around, for example, it took a while to find the most mouth-watering double-chicken-egg rolls at the resplendent Park Circus Puja, which would have been the work of a mere few practised seconds years ago. Yet, some things hadnt changed. The enthusiasm was still there, as was the pluck. Most of all, the mind ticketh over as before. It was formulating a plan with the practicality of Lakshmi and the maternal instincts of Durga. And that all-conquering arsenal in the latters ten powerful arms? I would need those too. Just adapted to less epic requirements to help me navigate, in feeble NRI ishtyle, this once-familiar festival:

• First of all, Id need the goddesss three eyes. All the better to see the Pujas with. Our plan was to stick to familiar but spectacular south and central pujas near our Kolkata home on this trip, venturing farther north to take in more traditional beauties on the next. Within the span we set ourselves, we chose Mudiali for its glitz, Jodhpur Park for its ingenuity, and Maddox Square for its fashionable folk, of course. The second eye would help me watch the children, no matter how firm a hold I had on them at the time. And the third one, with a 360-degree sweep, would keep tabs on the insistent peddlers and even more persistent pinchers (of bags and other b words).
• Then Id need a conch. The goddesss conch blasting out a primordial Om apparently created whole universes. Mine would just need to drown out the cacophony of loudspeakers. Not only when we were out Pujo-trawling, but all the time. Whether at home with family, digging into autumnal delicacies like malpoas and kosha mangsho, or in the thick of a meaty adda, there are always PA systems blaring for the Pujas. But though my conch would have to out-boom those speakers, it mustnt drown out the dhakis, the traditional drummers beating a rhythmic tattoo through the festival. The rousing beat of the dhakis is simply divine and no Pujo could be complete without them. The best of them at a modest puja in Gol Park made my heart and my children dance, and the conch was forgotten.
• Along with the goddesss three eyes, youd want her trishul or trident. Because whats the point of being all-seeing if you cant be all-doing as well? One prong of which in our more humdrum not-creating-universes sort of way could be a nimble DSLR to take phenomenal pictures of the Pujas. Of the always-elegant Ekdalia, the often splendid-in-a-tight-space Dhakuria, or the incandescent College Square (not in south Kolkata, I know, but an old favourite). Or you could have a nifty (and tightly-clutched) smartphone instead that not only takes photos, but gives you directions when lost, which youre bound to get, with every street changed beyond recognition by the beautification and the barricades. The second prong could be the water bottles and stash of bishkoot you plan to keep with you for the kids. When stuck in a traffic jam in between pandals as you invariably will be, Marie bishkoot or Kerackjack will keep them occupied. The third and final prong of your trishul would have to be for despatching pests of all kinds the ones youve identified with your omniscient third eye. Then your trident and your mace (a lot like the Devis, except it works like a spray) will make short work of them.
• The deitys sword would come in handy too. It signifies a sharp intellect, and you certainly need to be able to think on your feet when out and about on a blazingly beautiful but busy Pujo night. In fact, with children, afternoons and even early mornings are much better for unimpeded viewing. We found smaller, back-alley pandals to be far more child-friendly. The children were blown away by the peacock marquee in Lake Gardens, and couldnt bear to leave the Fern Road pandal with its illuminated and animated animals. The friendliness of these parar pujos with locals warmly and personally ushering us in, added immeasurably to the experience.