Pankaj Banerjee
oct.10,'06
A perfect synthesis of a sense of euphoria and that of devotion is still floating in the form micro bubbles in the air of sarat festival even as the sojourn of the goddess Durga down here with her devotees has its culmination. Gloomi-ness dangling high above with the sticky clouds shutting out the sky does not find its peer in this village. One or two spells of downpour at this noon is nothing more than creation the few puddles and muddy patches in the village paths.
The sun immediately following showers stood antagonizing all bids othe weather to go mucky,air around here standing morose-proof. The scurrying children and women with old uncles, aunts and grandparents sitting here and there around the pandal and enjoying themselves, bear the eloquent testimony.The atmosphere in the pandal, now calm in the dusk, was still vibrant with the Chanting of hymn the priest offered before the Mother in course of rituals. A kind of celestial fragrance given off by flowers and burning frankincense wafting in the air made this makeshift temple heavenly richer. Now with three days gone by unnoticed, there hung on intoxication-waxing and healing in nature, permeating every nook and cranny of the heart of one and all. Much-longed for Durga puja celebrated here with minute ritual details, had now reached the valedictory stage,spilling divine nectar and aroma all around.
Irrespective of age, sex and disposition, one remains a staunch devotee of the Mother. Hangover of wild ecstasy is still there. The devotees now gather in cluster before her-strong passion brewing up within to be lost in the rhythmic dance-Atari-a dance of beatitude, elevating all concerned to a sublime plane. Getting engrossed with the Mother exchanging pleasantries among themselves setting free from the bondage of worries are no doubt symbolic of the uplift of their spiritual quotient. Evening rolls in, more devotees pour in and the priest is all set for the arati. The priest plays the liaison officer inspiring the devotees with Vedic hymn. Everyone especially older ones, gets filled with veneration. Swells of smoke issuing out of the dunacha confirm it.
Rhythmic beats of the sacred drum cut loose the ecstatic frenzy of the devotees present here. Arati begins. Used yet to getting stooped to the nitty-gritty of mighty miseries and poverty, there are no stumbling-blocks for any one to be lost in the holy feats. Before long all get engrossed in stepping in divinely rhythm, hands upward, faces fixed at the Mother’s eyes, half-shut with reverential feelings. Arati goes on non stop, even though the divine exercise has caused the devotees to perspire profusely. Devotion to the beloved mother is infinite, all individuals getting, as it were, mingled into oneness regardless of who and what they are.
Theirs are, beyond doubt, the best language to convey their immense gratitude to the Mother for Her blessings. Theirs are the best, for they are now devoid of egoistic consciousness. They have become a single mass of divine oneness with the supra cosmic. They are in absolute bliss. They are fully engrossed in the Mother, their eyes fixed on the image, brimming with tears, their feet engaged in rhythmic steps. This is what the Mother is all about. She is the harbinger of happiness, annihilator of evil, who puts an end to miseries and mischief and wipes out sins. Her endless and cosmic benevolence brings forth lull to the diseased, fertility to barrenness, mercy for the foes, solace to the bereaved and salvation from both ignorance and catastrophe.
“all Hail to the Mother! Victory to the Mother”-hosanna fills the air.
oct.10,'06
A perfect synthesis of a sense of euphoria and that of devotion is still floating in the form micro bubbles in the air of sarat festival even as the sojourn of the goddess Durga down here with her devotees has its culmination. Gloomi-ness dangling high above with the sticky clouds shutting out the sky does not find its peer in this village. One or two spells of downpour at this noon is nothing more than creation the few puddles and muddy patches in the village paths.
The sun immediately following showers stood antagonizing all bids othe weather to go mucky,air around here standing morose-proof. The scurrying children and women with old uncles, aunts and grandparents sitting here and there around the pandal and enjoying themselves, bear the eloquent testimony.The atmosphere in the pandal, now calm in the dusk, was still vibrant with the Chanting of hymn the priest offered before the Mother in course of rituals. A kind of celestial fragrance given off by flowers and burning frankincense wafting in the air made this makeshift temple heavenly richer. Now with three days gone by unnoticed, there hung on intoxication-waxing and healing in nature, permeating every nook and cranny of the heart of one and all. Much-longed for Durga puja celebrated here with minute ritual details, had now reached the valedictory stage,spilling divine nectar and aroma all around.
Irrespective of age, sex and disposition, one remains a staunch devotee of the Mother. Hangover of wild ecstasy is still there. The devotees now gather in cluster before her-strong passion brewing up within to be lost in the rhythmic dance-Atari-a dance of beatitude, elevating all concerned to a sublime plane. Getting engrossed with the Mother exchanging pleasantries among themselves setting free from the bondage of worries are no doubt symbolic of the uplift of their spiritual quotient. Evening rolls in, more devotees pour in and the priest is all set for the arati. The priest plays the liaison officer inspiring the devotees with Vedic hymn. Everyone especially older ones, gets filled with veneration. Swells of smoke issuing out of the dunacha confirm it.
Rhythmic beats of the sacred drum cut loose the ecstatic frenzy of the devotees present here. Arati begins. Used yet to getting stooped to the nitty-gritty of mighty miseries and poverty, there are no stumbling-blocks for any one to be lost in the holy feats. Before long all get engrossed in stepping in divinely rhythm, hands upward, faces fixed at the Mother’s eyes, half-shut with reverential feelings. Arati goes on non stop, even though the divine exercise has caused the devotees to perspire profusely. Devotion to the beloved mother is infinite, all individuals getting, as it were, mingled into oneness regardless of who and what they are.
Theirs are, beyond doubt, the best language to convey their immense gratitude to the Mother for Her blessings. Theirs are the best, for they are now devoid of egoistic consciousness. They have become a single mass of divine oneness with the supra cosmic. They are in absolute bliss. They are fully engrossed in the Mother, their eyes fixed on the image, brimming with tears, their feet engaged in rhythmic steps. This is what the Mother is all about. She is the harbinger of happiness, annihilator of evil, who puts an end to miseries and mischief and wipes out sins. Her endless and cosmic benevolence brings forth lull to the diseased, fertility to barrenness, mercy for the foes, solace to the bereaved and salvation from both ignorance and catastrophe.
“all Hail to the Mother! Victory to the Mother”-hosanna fills the air.
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