Nostalgia: Part 1- Durgashtami

As I sit with a cup of tea on my balcony, I realize it’s my favourite time of the year. With my birthday and Diwali approaching I could sense the festivity in the air, except that this air isn’t something I’m familiar with. I’m habitual of a much higher frequency oscillating in the air, the frequency of the enchanting music playing in durga pandaals in every nook. That’s the difference between a metropolitan and a town. The euphony fades in the noisy, busy city. But it persists in a town in different forms.

For some, it is a religious belief; for others, it’s an awaited celebration filling excitement in the hearts of people. No points for guessing, I was among the latter ones. Every Ashtami, I and my cousins would plan to visit every single pandaal in the town, a sort of tradition that was bound to be followed. Surprisingly, I never came across such a tradition in 3 years of my life in a metropolitan simply because of a busy life stuck amidst clubs, malls and highways.

To be stuck in the crowd and wait in a queue for a glance of the idol is a memory I’ll always cherish.