The Homecoming

“Mechanics ta-ke ropto koro!”

(Master the concepts of Mechanics!)

Tia’s Physics teacher shook his head disapprovingly, his spectacles dangling at the tip of his nose. The report card for mid-term examinations had just arrived and Tia’s score was still a single digit, not reflecting any improvement from the first term results. No matter how hard she tried, Mechanics had remained a mystery. Centripetal and centrifugal forces were nothing but ‘tomayto and tomahto’ to her.

“Joint Entrance examination is no joke, my lady,” he continued. “Do you want to be an Engineer or not?”

Tia stared at him blankly.

Since the beginning of the year, Tia had been on her toes. Senior school was getting tougher by the day and she had to juggle between school and tuition classes to ensure that her grades were up to the mark. Over the last few months, her day begun at 7 in the morning and ended at 10 at night, being tightly packed between classes, assignments and self-study hours. In the process, her art classes had taken a backseat. She had had no time to laze in the verandah and watch the neighbourhood hustle, gearing up for Durga Puja. Last year, she had made a painting of the crowd during the Goddess’s arrival in the pandal.

“This is brilliant Tia!”, Ma had said in praise. “This looks just like a Gaganendranath painting!” It was one of Tia’s favourite paintings of all time.

She had longed to break free from her strict routine. It was as if life was playing a mix tape of awful songs and somebody had forcefully kept the play button pressed.

However, with the onset of the Bengali month of Ashwin, as Ma Durga announced her arrival, the pause button was pressed. School was closed for the Puja vacation and tuition classes were called off. For the 10 days of Puja, nobody would ask Tia to open her books. Hence, when Ma presented the opportunity of celebrating the festivities at her ancestral house in Bolpur this year, Tia had jumped at it at once!

Now, she is here, at the Bolpur house, carefully spreading out a paste made of white clay on the floor with her fingers, creating a flowery motif. Tomorrow is Shoshti, the day of Ma Durga’s homecoming, after she defeats the demon Mahishasura in battle. “No man on heaven, hell or earth shall ever be able to defeat you”, was the boon with which Lord Brahma had blessed Mahishasura. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that his quest for eternal supremacy would be cut-short and he would be overthrown by a woman – a wife, a mother and a magnificent superpower. Tia always found the story fascinating. To her, it symbolized the triumph of good over evil, and of freedom, beauty and grace over all things gloomy.

She stood up to admire her ornate work. She thought it looked quite majestic against the centre stage, which she and her cousins had decorated with garlands of marigold. The clay idol of Ma Durga would be placed right there. The large pillars encircling the courtyard were draped in red cloth which were occasionally given a break by adding white and gold ornamental hangings.

Tia breathed a sigh of satisfaction. The last five days in Bolpur had gone by in a swish. From morning to evening, the house had been filled with the cacophony of Puja planning. Day-wise itineraries of various rituals were made and invitations were sent out in the village, to attend the grand celebrations in their house. Tia had hand-painted small Durga faces on each invitation card. Food menu for the feast became the common topic of debate amongst the elders, with items being added and deleted every now and then. Skits were written and songs were selected from Tagore’s songbook, to be performed at the opening function upon Durga’s arrival. Tia was assigned the role of Saraswati in the skit and had also picked up two songs to be performed in chorus the next day. She spent her days helping with the preparations, cutting fruits and vegetables, collecting flowers from the backyard and competing with her cousins on who had the best selection of clothes set aside for each day of the festivities. The evenings were reserved for rehearsals and card games over tea. Such perfect days were brought to a perfect end with a sumptuous meal for dinner, clouded with laughter and loud banters.

Suddenly, her thoughts were broken by the loud voice of her Aunt piercing through the long corridors.

“Ki re Tia, alpona-ta hoye gechhe?”, she asked, inquiring about the floor-art which Tia was entrusted with.

“Haan Mashi, completed!” Tia replied in glee.

“Well done!” her Aunt’s voice came bouncing back in reply.

“Ebar chhuti. Abar bikele kaaj”, she said, sending Tia off for the day and assuring that there was more to be done in the evening.

Tia put on her slippers and ran to the field outside to occupy the large wooden swing under the banyan tree before any of her cousins got there. Tia could not even remember the last time she had been this carefree and had revelled in the spirit of togetherness. The school gates, books and Physics lessons - all seemed like a distant memory. She was at peace, absorbing the view of the open field resplendent with white kaash flowers swaying in the gentle breeze. She adjusted herself on the seat, pulled herself a little to the back along with the swing, and gave a light push on the ground with her feet.

The swing kept swaying back and forth.

Artwork by: Tanmayee Chakraborty