I've always had a fondness for Pujo, growing up in pre-millennium city Gurgaon among a lot of Bengali families. Pujo was the annual event I'd look forward to, at our local Samiti's pandal. I'd win the painting competition ever since I was a precocious 4 year old kid, year after year. I remember my brother and I playing hide and seek with the other kids behind the Pandal tent, and me dressing up as a cat for a fancy dress competition while an older girl I knew wore an MJ costume while doing a moonwalk on stage. All this in the backdrop of the Pujo, and songs and delicious prasad. It was a family outing for us at a time where options were limited.

The sound of the dhak, the soulful tunes of Rabindra Sangeet, the prayer and the haze of incense around the Pujo area, the sound of the conch that would give me delighted goosebumps. The women dressed in gorgeous saris, with bright red bindis and dark kohl eyes would ask us kids to sing but we'd be too shy. And I'd pester Dad to buy us dinner from the food stalls, despite the limited veggie options.

But apart from all this, I remember being in utter awe of the Goddess, every year. Those eyes spoke to me, and that gentle calm yet badass fierceness she represents always inspired me.

This poem is my way of expressing my love for Maa Durga. It's also for all those years that kindled in me a fond appreciation for Pujo, Bengali culture and this time of the year.

Maa, these ten days rushed past like a whirlwind.

From the very first day your alta-stained feet crossed our threshold;

I wonder what you were like as a child -

Those wild, untamed tresses, dark as midnight

Those almond, kohl-lined eyes spilling over with dreams

A mind that unleashed a powerful imagination,

from the books you hungered to learn from

Your tinkling anklets heralded your arrival, where boys cowered

And teachers sighed, wondering about the next prank you'd pull

Bullies didn't stand a chance; one look from those blazing eyes was enough

You taught your friends their dreams can be as limitless as the ocean,

You'd shake down the trees to let the blossoms fall down

Milky-white with bright orange stems, on your hair like stars in the inky sky

You were feisty and always ready for an adventure,

Running through the fields playing catch with the boys

And climbing tall trees, for high up from above,

you could see all the people and places you loved.

Maa, did you feel scared too? Did you know what was happening to you

Did you feel a twinge of dread too, when one day you awoke

To bloodied thighs and strange pains, not a girl anymore but not quite grown up

Did you too wonder what was happening to you,

And ask your Maa questions and hug her in the hope

That she would take all your pain away?

Today, we bow our heads down and worship you

Numerous sculptors create your likeness

Each moulded in our limited mortal knowledge

Of what the divine feminine could look like

But was that really you? Did you always feel like a Goddess?

Did you too, shed tears and cling to your Maa and Baba,

When the day came to depart to the home of your beloved?

Maa,

Do you miss us too, when we bid you farewell

As you depart after your annual visit home,

That brightens our doorsteps with hope

And reminds us how power, kindness & beauty can coexist?

Do you, Maa?

- Nandini Swaminathan ©