memento mori

the utter desolation that engulfs my para after doshomi is freaky. after all the pomp, the lights, the cacophony on nobomi, the silence of doshomi night (after the trailers have left for babughat) is so palpable that it actually grips you. the darkness is so thick you can cut it with the proverbial knife. in one word , its frightening. the transformation takes place in the space of a few hours. the frenzy of the past week reaches a crescendo during the bhashaan procession, the mad beat of the dhaak and the dance that continues for more than an hour, and then immediately afterward there is lull...the pandal is half demolished, the lightmen take down the lights, the decorators take away the chairs and sofas, the ballon sellers and junk food sellers pack up and leave. its like cinderella and her entourage after midnight, its like the town in thakurma-r jhuli that came alive with jiyon kaathi and went back into hibernation with moron kaathi. you are back in your shorts and all the finery of pujo is gone, you don't even feel like leching at the rockbaaj chyangra chheler dol. everything is...just...gone! as Dr. Hazra would say: "bhyaanish".
if somebody asked me to describe Death, i'd use doshomi night as a metaphor. its almost like the sudden, unexpected, unaccountable and absurd death of a young, lively, beautiful, exuberant person, a person you love....its like a reminder of our own mortality.
the sadness of this cessation lingers despite the realisation that there will be a resurrection in twelve months. the wait seems endless. there is mourning in the air. and the pujo smell is replaced by the smell of winter almost overnight.