The fireworks still explode in the memory, and the taste of nuts and cream and sugar still linger on the tongue. For immigrants from India, the childhood memories of Diwali are strong, for it is a time when India transforms into one glittering celebration. Public buildings are illuminated with neon lights and every home, no matter how humble, is ablaze with earthen lamps. In fact, entire villages are turned into fairylands, dotted with millions of lamps, glowing in the dark of night.

(Photo by Capt. Rohit Saxena)
Durga Puja in Kolkata – Sarbari Chowdhury Remembers..
“I miss the garland of mango leaves that my mother hung outside our front door. I miss the two ‘mangal kalash’ she put at the front gate during Durga Puja. I miss the sound of the mike blaring the puja mantras from seven in the morning.

I miss the ‘bhog’ of khichri and fried potatoes and kheer every afternoon for lunch. I miss visiting the numerous puja pandals – we visited all night – seven or eight of us, uncles, aunts, cousins packed into one car. I miss seeing the sindoor covered faces of my mother and grandmother when they returned from the puja pandal on Dusshera after the ritual of ‘sindoor khela’ – where married women bid the Goddess goodbye and they apply sindoor on each other’s faces for fun.

I miss going from house to house in the neighborhood, touching the feet of the elders, asking for their blessing and eating mithai that they offered till we were ready to throw up.”