Guest Writer: Hrishita Ghosh
October rolls around and brings with it the Durga Puja— my Bengali heart rejoices in
anticipation, every year. Every year, my mind becomes sick with bittersweet nostalgia, without
fail, thinking of you.
It’s not fair to me, the fact that your memories are now so closely intertwined with the one
festival I look forward to. This is the first time I haven’t gone back home for the Puja. This is the
first time I haven’t seen you during the Puja.
I remember, on the first day of Puja, shashthi— I visited the pandal next to your home, and you
visited the pandal next to mine. It’s an exchange of worlds that occurs every year. Not this year. I
could only see your pictures and laugh a derisive laugh because you are closer to my home than
I am right now.
I remember, on the second day of Puja, saptami— both of us sang at the annual singing
competition in our hometown. Not this year; this time, it was just you. I haven’t heard you in so
long, I am sacred of slowly forgetting your voice.
I remember, on the third day of Puja, ashtami— you were done with anjali before I was, so you
came to visit my side of our hometown again. I remember feeling your eyes on me for so long
(you had never seen me in a saree before). Not this year; this time, I wore a kurta. And I saw you
leave a like on my Instagram story.
I remember, on the fourth day of Puja, navami— you watched me dance with the dhunuchi,
starstruck, speechless. It was always me looking at you and so rarely this, you looking at me. Not
this year; I stayed in my dorm room the whole day. Both of us went out with our families at
night. Your father and mine are friends and I remember them joking about how they would get
us married if it was up to them.
I remember, on the last day of Puja, dashami— both of us went to the goddess’s visarjan and I
accidentally bumped into you and you spilt sindoor all over me. Your name means silver but
there had been so many golden moments between us and this was another— you laughing at
the mess I was, the mess you’d made of me, while apologising anyway.
