Hello, Mr Biswas?

A Durga Puja-inspired piece of total fiction first written with friends in the Ochre Sky community.

White borders of kaash phool decorate lush, green fields and it is that time of the year when Bengalis all over the world, from Calgary to Kolkata, buy new clothes and get ready to feast.

Photo by Saptarsi Masanta on Unsplash

It would be his gift to his beloved community, Mr Biswas kept saying – a Pujo of their own – right there on the lawns of Eden Gardens Co-operative Housing Society in the middle of Kalina in Mumbai. And the Bannerjeas, the Bonnerjees, the Catterjees and the Das-Munshis all beamed back at him and plied him with the best sondesh that money could buy, as he happily wiped his sweaty brow, his shirt stretching tight across his belly. Every year that Pujo rolled around again and everyone had to sweat it out and jostle for space at the LIC Colony Pujo in Khar, he said to hold on just a little bit longer – it was all falling into place now. Surojit Da had agreed to come and perform. And Debanjana had said she would come for the inaugural dhunuchi naach. Pandal decorators had all but been hired.

Finally, he opened a bank account and invited everyone to start collecting funds. Whatever you could afford – no pressure. Contributions would be anonymous. Of course no one could expect the bombastic Mr Chatterjee to keep mum on his generous contribution. Poor Mrs Das-Munshi sold one of her gold bangles so that no one could point fingers at her husband – she was not taking any chances with anonymous! Collections opened up for the neighbouring colonies and the sound of dhaak that was to come filled the air. Bags filled with new clothes took up every corner of every house. Children insisted on wearing their new clothes and then more had to be bought! All the ladies went on diets and the men seemed to be making up by demanding chop, singara and ghugni every day in the evening after office. When it was almost time for Pujo, Mr Biswas said he needed to make a last-minute trip to Kolkata to bring back the decorators and all the material they needed.

But he was not back even when there were only three days left to go. And his phone, his wife’s phone and his children’s phones were all switched off. They unanimously agreed to not pursue the matter till after Pujo was over. They knew what they had to do for now – they wore their new clothes and went to sweat it out and jostle for space at the LIC Colony Pujo.