Missing Pujo

Growing up in Jamshedpur, I realise we used to observe a lot of traditionally non-Tam festivals. Which is the reason why even today Durga Puja is very special to me, although it has been almost 16 years since I actually celebrated it. It's just that the memories attached to it have a surefire way of tugging at the heartstrings.
Still remember how every year on Mahalaya in the wee hours of the morning, Amma used to switch on the tiny radio in the kitchen to hear the Mahishasura Mardini incantation on AIR. She would keep the volume slightly low so that we did not get disturbed. But inevitably, I remember I used to wake up somehow and would walk in somewhere towards the tail end of the piece. For some reason, Amma would be so moved by the rendition that she would get all misty-eyed, and looking at her so would I.
I remember my parents used to buy me at least three sets of new clothes to wear when I went pandal-hopping with my friends. In retrospect, I realise how lucky I was. Diwali would be just around the corner and that was more important to us. They needn't have bought me the stuff for Durga Puja, but they did only so that I did not feel left out. I am still thankful for that.
Walking from one pandal to another with friends, trying to figure out which locality had the best pandal and idol, gorging on the yummiest bhog ever, hogging on gol-guppas as well as ice-creams and packet "pepsis" on the sly; in the night, piling into a bus with my folks and other families from the colony to check out the pandals in far-off localities like Sonari and Burma Mines_all these and more formed the mainstay of my life for those 3-four days from Shashti to Bijoya. In between, going to Sabuj Kalyan Sangh with folks to attend the fun fair, trying to gather up courage to sit on the giant wheel, especially after that one year when Anna and his friends were stuck on it for a while after the electricity went off. On Dashami, shedding a tear or two when the idol would be taken away for immersion but by evening recovering well enough to go to houses of friends, many many friends, and feasting on sweets.
Of course, in parallel there would also be the Navratri celebrations at home, Tam-style, full of chundal and kolu and dreading going to the houses of some maamis for vettali-paaka as one would be forcefully invited to sing and one's repitoire was limited to Hindi film songs, not something which befitted a nalla ponna!
When leaving Jamshedpur, never realised that I was really leaving behind a very formative part of my life and that Durga Puja in the years to come would never be the same for me.