When I was a child, my home was a classic, traditional Indian home. Kishore Kumar and Lata Mangeshkar would croon softly while my mother cooked goat and chicken and okra tossed in turmeric, softly humming the lyrics under her breath. Every event would mean donning the finest, glittering Indian attire.
Every holiday and birthday would warrant a trip to temple to eat fruit blessed by the idols in the center of the room, sourced from India, carved from wood and stone, bathed in ethereal belief and prayer of the devotees. As a family with roots in Odisha, we folded into the local Dallas Odia community like a coarse blanket – it was comfortable, but not always exactly right. It just so happened to chafe the most against our skin during Durga Puja.
Durga Puja is an annual, four-day festival between September and October that pays homage to the Hindu goddess Durga and celebrates her victory over Mahishasura. It is particularly celebrated in Eastern Indian states including West Bengal, Tripura, Bihar, Jharkhand, Uttar Pradesh, Assam, and Odisha, as well as by Hindus in Bangladesh. In places like Kolkata and Cuttack, the puja is performed in homes and in public places with hand-built and ornate stages, exuberant marches, beautiful dances, and music.
People recite scriptures in the streets, throw themselves into creating works of art, and feast on puja food until the stomach can take no more. My family in particular always speaks about going back to our home village for puja – slee.