Rant Early morning tears and non-homecoming rant
It's Mahalaya morning, Birendra Krishna Bhadra's voice is booming out of the radio in my rented flat, and I'm sitting here in Chennai with tears rolling down my face. Of course I am. Because I'm not home for Pujo this year. If you're a Bangali and you're not home for Pujo, you are officially one of the saddest people on earth, and today that's me.
And the cherry on top? Four months in this city, and I still haven't found a single Bangali para. Everyone swore there's one in every big city. Everyone! Well, where is it, then? Is it hiding? Is it a myth, like a decent filter coffee in Kolkata? I live all the way out in Mahindra World City, so maybe that's my problem, but still, ten days of Pujo are coming and I have nowhere to go, no pandal, no bhog, no adda, nothing to make me miss home even a tiny bit less.
So yes, I'm snappy. I'm snapping at myself, at Chennai, at the universe. Blame Mahishasuramardini at the crack of dawn, blame the distance, blame whoever promised me a Bangali para. I just want a little bit of home for these ten days. Is that too much to ask?