Pujo is a tremendous pain in the ass.You can tolerate only so much on sentimental grounds.The Dhak jars my morning peace and what is all this talk of sharat kal and shiuli ful.All the seasons have merged into summer and a protracted monsoon.And the shiuli gach is entirely missing from the kolkata horizon.
And what do we have in its place?Cheap shiny finery.Fizz that hurts your breath.And those god forsaken puja pandals.
'Ota dekhtei hobe.matir bhar diye koreche'
'Ha.ar jeta muger daler khosha diye?'
What next? chamberpots?
Pandal hopping I will simply abstain from henceforth.Its a very gramer lok thing to do.
There.I've said it.
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in this rush to think out of the box ,I forgot to see whats inside.
5 comments:
You didn't mention the most important thing - the scores of color-blind people who have no inkling about the simple fact that purple trousers absolutely CANNOT be paired up with orange shirts.
Yes, Pujo is a pain in all the wrong places.
chamber pots. HAHA.
the people spilling out onto the streets like a river in flood and dancing lights that hurt your eyes and filmi music played very very loud so that everyone this side of the Atlantic can hear... and all the Bangali jollity. A headache for all the rest of us, whose festival it isn't even.
such prats who assume we must love pujo merely because we are bangali.
the shiuli gach outside my house has given up and died.
Chamberpots. BAHAHAHAA...
You're so wonderfully caustic. =D
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