Today is Mahalaya, The end of
Pitripaksha, and the beginning of
Debipaksha. For a lay man this means the beginning of Durga Puja. The memory of Mahalaya for any Bengali is associated with Birendra Krishna Bhadra’s “
Mahishasurmordini”. As a child I never understood what Mahalaya signifies, I only knew that this is the day when we all will get up early in the morning to listen to “Mahalaya”(as “Mohishasurmordini” was popularly known) on the radio.
The previous night, my mother used to tune the radio to the proper frequency and keep it by her pillow so that she doesn’t have to get out of bed early in the morning to get it. She used to set the alarm clock for 4am. The moment alarm clock buzzed she switched on the radio and listened intently with her eyes closed. Next she poked me to wake up and then head towards the kitchen to make tea. My father used to join us from the next room. Both of them sat together to listen the Mahalaya and sip hot tea. It was a ritual for them.
I used to wake up instantly and listen for few minutes, but then slowly snuggle deep inside the duvet and invariably after one or two songs fell asleep all over again but the music hummed in my ears even in deep slumber. I might confess that I have never heard the entire Mahalaya at one stretch. Therefore Mahalaya always to me is like that half forgotten song that chimes.
The year Ma died I couldn’t endure the same Mahalaya. Bapi woke up as usual and switched on the radio, but for me it was unbearable. It reminded me so much of Ma that I felt like my pain will shatter my heart and rip apart my chest. Tears were rolling down my cheeks and I wanted to shut everything out. In a desperate attempt to save myself from the pain and grief of Ma’s memory I covered my ears with pillows.
Ten years after that I never listened to the Mahalaya. Every single year Mahalaya’s noise from surrounding houses troubled and tortured me. I tried hard to run away from the very songs I loved as a child. Then a miracle happened. The year I was expecting my son, I felt like listening to Mahalaya, more than myself I wanted my unborn child to listen to Mahalaya. I wanted the life inside my womb to know my mother. As I was in Mumbai, I couldn’t switch on the radio, rather I played the CD. Maybe I wanted to listen to Mahalaya, as I was away from Bengal. I was in Mumbai where neighbour’s radio would not disturb me and also I wanted my child to know my mother. My child would never meet my mother but at least he should feel her.
Today also I played Mahalaya, but my son was not very interested. He found it boring. Growing up in Mumbai he doesn’t feel the same enthusiasm regarding Mahalaya that we experienced in Kolkata. Unlike us this is an isolated and not part of collective experience for him. I cannot force him to make it a part of his memory. I can just hope that one day he will like it.
