The pandals are coming down. The lights are fading. The city is slowly returning to its familiar rhythm.
Durga Pujo has left us with photographs, tired feet, beautiful memories and perhaps a little sadness.
But I wonder whether we sometimes mistake the celebration for its meaning.
What remains when the dhaaks fall silent?
Perhaps the kindness we showed a stranger in a crowded queue.
The laughter we shared with people we rarely meet.
The moment we paused to admire something beautiful, without asking what it cost or how long it took to create.
And perhaps, most importantly, the reminder that life is richer when we make room for wonder, togetherness and joy.
I have always believed that the end of an experience is also the beginning of a question.
So I find myself asking:
What if the true measure of Durga Pujo is not how magnificently we celebrated, but how much humanity we carry into the ordinary days that follow?
Just wondering.
— Rudra Bose, the Last writer of Kolkata
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