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Six month old its just less sleep

Having to bear with more noise

Frequent powdering,poked by unwelcome guests

Those scented ladies -- the preposterous pests !

Six year old he's really glad

To enjoy the festival in new clothes clad

Silvery toy gun with popping caps

Shying away from welcome laps

Pandal hopping never awhile stopping

Grabbing an ice-cream or a fizzy drink

Clutching his huge balloon on a string

He enjoys the lights,sounds,fumes,everything

"Buy me a Fanta,buy me a Coke !"

The elders comply till they are broke

Gobbling a pizza.. munching on chips

Bracelets on wrists,lipstick on lips

That's the way the girlie trips

Pandal to pandal the teenager hops

It's only the traffic cop where she stops

Sixteen,eighteen- that's the inauguration

Flocking close groups shuns all botheration

Their parents are bothersome,intolerable

"Why do you need a cellphone ? I don't understand !

We never had a telephonee when we were your age ! "

"Your days are over, you are extinct !"

"Leave the oldies to themselves " the teenagers mumble

They find no reason whatsoever to be humble.

Puja celebrations for four days and nights

Bright coloured flimsy tops,faded jeans,silky tights

The groomed look,the glossy look,the "in" look

Long manes or short crew cut

They all head together for the Pizza Hut

Pizza and Coke followed by acrid cigarette smoke

Crowds at pandals thin off ..its close to dawn

They groan,limbs ache,they are tired yet happy

"Tomorrow at ten,bye !" disperse... return home....

Dreams of Ash,Sharukh,James Bond suits

For their old parents they care two hoots

They're very mature, they don't need books

THese young ladies and gentlemen... intelligent...

Plenty of energy,bounce,minds fully transparent

They are the symbols of freedom and rights

They don't have squabbles,avoid silly fights

Husbands cling close to their young wives

Buy expensive clothes.. dine out at night

The four days of Puja they never have a fight

Boredom at work, drab commuting back home

Majestic glittering pandals, hubby feels like a gnome

The pretty young wives never ask for the Taj Mahal

Though for the four days they feel like Mumtaz Mahal

Shahjahan is History , Mumtaz is no more

Their spirits enter the couples who have fun galore

Coloured, flashy lights makes the wives blush

Hubbies in the cabs close up to their mates

Goddess Durga smiles and opens her gates

Gates of wonder,belief,trust,faith,compassion

They end the night twining together in fiery passion

Veins protruding,limbs shaking,mind tormented with age

Old timers look up to Durga for freedom from life's bondage

The cultural extravaganza of Bengal continues

Brings new hope every year , radiating her hues

Hues of strength,love,splendour,belief,beauty

It's hard to describe the Goddess' true identity

She is in our hearts... she is on our minds

It's her wonderful visit which both Bengal binds

©Bishwanath Mukherjee