6.10.2008,

Its a time of the year when the adage"once a bong, always a bong" cannot ring truer. If your a bengali from India, then Durga Puja is quite literally the beginning of the year. It does not matter that , by this logic, the bong calendar begins 10 months later as opposed to the Gregorian calendar followed by the rest of the world. Its a time to celebrate, enjoy, indulge, flirt-the puja lasts for four days, its carnivalesque time for most, suspension of disbelief, a beautiful song, a season that goes as fast as it came.

So upholding this certain tendancy, I decided to look for Puja celebrations in New York. The quest began three weeks before the Pujas were scheduled to begin. My only source at that point was a fellow bong. It was only much later that I realized he was ashamed to admit that he had not the vaguest idea of any puja celebrations in NY. My flatmate, who happens to be an Andhraite seemed to know more about this "Navratra' phenomenon. So she gave me an address.

It was Soptomi, I got out early in the morning, the nip in the air was getting worse, but I put on clothes keeping the near future in mind, ie, the evening, when I would finally reach the Puja Celebrations, smell the 'Dhoop', hear the Aarti, and perhaps meet kindred souls.

I reached work and could hardly sit still, I was excited, I felt I would meet other bongs, see how they have been living in this city, talk, hear stories that I now concede to missing terribly from back home. Discover older bong women/men alike discovering me, gauge their reactions, but my main interest was to find out about them. Yes I am absolutely lousy, I want to meet people because I believe some would give me stories to hang on to.

Since my excitement was growing as the evening approached, I had to take a check. Did the Pujas actually happen at the 'jain' temple my Flatmate had conveniently directed me to. Moreover, I dont want to be a bitch, but my flatmate does not know about the shops behind her house, she does not know the names of her neighbours although she meets them everyday in the elevator and she prefers to spend her weekends cooking in the Kitchen for food that would last her in the coming week! So I do, what I know best to do........I google! And as sure as my fears were correct, the jains were not celebrating Durga Puja! The Gujjus were......well not entirely correct, the Gujrat Samaj Hall located in Fresh meadows had rented out the hall to the ECDPA(East coast Durga Puja Association), which boasts of being the largest Bengali association in North America. Great, this sounded even better, so I took down the address, checked my map and figured out the route.

It should suffice to tell you that that evening I tried every possible means of Public transport that NYC has to offer. Not only was Fresh meadows, located in the god forsaken east of NYC, it was a positively daunting task to reach the venue itself. I changed three subways and after rudely staring at a stranger for two complete hours, I only reached Hill Side avenue. Thankfully I was told by a very helpful MTA guy that I would have to board the Q17. I did and after half an hour I was dropped of at 175 Horace Harding Expressway. It was night, I was cold, but very hopeful. The Hall was located at 173 Horace Harding Road.

And so my ordeal to find this street, this hall began. In 10 mins I was convinced that I was on the wrong side of the highway. There were clearly marked streets 174 and 172, and a road in between that had no sign atall. But I have learnt never to assume, how else do you work though??? So I assumed that all odd numbers must be located on the other side of the exppressway. The overhead bridge was one of the longest ever and could hardly believe the speed at which those long oil tanks were going. So if you feel perversely suicidal, then I thought this would be the place to take the jump.

Having made it to the other side, I spotted an appartment numbered 15, and it was on the 173rd....so although it looked so unlikely, I thought you never know. I knocked and after an eternity an old jewish man opened the window. I did not know how to tell him that I already knew that he could not help. So I asked him, he did not know and I left. I rushed into the nearby Deli, it was 8:30pm already and I could not look around much longer. The guy was an Afghan and seemed to know that some Indians were looking for the hall, but did not know where it was. A woman came along to help because she had some kind of a map thing on her cell phone, she said it was on the side that I had left. I was going to box her when she warned, 'Take care, this time of the night and all'.....I was this close!

So why was this Gujrat Samaj Hall so obscurely located, As a matter of fact, it was not obscure, it was right on the expressway. Its just that I could not believe it was in this appaling condition. I mean you have a Martial arts gym thats glowing, there is a neatly spaced but clearly marked Dr Bartelluci Centre, a small time magazine that probably runs on the community;s funds, but has an office thats spottable, but this Samaj hall is a ramshackled place. It was surrounded by skeletal scaffoldings, bins and bins of unused paint, dustbins and litter loitered around, moreover the entrance was all the way on the other side. I entered and I saw an empty podium. there were some who were packing up the idol.

Did I miss something, was Puja over? As a matter of fact it was. Apparently, celebrations in NY happen only on the weekends. Neither the people nor the city has time on any other days, not for concerts, not for broadway shows, not for Times square, religion or a Loaf along the Hudson.

I met a bengali man, a mechanical Engineer who has been living in NY for the last 30years. He said, "NY is our home, it has given us a job, a place to stay, money, standard of living, lifestyle and entertainment but we miss India, we are proud of where its heading, and we long to return someday soon"

By the time I reached I was exhausted, I sat alone, eating a spicy chicken wrap at Burger king, I watched the residents of flushing, hurrying home, a guy who sat behind me was preparin to ask out a girl, another adolescent could not get enough of her boyfriend, a girl with shocking pink hair was being scolded at the counter for giving the wrong order. I finished my wraps, I returned to the subway station