Polluted Celebrations...

hello!back after so long but back nonetheless.i witnessed yet another durga puja a few days ago and i want to write something about what i saw. i know it does not sound too great but you do not expect that anyway right?
day-1(Saptami):i see not so much crowded pandals (they are less crowded on the first day,i cant really say why.) junk food stalls line up and people walk about dressed all fancy.some sit and admire the idols.i do too and leave for fear of the crowd gathering strength.

day-2(asthami):i go out at night and see a stream of people all glittering and looking quite ahem pretty(read: scary). i see groups of strange boys staring at glittering females. i see females putting in an extra dose of giggles and hand waving, some enjoying perverted stares. i see women looking at sarees of other women. i see hardly anyone looking at the goddess herself. in one pandal i see a crowd dancing to a bad singer's bollywood tunes. in another section of that same pandal i see 3 to 5 people praying to the idols.

day-3(navami):again i go out at night and make it a point not to wear anything that shines. i stand amidst a sea of people and of strange perfumes all merged and so i pray for fresh air. i see women,girls and children alike all dressed in gleaming clothes and all looking like potential energy sources.

day-4(dashami): i go in the morning to take a last look at the goddess. i see her children half drunk and progressing in the name of the grief they feel to see her go. that people...is puja.

as i child i loved this festival.3 days of fun. i used to wait all year in anticipation. but i remember above all, i used to keep looking at Her idol's face and feeling a strange sadness. it had nothing to do with the pujas ending but i always felt a sense of pain whenever i looked at her. still do.
there is something about Her hair and the way it falls on Her arms that always used to remind me of my own mother. strange,but true.
on the last day this year, i spent 20 minutes or so staring at Her again while people danced around me. for the slightest second i think i saw a sign of Her existence on that clay face. i felt a strange sense of purpose and the security of knowing my path and of company too. no, i am not religious, but i just felt that. i looked around me, at her children, at myself. then i looked back up at Her and suddenly i knew the reason behind that old familiar sense of pain.
almost every dashami evening, a little portion of the sky is stained with red. my grandma told me its a sign of Her love and presence. i believed her. i thought of what people do in those 3 days and understood it to be happiness because the earth's daughter (that is what She is called sometimes) has come home. but this time when i tought of her drunken children bidding her farewell, that same red patch started meaning something very different to me.