"Ma, I will be back in a couple of hours, " I screamed my lungs out while hurriedly pushing my bicycle out of the porch of our two storey house. My mother, who had been labouring in the kitchen since morning trying to assemble an array of culinary delights for the guests arriving for the festivities, scurried across the living room on hearing my voice.
"Where are you going ?","Tuitions Ma", I shot back. But today is the Durga Saptami ! Her voice seemed to trail off in the distance as I cycled furiously, cutting corners to make way to my maths tuitions without losing more time.
The mathematics teacher had announced a last moment lecture to complete a pending chapter inspite of repeated pleas by students to call off the class. So, at 4 pm in the evening, on a Durga Maha Saptami, the ten of us, huddled together and poured over our notebooks in a lackadaisical manner, striving to solve linear equations while stealing furtive glances at each other,waiting impatiently for the class to end.
It was almost 6 p.m when the maths teacher finally heaved a sigh of personal relief at having achieved his objective. By the time he put down his chalk and dusted his hands off the specks of limestone that had laced his palms, signalling the end of the class,he had been scribbling uninterruptedly on the blackboard for what seemed like ages.
The assiduous efforts by the mathematics teacher to summon a last minute class had almost proved futile, as our teenager minds, consumed by the exhilaration of the impending pandal hopping, refused to traverse the labyrinthine maze of mathematical formulae.
So, no sooner than the class ended, that I swiftly stuffed my notebook and other paraphernalia into my bag and rushed out of the classroom, only to findthat dusk had already fallen and there was a nip in the air on that October evening. After exchanging quick notes with a couple of my friends on how each of us planned to spend the evening and the remainder of our puja vacations, I pedalled my bicycle with rapid strokes, intending to waste no further time in reaching home.
I had only a couple of miles to cover before I reached home and as I trudged along a few uphills , with the sky progressively growing darker, I saw a resplendent city rising, filled with nostalgia and fervour in equal measure, gearing up, to welcome the fiery Goddess once again, the slayer of the demon king Mahishasura, and the one who restored righteousness in the world.
Suddenly, the panoramic view of the dazzling city was engulfed in an impenetrable darkness. A massive power failure had resulted in the neighborhood being plunged into pitch blackness. As I lunged forward floundering in the dark, narrowly escaping obscure pebbles and rocks strewn on the serpentine roads leading to my house, an unmistakable sound followed me.Trying to brush aside the fears my anxious mind had begun conjuring up about the shadow that now was at a nervously close distance behind me, I had the first whiff with reality. It was the silhouette of a man, also on a bicycle, rapidly chasing me, ravenously closing in on me as I felt deserted and disowned by the very city that I called "home".
I had no time to lose, I pedalled with every ounce of strength that my legs could muster. Yet, he was faster and stronger and within no time was racing beside me, dangerously close, his monstrous hands thrusting themselves at me as I fought with my life from being toppled over.
His hands now cupped mytrembling and sweaty hands that clutched the bicycle handle steadfastly, like a drowning man holding on to the last straw. He brazenly jostled his body against mine, trying to catapult me to the ground to make way for his now unfolding sinister plan.
My luck ran out within seconds. I lost control and fell, crashing to the gravel laden streets, skinning my hands and my elbows. He lost no time in pouncing on me, like a unscrupulous predator on sensing a helpless prey. I scrambled to my feet. Each second was invaluable. His ferocity now equalled that of a hungry beast, one who has been denied his kill and who was in no mood to relent.
He threw me to the ground. I kicked with all my might but he was quick to duck and escaped unscathed. He slid his hands into my shirt and pinched, with a savageness becoming only of a demon. Suddenly the air reverberated with the chants of invocation of the Goddess. A strange thought darted through my mind. Did the Goddess slay Mahishasura because he was trying to outrage her modesty? Wasn't she watching over me? How could she let this happen to me on the day when everyone, from the rich to the hoi polloi, were rising in unison singing paeans to her cathartic victory ,where good triumphs over evil?
But unlike the Goddess, I had no divine powers. Yet, I had the undying human spirit at my disposal. I jerked my hand and elbowed him hard, hurtling him by a distance of a few feet. Then, with the agility of an animal fleeing for his life, I mounted my bicycle and sped, not taking a breath until I reached the lighted porch of my house, into the safety of my home.
My mother came running out ofthe living room hearing the sound of gates being flung open. I had bottled up enough within me to be able to suppress my tears. She hugged me tight. I showed her my bruised and bleeding skin as she started to admonish me for my reckless riding. Tears kept rolling down my cheeks. My mother would have attributed it to the bruises on my skin, but they were way deeper than my mother's eye could reach. I was thankful for the cuts on my body, it helped conceal the ones on my soul.
I refused to go pandal hopping that day despite repeated cajoling by every cousin and relative. No one could discern how a silly accident had overcome the joyous and buoyant girl, who had spent sleepless nights planning for the pujas. When I was left to myself in an empty home as people set foot outside for the evening festivities, I stood under the washroom shower, letting the pellucid water run over me for hours, hoping that it would purge my body and my soul alike.
That Durga Saptami, praying silently to the Goddess, I asked for the courage to be able to slay the Mahishasur of my life, if provoked. It was my first stride into adulthood and the beginning of a journey to deal with the ways of a world inundated by such fiends.
I had turned thirteen a day ago.
"Where are you going ?","Tuitions Ma", I shot back. But today is the Durga Saptami ! Her voice seemed to trail off in the distance as I cycled furiously, cutting corners to make way to my maths tuitions without losing more time.
The mathematics teacher had announced a last moment lecture to complete a pending chapter inspite of repeated pleas by students to call off the class. So, at 4 pm in the evening, on a Durga Maha Saptami, the ten of us, huddled together and poured over our notebooks in a lackadaisical manner, striving to solve linear equations while stealing furtive glances at each other,waiting impatiently for the class to end.
It was almost 6 p.m when the maths teacher finally heaved a sigh of personal relief at having achieved his objective. By the time he put down his chalk and dusted his hands off the specks of limestone that had laced his palms, signalling the end of the class,he had been scribbling uninterruptedly on the blackboard for what seemed like ages.
The assiduous efforts by the mathematics teacher to summon a last minute class had almost proved futile, as our teenager minds, consumed by the exhilaration of the impending pandal hopping, refused to traverse the labyrinthine maze of mathematical formulae.
So, no sooner than the class ended, that I swiftly stuffed my notebook and other paraphernalia into my bag and rushed out of the classroom, only to findthat dusk had already fallen and there was a nip in the air on that October evening. After exchanging quick notes with a couple of my friends on how each of us planned to spend the evening and the remainder of our puja vacations, I pedalled my bicycle with rapid strokes, intending to waste no further time in reaching home.
I had only a couple of miles to cover before I reached home and as I trudged along a few uphills , with the sky progressively growing darker, I saw a resplendent city rising, filled with nostalgia and fervour in equal measure, gearing up, to welcome the fiery Goddess once again, the slayer of the demon king Mahishasura, and the one who restored righteousness in the world.
Suddenly, the panoramic view of the dazzling city was engulfed in an impenetrable darkness. A massive power failure had resulted in the neighborhood being plunged into pitch blackness. As I lunged forward floundering in the dark, narrowly escaping obscure pebbles and rocks strewn on the serpentine roads leading to my house, an unmistakable sound followed me.Trying to brush aside the fears my anxious mind had begun conjuring up about the shadow that now was at a nervously close distance behind me, I had the first whiff with reality. It was the silhouette of a man, also on a bicycle, rapidly chasing me, ravenously closing in on me as I felt deserted and disowned by the very city that I called "home".
I had no time to lose, I pedalled with every ounce of strength that my legs could muster. Yet, he was faster and stronger and within no time was racing beside me, dangerously close, his monstrous hands thrusting themselves at me as I fought with my life from being toppled over.
His hands now cupped mytrembling and sweaty hands that clutched the bicycle handle steadfastly, like a drowning man holding on to the last straw. He brazenly jostled his body against mine, trying to catapult me to the ground to make way for his now unfolding sinister plan.
My luck ran out within seconds. I lost control and fell, crashing to the gravel laden streets, skinning my hands and my elbows. He lost no time in pouncing on me, like a unscrupulous predator on sensing a helpless prey. I scrambled to my feet. Each second was invaluable. His ferocity now equalled that of a hungry beast, one who has been denied his kill and who was in no mood to relent.
He threw me to the ground. I kicked with all my might but he was quick to duck and escaped unscathed. He slid his hands into my shirt and pinched, with a savageness becoming only of a demon. Suddenly the air reverberated with the chants of invocation of the Goddess. A strange thought darted through my mind. Did the Goddess slay Mahishasura because he was trying to outrage her modesty? Wasn't she watching over me? How could she let this happen to me on the day when everyone, from the rich to the hoi polloi, were rising in unison singing paeans to her cathartic victory ,where good triumphs over evil?
But unlike the Goddess, I had no divine powers. Yet, I had the undying human spirit at my disposal. I jerked my hand and elbowed him hard, hurtling him by a distance of a few feet. Then, with the agility of an animal fleeing for his life, I mounted my bicycle and sped, not taking a breath until I reached the lighted porch of my house, into the safety of my home.
My mother came running out ofthe living room hearing the sound of gates being flung open. I had bottled up enough within me to be able to suppress my tears. She hugged me tight. I showed her my bruised and bleeding skin as she started to admonish me for my reckless riding. Tears kept rolling down my cheeks. My mother would have attributed it to the bruises on my skin, but they were way deeper than my mother's eye could reach. I was thankful for the cuts on my body, it helped conceal the ones on my soul.
I refused to go pandal hopping that day despite repeated cajoling by every cousin and relative. No one could discern how a silly accident had overcome the joyous and buoyant girl, who had spent sleepless nights planning for the pujas. When I was left to myself in an empty home as people set foot outside for the evening festivities, I stood under the washroom shower, letting the pellucid water run over me for hours, hoping that it would purge my body and my soul alike.
That Durga Saptami, praying silently to the Goddess, I asked for the courage to be able to slay the Mahishasur of my life, if provoked. It was my first stride into adulthood and the beginning of a journey to deal with the ways of a world inundated by such fiends.
I had turned thirteen a day ago.
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