Hing er Kochuri and Alur Tarkari. The HaatPakha i,e the Palm Leaf fans that you see in this picture are decorated by my Aunt. Aren't they gorgeous? Durga Pujo is almost here.

Mahalaya is this Friday. The gorgeous blue sky, the kaash phool, the lazy cotton clouds and the fragile shiuli with their orange stem and fragrant notes is making it all very real. The only thing missing is the ' Sharodiya PujoShonkhya 'which my Ma brought along with her way back in August. Now that is what I call 'blasphemy'.

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You should not have a 'PujoShonkhya' in summer. In August you can only have trembling hopes for one or two. You have to wait and wait some more and then wait until Mahalaya to get your copy. For what is Pujo without its Pujo Shonkhyas. The annual Pujo numbers -- Anandomela Many, many years ago when I was a timid kindergartner, still struggling to read fluent Bengali, my Ma had given me the best gift on Durga Pujo. She bought me a shiny, thick, colorful book. It was the Pujoshonkhya Anandomela, the annual number of the popular Bengali children’s magazine published every year during DurgaPujo.

I don't know what spurred her in doing this when I could just about manage to read the 'juktakhors', the Bengali conjugant, but that single book set me on a path of loving to read and read more. When I try to think of that Pujo, from a long time back, I do not have clear pictures of Durga or the Asur. All I see is snippets of a well lit mandap reverberating with the beat of the Dhaak and a fat book with glossy cover plonked onto my satin frock's lap. Since that day, Pujo for me has always meant waiting for the PujoShonkhya. While others waited for the squeaky clean blue sky of Sharat, the swaying kaash phool or the latest cut in salwar kamiz that the local tailor would reveal, I waited for my annual Puja number of Anandomela. The full page advertisement announcing the book would adorn the pages of the biweekly magazine as early as April or May. Gradually the list of writers who would write for the year's number would be revealed.

Satyajit Ray, Shirshendu, Sunil Gangulythe list was rich and endless. Around end of August, my mother would book a copy for me along with a couple of Desh and Bartoman for herself, with the newspaper delivery guy. From early September, my heart would take a dip and start beating faster every time I heard the ringing bell of the newspaper guy further down the street. I would shout as he skillfully tossed the rolled newspaper on the front porch. As he rode away shaking his head in the crisp Sharat air, I would be dejected only to live in hope and again ask him the same question the next day. You see we lived in a small town far from Kolkata and the magazines usually arrived late there. So the 'pujoshonkhya' published in Kolkata would take a while to make its appearance in our mofussil market and even then there was no certainty to that.

And then one school morning, a week or two before Mahalaya, he would announce ' Aaj Bikel e. Today afternoon'. That day would be the most exciting one and I would rush home in the afternoon, my strides back home faster than others. Tossing my school shoes and book bag aside I would pick up the thick colorful book that sat on the center table.

I held it close to my nose taking a deep whiff, I admired the nifty bookmark dangling on a thin lace and I quickly sneaked in to see the cartoon they had this year. That afternoon I refused the call of my friends for a round of hide and seek or playing tag on the terrace. Instead I went to bed, tucked two pillows under myself and carefully opened the thick Anandomela to be lost in the next adventure of Shontu ar Kakababu or the quirky inventions of Professor Shonku. Waiting for Anandomela was probably the best part of my pujo and that is the only part I miss these days.

I also miss the fact that my daughters will never experience that yearning and eventually the deluge of happiness. For waiting for something is much more exciting than finally getting it.

Last weekend we made Hing er Kochuri at home. It seemed a very Pujo-isque thing to do. Also I am ashamed to say, it was my first time. Yes, I have sailed through half of my life without making a single Hing er Kochuri and the experience or rather the lack of it has not harmed me in anyway, as I see it. For, I have ate enough of them. And that is what really matters. The thing is, I don't ' deep fry' much.