The hand that fed the mother - by Samudra

It was the dead of night and my alarm went off. It was a tight schedule for the Puja that year with Ashtami and Sandhi Puja almost back to back and we had to manage the timing perfectly. The one thing the Notun Palli Pujo is known for is the military like precision by which the time and rituals are adhered to. 

 

I got up sleepy eyed. My wife and I got ready. We had to pick up Snigdha Mashi. It was normal practice for me to pick her up at such times before we headed to the Pandal. I called her. She was wide awake and her voice boomed at the other end. "You are late. Come fast". I pulled up in front of her house in Bandra and there she was - completely ready. Against the back drop of the dark night she looked elegant and graceful - her white and red bordered saree, the bindi on the forehead and her wet hair flowing down At this hour, she was glowing and radiant, excited like a child. For those who don’t know her she was close to 70. 

 

We headed to the Puja. As we drove I asked her "Will you manage today?" - we had a changeover time of exactly 45 minutes between Ashtami and Sandhi Puja going into Navami. Mashi was the Commander in Chief of the Bhog that gets cooked for the divine mother. "Don’t worry. All under control" she said. It was reassuring, given that a lot depended on her. Given the tight timing, I had suggested that she outsource part of the Bhog preparation to some professional cooks, given she and her team were getting older. She stared me down so hard, that I had to retract my suggestion very quickly. I knew it was her passion, those three days where she would feel no pain, no sleep, no tiredness - it was part of her life. 

 

We entered the "Mandap". Usually Mon, Tumpa, my wife and Mashi were the first to arrive to set up things for the rest of the crew. She kept her bag, and as was her ritual folded her hands and bowed to the mother goddess. This she would do without fail, every day, before she got busy with her team. 

 

As her team got in, they donned their aprons and with the long ladles in hand, they lit up the fire and the cooking began. The Puja began with the chanting of the Chandi and in the dead of night, it did feel divine. Suddenly, Tumpa came to me and said "Mashi wants Potol (Parwal). And we need to get it." We were counting the hours before dawn. "No, tell her to find an alternative. Cannot get this at this time of the night." I said, Actually we had missed this. I went to speak to her. It seemed like we had upset her plans and that "Potol" was a key ingredient she had planned for. If anything, she was a perfectionist, and would have no compromise. Tumpa said "Sam let me go and see what can be done." Now given the time in the night, I felt that I should not let her go on this mission alone. 

 

So off we went. And at the risk of being called thieves, my brave partner in crime did what she said she would - she lifted the covers of the sack of a vegetable vendor we knew and stole a handful of "Potols". Mashi was beaming when she saw our bounty and we had saved the day. She marshalled her resources and shouting crisp orders like a general in battle mode, the crew cooked and the aroma of the bhog welcomed the hour of the Sandhi Puja. It was time for the bhog and Mashi led her entourage, the bhog trays bedecked with pulao, bhajas, cooked vegetables (that had of course the Potol) ending with the sweets and Payesh. She served the mother, prostrated herself and prayed to her and then sat down to watch the Puja.

 

She was truly the hand that fed the mother. Often times, she was so busy cooking that I held up the first Anjali of the day to help break her fast. That was the only time, I made an allowance for a minute or two. Unfortunately, for me, I never got to taste her cooking as I fasted the days of the Puja, except for the year I was not well and that year I understood why the divine mother would not have anyone else, but her lead the cooking for her Bhog.

 

In another instance, it was evening and the pundits after a hard days work had sat down for their evening meal of boiled rice, tomatoes and vegetables. The only problem was that the "Thakur" (cook) was missing and I was worried. "Don’t worry, the mother will feed us." the main pundit said. I smiled and was about to go off in search of the cook yet again, when I saw Mashi entering. She sized up the situation and went about cooking the evening meal without a fuss. She served us and then left saying she wanted to catch the evening program. The pundit turned to me and said "Well what did I tell you, the mother just fed all of us." It was the evening of Navami and the next day it was time to bid good bye to the divine mother.

 

It will never be the same again for any of us, but I am sure she will be with us and as soon as I smell the aromas again this time, I may turn around and yell "Mashi, is the Bhog ready?"