A Mother’s Request

October 7, 2010

Jadavpur, Kolkata

The air in Kolkata had changed. The first signs of Durga Puja were everywhere—the smell of shiuli flowers lingering in the cool morning breeze, the sound of hammers striking against bamboo as artisans shaped the final touches of massive pandals, and the streets already shimmering with bright fairy lights, preparing for the five-day celebration that was less than a week away.

For most Bengalis, Durga Puja was the biggest event of the year—a time for family, celebration, new clothes, and endless food. But for Aritra Naskar, Durga Puja had been nothing but a disappointment in both of his lives.

His first Puja after rebirth had been overshadowed by his pre-board exams. He had spent the festival buried in books, trying to lay the foundation for his future success, while his friends roamed the streets in new kurtas, hopping from one pandal to another. He had ignored the excitement, ignored the festive chaos, and buried himself in his larger mission—but in doing so, he had missed the festival entirely.

His second Durga Puja had been even worse.

Barely a month after his unexpected marriage to Katherine, he had been too distracted, too overwhelmed to even think about the festival. His mother had been disappointed, but he had convinced her that next year would be better. Next year, he would make up for it.

And now, next year had arrived.

He was standing in his Jadavpur villa, the quiet hum of the ceiling fan overhead, when his phone rang.

It was his mother.

—

The Call That Changed His Plans

He answered immediately.

"Hello, Ma."

"Aritra, where are you?" Her voice was warm, but there was a sharpness beneath it.

"At home," he replied.

"Good. Then you can come shopping with us today."

Aritra paused, frowning slightly. "Shopping?"

His mother sighed. "Yes, shopping. Don't tell me you forgot, Aritra. It's Durga Puja in a few days. And this year, I won't hear any excuses. This is Katherine's first Durga Puja after marriage. She needs to buy new clothes, accessories, everything."

Aritra pinched the bridge of his nose. He should have expected this. His mother had been waiting for months to include Katherine in the family's Puja traditions.

"Ma, I—"

"No arguments," she interrupted. "I'm already at Gariahat. You and Katherine meet me here in an hour."

And then, before he could protest, she hung up.

Aritra sighed, slipping the phone back into his pocket.

There was no escape.

—

Katherine's Reaction

Katherine was sitting in the living room, flipping through a magazine while sipping on a cup of Darjeeling tea. She glanced up as he walked in, raising an eyebrow at the frustrated look on his face.

"What happened?" she asked, setting the cup down.

"We're going shopping," Aritra said flatly.

Katherine blinked. "We?"

"My mother called. She wants us to meet her in Gariahat."

Katherine tilted her head, amusement flickering in her blue eyes. "Is this about Durga Puja?"

Aritra exhaled. "Yes. And before you say anything, there's no way out of this."

Katherine smirked. "I wasn't going to argue. Actually…" She stretched lazily, setting the magazine aside. "I was wondering when your mother would ask. I mean, it's my first Puja in Kolkata. It's only natural, right?"

Aritra stared at her. "You… want to go?"

She shrugged. "Why not? I've never seen the festival up close before."

Aritra shook his head. He had been expecting resistance, but instead, Katherine seemed curious. Maybe this Puja wouldn't be as bad as the last two.

"Fine," he said. "But don't blame me if it gets exhausting. Bengali Puja shopping is a war zone."

Katherine laughed. "Oh, I'm looking forward to it now."

Aritra sighed. "Let's go before Ma calls again."

With that, they left the villa, heading straight into the madness of Kolkata's busiest shopping district—Gariahat.