Days that remind you that you are Bengali.

Have you noticed how it is the newly weds that display the most enthusiasm for culture and tradition … stuff that until a few months ago were relegated to the care of the fuddy-duddy. But magically the moans and the groans disappear as the new home is set up.

The telephone shrieks breaking the harmony and the complaining voice of the daughter calling from London comes with its own share of pleasure.

‘I have set up the idol and the sweets for the prasad. What do I do next?’

The voice has a note of hysteria.

‘Say whatever you want to. The goddess will understand.’

But the mother’s calm sensible words bring little relief.

‘It doesn’t sound like your Laxmi puja.’ The daughter’s sharp retort holds her responsible. ‘You read the mantra and I will put the speaker phone on.’

The mother puts up a feeble protest but is secretly thrilled. She runs to bring her little notebook. Her voice reaches out from Delhi echoing through the newly furnished London apartment. The father continues with his newspaper but its folds cannot hide the beam that radiates across his recently emptied home.

It is the first full moon night since Durga Puja got over. The mother remembers the old days when they served refreshments on the terrace while the men sat up playing cards through the night. Kojagori Laxmi Puja! The goddess would fly through the dark skies calling out, ‘Who is awake? Ko jagori?’ Blessings and good fortune would be showered upon the heads she could spot.

The mother tries to complete the story….but it brings on a wail of anguish.

‘No more of your stories mom…it’s an early day tomorrow. In any case our Punjabi friends won’t be playing until Diwali. By the way….quick tell me what to eat for Choddo shak.’


A list is rattled of with all the enthusiasm of a steroid induced sprinter. But after the eleventh the mother pauses to catch her breath.

‘You still have time till before Kali Pujo. You can always cheat a bit and add basil (tulsi) and lemon leaves,’ she says making a mental note to put her husband’s older sister to the test the moment this call was over.

And so the question was floated around. Together the homemakers recalled days when they pleaded, cajoled and even stole, from helpless uncomprehending Punjabi vegetable vendors, a strand of green that would make up the magic number.

The 14 greens….what would you get in Delhi?

Palak
Methi
Sarso
Bathua (not easy for it may not be available during Kali Puja)
Chaulayee (this is the Notey shak. Can’t add Notay again)
Lal shak (Lal Notey)
Kolmi shak
Kumro shak – Pumpkin greens (you would have to grow this yourself)
Lau shak – Marrow greens (ditto)
Moolo shak – Radish greens
Pui shak – not allowed I am told. It is a non-veg shak if you please! Kochu (Arbi – colocasia) shak is not eaten …Its use is restricted to the role of an umbrella while the holder goes skinny-dipping in the village pond .
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Care to have a go?

Oh! And last but not the least. Wash your 14 shaks and sprinkle the water on the family members…another 14 years of life is guaranteed.