Gift of the Stranger

 A tap on my shoulder and as I turned around he asked me “Do you remember me?” It was the evening before Mahalaya and this time it was even more special. I was back for the Pujo after a gap of five years but flet like a lifetime of being away. “How are you sir?” he asked again. It has never been my strength to put names to faces and it is even more embarrassing when the person greeting you seems to know exactly who you are.

Mori Road was busy and bedecked like a bride for the Navratri festival to follow. In a few hours the Goddess would arrive to the beating of the drums. I managed to put on a sheepish grin to acknowledge his presence. “I am fine” I muttered as I tried to match his face to just anyone I might have known over the years. 

He was a short gentleman, well endowed around the middle, with a perfectly rounded face that was well complimented with the light reflecting off his gleaming scalp. He wore thick rimmed glasses and had a smile that would endear him to anyone including a stranger. He almost looked like he had jumped out of a R K Laxman cartoon as I scanned him closely. This is a face you probably see almost every day all around you and not notice them, and so it was an even greater challenge for my old greying cells to give this face a name. 

“You don’t remember me?” he asked. It is best to admit defeat in such circumstances, although I was pretending as though I would almost recognize him any moment. “No, frankly I am not able to place you. Sorry about that.” And just to be civil I added “You do look familiar”.

He grinned and he seemed to be beaming “You may not remember me, but I can never forget you” he said. Now that got me worried as there were was a chance that this would not end well. Looking at my expression he said “ It has been ten years since I met you at the Pujo pandal during Shondhi Pujo. I was the person who bought you the lotus flowers and that made you really happy” he said. That was the trigger I needed. It all came back. The whole episode - as if it was happening in slow motion yet again.

This was many years back. It was Shondhi Pujo and our team busy setting up the stage for the Puja to follow. The preparations for this Pujo are very elaborate. It is also considered the most auspicious time of the five days of the Pujo as Ashtami morphs into Navami with the invocation of the Goddess in the form of Chamunda (the most fierce form of Druga) to defeat the demons Chanda and Munda, who symbolize arrogance and evil. The Puja is considered sacred for many other reasons but that is for another day. The preparations for this Pujo amongst many other things need 108 lamps to be lit and 108 lotus flowers to be offered to the Goddess. The Pujo timings are sacrosant and the whole affair takes about 45 to 50 minutes. 

We were almost set and I was doing a last count of the lamps and the lotus flowers as we checked off everything with ten minutes to go. I counted once, then twice and then in total distress a third time - each time I got a count of 105 lotus flowers. I decided it was best to declare this to Mon Kaku (we called him Mon), who was the master of ceremonies. To share some context, Mon in his past life was a fighter pilot with the air force, had seen enough action in the wars India fought, was a judo expert, a yoga guru and even in his late eighties, stood tall and elegant in his saffron robes which evoked awe and respect from anyone who saw him. He had several fans in the audience in the Pujo.

“Mon, we got 105 and I don’t have anything to back the shortage of lotus flowers ! Sorry, I should have planned this better !” I said apologizing. He knew I was panicking and kind of crestfallen. He called me aside and sternly told me looking me squarely in the eye “I believe there are 108. And so do you”. It was a kind of command, but I did not still get what he said. “I counted thrice and each time I got 105!” I said. “Just can you tell yourself that you have 108?" And then he added, with the quintessential twinkle in his eye and pointing to the Divine Mother “If she needs 108, maybe she will arrange for it. No go watch the crowd and we need to start in five minutes” and dismissed me.

I was feeling kind of guilty. People had assembled for the Pujo and Mon was making the final announcement with minutes to go. The count down had begun. As I looked around, I saw this short, stout, bespectacled man with a balding head, huffing and puffing and making his way through the crowd. He was trying to reach me and had something in his hand. I stepped up towards him and as I met him, he was gasping for breath. He clasped my hand and said “Sir, I have a request, I have bought three louts flowers. One for my wife, who is not well and the other two are for my two daughters. If you can offer these flowers to the Divine Mother for the Shondhi Pujo, I would be eternally grateful. Please sir, don’t refuse” he said. 

I was stunned for a moment. In a spontaneous gesture of relief I gave him a big hug, I grabbed the flowers and with less than 30 seconds to spare before the Pujo began, I waded through the crowd and handed them over to Mon. Mon looked at me questioningly “It just came, someone got them” I quipped. He grinned ear to ear and threw his head back with laughter. With that the priest blew the conch shell and Shondhi Pujo began. 

It had been a while and I must have been staring at his face recollecting all of this for what may have seemed like an eternity to him. “Sir, you seem to be lost. I am not sure you remember me” he said raising his voice above the din of the traffic on Mori Road. I came out of my stupor and it was as if I had found a long lost friend. For some reason, I hugged him again. “Of course, I remember you sir. You saved my day with those flowers that day. What are you doing on Mori Road?” I asked. “I moved here a couple of years back and live down the road. I did not see you at the Puja for the last many years. Imagine seeing you today here. You know you gave me a medallion from the Mother's feet after the Puja got over that day and I have kept that over the years. It bought me a lot of luck and things have always looked up for me ever since. I am really grateful” he quipped. It had been a while and I had to complete some chores “I need to head home, but we should catch up sometime” I said. 

He motioned for me to wait and I saw him run to his car perked on the kerbside. He came back quickly “Please, these are a box of sweets. I had bought a few boxes today for some people, but I want you to have this. I would be really happy if you took them. And tomorrow is Mahalaya”. In the way he said it, I felt compelled to accept the gift. With warm handshakes and wishing each other the best for Pujo, we parted ways.

I returned home. My wife said “You have been gone for a long time. And what is this?” She asked looking at the box of sweets. I realized I had not asked the name of my friend in our interaction. “Someone gave it to me near Chandu’s shop. I don’t know his name”. My wife’s expression said it all. Strangers don’t usually gift you expensive Sandesh (a form of Bengali sweets). “Every Mahalaya it is some episode or the other with you. In any case these are really good. We can have them tomorrow” she said. 

The next morning with the chants of the Chandi and the voice of Birendra Krishna Bhadra, Mahalaya dawned, the eastern sky draped in hues of golden orange. As we opened the box of sweets, it was evident that the magic of Mori Road lived on. Happy Pujo folks. You never know how a stranger jumping out of a comic book may surprise you all of a sudden.