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Down Memory Lane

Bhai Phonta โ€“ a rendezvous of brothers and sisters

Our members Ms T. Banerjee and Ms S. Brahmachari have enjoyed celebrating bhai phonta throughout their life and still do so. Starting from the traditional way of celebrating this occasion to the customised ways โ€“ every moment has been special.
As a family of two brothers and three sisters, we have cherished the tradition of celebrating ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ช ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ข since our childhood. Our family home is located in Beleghata, Narkoldanga, Phoolbagan. Over the years, this celebration grew even more special as our extended family, cousins, and relatives joined in. As we reached adulthood, one by one, family members began getting married, and this celebration became even more enjoyable. As we got older, some of our relatives moved away for professional reasons, causing the number of participants to gradually decline. However, as long as our family of two brothers and three sisters remained, along with our parents, the celebration continued to be a source of joy.
Our tradition was to arrive at our parents’ home a day before ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ช ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ข and return on the day after, creating lasting memories and strengthening our family bonds. My elder sisters would prepare a list and provide money to my elder brother for the necessary purchases. He would then go out the next day and ensure that everything was obtained according to my sisters’ wishes. For a few years, we sisters took on the cooking responsibilities, but eventually, we decided to hire a cook, to manage the cooking so that we could spend more quality time together. We would spend the day conversing, catching up, and sharing laughter. Sometimes, we would lend a hand to the cook with small tasks like vegetable chopping or meal preparation. Those memories are still young in my mind and will always remain so.
๐™ˆ๐™š๐™ข๐™ค๐™ง๐™ž๐™š๐™จ ๐™ค๐™› ๐™ˆ๐™จ ๐™. ๐˜ฝ๐™–๐™ฃ๐™š๐™ง๐™Ÿ๐™š๐™š
We are four sisters, three brothers. During our younger years, the celebration of๐˜ฃ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ช ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ข was an occasion filled with joy and laughter, especially when our relatives would join in the festivities. However, when I got married and moved to Delhi, I found myself missing this cherished tradition dearly. Determined to keep the spirit alive, I made it a point to introduce my own children to this wonderful celebration. Heeding my mother-in-law’s advice, I used to apply ๐˜ค๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ข on the walls of our puja room on that special day.
Upon returning to Kolkata, our ๐˜ฃ๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ช ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฏ๐˜ต๐˜ข celebration took on a new and heartwarming dimension. Instead of confining the festivities to a single day, we decided to celebrate it at each sister’s house, creating an opportunity for a gathering of all four sisters, with our dear brothers making a visit. These gatherings became cherished reunions. My younger brother missed the tradition immensely, as he had relocated to Delhi by then. The bond we share during these times is truly special, and the joy we experience during these extended celebrations is beyond measure. These traditions, whether near or far, has helped us stay connected as a loving and close-knit family.
๐™ˆ๐™š๐™ข๐™ค๐™ง๐™ž๐™š๐™จ ๐™ค๐™› ๐™ˆ๐™จ ๐™Ž. ๐˜ฝ๐™ง๐™–๐™๐™ข๐™–๐™˜๐™๐™–๐™ง๐™ž
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Down Memory Lane Uncategorized

Laxmi Puja Memories from 1946

Our member Ms S. Roy used to adore celebrating festive occasions with her family and relatives in her ancestral home in Faridpur, East Bengal. She enjoyed narrating her journey there as a child.
My last visit to our ancestral house in Faridpur, East Bengal for Laxmi puja was in the year 1946. During that time, we resided near the banks of the River Padma in a place called Paksheel. A notable bridge known as Harding’s Bridge, or Sara Bridge in Bangla, was a familiar landmark in the vicinity.
Our journey to Faridpur began by train, and upon our arrival at Faridpur station, the next part of our adventure involved a sizeable launch, followed by a delightful boat ride. Just as we did at home, we spread out mats and sheets in the boats, allowing us to fully relish the boat journey.
At a place called Bhanga, we made a brief stop to enjoy a scrumptious lunch at the home of distant relatives. They warmly greeted us with fresh cow’s milk, and the lunch itself was a culinary delight, featuring freshly harvested vegetables and fish straight from the ponds. The meal not only pleased the palate but also showcased the care and comfort with which they hosted us.
Following our delightful lunch, we reboarded the boats to continue our journey. On numerous occasions, our boats would become ensnared in the lush paddy fields, requiring careful navigation to free them, and we’d row on. The timing of our voyage was impeccable, and we reached our village just before nightfall.
Eager eyes were always on the lookout for our arrival, and the moment our boats appeared on the horizon, someone would dash off to inform everyone else. The news of our impending arrival would spread like wildfire, drawing most of our relatives to the riverside to greet us. It was a heartwarming sight to witness them all lined up, ready to extend a warm welcome.
To ascend from the river, we ascended a flight of stairs, a remarkable feature being that these steps were constructed from Date trees. It was a common practice in East Bengal, now known as Bangladesh, for riverside stairs to be crafted from these trees.
It was customary for us to begin our visit by paying our respects at the household temple, offering prayers to the deities and the sacred Tulsi plant before entering the house. In East Bengal, many well-off Hindu families, including ours, venerated Goddess Kali and Kartik, often maintaining a dedicated mandap or temple within their homes.
During the Laxmi puja, everyone would come together to create delightful treats like ๐˜ฏ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ถ and ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฐ๐˜บ๐˜ข. In mango season, they would diligently prepare ๐˜ข๐˜ข๐˜ฎ๐˜ด๐˜ฐ๐˜ต๐˜ต๐˜ฐ to last the entire year. Witnessing the remarkable stamina of the women as they spent the entire afternoon crafting these delicacies was truly inspiring. Additionally, the locally famous date jaggery was a special treat.
In the winter season, ๐˜ฑ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ช was stirred in big woks on mud ovens in the courtyards of each house, and it would serve the household throughout the year. The idols of Goddess Laxmi graced our home temples, and nearly every household in the neighborhood participated in her worship. After the puja, we’d visit different houses in the neighborhood, where we were offered ๐˜ฏ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ถ and ๐˜ฎ๐˜ฐ๐˜บ๐˜ข as part of the cherished tradition.
As I hailed from the city, some believed I might not relish these sweets and attempted to make ๐˜ญ๐˜ถ๐˜ค๐˜ฉ๐˜ช from stored flour for me. However, to their delight and satisfaction, I found the locally handmade sweets to be the most enjoyable part of the experience.
Those days, though now distant like a dream, remain a treasured and wonderful memory that I hold dear.