(Autumn)
When the monsoon whispers its last goodbye, a new light rises — the golden glow of Autumn. For Bengalis, it is more than a season. Autumn is not just Durga Puja, it is the breath of excitement, the stirring of hope, the quiet birth of dreams.
The sky clears, and in its vast blue, cotton clouds drift like gentle boats, carrying joy to weary faces. The fields bloom with white Kashful, swaying like poetry, reminding us of Apu and Durga running free in Pather Panchali. In the Kumor Para, clay takes shape under loving hands, and the goddess begins her journey to life. The hum of saws, the beating of hammers, the rising bamboo frames — pandals grow like temples of imagination. Shops sparkle with newness, markets thrum with eager crowds, and homes prepare to dress themselves in joy.
Photostory: Kumortuli in Kolkata
Autumn is a song of joy, a prayer of hope. Remember Harihar in Pather Panchali, whispering to Indir Thakrun, “I will buy you a new rapper during Durga Puja.” And see, even in her wrinkled face, a light shines — the light of expectation, of happiness promised.
This is autumn: the season of return, of arrival, of hearts opening like flowers. Puja, festivals — they are not just rituals. They are the language of joy, the poetry of togetherness, the promise that life, despite everything, is still beautiful.
By day, Amlan Chakraborty a technical architect in IT; by passion, he's an explorer, travel writer and photographer. During his travels, he savors the journey on foot or via public transport, immersing himself in the local culture at street food joints and book corners. Through his lens, he captures and shares the essence of nature, humanity, and cultural and socio-political moments.
