Every autumn, as the leaves start turning gold in New York City, my family and I gather to celebrate Durga Puja—a vibrant Hindu festival that honors the goddess Durga’s victory over evil. It’s like our version of a grand Thanksgiving mixed with Halloween’s creativity, but rooted in ancient traditions from Bengal, India.
This year, it was just us: my daughter, her husband (my wonderful son-in-law), our two energetic grandchildren, my husband, and me. We make it special in our own way, but oh, how we miss the magic of Kolkata, the city where I grew up. It’s been years since we’ve been back for the real thing, and each time the festival rolls around, we can’t help but sigh and say, “If only we were there…”
In New York, our Durga Puja is cozy and intimate. We head to a local HIndu temple where Bengalis like us come together. The kids get excited dressing up in new clothes we buy—bright kurtas for the boys and colorful salwar kameez for the girls, much like picking out Halloween costumes but with a cultural twist.
I cook some special dishes in my Brooklyn kitchen (where I teach my classes too), whipping up traditional Bengali dishes that fill the house with mouth watering aromas. One favorite is luchi, these fluffy, handmade fried breads that puff up like little small pillows when you drop them in hot oil. We pair them with mangsho, a rich lamb curry simmered with spices that warms you from the inside out. (I’ll share my simple mangso recipe at the end—it’s perfect for your next family dinner.)
We eat together, light incense, and watch cultural performances, but it’s nothing like the scale back home.
Ah, Kolkata during Durga Puja—it’s a whole different world! Imagine a city-wide party that lasts a week, with millions of people out on the streets in a joyful, peaceful frenzy. We call it “pandal hopping,” where families wander from one temporary pavilion (pandal) to another, each one a masterpiece of art and craftsmanship. These pandals house massive, hand-sculpted clay idols of Goddess Durga, often towering 20 feet high, adorned with glittering jewels and intricate designs. Artists spend months creating themes inspired by everything from mythology to current events, turning ordinary neighborhoods into wonderlands. The crowds are huge, but there’s this shared excitement— laughter, street food vendors selling spicy snacks, and the beat of dhaaks (drums) echoing everywhere. Back then, my family would shop for new outfits for everyone, a ritual symbolizing fresh starts, much like buying new school clothes for the kids here in America.
Those memories flood back every year, warming my heart. I remember my father, a simple man with limited means, treating me and my cousins to a rare outing at a restaurant during the festival. We’d sit down, eyes wide at the menu, but then he’d glance at the prices and whisk us out before the food arrived. As a kid, I would be embarrassed—why couldn’t we just stay? Now, looking back, I feel only empathy and love for him. He wanted to give us joy but couldn’t afford the extravagance. Simpler pleasures defined our celebrations, like the street fairs where for just five paise (that’s like a fraction of a penny today), I’d aim an airgun at balloons and burst them for prizes. The thrill of that and a tiny toy reward felt like winning the lottery!
The festival culminates in a poignant ritual: the immersion of the idols in the Ganges River, symbolizing the goddess’s return to her heavenly abode. It’s bittersweet—crowds chant and dance as the statues are carried to the water, fireworks lighting the sky. Afterward, relatives and friends would drop by our home, exchanging sweets like sandesh (creamy milk fudge) and rasgulla (syrupy cheese balls). We’d visit them too, strengthening those bonds that made life feel rich, even if our pockets weren’t. Men would hug, and we would touch the feet of the elderly.
Today, with our comfortable life in New York—good lifestyle, a nice home—we have the means for fancy dinners and trips. But those innocent, carefree days in Kolkata? They’re gone forever, locked in the treasure chest of memory.
Still, sharing Durga Puja with my grandchildren keeps the spirit alive. It teaches them about family, and finding joy in simple things, no matter where you are. If you’re curious about Bengali culture, try joining a local festival or cooking up some luchi and mangsho. It might just bring a little Kolkata magic to your table.
My Family’s Mangsho (Lamb Curry) Recipe
Lamb Korma:
Ingredients:
- Lamb pieces with bones—15 pieces
- Red chili powder—1/2 teaspoon
- Paprika powder—1/4th teaspoon
- Dry roasted powder of – fenugreek, cloves, coriander and —2 teaspoon
- Plain yogurt—1/2 cup
- Salt to taste
- Black cardamom,(1) cinnamon(1/2) inch clove and bay leaf (1)
- Red onion—four into thin slices
- Garic cloves—4 pieces
- Turmeric powder—1/2 teaspoon
- Potatoes—four pieces
- Ghee (clarified butter)—two teaspoons
- Vegetable oil—two tablespoons
- Bay leaves—3-4
Procedure:
Marinade the lamb with the ingredients up to #6 for 6-8 hours. In a clean pan add two tablespoon of vegetable oil and one teaspoon of ghee add whole spices of cardamom (black), bay leaf, cinnamon, and cloves and crushed garlic. Add the thin slices of onion and let it fry until it gets brown, add your marinated lamb and fry them. Add the masala and cook for another 3-4min add turmeric and chopped tomatoes, cook for 4-5min add water cook in a pressure cooker for 10 min and then add cut potatoes and let it cook for another 4 min, enjoy with Roti or rice
Enjoy this hearty dish—it’s my way of sharing a piece of Durga Puja with you!