Travelling through the bonedi bari (traditional, gold merchants’ households) Durga pujas, a jatra (Bengal’s street theatre) show, and a Dashami (tenth day of Durga Puja) spectacle by the Indo-Bangladesh riverine border.
A flashy neon sign promising to grant the prize money of thirty lakh rupees to the ‘best’ Durga Puja pandal of the para (colony) blinked outside the window of my rented middle-class apartment in Kolkata. The speakers blared of upcoming puja contests interspersed with shlokas, during the course of the day. I turned up the TV volume, as the Indian cricket team played against Bangladesh, then I folded the newspaper emblazoned with Sarbananda Sonowal's NRC-backed slogan of Jati, Mati and Bheti (home, hearth and base), and made up my mind to look for the elusive peace and quiet that beliefs soaked in tradition have always thought to provide the distressed.

