Learning about my Bengali heritage was a big part of my childhood. I went to Bengali school every Saturday morning for years, learning how to speak and write in Bengali.
I loved writing the letters and learning the sounds, but hated speaking in Bengali. I grew up in a house where we spoke English and therefore, I was always uneasy speaking in Bengali – I did not have that environment to feel comfortable to try and fail.
And when I sang in Bengali, I worked really hard on my pronunciation, but there was always a critic. But we had Bengali music playing in our house a lot. My Dad worshipped the songs of Tagore and we grew up learning the genius of Rabindranath Tagore. Not only was I expected to know his music and songs, but I was required to recite the English translation before I sang, so that I understood what I was singing. When I was younger, I was focused more on hitting the right notes and pronouncing the songs properly, than truly understanding the lyrics.
The first Bengali song I performed when I was 4 or 5 years of age was Alo Amar Alo Ogo. Now when I look at the lyrics – I truly understand them and am in awe, but it did not have the same impact on me when I was younger:
Light, my light, the world-filling light, the eye-kissing light, heart-sweetening light!
Ah, the light dances, my darling, at the centre of my life; the light strikes, my darling, the chords of my love; the sky opens, the wind runs wild, laughter passes over the earth.
The butterflies spread their sails on the sea of light. Lilies and jasmines surge up on the crest of the waves of light.
The light is shattered into gold on every cloud, my darling, and it scatters gems in profusion.
Mirth spreads from leaf to leaf, my darling, and gladness without measure. The heaven's river has drowned its banks and the flood of joy is abroad.
Tagore was like another God in our house. We proudly sang the Indian National Anthem at the beginning of every Bengali class, knowing it was written by Tagore. We learned that he was the first Asian and non European to receive the Nobel Prize in Literature for Gitanjali, which translates to Song Offering and again, was an important book in our house. In 1919, he refused the knighthood from the British Crown to protest the Jallianwala Bagh Massacre, where many unarmed Indian Civilians were killed. There was a reverence for his University, Shantiniketan, where my Aunts studied. Tagore could do no wrong in our house.
I am nostalgic for my Bengali roots at this time, as Durga Puja passed, which was always a significant time in our house. My parents would buy us new clothes, like they did for my Dad when he was growing up in Calcutta and we would attend a week long attendance for various Pujas throughout the GTA. When I was very young, the festivities were held at Harbourfront and it was really magical to see the Bengali displays of Ma Durga throughout that space. When my brother was born, we would run around and dance and have fun. It was truly memorable. My Mother always wore the most beautiful saris and had gorgeous blouses that she would make herself, always distinct and stylish. She brought the dazzle to this special time of the year.
My Father kept all of the Durga greeting cards we received throughout the years, and that art has stayed with me. It is very distinctive. When I was growing up, we had a framed Batik print of Ma Durga and recently for my birthday, my husband had it professionally framed. That depiction of Ma Durga, for me, is very special to me. Ma Durga has always remained my comfort and the temple that we take our kids is the Vaishno Devi Mandir always provides me with peace. I always regret that we were not able to get married there (logistics) because it has always been very special to me.
And so now, when I become nostalgic for all things Bengali, I turn on my Spotify Bengali playlist and sing along with songs that I learned as a kid and over 35 years later, still remember the words and melodies. They truly put my soul at peace with their beauty.
But that’s just one Diva’s view.
Diva's View 