Mitraja Bais goes in search of the Bengali Durga Puja in her new home, on the other side of the world.
(A message to the reader.)
In the busy rhythm of everyday life, it can be challenging to find places where we can step back, reflect, and reconnect with our inner selves. Yet, the desire for such spaces is universal: to pause, come together, and contemplate life and the world around us. Different cultures around the world have recognised and addressed this need in the form of fairs, festivals, processions, retreats, etc. Through this article, I walk down memory lane to dwell upon my experience of temporary spaces for reflection through the lens of the Durga Puja celebration.
Durga Puja is the most significant festival for the Bengali Hindu community, hailing from the state of West Bengal, India. It is celebrated annually over a c, typically in the Hindu month of Ashwin (September-October). This festival celebrates the victory of Goddess Durga over the demon Mahishasura, symbolising the triumph of good over evil. For Bengalis, Durga Puja is more than a religious festival, it is an embodiment of their cultural identity and represents renewal, joy, and unity.
Pandals: Temporary Homes for the Goddess
In Hindu mythology, Durga’s annual arrival is seen as a symbolic homecoming. It is believed that during Durga Puja, Goddess Durga visits her maternal home on Earth, accompanied by her four children: Lakshmi, Saraswati, Kartikeya, and Ganesha. The pandals, or puja pandals, are constructed as temporary residences to welcome the goddess and her family. These structures are traditionally made from bamboo or wooden poles, with roofs crafted from bamboo matting or cloth. Open-sided and designed for large community gatherings, pandals are central to the Durga Puja celebrations.
Unlike temples, which are permanent spaces of worship, pandals highlight the goddess’s temporary visit to the human realm, imparting a sense of transience to the celebration. At the end of Durga Puja, the goddess and her family are bid adieu, and each year, the pandals are recreated anew. This annual renewal of the pandals reflects both the cyclical nature of the festival and the fleeting nature of life itself.
My first experience of Durga Puja was many years ago in Kolkata. I had just moved to the city and was completely unaware of the scale of the grand Durga Puja celebrations that take over the entire city every year. When a friend invited me to go “pandal hopping,” I reluctantly agreed, not quite knowing what to expect. “Pandal hopping” refers to the tradition of visiting elaborately decorated puja pandals, one after another. The plan for the evening was to visit at least five of the most popular puja pandals in Kolkata, beginning with the one at Kumartuli Park.
After queuing for a good 40 minutes amidst a thick crowd, the narrow path leading to the pandal opened into a huge space with hundreds of colourful origami cranes suspended from the roof. The pandal was far from anything I had imagined. It was painstakingly decorated with an origami theme. I was familiar with the festival of Navaratri, which is celebrated in the state of Gujarat around the same time as Durga Puja in Kolkata. As a young adult who was beginning to rediscover my own culture and heritage after having rejected it in my teenage years, I instantly connected with the powerful image of Goddess Durga slaying the demon Mahishasura, which was displayed in the larger-than-life pandal.
Though my experience at the time was hard to put into words, I remember feeling an unexpected sense of peace and stillness amidst the chaos of the crowd. Despite being surrounded by the jostle of people, the constant hum of voices, and the honking horns of vehicles passing by on the busy streets nearby, there was a quietude that seemed to envelop me once I stepped into the pandal. As I stood there admiring the dexterous idols of Goddess Durga and her children, the noise of the outside world faded into the background. The colourful decorations, the soft glow of lights, and the gentle hum of devotional music all worked together to create a sense of calm, like stepping into a different world altogether.
I stayed in Kolkata for only one year, but “pandal hopping” and taking part in the Durga Puja festivities are among my core memories from that time. I’m not much of a picture-taker, but this is one of those rare moments I regret not capturing in photos. Even though my stay was short, those moments during Durga Puja stayed with me, encapsulating the very spirit and soul of Kolkata.
Many years later, when I relocated to Melbourne, I was drawn to the Durga Puja pandals once again, but in a whole new setting. Instead of the large open spaces transformed into elaborately decorated temporary shrines, the pandals in Melbourne are set up in community halls, schools, or sports facilities, turning urban and suburban spaces into places of reflection, ritual, and artistic celebration. Though the festival is celebrated over ten days, community events at the pandals are celebrated only over the weekends, around the same time each year. The scale of the gatherings is also smaller compared to those back in Kolkata. While the festivities do not match the magnitude of celebrations in Kolkata, they are no less grand in spirit.
The Joyful Rituals of Durga Puja
Durga Puja in Melbourne follows the same traditional rituals as those in West Bengal. The celebrations typically include religious rituals (pujas) performed by priests, cultural performances, food festivals, and social gatherings, creating a vibrant atmosphere. The ten-day festivities begin with Mahalaya, the first day of Durga Puja, which marks the goddess’s descent to Earth. This occasion is celebrated with the deep, resonant beats of the dhaak (a large traditional drum) that sets the festival’s tone, symbolising both reverence and celebration. In diasporic settings like Melbourne, where authentic dhaakis (traditional drummers) may not always be available, recorded beats are used or local musicians are invited to replicate the rhythms, maintaining the festive spirit.
As the festival progresses, on the evening of Ashtami or Navami (the eighth and ninth days), the dhunuchi dance becomes a highlight. This dance involves devotees holding dhunuchis (earthen or metal incense burners) filled with burning coconut husks and aromatic incense while dancing to the beat of the dhaak. The dancers, moving in a graceful yet intense rhythm, balance the dhunuchis while swirling, creating a captivating display of devotion.
On the final day, Dashami, as the festival comes to a close, sindoor khela (game of vermilion) marks the ritualistic farewell to Goddess Durga. Durga is the embodiment of feminine power, strength, and protection. Married women gather to apply sindoor (vermilion powder) to the goddess’s forehead and feet as a mark of respect and blessing. They then apply sindoor to each other, symbolising their shared wishes for marital bliss, protection, and prosperity. This ritual, originally intended for married women, has evolved to include people from diverse backgrounds, adding an inclusive and joyous farewell to the celebration.
The idols for Durga Puja are made using biodegradable materials such as straw, wood, clay, and soil, and are often specially commissioned from artisans in India and shipped to Melbourne, ensuring authenticity in their appearance. Durga visarjan (immersion of the idol), which traditionally takes place in a river or sea in India, is symbolically recreated by using a more eco-friendly version of immersion, such as a tub of water. The pandal, although simplified compared to the elaborate structures in Kolkata, is designed with creativity and reverence, transforming the community space into a spiritual and cultural hub.
Thanks to the smaller scale of the festivities and the warmth of some lovely Bengali friends, I had the opportunity to learn about and actively participate in the joyful rituals of Durga Puja in Melbourne. While performing my first puja ritual, I had a similar feeling to the one I experienced in Kolkata, but this time it felt even more profound. The experience allowed me to reconnect with my roots and culture in a foreign land, grounding me in a sense of familiarity and belonging. In that moment, I realised that no matter how far from home I was, these traditions were a bridge to my past, a link to my heritage. It gave me a deeper sense of cultural identity, a reminder that my roots are not tied to a single place, but live on in the practices and connections I carry with me.
The Transience of Pandals
My experience got me thinking: if Durga Puja has such a profound effect on me as a non-Bengali, what must it mean to those in the Bengali diaspora who have grown up with it? Festivals like Durga Puja and the construction of pandals offer diasporic communities like the Bengali community in Melbourne a unique opportunity to create temporary sanctuaries that reaffirm their identity and values. These spaces provide a sense of continuity, allowing the community to reconnect with their cultural roots, even when far from home. The impermanence of the pandal itself mirrors the transient nature of migration: just as the pandal is built and then dismantled, so too are we constantly navigating between worlds, adapting while holding on to the core aspects of our identity. For the Bengali diaspora, the pandal becomes a tangible expression of shared history and traditions. Its a space where culture is not only preserved but actively lived. In this way, it serves as a sanctuary of cultural continuity, helping individuals and families anchor themselves in their heritage while adjusting to life in a new land.
Pandals, whether large or small, grand or simple, possess a transformative power. At their core, they are temporary sacred spaces, created not just for worship, but for the community to gather, reflect, and celebrate together. There’s something deeply symbolic about their fleeting nature. Pandals spring to life for a short period each year, only to be dismantled once the festival ends. Yet, in that brief window, they become sites of profound connection and cultural expression.
About Mitraja Bais
Mitraja Bais is a cultural researcher specialising in the study and documentation of South Asian arts, crafts, and material culture. Originally from India and based in Melbourne, Australia, she is currently pursuing a Master of Cultural Heritage and Museum Studies at Deakin University. Mitraja has over a decade of experience in data collection, research, project coordination, and public engagement. She has co-authored Sahaj: Vernacular Furniture of Gujarat and published several research articles in international journals. Mitraja is passionate about fostering connections between tradition and modernity and has organised craft seminars, curated workshops, and engaged with diverse stakeholders to promote the continuity of craft traditions. Her scholarly work and hands-on involvement reflect a commitment to preserving cultural heritage and enhancing public understanding of traditional material culture and design practices.
