Memories of a Bhoot Choturdashi

My first Kali Pujo at my in-laws - I will probably remember forever! I will live to recount my experience to my grandchildren. 

I was newly married and was trying hard to be the shy, demure ‘bouma’ one is expected to be. It was Bhoot Choturdoshi, the night before Kali Pujo. This is the day when our ancestors descend to earth and remain in close proximity with us. It’s customary for every household to shine ‘choddo baati’ or fourteen diya as a sign of respect and remembrance of our ancestors. I have seen my grandmother and mother doing this for many years. 

I had been told the night before, that I should wake up early, take a bath and step out in a saree. I did wake up early, but the idea of taking a bath at six in the morning proved to be difficult. The water was cold and my sleep- deprived eyes craved for a cup of tea. But in a house full of elders, I did not have the nerve to step out in nightwear and demand a cup of tea.

Finally dressed in a sari, I stepped out to find the women in full swing. They were all carrying mud in their ‘pallu’. I was promptly ordered to get some from the backyard. Clueless I stepped out to get some. Unsure of the quantity, I managed a moderate- sized lump.

Ma-in-law headed the pack of women, while the elderly widows sat at a vantage position dictating the rules and customs. I managed to understand that we were to make diyas out of the mud we had gathered. I looked around, confused and bewildered. The tradition amongst my in-laws is to light the fourteen diyas but the diyas can’t be bought. They have to be made at home by the women. So that was the ritual I was supposed to participate in. While the women set upon their task, I looked pitifully at my muddied silk sari and my manicured fingers tainted with mud and slime! 

A nudge from my ‘nanad’ (sister-in-law) brought me back to reality. I looked around to find everyone busy and Antu ma, the matriarch, looking down at me with disdain. I knew she despised me for my ‘shohurey’ (urban) ways. 

Celebration of Bhoot Choturdashi

I cursed myself for not having taken pottery classes instead of Batik during my college days at Shantiniketan. Well, if only had I known that pottery would come to much use later on. I tried hard to copy, but this was something that did not come easily to one. While I prayed for divine blessings, Antu Ma kept looking at me. I knew she was enjoying my plight.

The God above heard my fervent prayers. There was a sudden commotion outside. A group of keertaniyas had arrived. The elders got busy with them, while Pishi (my husband’s aunt) replaced my lump of mud with her ‘diyas’. She then got busy with the lump she had taken from me. 

I will never forget the old woman’s expression. Antu ma was disappointed to find me ready with my set of prodeep. She tried to quiz me about the way I had made them, but ma-in-law whisked me away from there.

This was an experience I will never forget. That was Antu Ma’s last Bhoot Choturdashi with us. A bout of pneumonia took her away the next Pujo. But this particular day always reminds me of her and how she would terrorize us. 

The diyas that we made were allowed to toast in the sun the whole day. By evening they had dried up and were ready to be lit. Ghee was put into each of these diyas, ‘sholte’ made out of old dhuti and lit. 

The first diya has to be placed beneath the Tulsi plant. It’s the holiest of all and deserves it due respect.  It is followed by the Ponchoprodeep (the five-sholte diya) which occupies the centre of the household. Usually it’s placed in the middle of the courtyard. The rest are then placed near the door of every room. On Kali Pujo morning, it’s customary to make some more diyas and light them in the evening. 

Kali Pujo in Assam

Very few households today are aware of this custom. But not everyone can make such diyas. With my Ma-in-law this custom will probably end in our family. This year I did not throw away the diyas that she made. But have kept them carefully. They are priceless treasures which require proper safekeeping.