Durga Puja and the city's festival of light and life

As the dhak drums beat louder and the smell of incense lingers in the air, Dhaka seems to put on a new skin in autumn. The capital, so often weary with traffic jams, dust, and endless work, suddenly bursts into colour and light. Durga Puja, the largest Sanatani festival in Bangladesh, is not just a ritual confined to temple walls but takes the city's streets, shops, and homes, turning the 400-year-old city into one vast stage of devotion and joy.

From the grandeur of Dhakeshwari National Temple to the intimate pandals tucked into Old Dhaka's narrow alleys of Shankhari Bazar, the city glows like a painting brushed with gold and red.

The goddess stands tall, flanked by her children, Mahishasura vanquished at her feet. Her gaze is fierce but reassuring, surrounded by flowers, conch shells, music, and laughter. Even the busiest commuter can't help but slow down a bit, feel part of it or take a photo.

A festival for everyone

Part of Puja's magic lies in its ability to gather people of all ages and backgrounds. Children tug their parents towards the idols, wide-eyed with wonder, clutching balloons or toy flutes bought from passing vendors.

Teenagers and young adults dress in new saris and panjabis, hopping from mandap to mandap, pausing for selfies and stories to share online. Older men and women stand at the edges, smiling quietly, as they remember how they saw the same sights when Dhaka was smaller, slower, but just as alive.

And it is never only for the Sanatani believers. The mandaps welcome all, their doors wide open. People of different faiths stroll through the fairs, enjoying the lights, the music, and the food. "That's the beauty of it," says Shila Halder, who grew up in Wari. "You don't feel like it's just our festival, it feels like the city's festival."

One cannot miss the sweetness of the season

The lights might dazzle the eyes, but it is the sweets that stay on the tongue. At Shankhari Bazar, the air is thick with the scent of dhup.

Shops line their counters with mountains of roshogolla, chomchom, and sandesh, their glass cases steaming up with the warmth of sugar.

"I wait for Puja every year because it's the best time for business," says Sourav Ghoshe, a sweet shop owner of Shankhari Bazar. "People buy more for their families and to gift others. When someone comes back and says, 'Your sweets made our Puja,' I feel proud." The occasion is an ideal time to conduct business.

Decorators on hurry: The men behind the glow

Behind the glittering arches and strings of fairy lights are hands hardened by work. Lightmen and decorators spend weeks climbing bamboo scaffolds, fixing wires, and hanging lanterns to turn dusty lanes into sparkling boulevards.

"I've been doing this for 15 years," says Mr Mizan, a decorator from Narinda. "During Puja, my income doubles. I don't have to worry for at least a few days. But more than that, when I see people clicking pictures, smiling at the lights, I feel I've given them something."

Memories that last

For the Sanatan believers raised in Dhaka, Puja is more than a ritual. It is a part of childhood itself. "I grew up at Swamibagh," says Archana Das, a school teacher. "I'd wait all year for the mandap. The sound of conch shells in the morning, the scent of marigolds, the songs at night - it was magic. Now, when I take my daughter, I feel I'm handing her a piece of my own childhood."

For other faiths, such as Muslims, the festival also becomes an integral part of their memory.

Imdadul Mustakim, a local from Luxmibazar, laughs as he says, "life in Dhaka is stressful and boring. Eid, Puja, Pahela Baishakh-these are the only times we feel alive. Puja isn't only for Hindus. It unites us. It gives us an excuse to go out with our kids and smile. Otherwise, this city would crush us."

Roots in the Bengal delta

Durga Puja in Bengal is a centuries-old tradition. What began as private worship in the courtyards of zamindars spread into community celebrations during the colonial era.

Dhaka, with its riverside ghats and bustling markets, became a centre for public Puja by the 18th century. Families in Shankhari Bazar, Tantibazar, and Wari carried the tradition forward, turning narrow lanes into mandaps and neighbourhoods into extended families.

In the 19th century, public Puja became a marker of community identity. Local organisers collected subscriptions to fund idols and festivities.

The tradition of collective worship grew stronger with every passing decade. Today, mandaps across Dhaka continue to carry that legacy.

The city is a fairground

The festival is not only a worship, but also a mela. At street corners and temple courtyards, vendors set up stalls with glass bangles, wooden toys, masks, and snacks.

Children nag their parents for balloons; couples share plates of phuchka; families pause for tea under strings of paper lanterns. The fair is as much a part of Puja as the prayers themselves.

Every corner has its own flavour. At Jagannath Hall of the University of Dhaka, cultural programmes run late into the night with dance, recitation, and music.

At Ramna Kali Mandir, performers gather to sing traditional Shyama Sangeet, while young volunteers busy themselves in maintaining the festival, looking perfect. The mixture of the spiritual and the social makes Puja stand out as it nourishes both the heart and the stomach.

City's reborn in light

For a few nights, Dhaka frees itself from its daily fatigue. The traffic jams seem heavier in the evening. Still, the air feels softer because winter is coming soon, and strangers nod to each other under strings of glowing bulbs.

"When I see the lights, I forget the struggles of the year," says Rezaul, a rickshaw puller in Lalbagh. "I take my children to see the mandaps. We don't have much, but Puja gives us joy for free."

The immersion day, when idols are carried to the Buriganga in long processions, marks the end of the celebration. Yet even as the statues dissolve in the water, the glow lingers.

For those who walked the streets, ate the sweets, or joined the crowds, the memory lasts until the drums beat again the following year.

When the idols are finally immersed, when the lights come down and the mandaps are empty, Dhaka slips back into its old skin. But for those five days, the city lives differently. It's people who cross boundaries, share meals, laugh together, and carry home stories that last longer than the season.

Durga Puja in Dhaka is not only about religion; it is one of the cultural ingredients that make Dhaka what it truly is.

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