The Season of Awakening

—Literature Festivals as My Debi Pakkha

The first line most of us would write as children in any essay on fairs was:

“Fairs are the place where many people come together to connect.”

For me, every year, Durga Puja seems to arrive early—

ever since 2016, when JLF, a chapter of the Jaipur Literature Festival,

first travelled to North America.

And very, very surprisingly, it chose Boulder, Colorado—

the place I have called home,

a picturesque town resting at the foothills of the Rocky Mountains.

It was just that time of year

when the sun began doing half-shifts,

slipping down the horizon before you were even home,

when the soft sushing of green-yellow leaves

suddenly turned red overnight—

as if nature were readying the runway

for winter’s grand fashion show.

And into this backdrop came the authors, poets, statesmen—

from all over the world—

to open new conversations,

to probe our thinking and theirs,

to disturb our certainties,

to wrestle with our minds,

and then, at last,

to settle into us as deeper knowing:

to know more,

to learn more,

to do more.

And all of this happened in our own beloved Boulder Public Library—

our steadfast friend

on days of happiness and sadness.

We owe much to that library:

the orange tunnel that kept my toddler mesmerized for hours,

long before the creekside playground was built.

The puppet show of Where the Wild Things Are

that coincided with Nibir’s second birthday.

Memories layered like stories upon shelves.

Then, as in so many of our lives,

came the move.

In 2021, I packed up and left,

carrying the ache of separation with me to Bangalore, Karnataka.

That autumn especially, the pang ran deep.

Durga Puja came without the familiar prelude of JLF,

without its warm companionship.

But fate, as ever, had its surprises.

Soon, we found ourselves stepping into

a full two-day Children’s Literature Festival

at Neev Academy here in Bangalore.

We registered with excitement,

arrived on time,

and were swept away in a wave of happiness and gratitude.

For the first time, I experienced an event

designed so wholeheartedly around children—

from ages three to eighteen,

a vortex of curiosity, laughter, tears,

and the many emotions that fill those years.

Since then, every year,

we have returned to the Neev Literature Festival,

in whatever way possible.

Sometimes as mere audience,

soaking in the joy of being children again.

Sometimes as humbled listeners,

hearing authors from distant countries

share stories of childhood trauma,

migration, poverty, war—

stories that, through illustrations and words,

connected us across oceans and histories.

Sometimes as volunteers,

helping people choose the right book from the shelf,

guiding wandering hands toward hidden treasures,

or simply offering authors a moment of pause—

a breath—

after the whirlwind of selfies and hurried admirers.

Some sessions left us spellbound:

experimental archaeologists

reimagining the past

and reshaping how we learn from it;

scientists showing how such knowledge

might even help us fight drug-resistant diseases.

Every story—of science, of grief, of resilience, of wonder—

lit up new neural pathways,

bridged unknowns we did not even know were there.

And always, beyond the learning,

was the simple joy

of being among others willing to listen,

to think,

to hold hands in silence.

JLF and NLF—so different,

in geography, in agenda, in audience.

One for adults, one for children.

Yet both, to me,

equally invigorating.

And so I say:

may every Durga Puja for me begin this way—

on the note of literature festivals.

For that is the true beginning of my Debi Pakkha.

Happy awakening, everyone.