Join Somashis Gupta, Editor Epic Words on a nostalgic journey from Calcutta to Cooch Behar as he experience the live performance of Mahishasura Mardini at EPIC Public School, all thanks to the wonders of modern technology.
It was the 5th of October, a day like any other, or so it seemed. I woke up to the usual symphony of chirping birds, their cheerful chatter filling the cool morning air. As I sipped on my cup of Darjeeling first flush tea—the kind that makes you believe mornings aren’t so bad after all—I found myself drifting into memories. It’s funny how the mind works, one moment you’re enjoying your tea, and the next, you’re transported back in time to Cooch Behar, where Anjali Mashi would lovingly bring me the very same brew. Oh, how those days seemed both a lifetime ago and just yesterday.
But today, it wasn’t just nostalgia nudging at me. A certain thought persisted, one that pulled me back to the present, or rather, just a few weeks back to EPIC Public School. Ah, the school where I’ve had the distinct pleasure of mentoring young minds in creative writing! A surge of pride swelled within me as I remembered my students. These weren’t just any students—they were a bright, spirited bunch with more talent than they knew what to do with.
Suddenly, it hit me like a ton of bricks—wasn’t today the day they were performing the Mahishasura Mardini programme? The thought made me sit up a little straighter. Was it today? A quick mental calculation, and sure enough, I was right. A pang of sadness washed over me, realising that I was stuck in Calcutta, far away from the action. Oh, how I wished I could witness the spectacle in person, to see those talented youngsters bring the age-old myth to life!
But just as I was about to succumb to a wave of melancholy, I realised we lived in a modern age, where distance is no longer the barrier it once was. “Bless Alexander Graham Bell!” I exclaimed, mentally tipping my hat to the man who gave us the telephone, and by extension, the internet. Without wasting another second, I logged onto Facebook and headed straight to EPIC Public School’s page, hoping for some glimmer of connection to the day’s event. And there it was, a message from none other than Dr. Sanjukta Saha, confirming that the Mahishasura Mardini programme was indeed happening today.
‘Fat lot of good that does me,’ I thought to myself, staring at my screen, still sitting miles away. But just as I was about to exit in disappointment, a small notification popped up—‘EPIC School is live.’ In an instant, my sadness began to lift. With fingers quicker than a cat chasing a laser pointer, I clicked on the link, and there it was—Mahishasura Mardini, live and in full swing, right before my very eyes.
Mahishasura Mardini began with a serene chanting of soulful shlokas by the students, their voices echoing through the screen with a kind of grace that made you forget you were watching from afar. I could hardly recognise them at first, dressed in their traditional attire, standing tall with an air of confidence. It was Parnika and her friends, no doubt, but they looked so resplendent, so grown-up, that I had to blink twice to make sure it was really them. After the shlokas, the pradip was lit, its flame cutting through the darkness with a glow that was both literal and symbolic, marking the start of something truly special.
I was just in the middle of a phone call, one of those mundane conversations that you don’t really need to be part of, when two tiny figures took to the stage. These were no ordinary performers—barely six or seven years old, these little ones were the hosts of the entire programme! With the kind of poise you don’t expect from children so young, they took the audience by storm, enacting and announcing the performances with such charm and confidence that I was left utterly speechless. I quickly excused myself from the call. Some conversations can wait, especially when you’re witnessing something as magical as this.
The performances that followed were nothing short of a visual feast—dance, music, drama, all woven together in a tapestry of creativity and tradition. Each act seemed more polished than the last, and as I watched, I could feel my heart swell with pride. And then came the pièce de résistance—the performance of Mahishasura Mardini itself. Shreejit, one of my quietest students, had transformed into Mahishasura, fierce and proud, while Purva and the others played their roles with such intensity and emotion that I was left stunned. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought I was watching professional performers rather than schoolchildren.
I was so caught up in the spectacle that for a moment, I contemplated hopping on the next flight to Cooch Behar. But no, I stayed glued to my screen, soaking in every second. As the final performance drew to a close, I felt a bittersweet emotion creeping in—joy for having witnessed something so special, but sadness that I couldn’t be there in person to experience the atmosphere firsthand.
To see the performance click HERE
The curtain fell, and it was time for the prize distribution. As the awards were handed out for everything from Sports Day to public speaking, my heart skipped a beat when I heard them mention creative writing. How I longed to be there, cheering them on in person. But alas, all good things must come to an end. With a heavy but contented heart, I shut down my computer. As I sat back in my chair, I made myself a little promise—next year, come what may, I would be there in person to witness the magic unfold once more.
