Saraswati Puja: A Plate of Hot Khichdi, a Yellow Saree, and a Pinch of Nostalgia

There was something magical about সরস্বতী পুজ ো (Saraswati Puja) in Kolkata during our teenage days. Officially, it was the festival of knowledge and wisdom. Unofficially, it was the Bengali version of Valentine's Day.

For me, there were exactly two reasons to wait for সরস্বতী পুজ ো (Saraswati Puja) every year. The first was my lady love. The second was the heavenly খিচু খর (khichdi) bhog.

I would wake up unusually early, iron my পোয় োমো-পোঞ্জোখি (kurta payjama), apply extra talcum powder and somehow find excuses to visit her house. Offering pushpanjali was merely an excuse. My real purpose was to catch a glimpse of her.

And then she would arrive.

Draped in a beautiful িোসন্তী (vibrant yellow) saree, matching earrings swaying gently, wrists filled with colourful bangles and a tiny bindi adorning her forehead. My teenage heart would instantly forget all the Sanskrit mantras. I don't think I ever prayed to Goddess Saraswati properly. I was too busy praying that she would stand beside me during pushpanjali.

Then came the second love of my life—the খিচু খর (khichdi) bhog.

Ah! That steaming plate of golden খিচু খর (khichdi), fragrant with pure ghee, still remains unmatched. Alongside came the delicious লোিডো (mixed vegetable), filled with winter vegetables and those precious handmade boris prepared by her grandmother. And of course, the perfectly crispy পোপড (papad) that disappeared from the plate even before the খিচু খর (khichdi) was mixed.

Life, however, has a funny way of moving ahead.

We grew up, became busy with our careers and eventually shifted to the IT capital of the country. Deadlines replaced leisurely afternoons and online meetings replaced neighbourhood gossip. Thankfully, my teenage crush did not disappear. She simply got promoted—to my wife.

Yet every সরস্বতী পুজ ো (Saraswati Puja), I missed those old days terribly. The খিচু খর (khichdi) here was good, but not that খিচু খর (khichdi). There was no aroma of ghee floating in the winter air, no authentic লোিডো (mixed vegetable) and certainly no handmade boris made with grandmother's love.

But this year's সরস্বতী পুজ ো (Saraswati Puja) was different.

While working from home that afternoon, I was suddenly greeted by a familiar fragrance. My heart literally skipped a beat. There she was. My lady love.

Dressed once again in a gorgeous িোসন্তী (vibrant yellow) saree, matching earrings, wrists full of bangles and that same mischievous smile that had once made a teenage boy forget his pushpanjali. In front of me was a plate of steaming hot খিচু খর (khichdi), লোিডো (mixed vegetable), crispy পোপড (papad) and handmade boris.

One spoonful—and I was transported back twenty years.

The aroma of ghee, the softness of the Chaiti Mug Daal, the comforting flavour of the লোিডো (mixed vegetable) and the crispiness of the পোপড (papad)—it all tasted exactly like my teenage সরস্বতী পুজ ো (Saraswati Puja) days.

But then a question arose.

"Wait... your grandmother's boris? But she is no longer with us. Then where did these come from?"

My wife smiled like a magician revealing her secret.

She had discovered Parthiv while scrolling online and ordered organic Chaiti Mug Daal, Bilona Ghee, cold-pressed mustard oil, homemade bori and masala papad. Knowing they were organic, chemical-free and carefully sourced made the meal feel even more special.

And honestly, the authenticity surprised both of us.

The Chaiti Mug Daal had that traditional flavour we thought had been lost with time. The Bilona Ghee added the same rich aroma that once filled her house during সরস্বতী পুজ ো (Saraswati Puja). The cold-pressed mustard oil gave the লোিডো (mixed vegetable) its nostalgic Bengali touch, while the homemade bori tasted exactly like the ones our grandmothers lovingly prepared.

As someone who spends hours in the gym nowadays, I was relieved to know that reliving my childhood memories wasn't ruining my fitness goals!

That afternoon, sitting beside my wife and enjoying every bite, I realised something beautiful.

Sometimes nostalgia doesn't need a time machine. Sometimes, it arrives wearing a িোসন্তী (vibrant yellow) saree, carrying a plate of hot খিচু খর (khichdi) and quietly whispering the name—Parthiv.

And so, I sincerely thank Parthiv... and of course my wife too. Because if I forget to thank her, next year's সরস্বতী পুজ ো (Saraswati Puja) might only feature খিচু খর (khichdi)... without the ghee!