Have We Scrolled Away The Surprise Of Durga Puja?

There was a time when Durga Puja in Guwahati came with a kind of anticipation that is hard to explain today.

The excitement began long before the first dhaak beat was heard or the first pandal was ready to welcome the revellers. It began with a newspaper announcement, a photograph on a roadside hoarding, or a conversation with a friend about an unusually designed pandal being built somewhere in the city.

We knew that a particular puja committee was planning something extraordinary, but we rarely knew exactly what awaited us. We had to go there to find out.

And so, we went.

Pandal hopping was never merely about visiting decorated structures. It was about discovering something new, navigating crowded streets with families and friends, and finally witnessing a creation that left us speechless. There was a genuine sense of wonder in that first glimpse, a moment when imagination met reality, and the reality turned out to be even more beautiful than what we had imagined.

We carried those experiences home with us, long after the festive lights had dimmed and the idols had been immersed.

Today, I sometimes wonder whether we are slowly losing a little of that magic.

When Anticipation Was Part Of The Celebration

Before social media became an integral part of our lives, information about Durga Puja travelled differently. Newspapers, television coverage, roadside hoardings and word of mouth shaped our expectations. A photograph might offer a glimpse of a pandal, but it could never tell us the whole story.

Curiosity did the rest.

We would hear about an elaborate theme or an extraordinary artistic concept and make plans to visit. We wondered how the artists had interpreted the theme, how the lighting would transform the space, and how the idol would look when we finally stood before it.

The anticipation was part of the celebration itself.

Pandal hopping also had a certain spontaneity. One visit led to another; a friend’s recommendation could change the evening’s plan, and an unfamiliar lane might lead us to a pandal we hadn’t expected to discover. Not every visit had to be planned around a list of famous attractions. Sometimes, the joy lay in simply exploring the city.

Perhaps that is what made the experience so personal. We were not merely visiting places we had already seen; we were discovering them for ourselves.

The Instagram Effect: Experiencing Durga Puja Before Arriving

Fast-forward to today, and the experience has changed dramatically.

Instagram reels, Facebook posts, YouTube videos and influencer collaborations have become important parts of the festive season. Social media has transformed the way Durga Puja is promoted, documented and experienced, allowing the creativity of local puja committees to reach a much wider audience.

For the organisers, this is a tremendous opportunity. Their hard work receives recognition, visitors can discover pandals across the city, and artistic creations that might once have remained local attractions can now reach thousands of people.

Yet, somewhere in this digital excitement, I feel something has changed.

In recent years, particularly over the last two or three years, detailed previews of pandals have become increasingly common. Videos showcase the entrances, interiors, lighting, idols and intricate installations, sometimes even before the official inauguration.

By the time a pandal opens to the public, people may already have watched a virtual tour revealing most of its major features from the comfort of their homes.

We may not have visited the place in person, but mentally, we may feel as though we have already been there.

And that is where my concern begins.

When we have already seen the most striking features of a pandal on our screens, the actual visit can feel less like a discovery and more like a confirmation of what we already know. The craftsmanship may be extraordinary, but the initial sense of astonishment can be different.

A video cannot reproduce the atmosphere of a crowded pandal, the sound of the dhaak, the scent of incense or the feeling of standing before an intricately crafted idol. But it can reveal the visual surprise before we have had the chance to experience it ourselves.

Sometimes, that surprise is precisely what makes a moment unforgettable.

When Every Pandal Becomes Content

Another dimension of this change is the growing culture of documenting every experience.

Durga Puja has always been about creativity, competition and community participation. Behind every elaborate pandal are artists, artisans, electricians, decorators, volunteers and countless others who work tirelessly to bring an idea to life. Their efforts deserve appreciation, and social media has given them a platform to showcase their work.

However, in an increasingly content-driven environment, the way a pandal appears on a screen can become almost as important as the experience of visiting it.

The most photogenic corner, the most dramatic entrance and the most visually striking installation often become the highlights of online coverage. Visitors can also find themselves searching for the perfect photograph or video to share.

There is nothing wrong with capturing memories. Photographs and videos allow us to revisit our favourite moments long after the festival ends. But I sometimes wonder whether the desire to capture everything takes away from the simple pleasure of being present.

When we are constantly thinking about how an experience will look to others, do we give ourselves enough time to appreciate how it feels to us?

Perhaps this is the larger question we need to ask ourselves. Are we simply celebrating Durga Puja, or are we increasingly concerned with how our celebration will appear online?

The two can coexist, of course. But the balance matters.

Has The Craze Of Pandal Hopping Changed?

Guwahati comes alive during Durga Puja, with celebrations spread across neighbourhoods and hundreds of puja committees contributing to the festive atmosphere. The crowds, the traffic, the lights and the excitement remain familiar features of the season.

I would not claim that people have stopped visiting pandals or that social media has necessarily reduced footfall. The festival still attracts people of all ages, and digital platforms may even encourage visitors to explore places they might otherwise miss.

What I wonder about is the nature of the excitement itself.

Earlier, we might have visited a pandal knowing very little about it and come away amazed by what we discovered. Today, we often arrive with expectations shaped by carefully edited videos, trending reels and online recommendations.

This does not mean the pandal has lost its beauty. Perhaps our relationship with that beauty has changed.

I wonder whether, in our eagerness to see everything before everyone else, we have unintentionally made the experience a little less exciting.

Can We Bring Back The Magic?

I do not believe the answer lies in rejecting social media or wishing for a complete return to the past. Times change, and the ways we celebrate change with them. Digital platforms help people plan their evenings, discover new neighbourhoods and appreciate the creativity that goes into building these magnificent structures.

Instead, perhaps we need to reconsider how we use these platforms.

Puja committees and content creators could leave some details for people to discover in person, rather than revealing every corner before the inauguration. Previews could focus on the story behind a theme, the artists involved, and the effort invested in its creation, letting visitors experience the full visual spectacle when they arrive.

As visitors, we could also make a small change. We could resist the urge to watch every preview before stepping out, leave room for unplanned detours, and occasionally put our phones away to take in the atmosphere around us.

Not every experience needs to be fully documented to become a meaningful memory.

Imagine arriving at a pandal without knowing exactly what lies inside, walking through its entrance, and letting yourself be surprised. Imagine discovering an unexpected artistic detail that no reel has prepared you for, or stumbling upon a small neighbourhood puja that becomes the highlight of your evening.

These moments may not always be the most popular ones online, but they can be among the most memorable.

The Magic Was Never Just In The Pandal

When I think about Durga Puja in Guwahati, what I miss is not necessarily the past itself. I recognise that the festival has evolved, and that its creativity, reach and scale have grown in many wonderful ways.

What I miss is the anticipation: hearing about a pandal and wondering what it would look like, the excitement of travelling across the city without knowing what awaited us, and the collective amazement of discovering something extraordinary for the first time.

Those moments were memorable not because social media didn’t exist as it does today. They were memorable because we approached the experience with curiosity and allowed ourselves to be surprised.

Durga Puja is more than a visual spectacle. It is a celebration of faith, art, tradition, community and togetherness. Its beauty lies not only in what is created, but also in the emotions it evokes when we encounter it.

Social media can show us a pandal from every possible angle. It can capture the lights, explain the theme and bring the festivities into our homes. But it cannot completely recreate the feeling of standing there for the first time, looking around and being genuinely awestruck.

Perhaps this Durga Puja, as we step into the festive streets of Guwahati, we could allow ourselves a little less preview and a little more discovery.

We do not have to stop sharing our experiences. We simply need to remember that experiencing something and watching someone else experience it are two different things.

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