My fondest childhood memory—the one I still hold closest to my bosom—is scooping up hoards of shiulis from the verandah of our ancestral property with my mother and grandmother in a remote hamlet of Assam's Barak Valley. These night-blooming flowers, with their hypnotic fragrance, would fall in a thick white blanket with a tinge of orange at the centre. I, whose daak naam (pet name) is Jue—another flower from the jasmine family—would rush to her like a hopeless lover smitten by its beauty. But shiuli was always more than just a flower. Its bloom marked the arrival of something, rather someone, divine. For us in Silchar, the second-largest town in Assam, it meant only one thing:
Maa Durga was coming home.
As a little girl, I didn't fully grasp the significance of those flowers. But I vividly remember my mother telling me, "Durga Puja has begun the moment you see the shiuli bloom." That fragrance—soft and hypnotic to my tender mind—still lingers in my memory as the sweetest signal that celebrations are about to unfold.
Durga Puja transforms Silchar in ways words can barely capture. Overnight, my otherwise sleepy hometown comes alive with colour, energy, and unfiltered joy. Schools and offices shut down, kids brandish their tikli banduk (plastic toy guns) with unapologetic pride, and red-and-white laal paar (red-bordered) saris brighten every lane.
When I was a child, I was a tomboy through and through, and I demanded my own tikli banduk every Pujo. My friends and I used it to intimidate "locality rivals" and even unsuspecting passersby. One year, a neighbourhood aunty stormed into my home to complain about my antics. My embarrassed parents quickly salvaged the situation, but confiscated my beloved gun for the rest of the festival. That year, my Durga Puja felt incomplete, but it also became one of those stories my family and I laugh about to this day.
As an adult, though, my rituals changed. My father—long before he passed away—used to take me and my sister on our annual pre-puja shopping sprees. He'd come home from work, take us to the makeshift stalls that mushroomed across Silchar before puja, and let us buy whatever we wanted: plastic hairclips shaped like Winnie the Pooh, bead-studded hairbands, shiny bangles, and bottles of alta to decorate our hands and feet. If our mother protested the excess, my father would simply smile and say, "Puja toh, chaado," (It's Puja, let it be).
Even now, when I see young fathers walking their daughters through those same stalls, I feel an immense sense of relief. Silchar, in its own quiet way, has managed to stay frozen in time, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Durga Puja in my hometown isn't just a celebration; it's a binding force. The Sylheti community—originally from East Bengal (now Bangladesh) and settled in Cachar, Karimganj and Hailakandi districts of Assam—has carried this devotion across generations. Just last year, the Cachar district hosted 1081 Durga Puja pandals, with hundreds in Silchar alone. Yes, we may not have the towering, extravagant pandals of Kolkata, but we have one in every nook and cranny of our town.
And it isn't just pomp. At the Ramakrishna Mission Sevashrama, for instance, prasad is cooked and served tirelessly to anyone who arrives—devotee or passerby. Plates of khichdi, aloo bhaja, papad, and labra (mixed vegetables) are distributed with a warmth that feels as nourishing as the food itself. Smaller pandals across neighbourhoods follow suit, especially on Maha Navami. Growing up on Vivekananda Road, where five pandals would rise within walking distance, I learned early on that when you're a devotee of Maa Durga in Silchar, every pada (neighbourhood) is yours.
After sundown, the town hums with a rhythm of its own. Priests perform evening aarti, dhak beats echo through the air, and local boudis sway with dhunuchi in hand, surrendering themselves to Maa Durga. In my family, too, the older women once danced this way in unison. They weren't aiming for perfection because dhunuchi naach is not about precision… It's about love for our divine mother.
For us Sylhetis, puja is as much about the plate as the pandal. Egg rolls sizzling at street corners, fuska (pani puri) stalls drawing eager queues, kebabs smoking on roadside grills—Silchar's food scene comes alive in these four days.
Before Durga Puja 2024, I waited all year for one signature Sylheti dish: shidol chutney, a fiery preparation of fermented fish, spices, and garlic. Paired with panta bhaat (fermented rice), it's not just food, for me it's a gut punch of nostalgia. Then there's eelish maancher shiddho, hilsa cooked in thick mustard paste, so tender and buttery that every bite feels like a revelation.
And of course, there's rui maancher jhol—rohu fish simmered with potatoes and seasonal vegetables in a runny, mildly spiced gravy. It's deceptively simple, but on those nights, with plain rice and family laughter, it always feels like magic.
No Puja feast is complete without meat, though. Pathaar mangsho (mutton curry) and murgir maangsho (chicken curry) are staples at every restaurant in Silchar—slow-cooked, oily, spicy, and again, unapologetic. When it comes to sweets, I always look for gurer roshogulla, cottage cheese balls drenched in jaggery syrup, or the jalebis from our temporary Puja stalls: crunchy, chewy, sugary, but never cloying.
Food, for us, is devotion too. It's how we honour Maa Durga… with spice, sweetness, and shared plates.
Agreed, Silchar doesn't boast glittering malls or high-end hotels. In fact, we have one small mall, a couple of theatres, and not even a McDonald's yet. So why come here?
Because in Silchar, Puja isn't performance, it's active participation by choice. It's the warmth of neighbours inviting you to their prasad distribution. It's the sound of dhak humming softer but sweeter than in bigger cities. It's fathers taking daughters on bangle-shopping sprees, children sparring with toy guns, and women dancing with dhunuchi in their palms. Durga Puja here is a refreshing paradox: timid yet chaotic, intimate yet grand, ordinary yet divine.
After pandal-hopping in cities like Mumbai, Delhi, Kolkata, Jaipur, and Guwahati, I still believe the dhak beats sweeter in Silchar. Perhaps it's bias, perhaps nostalgia, but for me, Durga Puja in this sleepy town is a rare balance of chaos and calm, intimacy and grandeur.
So, as I pack my bags once again for Silchar, I cannot help but wonder: is it love for Maa Durga or the longing for a simpler time that keeps us bound? Maybe it's both.
How can I reach Silchar?
Take a flight from your city to Silchar's Kumbhirgram Airport. Since there are not a lot of direct flights to Silchar, opt for the connecting ones, especially via Guwahati and Kolkata.
You can also book trains to Silchar, but there are not a lot of direct ones from major cities. In case you are travelling from a place with no direct trains to Silchar, you can reach Guwahati by flight or train first and then take another train from Guwahati to Silchar.
Which are the top Durga Puja pandals to visit in Silchar?
Silchar has a lot of must-see pujo pandals. But here are a few you cannot miss:
1) Apanjan Club, Bilpar
2) Tarun Sangha, Sonai Road
3) Mitali Sangh, Sonai Road
4) Rice Mill Durga Puja, Tarapur
5) Udharbond Durga Puja Pandal
6) Madhyasahar Sanskritik Samitee, Narshingtola
7) Ramakrishna Mission Sevashrama, Mission Road
Can you recommend a few hotels in Silchar?
Yes, Silchar has a few good hotels and a resort that you can stay comfortably at:
1) Borail View Regency
2) Sagarika Resort
3) Hotel Cachar Club
4) Riya Palace
5) Hotel Sudakshina
6) Hotel Kalpataru
Can you recommend a few places to eat in Silchar?
Silchar's known for its Sylheti and Bengali-inspired food, and you cannot miss eating at:
1) Borail View Regency
2) Cachar Club
3) Maya Hotel
4) Sagarika Resort
5) Ranna Ghar
6) Riya Palace
For pure vegetarian food, you could eat at Hasty Tasty Restaurant.
Name a few places to visit in and around Silchar
A few places to visit near Silchar are:
1) Son Beel in the neighbouring Karimganj district: It is the second-largest wetland in Asia
2) Kancha Kanti Kali Temple: This historic temple was built in 1806 and again rebuilt in 1978. Kanchakanti means a combination of the Goddesses Kali and Durga
3) Doloo Tea Estate: Considered one of the largest tea estates in Assam; go there to catch a glimpse of the tea-plucking process
4) NIT Silchar and Assam Central University: Two of the oldest and most beautiful educational institutes in Silchar; go there for their scenic beauty
Insider tips that one should remember
Since Silchar is a small town, it is advised to dress up keeping small-town sensibilities in mind. Casual outfits such as shorts and/or backless dresses will be frowned upon.