Long before the sun streaks across Bengal’s skies on Mahalaya, the conch shell sounds, and a familiar baritone unfurls like an invocation. “Ashwiner sharad praate…”—words so deeply etched in collective memory that they feel more lived than heard. What follows is not just a programme on the radio but the official overture to Durga Puja. Across Bengal, across the diaspora, families gather in half-dark rooms, some still wrapped in shawls, to listen. The moment marks the beginning of Devi Paksha, the celestial fortnight that culminates in the great autumnal festival of Durga.

