If Durga Puja has a touch of magic, it has music in it too. If something that heralds the arrival of the goddess, it is the enchanting beats of dhak,the traditional drum. Sound of the dhak electrifies the atmosphere, reminds one of the rhythm of gods and goddesses and victory of good over evil that Devi Durga so eloquently stands for.

As the wind gets soaked with Puja fervour and the festive mood turns quite tangible, dhakis (the traditional drummers) in rural Bengal start packing up their sundry belongings to prepare for a week’s sojourn to several urban and semi-urban hubs to play dhaks in tandem with chanting of holy hymns and mantras.

In fact, at the very beat of the dhak, people in almost all walks of life tend to push their urban worries and woes into the backyard, glad to forget the fret and routine of life, the drought and floods, to get swathed in the fun and frolic that is Durga Puja.

Even a majority of non-Bengalis who had perforce to shift base to Bengal for various reasons and used to shudder at the invasion of hordes of youth demanding chanda (subscription), have now come to accept it, — the four-day-long uninterrupted revelry marked by mammoth crowd, prolonged traffic snarl-ups and ear-splitting music.

Practically, with the passage of time, old timers would testify and bemoan as Durga Puja celebration-cum-frenzy gripped West Bengal and neighbouring places, some of the traditional values, traits and faiths got edged out in a bitter clash with modernity.

Gone are those days when celebration of Pujas without dhakis was deemed to be a sacrilege. Dhakis are now tribes, fighting a grim battle against the awesome power of  money, sea change in taste vis-à-vis tradition and invasion of hi-tech electronic gadgets that seek to recreate an artificial Puja ambience.

Dulal Das, 61, hails from Lohada village, Murshidabad district. His is a village of dhakis, and his father Suren, was a renowned dhaki in his days. “Most of the families in our village used to make do playing the dhak. Durga Puja and Kali Puja (Diwali) were the principal occasions,” says Dulal.

“Things have changed now, I mean, during the last decade or so. We no longer earn that much and most of us are into farming the rest of the year,” rues Dulal. “Although our presence is traditionally attached with the Puja, the organisers presently are busy spending huge sums on pandals, assortments and themes.”

But only in the recent past, dhak and Durga Puja seemed inseparable. Imagine the Dhunuchi Naach (dance with dried coconut shell on an earthen pot in tandem with beats of dhakis) on Astami (eighth) evening. “The combination of uludhwani by women, the beat of dhak, the blowing of conches and  beating of kanshor(a metallic bell) and the dancing transported us into a heavenly world,” recalls Suresh Dutt, 71, patron of a leading community Puja. Not that Dhunuchi Naach has fallen out of favour now; but it has definitely been shorn of its past grandeur and sublimity.