Fragrance of shiuli, silvery white kaash phool swaying gently against an azure sky herald the festive season for the Bengalis. The poet’s heart leaps up in joy–eshehchey sharot himer posrosh… There’s happiness in the air. People heave a sigh of relief following an uninterrupted and unbearable spell of sticky, sultry and humid summer.
Bengalis yearn for this time of the year amid all angst and misery. Forgetting all woes and pains they remain immersed in this time of festivity and fun.