Shaan: ‘I Hope To Witness Kolkata Pujo This Year For The First Time’

For Bengalis, the sound of the dhaak is not just a drumbeat, it is an announcement. For Shaan, who grew up as a quintessential “Mumbai ka Bengali”, it meant permission to stay up late, pandal-hop at Shivaji Park, and later, rush from one stage to another as the star performer of the city’s Pujos. In a candid chat before the festiva, the singer talks about grief, bhog, dhoti-kurtas, and why he is finally planning his first Kolkata Pujo this year.

Excerpts from the interview:

What is the first childhood memory that flashes across your mind the moment you hear the dhaak?

For me, the dhaak was an announcement that Durga Pujo has begun. You never hear that sound all year, only those five-six days. As a child, it meant we could step out, stay up late at pandals, and just be. Shivaji Park was always the pick of the lot.

You’ve often said Pujo changed deeply after your mother’s passing. What does the festival encompass for you now?

My mother was the most active and excited during Pujo. She would forget all her aches and pains and health issues and just go all out. She and her friends would plan the whole circuit and try to cover almost every major Pujo in Mumbai, sometimes even four Pujos a day. They would pick and choose their favourite artists and decide who to listen to on which day. Her ever-smiling face would be at its brightest and prettiest during Pujo. That fervour will never be the same now that she is not there.

Take us back to the early days when money was scarce to now. What has changed and what hasn't?

Initially, Pujo was just about getting to step out and stay up late. Then it became about performing at different Pujos across Mumbai, and eventually, I became the star performer. Then Pujo became more stressful — keeping commitments, rushing from one pandal to another. And in the midst of all this, trying to feel the Pujo vibe — a hurried darshan asking Maa for her blessings, some yummy bhog in the day, chop-cutlet with kashundi in the evenings, meeting fellow Bengalis you only meet during Pujos, wearing dhoti-kurta. It was chaotic, but fun. That chaos and warmth hasn’t changed.

As a Mumbaikar, how was Pujo in Mumbai different from Kolkata?

I am a Mumbai ka Bengali who has never been to Kolkata during Pujo. I am told many times that I am missing the real essence of Durga Puja. Mumbai Pujo is very close-knit, you meet the same families every year, it’s like a reunion. But I hope to witness the Kolkata Pujo this year for the first time, and I am very excited about it.

Pujo food is legendary for its nostalgia. What is that one comfort meal for you?

It has to be bhog in the afternoon and chop-cutlet with kashundi in the evening. That combination is pure nostalgia. It instantly makes me feel like a child again.

When you stand before Maa Durga now, what is the one silent prayer you offer?

Earlier it was for shows, for success, for things to happen. Now it is just to keep everyone healthy and together. And to be able to feel even a little bit of the joy my mother felt during these days.

Speaking of festivity, you are taking your ‘All Of Me Tour’ to the Coca-Cola Arena in Dubai. How do you plan to bring festive warmth to expats missing home?

The Dubai show is special as it has been organised by my guru Ustad Ghulam Mustafa Khan sahab’s son Rabbani Mustafa Khan and daughter-in-law Namrata Gupta Khan. The show is timed as a pre-Diwali festive season starter, right after Pujo. So I am planning a special set that should ignite this festive mood with celebration songs. For thousands of South Asians who can’t be home, I want to create that same pandal feeling in the arena.

Anthems like Tanha Dil carry a timeless sense of longing. When you sing it to a global diaspora audience, does it feel different?

Absolutely. Tanha Dil has that strong connection when I am singing to a global diaspora audience. It is more than a song, it is an emotion and I can fully sense that feeling in the audience as I croon it. That homesickness, that longing for your own gully — I feel a responsibility to heal it, even if just for those three minutes.