India, Oct. 13 -- Festivals, they say, have the power to turn strangers into family, and nowhere does that feel truer than during Durga Puja in Gurugram. Over the years, this city of migrants has transformed the five-day celebration into a mosaic of faith, nostalgia, and belonging. On Dashami (October 2), as I moved from one pandal to another, my notebook filled not just with details for a story but with emotions that words could barely contain. The morning began in DLF Phase 1, where the air was alive with the rhythm of dhaak (traditional Bengali drums), conch shells, and the fragrance of incense. Women in red and white sarees, their faces glowing with devotion, offered flowers to the goddess, while children tugged at their mothers' hands, impatient to grab a plate of bhog. Watching them, I couldn't help but think that this city, often accused of being too mechanical and too rushed, suddenly had a heartbeat. At one of the pandals, Anindita Basu, a marketing professional from Kolkata, told me with misty eyes, "Durga Puja here is our connection to home. For five days, we forget that we're far away. We rebuild Kolkata in our hearts." And she was right. Every beat of the drum and every aroma of khichuri and labra carried pieces of distant memories stitched together in the heart of Gurugram. By afternoon, I reached Sector 56, where the Bengal Association's pandal was brimming with anticipation. The most awaited ritual, Sindoor Khela, was about to begin. What followed was a sight to behold. Women, their laughter echoing louder than the drums, smeared each other's faces with red vermilion. It was joy, defiance, and strength rolled into one. One woman told me, "This sindoor is not just colour. It's courage." In that sea of red, I saw the living spirit of the goddess-vibrant, fierce, and compassionate. Later, at DLF 5 Club, the festival took on a carnival hue. Children chased balloons, food stalls lined the park, and the aroma of puchkas and rolls filled the air. A group of young girls performed a modern dance to Rabindra Sangeet, Tagore meeting TikTok in perfect harmony. Their energy said it all: tradition was not fading, it was evolving. As dusk fell, I watched the idol being readied for immersion. The drums grew louder, the chants more emotional. People danced not in grief but in gratitude. They were celebrating not an end but a promise that Ma Durga would return next year. In that moment, standing under the golden lights, I realized something simple yet profound. Gurugram may be a city of concrete, but during Durga Puja, it finds its soul. It is in the shared laughter, the collective prayer, the red-stained smiles of women, and the rhythm that binds thousands of hearts into one. When the drums finally faded, I closed my notebook-my story written, but my heart still full. Festivals like Durga Puja remind us that beyond the chaos of life and deadlines, what keeps us human is our ability to come together, to dance, to pray, to believe....