The Making of Goddess Durga in Bengal: Art, Heritage and the Public 981160262X, 9789811602627

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Samir Kumar Das Bishnupriya Basak   Editors

The Making of Goddess Durga in Bengal: Art, Heritage and the Public

The Making of Goddess Durga in Bengal: Art, Heritage and the Public

Samir Kumar Das · Bishnupriya Basak Editors

The Making of Goddess Durga in Bengal: Art, Heritage and the Public

Editors Samir Kumar Das Department of Political Science University of Calcutta Kolkata, West Bengal, India

Bishnupriya Basak Department of Archaeology University of Calcutta Kolkata, West Bengal, India

ISBN 978-981-16-0262-7 ISBN 978-981-16-0263-4 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-0263-4 © The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. This Springer imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. The registered company address is: 152 Beach Road, #21-01/04 Gateway East, Singapore 189721, Singapore

Preface

‘Kumartuli hochchhe debatader aatur ghar’ (Kumartuli is the nursery where the gods and goddesses are born), said Dilip Pal, a pratimasilpi of yore, when we visited him in his studio at Baghbazar in north Kolkata on a sultry summer morning in May 2019. Our book revolves around the dingy hutments of this nursery and the communities living there and serving as the midwife in the process. The book has been a long journey. It bears the imprint of many casual conversations and deep discussions. We have lived and grown with the subject as it unfolded over two and a half years in course of project planning, organizing ethnographies, apportioning responsibilities, establishing contacts and acquaintances and holding a couple of workshops and so forth. The canvas against which it has been pitched is large and expansive. Threads of childhood memory, wonder, longing and nostalgia, a sense of loss and fulfilment—all enfolded in layers—came to cohabit this space of authorship and coalesced to bind us to the project which eventually proved to be more than merely ‘doing’ another project. It was first proposed to us by Satish Kumar, a friend and colleague from Queen’s University, Belfast, as part of documentation of microhistories of neighbourhoods. The idol makers of Kumartuli seemed an ideal choice, and Kumartuli never left our imaginations since then. At one point of time, we had clubbed the pratimasilpi community with other heritage minorities of cosmopolitan Calcutta now Kolkata— the Jews, the Armenians and the Chinese—for a collective study of these cohort groups eking out their existence in the face of all adversities. We soon realized that Kumartuli and its silpis—the artists—struck a different chord and demanded an independent study. Despite battling with a myriad of challenges, they refuse to be a mere case study of the commonplace theme of ‘heritage-in-crisis’ crying out for conservation. The goddess looks ever so resplendent thanks to the wizardry of the idol makers of Kumartuli that we could intuitively realize the limitations of the simple commonplace narrative. This was long before our ethnographies could vindicate it. What lay ahead was a daunting task. We wished to interview the pratimasilpis, yet were aware of treading on the soft clay of unknown terrains. University of Glasgow’s Arts Lab came forward, willing to collaborate on a symposium which was crucial for testing waters. This was a turning point for the project and marked the beginning of a durable networking with intricate connectivity spreading far and wide into v

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the serpentine lanes of the world’s largest potters’ hub and beyond. Soumen Pal, a talented pratimasilpi in his late 30s with his ancestral studio in Kumartuli, became our anchor and has remained so till date. In order to ensure the cross-disciplinary perspective, we selected 11 resource persons from as diverse fields as Art History, Bengal Studies, Sociology and Social Anthropology, Art and Aesthetics, Architectural Engineering, Politics and Government, Archaeology and Literature and invited them to the symposium on 25 November 2018, including of course our anchorman— Soumen—in November 2018. The list included, besides the present contributors, Anita Agnihotri, litterateur; Arnab Das, anthropologist; Debashis Das, architect and town planner; Debdutta Gupta, art historian; John Davies, historian; Meghna GuhaThakurta, an expert in government from neighbouring Bangladesh; Pradip Bose, sociologist; and Soujit Das, art historian. We remain grateful to them for their comments, advice and help. We had the opportunity of listening intently to the debates among the resource persons from the sidelines of the symposium and thus mentally preparing ourselves for the study. The pratimasilpis are unique in charting out ways in which they seek to reach out to the public. There is no one golden formula. While they remain engaged in churning out traditional images following Shastrik prescriptions, texts and lore, their cultural goods are sourced by the market fuelling the ‘theme puja’ or the corporate-funded extravaganza dominating the cultural scene of Bengal for the past two decades. A creative art like pratimasilpa can seldom remain confined to the iconographic prescriptions. Keen on probing the paradoxical relation between the silpis and their heritage, we identified three principal challenges faced by the community of idol makers in a rapidly globalizing world—art, market and migration. We found it intriguing to decode why art as the act of the avant garde few is ‘consumed’ and appreciated not only by the elite few but by one and all. We could also realize that heritage can ignore market only to its own peril. We were interested in knowing, for instance, how individual idol makers negotiate with the market demands without totally surrendering to them. Finally, mobility and migration, by all accounts, literally splits the silpis into two communities with their styles particular—if not peculiar—to them: the migrants from Santipur and Krishnanagar who migrated with the introduction of Baroiyari Pujas about 100 years back on the one hand and those from erstwhile East Bengal/East Pakistan who had migrated post the Partition (1947) on the other. These issues resonate, more or less, throughout all the chapters. The ensuing discussion was electric. The experts were animated. This bolstered our confidence more than we had ever thought and thus began our ethnographic surveys on a shoestring budget in 2019. Our first day, May 2, threatened to be a complete washout; a cyclonic disturbance was gathering strength in the Bay of Bengal. The storm thankfully deviated, sparing the city and we have never looked back since, whether in smouldering heat or in incessant rains. Soumen’s studio became our refuge and the tea stalls in the alleys our regular haunts. The biggest challenge that we faced in our field interviews was accessibility to the elderly pratimasilpis and sajsilpis, most of whom were too old and infirm. Yet they are our critical custodians and narrators of heritage,

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having been engaged hereditarily with the profession. Apparently, strains of despair, agony and betrayal hung in the air as we moved from one studio to another, and they recounted their daily tryst with rising costs, changing tastes, tightening noose of taxation and government regulations, and a breakdown of the familial network system. Our interview with Haru Pal—a widower who also lost his son—left us with the tragic sense of Kumartuli’s curse and apocalypse. Surviving somehow in real penury Haru Babu’s verdict on Kumartuli’s future was nothing short of death. Apnara keno esechhen, chole jaan (why have you come, go away from here)—those words were like pummelling blows which still reverberate even now when we visualize. His dilapidated shanty had no space to accommodate his idols. His nephew’s wife was forced to wait outside for long till our conversation ended, and perhaps we delayed her cooking on that day. Still, what shone through these strains iridescently was the throbbing creativity that like the hero of Greek tragedies dared to defy the odds with its unstoppable flow of creative energy and a profound self-esteem and professionalism. The defiance is often laced with pain, bearing less fruit. This forced us to think anew about our heritage. The intense attachment to their creation despite the biting poverty and penury was palpable. We were chatting with Nemai Pal one day in his studio in Baghbazar, where sections of the potters’ colony had been rehabilitated following plans of rebuilding of Kumartuli in 2010. We asked him how he felt once the idol was completed, to which he replied—anando achhey, bedonao. Panchami-r dine mon kharap hoy, kanya bidaay-er je jwala, taka diye poshano jaay na (A sense of mirth prevails with a sense of lament. I feel saddened by the idols’ departure from my studio, it is akin to the forlornness a father feels on the daughter’s departure for her in-laws’ place, and no money can replenish this.) Nishupada Pal, a revered idol maker of Shantipur, had said, Ami order nile amar dayittwo (when I accept the order it is my sole responsibility), when we gathered around him in his humble quarter overlooking a busy lane. The resoluteness in the wizened face of this artist in his 90s was a revelation. So many tales still lie unheard, perhaps untold. We do not know what forced Murari Pal to leave his success behind him in Kumartuli to resettle in Uttarpara, which had no tradition of idol making. Our queries deeply rankled the octogenarian when we were eager to learn about this strange out-migration. In a scenario of a dispersed and diffused workforce, it was difficult to suture the migration histories of Kumartuli. Even our field trips to meet the pratimasilpis in Shantipur and Krishnanagar, two principal centres of clay modelling and idol making, for tracing the lineages with their Kumartuli brethren, failed to produce any linear narrative of migration. Conversations with the younger generation striving to make their place in the avant garde ‘theme’ pujas apparently bespoke a disjuncture with the sabeki (traditional) styles and iconographies. A closer reading revealed tussles and tensions in their ‘art’ and desperation to carve out a niche in a world which still remains hesitant to acclaim the ‘art’ of Kumartuli. A fortnight before the 2019 puja, Soumen called us to his studio. We watched enthrallingly the making of a khas-bangla mukh (one of the traditional forms of Durga). This idol was later adapted to the theme of Thaakurdalan by Hatibagan Sarbojanin, a reputed puja organizing association in north Kolkata.

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A field survey that spread out over four months thus emerged as a priceless archive. The book that was in a nebulous state began slowly to assume a form. No single volume has yet been dedicated to this unique cultural hub or its makers, the pratimasilpis, beyond popular pamphlets, documents on town planning and travelogues. Our second workshop took place exactly a year following the first on 16 November 2019, in collaboration with the University of Glasgow’s Arts Lab. This became a facilitating forum for the contributing authors to meet and discuss the plan of a volume, many of whom were participants in the 2018 workshop. We are deeply indebted to Prof. Roma Chatterjee of Delhi School of Economics, Soumik Nandy Majumdar of Kala Bhabana, Visva Bharati and Trina Nileena Banerjee of the Centre for Studies in Social Sciences, Kolkata, for their invaluable comments and presence in the forum. The commentators provided the book with its much-needed direction. As we write this, the deadly pandemic has taken its toll and put Kumartuli in a web of uncertainties now that the puja is on the cards. The world’s largest potters’ hub does not remain unscathed. But the place harbours many stories of regaining life, and we remain hopeful that the wheel of creation will not be ground to a halt. The book seeks to discover Kumartuli’s yet undocumented quest for life. We tried to bring some uniformity in spelling of particularly the Indic words used in this book. We remain thankful to our authors for having agreed to observe the spelling code that we devised for ourselves. The frequently used Indic terms central to the theme of our study are incorporated in the Glossary with their corresponding spellings in diacritical marks. Rajat Sanyal—our colleague from the Department of Archaeology—readily extended his help when we approached him to spell the Indic terms with diacritical marks. We express a special word of gratitude to him for his excellent work. A book of this nature cannot see the light of the day without owing its debt to a host of persons. To those silpis who bore the brunt of our persisting queries with good humour and patience, we remain beholden—Amarnath Ghosh, China Pal, Dilip Pal, Gopal Sarkar, Gour Pal, Haru Pal, Jatindranath Pal, Keshto Pal, Mala Pal, Naba Pal, Narayan Rudrapal, Nemai Pal, Parimal Pal and Sunil Pal in Kumartuli; Murari Pal and Jayanta Pal in Uttarpara; Gobinda Pal, Pradip Pal and Nishupada Pal in Shantipur; and Rajib Pal and Subir Pal in Krishnanagar. It was John Reuben Davies who set the ball rolling by approaching the University of Glasgow and getting the grant cleared for us. We thank Prabartak Sen of Shantipur and his family for their help. He took us around to the different studios and workshops of the old city. Debdutta and Soujit—our authors—did more than being just authors. They were always there whenever we sought their help. We remain thankful to the anonymous referees who read the proposal and the manuscript with great care and offered what we feel are words of encouragement and advice. Last but not that least, it was Satvinder Kaur of Springer who constantly prodded us to complete the work and navigated us through the difficult and bumpy terrain of publication. We cannot thank her more. However, we remain responsible for lapses, if there are any. We will feel rewarded if the book

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is widely read and contributes to the making of a new template for understanding of our heritage and clay art of idol making. Kolkata, India

Samir Kumar Das Bishnupriya Basak

Contents

1 Introduction: The Making of Durga—Art, Heritage and the Public . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Samir Kumar Das and Bishnupriya Basak Part I

1

Cityscapes

2 Re-imagining Kumartuli—The Artisan and the City . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Madhumita Mazumdar

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3 Durga Puja in Glasgow . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . John Reuben Davies

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Part II

Genealogies

4 Manifestation of Icon in the Idol of Goddess Durga in Bengal During the Pre-independent and Post-independent Period . . . . . . . . . . Mrinmoyee Deb

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5 Performing Tradition, Constructing Heritage: Work, Life and Social Transformation Among the Kumbhakars of Kumartuli . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113 Shoma Choudhury Lahiri Part III Iconographies 6 In Search of the Prototype: An Art Historical Enquiry into the Evolving Form of Pratimas in Kumartuli, West Bengal . . . . . . 131 Soujit Das 7 The Heritage of Kumartuli: A Shifting Paradigm . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 155 Debdutta Gupta

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Contents

Part IV Publics 8 Pratimasilpa and the Making of the Public . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 173 Samir Kumar Das 9 The Staging of a ‘Carnival’—‘Art’, Power and a Contested Space in Kumartuli . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 203 Bishnupriya Basak Glossary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 229 Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 237

Editors and Contributors

About the Editors Samir Kumar Das is Professor of Political Science at the University of Calcutta, Kolkata. Previously Vice-Chancellor of the University of North Bengal, Dean of Arts of the University of Calcutta and Postdoctoral Fellow (2005) of the Social Science Research Council (South Asia Program), he is Coordinator of the University Grants Commission-Departmental Research Support (UGC-DRS) Programme (Phases II & III) on ‘Democratic Governance: Comparative Perspectives’. He served as Visiting Fellow at the European Academy, Bolzano, Italy (2008), Adjunct Professor of Government at the Edmund A. Walsh School of Foreign Service, Georgetown University (2014), Visiting Professor of the North East India Studies Programme at Jawaharlal Nehru University (JNU), New Delhi in 2015, and at the University of Paris 13 under Universite Sorbonne Paris Cite in 2016 among many of his assignments. He specializes in and writes on issues of ethnicity, identity, security, migration, rights and justice and has contributed over 190 research papers to highly esteemed national and international journals and edited volumes. Besides, he has been Regular Reviewer of some of the top journals, publishing houses and research bodies including Minority Rights International (London), EU-India Social Science and Humanities Platform (Lubljana) and European Research Council (Brussels). Bishnupriya Basak is Associate Professor in the Department of Archaeology, University of Calcutta. She has been Recipient of many grants and awards, chiefly, Postdoctoral Visiting Fellowship in the UK, awarded by the Nehru Trust for Indian Collections at the Victoria and Albert Museum (2001), a short-term award from the Maison de l’Orient Mediterraneen Jean Pouilloux, Lyon, France (2001), the UK Travel Award from the Nehru Trust for the Indian Collections at the Victoria and Albert Museum (2009), a short-term grant from Fondation Maison des Sciences de l’Homme (FMSH), Paris (2009), and a research grant from Society of Antiquaries of London (2015). She was also nominated by ICCR as a member of the Indian delegation that visited Vietnam in 2005 and remained Honorary Lecturer of University College London, 2010–2014. Her specialization is in Bengal prehistory but she also xiii

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researches extensively on archaeological theory, heritage studies and issues of historiography in Indian archaeology. She has more than thirty published papers to her credit, as well as a monograph and two (co) edited volumes. She is on the editorial board of peer-reviewed journals like Public Archaeology and has been nominated as the Sectional President, Archaeology of 81st Session of the Indian History Congress, 2020.

Contributors Soujit Das Assistant Professor, teaches History of Art at Government College of Art and Craft Calcutta. His area of academic research centres around Cross Cultural Artistic Encounters in Early Modern India. His ongoing projects include, among others, visual documentation of Armenian Gravestone design in India. He has formerly taught at Amity University Noida and has also worked as a teaching assistant at Department of Architecture and Planning, IIT Roorkee. He regularly contributes to art journals and magazines published from India and also has a book to his credit. John Reuben Davies is Associate Director in the College of Arts, University of Glasgow, UK, where he helps to lead interdisciplinary research themes on urban heritage and challenges in changing cities. A theologian and medievalist by training, his recent publications include Copper, Parchment, and Stone: Studies in the Sources for Landholding and Lordship in Early Medieval Bengal and Medieval Scotland (edited with Swapna Bhattacharya). He was elected a Fellow of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland in 2016. Mrinmoyee Deb is a practising artist and author. She is currently working as Assistant Professor in History of Arts in Government College of Art and Craft, Calcutta. Her area of interest includes visual culture of 19th century and 20th century Calcutta and children’s literature of Bengal. Debdutta Gupta is Assistant Professor in Multimedia and Animation Department, St. Xavier’s College (Autonomous) Kolkata. Widely known for his interest and knowledge in Durga puja his recent publication includes Khuddur Jatra, Aban Thakurer chhobi katakutir ajob duniya (in Bengali from Pratikshan, 2018) among others. Shoma Choudhury Lahiri is Assistant Professor at the Department of Sociology, St. Xavier’s College (Autonomous), Kolkata. She has worked on the People’s Science Movement in Kerala and has published a few articles on it. Her research interests lie in the field of social movements, ecology, science and development. She has recently published an edited volume on qualitative research methodologies titled Doing Social Research: Qualitative Methods of Research in Sociology (2020), Orient Blackswan.

Editors and Contributors

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Madhumita Mazumdar is Professor at the Dhirubhai Ambani Institute of Information Communication Technology, Gandhinagar, Gujarat. She is trained in Modern History and has a specialised interest in social histories of science and in histories of landscape and space. Apart from her publications on the disciplinary histories of science in Bengal she has co-authored a book titled, “New Histories of the Andaman Islands-Landscape, Place and Identity in the Bay of Bengal, 1790–2012”, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 2016.

List of Figures

Fig. 3.1 Fig. 3.2 Fig. 4.1

Fig. 4.2

Fig. 4.3

Fig. 4.4

Fig. 6.1 Fig. 6.2

Fig. 6.3 Fig. 6.4 Fig. 6.5

Fig. 6.6

Durga Puja at Couper Hall, Cathcart, Glasgow . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Durga pratima formerly used by BSP, now at the Hindu Temple of Scotland, Rutherglen . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Gopeshwar Pal’s Durga idol along with her family, where the idols have been separately placed on various planes of the stage built within the ‘pandal’ to emphasize the dramatic mood of the celestial combat . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . One of the Gopeshwar Pal’s Durga that was highly realistic in its approach. The individual models of the deities were placed on an ‘imagined’ and ‘constructed’ space of the pandal . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . One of the archival images of Simla Byayam Samity Sarbojanin, showing the nationalist leaders attending a feast during Annakut Utsav in 1938 at the club premise . . . . . . . . . . . . . One of the Durga idols of 23 Pally Sarbojanin Club Puja, conceptualized by Kumartuli artist, Jiten Pal, essentially reflecting the genre of Oriental Arter Thakur of Kumartuli. . . . . . Durga Mahisasurmardini, Gouache on Paper, Rajasthan School, 1790–1810 C.E. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Durgah Poojah, Balthazar Solvyns, Coloured Engraving, From the Album Costume of Hindoostan. 1810 C.E., By kind permission of Victoria Memorial Hall Kolkata, Accession no: R2554-2-3-1 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . One of thirty-two paintings depicting festivals, ceremonies and occupations. Gouache on Mica, Murshidabad, 1800 C.E. . . . . Figure of Durga, painted clay and pasted textile, 1845 C.E. . . . . . Copy drawing after Ivory Altarpiece of Durga Mahisasurmardini by artist Toolsee Ram made around 1836 C.E., Graphite Pencil on Paper, 2020, Artist: Tarun Maity . . . . . . Durga model figure, painted clay, late 19th century, made in North India by a native artist employed by an Italian dealer . . .

66 72

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107 144

145 146 147

148 149 xvii

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Fig. 6.7 Fig. 6.8

Fig. 7.1 Fig. 7.2 Fig. 7.3 Fig. 7.4 Fig. 7.5 Fig. 9.1 Fig. 9.2 Fig. 9.3 Fig. 9.4

Fig. 9.5 Fig. 9.6 Fig. 9.7

List of Figures

Popular print of Durga, Bengal Art Studio, 1895 C.E., Colour Lithograph . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sri Sri Durga Puja, late 19th century, woodcut, Jorabagan School, made by Nrityalal Dutta, By kind permission of Victoria Memorial Hall Kolkata, Museum No: R5139-a . . . . . . Image of Durga from Krishnanagar Rajbari in Nadia . . . . . . . . . . Interior of a Kumartuli idol maker’s Workshop . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Detail of the twin lion figure seen at Dhar household of 32 Debendra Mallick Street in Kolutala . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Detail of the twin Lion Figure seen at Dhar household, another view . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Painted drapery of Durga Idol at Dutta Bari at Madan Mohan Dutta Lane . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Entrance to the ‘carnival’ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . One of the many houses donning a fresh coat of paint . . . . . . . . . . Sabeki face of Durga with a little boy peering into the world outside through the goddess’s eye . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Straw structure of Durga atop a boat signifying the preparatory stage of idol making as well the transportation of straw, crucial for her making . . . . . . . . . . . . . Names of pratimasilpis and sajsilpis on hanging paper panels . . . Bronze girl in selfie mode . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Pat and the rail engine . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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152 158 161 163 164 165 208 209 211

212 213 216 217

Chapter 1

Introduction: The Making of Durga—Art, Heritage and the Public Samir Kumar Das and Bishnupriya Basak

Abstract The making of Goddess Durga is seen as an integral part of the heritage of Bengal, made almost synonymous with its identity. Art and public are considered as the essential prerequisites for the sustainability of its heritage. In 2018, the Durga Puja of Kolkata was proposed by the Government of India for nomination to the United Nations Educational Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) as Intangible Cultural Heritage (ICH). The nomination dossier may be seen as part of a scholarship which treats heritage as a sum total of albeit static traits, frozen in time. Viewed in this light, the pratimasilpis or idol makers embodying the heritage of a hereditarily transmitted skill are viewed as being in perpetual crisis, finding it difficult to adapt to the changing conditions. Our book challenges this notion of heritage with a multidimensional critique. We are intent on showing how the groups and communities experience and navigate through these changing conditions, often contributing to the making of these very conditions. The focus of the book is not on cities but cityscapes; on genealogies as chance coincidences, conjunctures and accidents and not on a flat and linear history; on iconography not as a study in execution of scriptural formulations but on how innovations are continuously accommodated within a system of rules and vice versa; and finally on how the heritage of idol making brings the public into existence and on the intricate yet problematic relation that exists between the two.

1.1 The Intangible Heritage of Goddess Durga Durga Puja, Durgotsav or Sharodotsav, is undoubtedly the most important festival in the Bengali almanac. Held in the month of Asvin (September–October) spanning four days of festivities, it coincides with the pan-Indian Navaratri or ritualistic observances seen in different regions for a prescribed period of nine days. In Bengal, the pivot of the festival is goddess Durga, who according to the Hindu mythology is Uma, the consort of Lord Shiva, and the daughter of Lord Himalaya. A Sakta S. K. Das (B) · B. Basak Department of Political Science, University of Calcutta, Kolkata, India e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021 S. K. Das et al. (eds.), The Making of Goddess Durga in Bengal: Art, Heritage and the Public, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-0263-4_1

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S. K. Das and B. Basak

(worship of the goddess embodying sakti or eternal energy) icon, Durga in Bengal is a unique blend of the gentle daughter Uma who returns home with her divine family of four children—Kartik, Ganesa, Lakshmi and Saraswati—and Mahisasurmardini, the demon-slaying fierce goddess. The mythology surrounding the goddess may be collated from diverse texts such as the epics, select puranas and later literature pertaining to Bengal in the medieval period.1 King Surath, as narrated in the Markendya-purana,2 is said to have performed the first Durga Puja on earth in spring. The narrative surrounding the epic hero Rama and his invoking of the goddess in autumn is described in the later day version of the epic Ramayana by the Bengali poet Krittivasa. Rama sought her blessings in his battle against Ravana, the king of the raksashas or demons. As the invocation took place in autumn when the goddess was awakened from her slumber, the puja is also defined as akal-bodhan or untimely invocation or worship.3 Ravana being the demon symbolizes the evil force. Rama’s victory and his killing of the enemy are celebrated throughout India on Dusshera, the tenth day marking the end of the Navaratri by burning effigies of Ravana. In Bengal, this coincides with Bijaya Dashami or the tenth day of the puja. The clay idol of the goddess and those of her children are immersed in the waters—bisarjan—the departure of the daughter from her parents’ home also indicating a culmination of the four-day ritual. The roster of rituals associated with the worship is grand and elaborate, including the nature of the ingredients required. The four-day puja actually commences with Mahalaya, the day, when the new moon precedes the divine fortnight or Devipaksha (the fortnight of the goddess). This is the occasion for pitritarpan or offering of tribute with holy water and black sesame seeds to the forefathers on the part of the male members of the family. Although the medieval texts do not make the linkage between this ritual and the puja explicit, in Bengal it has become a standard practice of beginning the preliminary preparations from the day after the Mahalaya. It is claimed (McDermott 2011) that this was effective since the 1930s when the directors of the All-India Radio began to broadcast a programme heralding the victory of the Devi as Mahisasurmardini and her arrival from the celestial world, with chants and songs mostly from the Devi-Mahatmya text. This is yet another instance of how the communitarian spirit forms an inherent part of the festival ever since its inception on a popular scale. On the sixth day, Shashti, the priest rouses the goddess (Bodhan) from her sleep under a bel tree, emulating Rama’s action in the epic times. A ghot or an earthen pot of holy water, an assemblage of nine plants or nabapatrika and a host of items needed for the next stage of worship are placed beside her. Day 7 or Saptami constitutes a host of rites—the ritual bathing of the nine plants; vivification of the deities by invoking them to reside in the plants, the earthen pot and the clay images for the duration of the festival; the ceremonial chakshudan, the priest’s ceremonial touching of the goddess’s eyes with the stalk of a bel leaf; followed by the grandeur of worship. 1 Chapter

6 discusses this in detail. part of the Purana in which it is placed may be dated to 6th-7th century CE. 3 Another version of the untimely worship is discussed later in the chapter. 2 The

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Separate offerings are made to the individual gods/goddesses, including their mounts, and also the gods painted on the chalchitra, the hemispherical backdrop behind the images, are worshipped. Day 8 or Ashtami witnesses Kumari Puja, an occasion when virginity is celebrated through the worship of a girl, usually five to seven years of age and yet to acquire puberty, bedecked and bejewelled. This, however, is now restricted to select places of worship. The most vital and energetic part of Ashtami, after the routine observances, is the Sandhi Puja taking place at the conjunction of this day and Day 9 or Nabami. Chamunda, the fiercest form of the goddess, is worshipped with other gods, the ceremony rising to a crescendo in a haze of incense amid chants, the beat of the dhak (drum) and kanshar ghanta, the accompanying percussions and bells. Sacrifices follow as means of propitiation; blood sacrifices, however, are a rarity now and more often replaced by a ceremonial chopping of fruits and vegetables like sugarcane or pumpkin, thereby the rite acquiring a different meaning. A total of 108 lamps are dedicated. Day 9 ensues with a similar roster as observed on the previous day. The tenth day—Bijaya Dashami—culminates in Uma departing for her husband’s home, and poignant with pathos and the pangs of separation that one would feel for the daughter’s leaving. The social tenor of the festival is heightened by the women crowd bidding farewell to the goddess by offering her vermillion (sindoor)—a symbol of married women, betel leaf (pan) and sweets. The married women engage in the revelry of applying vermillion on each other’s face before the goddess is taken for immersion or bisarjan in the water body. The devotee takes one last look at the reflection of the goddess in the mirror kept in a pot of water before the entire structure of the goddess and the accompanying deities are immersed. The priest seals the festival for that year by sprinkling water brought from the river or lake on the assembled crowd. Originally the preserve of the rural landed gentry in Bengal the festival became a cause for pomp and revelry in the wealthy elite households of the fledgling colonial city of Calcutta from 18th century onwards. Over the past 250 years of its evolution, this transmuted into a social event at home and among diaspora Bengalis outside Bengal and abroad, transcending the sacrality associated with the elaborate rituals and observances. Intrinsically woven with the Bengali pujasidentity and the history of the city of Kolkata the festival at present is a multimillion rupees industry with almost 5000 celebrated every year in the metropolis itself. The pratimasilpis or idol makers of Kumartuli, the bearers of a hereditary tradition, the real creators of the clay images, constitute only one of the many groups of players in the mega-public event organized on a rather grandiose scale particularly in the new millennium.

1.1.1 In Search of a Heritage Tag In 2018, a nomination dossier was prepared by a research team on Kolkatar Durga Puja (Durga Puja of Kolkata) and placed before the UNESCO for consideration

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S. K. Das and B. Basak

of the festival as an ‘Intangible Heritage’.4 Applied through the Secretary of the Sangeet Natak Academy under the Ministry of Culture, Government of India, this was hailed in some national dailies as a bid by the ‘Narendra Modi Government’ to gain international recognition for the biggest ‘cultural event of the city’. The dossier is reflective of three issues crucial to the central theme of our book: location of heritage; safeguards proposed in it for preserving this immensely hallowed heritage that is also said to be in crisis and the underlying perception of the city that hosts the festival. The dossier seeks to locate heritage in the festival in its entirety but the amplified emphasis is clearly on public art. It represents a heightened celebration of public art and spectacle with its attendant paraphernalia of installations, street art and tableaux. A growing trend since 2000 has been the engagement of new breeds of art school trained artists and designers in these collaborative efforts defining the festival, which are said to promote ‘cross-cultural transactions and cross-community revelry.’ The heritage of pratimasilpa or idol-making—the reserve of creativity that public art continually draws upon–which the present book seeks to understand, is relegated into the background in this dossier. The pratimasilpis or the idol makers are portrayed almost in passing as a struggling community in the throes of a crisis. The perception that informs this representation reflects heritage as one that consists of a host of fixed and frozen traits, which are in crisis under new and changing conditions, and hence call for urgent preservation. This is implied particularly in the section on safeguarding measures where pratimasilpa forms just one of the many and not necessarily the most significant of the components. Interestingly, public art that steals the limelight is also shown to be in dire need for quality control. The sequential ordering of aspects of the festival that call for safeguards is significant. First, the traditional family pujas of the bonedi bari or elite households that possess a long history of worship but are increasingly finding it difficult to maintain their ‘age-old devotional and liturgical’ tradition in a cash-strapped situation. Second the image makers or pratimasilpis of Kumartuli who are in possession of ‘traditional art forms and skills’ and are currently facing the threats to ‘their traditional location of work, their source of finances and the viability of their livelihood’. The redemptive measure of a financial forum alone, as the dossier stresses, can ensure an economic and creative ‘sustainability’ of the community. This, we argue, betrays a patronizing stance. The ancillary professionals associated with idol making and engaged in working with organic material of decoration like the ‘shola-pith’ are also pulled into the scenario of ‘crisis’ highlighted here. Implicit in this is a mindset that assesses ‘tradition’—also used interchangeably with heritage in the dossier—as unchanging, passive and inert, that can only be revived by giving out doles from the official and corporate coffers and by extending institutional support. Third, public art itself which encompasses a range of tribal and folk art forms as well are considered to be on the wane. The portrayal of these cultural forms in this light draws our attention once more to the underlying thread 4 https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&source=web&rct=j&url=http://sangeetnatak.gov.in/uploads/

ICH-Inventory/029-Durga%2520Puja.pdf&ved=2ahUKEwjVnrnpxOjpAhX34jgGHUpoCd8Q FjAIegQICBAB&usg=AOvVaw3X8GPiJev59J8M1xUYNcXG.

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of crisis running through the dossier. The quality of public art, the dossier claims, is tarnished by neighbourhood rivalries and competition for awards, local political patronage and control of neighbourhood/para clubs which according to the dossier, infringe on the ‘beauty’ and ‘creativity’ of the ‘pandal installations’. Tied to this is an anxiety to save the ‘aesthetics’ and ‘artistic landscape’ of the city from ‘excessive commercial publicities.’ Finally, questions are raised about the efficacy of preserving the ephemeral (clay) art in the galleries. The opinions of artists and crafts persons are endorsed for initiating work in bio degradable, organic and recyclable materials. A nuanced statement, this however, has far-reaching implications for the marginalization of pratimasilpis, if ever realized. Clay has remained the most acceptable medium to the pratimasilpis for making idols —any kind of compulsion for using other raw materials would be disastrous. Besides, many of the financially underprivileged members of the community who are already in dire straits may not be in a position to engage with these more expensive materials. Thus, any deviation from the current practice would spell a death knell for the community. By applying for nomination to UNESCO through the Sangeet Natak Academy, the suggested safeguards are framed predictably in the script of international charters and national canons. While six categories of stakeholders for the festival are categorized and their consent was endorsed for nomination, this indeed delineates a top-down approach of salvaging a heritage that is said to be in crisis. The festival is lavishly funded by corporate houses with their awards and accolades designed to promote a spirit of competitiveness. They (italics ours) have a major stake and create platforms for training of and offering patronage to hereditary skills and vocations like that of the purohit (priests) and dhakis (drummers). The government retains its reins through the elected representatives who are often at the apex of puja committees; by organizing a ‘carnival’ or a parade of its chosen pujas, post the immersion which is witnessed by not only invited VIPs but also the milling crowd; by organizing an effective civic management of roads and traffic during the festival. Evident in such an understanding of heritage—we are informed by Critical Heritage Studies—is a model of Authorized Heritage Discourse (Smith 2006). Such a discourse relies on technical experts who claim absolute control over the knowledge system and the practice is institutionalized in State cultural agencies and associated bodies. A recognizable set of procedures is visualized, guided by national legislation, and international charters concerned with the preservation and management of heritage. By the logic of this discourse heritage has a class association too, invoking elite social values. The public, we are informed, consumes heritage, which is placed before them by the experts and specialists. The dossier clearly engages in such a discourse.5 It assumes such uncritical consumption on the part of the public. ‘New’ parameters are sought to be inscribed in the city’s history, by transforming the city ‘into a place of mass touring and viewing.’ It works towards making the city’s identity coincide with the code of cultural aesthetics the dossier upholds. The city is viewed as a metaphor in an extended exhibition of installations, model craft villages, archaeological sites and architectural replications which act as marquees or pandals in which the idols are 5 Chapter

9 discusses this in detail.

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housed for four consecutive days of the puja. The ‘ritual occasion’ of the festival is subsumed within a ‘secular identity’ which is continually harped upon. The secular rendering, it is claimed, lies deeply entwined with ‘competition and consumption’ accelerated by awards and accolades announced by the corporate houses, with an eye to a global viewing and touring of the festival. Public art is almost rendered as a design to infuse new energy into the life of a city, long battling with industrial and economic decline, by accentuating its importance cosmetically. The para/neighbourhood, decrepit lanes/alleyways and all microzones of the metropolis are drawn into this stereotyping. A mass participation, a churning of cultural memory and nostalgia, a register of ‘social welfare activities’ of the various puja associations which is proudly disseminated from the entrance of each pandal are facets considered as enhancing and reinvigorating the city. The thrust of the proposal is clearly on protecting and safeguarding the phenomenon as Kolkata’s ‘annual international public art event’, targeting a ‘global’ audience through catering to wider touristic ventures and entertainment. The proposed act of salvaging is described thus: ‘…the inscription will not jeopardise the character of the celebration. Rather it will help channelize its creative energies and cultural profile in new directions, allowing a streamlining of its excesses’. Heritage, Art and the Public are projected as segregated, disconnected parts lacking any agency of their own, susceptible to forces exterior to their respective entities. The interrelations among them are disregarded. How do they act upon each other to generate new synergies? Can Art be only defined as ‘public’? If Art is extricated from the spectacular how would it impact on an understanding of Heritage? Is the Public left bereft of making any choices of its own in a hapless consumption of cultural goods that are lavishly endowed with corporate funds? What are the conditions through which the Public is created and how does that bear on a redefinition of Art? The production of heritage is contingent on these and many related issues which remain muted in the dossier that indulges in a stereotyping of the three entities as fixed and frozen. Drawing from Smith we, on the contrary, are engaging with heritage as a cultural process that ‘engages with acts of remembering’ the past ‘to create ways to understand and engage with the present’ (Smith 2006: 44). We offer a multidimensional critique of this understanding of heritage in the following section.

1.2 Heritage, Art and the Public: A Critique The making of Goddess Durga in Kumartuli is considered as an integral part of the heritage of Bengal and the Bengalis. Art and the public are considered as two prerequisites for its sustainability. On the one hand, heritage in this case is required to graduate itself from a hereditarily transmitted skill into an art form for earning both respectability and marketability. The existing literature on the subject under review churns out the commonplace narrative of heritage languishing in danger and underlines the urgency of conserving it under present conditions. The above proposal is also a testimony to this trend. Idol making being a hereditarily acquired skill per se

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is unlikely to be treated at par with art or sculpture in our society. As Guha-Thakurta writes: Let us reflect, at this point: on the way the designation of the ‘sculpture’ comes to be separated out of the inherited skills of the clay modellers, to be associated with Western training and the practices of Academies and public statuary. This is where art college training becomes a new, valued attribute amongst the group, singling out the few who could gain access to such training in the mid-20th century. As they branched out into a parallel career in commissioned realist sculpture, they set up a different type of “art” studio in the outer peripheries of Kumartuli some of which continue to be in practice today. (Guha-Thakurta 2015: 168)

This development, by all means, threatens to endanger the Kumbhakars6 supposedly endowed with the occupational skill of idol making, by way of unleashing them to ‘unfair competition’ (Guha-Thakurta 2015: 175) of market forces. Needless to say, as this formulation would have us believe, the hereditary Kumbhakars of Kumartuli and their once hallowed heritage of idol making are destined to lose out in the increasingly competitive market of idols. Heritage, according to this viewpoint, is defined in terms of certain fixed and frozen traits that are literally embodied in the caste of Kumbhakars and are hereditarily transmitted, acquired, manifested and thus conserved through their idol making practices. The embodiment of the skill comes to define the identity of the Kumbhakars. For, the Kumbhakars of Kumartuli are only known by the unique skill of making a particular kind of idols—the ‘Kumartuli brand’—and most importantly through the regular expression of their skill in changing conditions. Conditions change, skill does not. That precisely is said to be crux of the crisis they have been facing. All this calls for conservation of their heritage through deliberate interventions – whether by government or other non-government agencies, by international or global multilateral bodies or any of their combination. The overall approach has been to extend support to the hereditary idol makers, encouraging them to recreate their art that has been fast facing extinction in the context of fierce competition, thus keeping alive and continuously honing their hereditarily acquired skill. This is attempted by making them dependent on doles, effectively quarantining and protecting them from the outside competition. This approach never intended to make them competitive. Our book offers a fourfold critique of this formulation. First, while Kumartuli heritage is integral to the history of the city of Calcutta (now Kolkata) and its ‘major structural conditions’, sustainability of this heritage depends as much on how the groups and communities embodying it ‘experience and navigate’ through these conditions as well, on how they contribute to the making of these conditions themselves. The book therefore tells us more about the cityscape than the city itself, if by cityscape we mean not simply the structural conditions, but the making of these conditions and how they are experienced and navigated by the Kumbhakars in Kumartuli. Secondly, heritage does not develop by following any linear and continuous history as is commonly believed, but by giving unto itself a genealogy unique to its own. 6 Also

known as ‘Kumars’ in colloquial Bengali.

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Unlike history, genealogy cannot be reduced to the structural conditions. It rather calls for an analysis of the entire gamut of contingencies and exigencies, accidents and pandemics, sudden turns and imponderable twists, miscalculations and false starts and so forth that interestingly account for the accumulation, modification, revision and even discarding and rejection of heritage. In the same vein, we are interested in discovering what is it that contains heritage—in our case the occupational caste of Kumbhakars. Is there any social institution (s) that can hold and contain the intangible heritage? Where exactly is heritage contained and nested? How does the occupational caste of Kumbhakars come into being? Can their skill be treated as capital? How does their caste capital stand in relation to other forms of capital? Thirdly, insofar as heritage is identified with a set of fixed and frozen traits, it gradually gives birth to rules and laws of a fairly rigid iconography that is likely to stifle innovations. The book turns the question around. It finds out how innovations are brought to bear on the iconographic demands of repetition and observance of rules and laws and are themselves standardized into the cannons of a new Kumartuli iconography. Fourthly, unlike what conventional notions of Heritage would have us believe, we view heritage conservation more as a function of establishing connections across different sections of people and weaving them into a public rather than isolating and protecting the caste of idol makers from the rest of the society. The book shows how the prospects of conserving the heritage depends on an ensemble of puja organizers, patrons and sponsors, helping artisans and assistants, decorators, gharamis (pandal makers) and ornament makers, visitors and viewers, priests and buyers and so forth. In short, the making of pratimas and the making of the public constitute one and the same process.

1.3 Cities and Cityscapes Kumartuli, literally meaning the locality (‘tuli’) where the potters (‘kumars’) were settled is the original site of production of not only the unbaked clay idols of Goddess Durga but also innumerable gods and goddesses of the Bengali almanac and other objects of veneration. Its biography is entangled with that of the colonial city of Calcutta that resides in fragments of a social memory captured in the course of a few interviews and surveys7 which is becoming more diffused with the passage of time. Now an agglomeration of hutments and workshops in ward number 9 of the Kolkata municipality the hub is home and workplace to more than five hundred artists and artisans, specialists and masters, forming the largest caste-based neighbourhood of

7 Heierstad

(2017), Das (1998). Strains of the early history could also be heard in the field surveys we conducted in Kumartuli, May–August 2019, most interviewees claimed that their forefathers arrived from Nadia in the 18th century.

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Kolkata. Heierstad (2017) points to controversies regarding the origin of the locality. To situate this, we need to travel back in time. The origin of the city of Calcutta lies in a tangled web of commercial interests, colonialist expansionist imperatives and political tussles and tensions between the British and the last of the Nawabs in pre-British India.8 Select readings from the existing literature on the city are chosen which mention and describe Kumartuli. These studies delineate the structural growth of the city, as it emerged from the nuclei of three villages in the colonial times. Thick descriptions prevail in these works on population groups, arterial roads as well as vast swathes of unclaimed and unoccupied land. The segregation of newly established spaces in the fledgling town between the sprawling colonial residences and the ‘native’ town, between palatial houses of the comprador elite and congested quarters of the labouring classes, with a slow and gradual consolidation of the municipal infrastructure—all this aid one to conjecture about the development of a town from a trading outpost. A 17th century map shows the original configuration of the area consisting of three villages, Sutanuti in the north, Kolkata in the centre and Gobindapur in the south.9 It is believed that even prior to this time during the 16th century families of merchants from the weaver caste arrived in Gobindapur from Satgaon, a coastal town on the banks of Saraswati River. Their presence facilitated the development of Sutanuti as an important market of cotton. It is probable that there were residing Kumbhakars or potters in these places.10 These villages were owned by the Sabarna Roy Chowdhury family. In 1698, the East India Company obtained a grant of permission from the Mughal emperor Farrukshiyar in lieu of a hefty sum to buy these villages. By paying an additional sum, they purchased these from the landlords of the Roy Chowdhury family. Soon after they proceeded to transform the villages into a full-fledged municipal town. One of the lesser known versions of the origin of Kumartuli is that it existed in the village of Gobindapur before being mentioned as a thana (police station) in Sutanuti almost thirty years after the Battle of Plassey in 1757. According to this notion, the location of Kumartuli as well as its residents was shifted to Sutanuti after the battle. While there is no means to verify this version, we are compelled to go by the more common version of the locality as being established after 1757 when settlements of the labouring classes were coming up in clusters in different parts of the new city, each of them bearing as a tag—the name of the artisan class—Soonripara (colony of liquor-vendors), Kansaripara (colony of braziers), Chhutarpada (residence of Chhutars or carpenters), so on and so forth (Banerjee 1989). Beverly mentions in his report: ‘Jethiatola, Colootola, Ahirtola, Sankaritola…as well as the ‘paras’ found in the town, probably date from 1757, when the East India Company directed that

8 Among

many narratives of the historical development of Calcutta I point to two, Sreemani (2020) and Singha (1978). 9 Banerjee (2016), p. 19. 10 Heierstad (2017).

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the workmen of Calcutta should be incorporated into guilds and reside in separate wards of the town’.11 Banerjee mentions the nouveau riche class of Bengal who on being gradually shoved out of business started investing in urban and rural real estate during the last decade of the 18th century. The city expanded during this period in terms of area, ‘pucca’ residences and density of population. Bholanath Chunder writing in 189712 describes how the town became distinctly segregated into the Native and the European towns, prompting the wealthy like Govindaram Mitra and Bonomali Sircar to build the first ‘pucca’ houses in Sutanuti. These two names are intimately linked with the growth of Kumartuli. Govindaram, more famously known as the Black Zamindar, was the Deputy Collector of Calcutta, 1739–52, who built a temple in the locality as a marker of his opulence. He is believed to have brought the clay modellers from the neighbouring village of Banshbedey. Soon after the families of clay modellers began arriving from Nabadwip, Krishnanagar and Shantipur, old towns in southern Bengal famous for this art (Banerjee 1989). Bonomali, a neighbour of Govindaram in Kumartuli, was a wealthy and influential contractor who constructed a palatial residence, a standard practice of his class at that time. In Chunder’s vivid description, an imagining of the city emerges. To the west of Chitpur road, which was the chief arterial road, lay the localities of Kumartuli, Hatkhola, Jorabagan and Barabazar, forming, ‘by the riverside, the most populous and architecturally adorned quarters of the Native Town’ (Chunder 1978: 48). About two decades before him, Beverly also provided a similar description. He in fact categorically marked out the lower and upper portions of the Kumartuli ward. The lower portion known as Hatkhola was the oldest part of Calcutta with Sutanuti as the site where the British first settled under Job Charnock. The upper part of the ward formed the potter’s quarter, ‘the clay being brought by boat from outside the town and worked up here into idols and other articles of pottery’ (Beverly 1876: 14). Beverly’s census report of Calcutta in 1876 is a rich repository of information, the results of survey of each block and ward. The Kumartuli ward covered an area of 199 acres with a population of 32, 482, with 163 persons per acre.13 Among different professional classes, the potters and dealers in earthenware are classified as a category under ‘Persons employed in Mechanical Arts’.14 However, the report is silent on idol makers or clay modellers, perhaps these groups were included among the potters. It is possible that by this time the clay modellers were not only making images of various gods and goddesses for religious festivals throughout the year, they were also engaged in making models of shongs or caricatures of urban characters which constituted the popular entertainment associated with chadak, the Hindu festival (Banerjee 1989). Probably their presence was of no fruitful consequence to the colonial masters.

11 Beverley

(1876).

12 The article entitled ‘Calcutta its origin and growth’, originally published in the Calcutta University

Magazine in 1897 later appears in a collection edited by Alok Ray (1978). 13 Beverley, Table II, p. 38. 14 Ibid., p. xcvi.

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Thus, a narrative of Kumartuli emerges through piecing together a fragmented past. It was a locality not only settled by the potters, but also inhabited by the wealthy elites, the decrepit structures or remains of which still meet the eye. The memory of those initial days of settlement by the potter’s community has percolated down oral traditions through generations: ‘Kumartuli has a multi-layered history. The fact that it never gets inundated is because of its elevated land. The earliest settlement was one of hutments and numerous terracotta furnaces for making pottery vessels. The subsequent settlement grew on the accumulated garbage from the discarded fragments of the furnaces, which explains the raised nature of the land’.15 The above narrative provides the backdrop of ‘the structural conditions’ of the city within which the changing cityscapes need to be understood. Cityscapes, as we will argue, are by no means restricted to the conditions of the city.

1.3.1 Cityscapes With Durga Puja approaching shortly, Kumartuli that used to buzz with frantic activities at this time of the year is now empty and deserted post the outbreak of COVID-19 pandemic and the prolonged lockdown announced in India since the last week of March 2020. Catherine who visits Kumartuli at this time every year will miss Kumartuli now. Visitors like her from abroad are drawn into Kumartuli much in the same way as a Bengali daily puts it ‘the rodents follow the pied piper of Hamlyn’. But thanks to a tour operator, Catherine becomes privy to the experience that a Bengali daily describes in the following terms: ‘As if Kumartuli gets back its life (pran)’ (Sengupta 2020: 5). Our book tells us stories of how Kumartuli fights back and regains its life, rejuvenates itself and refuses to die, stories of how the heritage of idol making makes its reappearance in the discourse when everyone else writes it off. The story of Kumartuli regaining its life trumps up many other stories of how it lost its life, turned empty and deserted in the wake of the pandemic outbreak. Viewed in this light, the book tells us stories not only of the city, but of cityscapes, of how the city is ‘eventually navigated by agents who both experience and constitute the larger formation’—in our case the city of Kolkata (Appadurai 1996: 33). Chapter 2 discusses at one level how Kumartuli’s growth as the world’s largest hub of unbaked clay idol makers is integral to the history of the city. However, it does not reduce the complex act of idol making to what it describes as ‘the major structural conditions’ as is often done by the city historians. It reflects at another level on how the agency of an ensemble of actors associated with idol making is invested in the very making of the conditions and on how these actors do not face these conditions as being external to them. Rather, it asserts, they contribute to their very making and are also made by them. The global pandemic in the above instance does not grind the life of Kumartuli to a

15 Gopal

Sarkar, sholasilpi, interviewed by us on May 2, 2019 at Kumartuli.

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complete halt. We try to situate the heritage in the irrepressible life force and not in the now-fossilized traits. The first section on cityscapes, in short, tells us the story of recreation of ‘life’ in Kumartuli and thus makes a couple of departures from the available threads of inquiry. Insofar as the book promises to discuss the making of the Goddess, it first of all shifts the focus from what is made to the very act of making it. The history of Kumartuli is not only the history of the idols that are made and sold here, but also that of those that are wheeled out, worshipped and appreciated outside. Kumartuli is generally considered as the very place where idols are born but not visited, seen and appreciated by the wider sections of the society. The making of the Goddess in this shift turns into an object to be seen and savoured as much as the made-up idols of the Goddess themselves. Secondly, the idol makers feel empty within when their idols are sold and the studios wear a deserted look as they are carried out and positioned in the pandals outside Kumartuli. Many of the senior idol makers confided in us that they feel so saddened by the departure that they refrain from going out to watch them. While the idols bear the otherwise coveted Kumartuli brand, Kumartuli is easily forgotten. This book brings the focus back on Kumartuli. Interestingly, both the opening and the concluding chapters dwell on how Kumartuli as a public space is reinvented thanks to its promotion as a site to be seen per se, an exhibition to be visited and appreciated—much in the same way as the idols are seen by one and all outside it. Indeed, the analogy of Place du Terte of Montmartre (Paris) comes to mind: the place is as crucial in the life of art as the objects of art themselves. While the exhibition in Kumartuli, as the concluding chapter argues, is ‘not quite integral to Kumartuli’, it certainly offers ‘a new link to the city’s past’ and redefines heritage. The Kumartuli heritage, explains one of its key organizers, consists not only of the traditional idols, but also ‘these installations, the fibre glass images manufactured throughout the year’ as well. Both these departures also tell us why Kumartuli now has become a favourite destination of travel and tourism, heritage walk, and what Chap. 9 describes as ‘a visual cornucopia’. If the growth of Kumartuli as a potters’ hub is considered integral to the growth of Kolkata as a modern city as has been shown in Chap. 2, the antinomy that Glasgow represents between its ‘long and proud tradition of friendliness, multiculturalism, tolerance and diversity’ and the diaspora puja taking on what Chap. 3 calls ‘a conservative aspect’ appears to destabilize the integral nature of Durga Puja and the city. It is the cityscape rather than the city of Glasgow that helps explain the antinomy better. On the one hand, there is the anxiety particularly among the older generation to ensure that their cultural traditions are not forgotten and that their children, now being born in Britain, grow up ‘learning more of their original Indian culture’. There is no denying that the anxiety has been whetted by the rapid penetration of the forces and processes of globalization which have contributed to a considerable churning of population across their ethnic, religious and linguistic lines. On the other hand and as a corollary to the same forces and processes leading to a certain globalization and radicalization of religion, the chapter notes that in the observance of religious seasons and festivals, the Bangla-speaking Muslim community has more in common with

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the wider Muslim population of Glasgow than does the Hindu Bengali population with the wider Hindu population.

1.4 Histories and Genealogies Chapter 4 marks what it calls ‘a series of critical transitions in the calendar, form and location of the festival in Bengal’ in an otherwise linear and incredibly flat history that stretches from the middle of the 17th century to the present time. These transitions show how Durga Puja—once confined to the palaces and mansions of the royals and the noblemen—was eventually set free when it entered the public spaces—a phenomenon that one of the chapters describes as ‘democratization’.

1.4.1 Elite Pujas Ray Vidyanidhi writes that unless one has both money power and human resources (arthabal and lokbal), one would not be able to celebrate Durga Puja (Ray Vidyanidhi 1420: 111). The puja, he maintains, is still regarded as a celebration of the royals and unless one is a royal or enjoys royal patronage oneself, one will not be able to celebrate it. Although clay art of Krishnanagar (as distinguished from that of idol making) is believed to be older than that of Kumartuli, it—according to Chakrabarty—hardly developed in response to the ‘mass demands of folk culture’. There is no doubt that its chief patrons included the feudal aristocracy and the English art connoisseurs. He does not forget to remind us that there is absolutely no evidence to suggest that the clay artists ever enjoyed the patronage of the Raja himself (Rajanugraha) (Chakrabarty 2012: 339). But clay art (mritsilpa) is not synonymous to idol making (pratimasilpa). While Maharaja Krishnachandra played a role in introducing the Durga Puja, as we will have occasion to see below, he is not known to have played any direct role in patronizing the idol makers whether of Krishnanagar or of Kumartuli. Chapter 6 narrates the prehistory of Durga Puja relying on alternative archival sources right from the 12th century by way of demystifying the popular legend that Durga Puja-with idols made of unbaked clay—as an ephemeral art dates back to Maharaja Krishnachandra. But that Krishnachandra popularized the autumnal Durga Puja and introduced an entire repertoire of new aesthetic and ritual conventions with it is beyond any doubt. As the British East India Company stabilized its rule in Bengal between 1612 and 1690, the tradition of patronizing Durga Pujas was no longer retained by the royals but passed on to the new crop of landlords who emerged as beneficiaries of the colonial policy of permanent settlement. In that capacity they amassed, by all accounts, a lot of disposable cash which they were unable to invest in trade and industries. Raja Rammohun Roy is a prototype of the potential Indian investors who

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had decided to migrate to Calcutta in order to make his fortune as a trader and capitalist. Eventually his dream was prematurely stonewalled by the colonial policies that heavily discriminated against the native Indian investors with the effect that the landlords were flush with disposable cash which they either had to spend lavishly on non-productive expenditures in the city of Calcutta or buy agricultural land and try their luck in the countryside. While Rammohun opted for the second and was better known as a talukdar (owner of landed estates) and not as an industrialist or a merchant-trader, many others took upon themselves the task of carrying on the heritage of ritual worship adhering to the ancient texts instead of simply indulging in wasteful expenditures. Kaliprasanna Singha’s The Observant Owl, which according to Partha Chatterjee has ‘acquired the status of an ethnographic source-book on 19th century Calcutta’ (Chatterjee 2008: x) details out the stories of absentee landlords who after becoming the beneficiaries of the colonial policy of land settlement migrated to Calcutta in search of good life. Many of the landlords would organize pujas in order to secure a title of honour (like Raibahadur) from the British Crown. In the Rarh land (the relatively dry lands to the west of Bengal consisting mainly of the northern banks of the river Ganges), the landlords, Ray Vidyanidhi informs us, would see it as a matter of great ‘honour and aristocracy of their family and lineage’. They were joined by such newly rich merchants, suppliers and traders like Abhaycharan Mitra, Ramdulal De and others in patronizing Durga Puja during those days. Ramdulal is believed to be the first trader who celebrated Durga Puja in 1770. Purnachandra Dhar too was a trader in salt and famous for his puja. ‘In these pujas’, Bandopadhyay tells us, ‘the pomp and splendour (jank jamok) would overshadow the [essence of] worship (puja)’ (Bandopadhyay 2011: 8). In the thakurdalans (the places in the house where the idol is made and pujas are held) of the newly rich landlords, traders, merchants and suppliers—better known as babus and bhadraloks (gentlemen and members of the polite society), the idol makers were commissioned for generations to give shape to the idols in situ while retaining the unique features of each individual household as per the instructions of the family elders. The tradition continues even today in many of these households (bonedi bari). Insofar as the idol makers are called upon to work outside what Soujit Das in Chap. 6 describes as ‘their collective community space’, the individuality in family style reflected in the idols does not escape our notice. Many historians are of the opinion that idol makers of Kumartuli had migrated from the district of Nadia during the early 18th century. The descendants of many of these early settlers whom we interviewed remember that their ancestors too were Kumbhakars—involved in making pottery items, mostly earthen utensils with the help of potters’ wheels and certainly not specialized in the art of idol making. Their proficiency in the art of idol making developed in response to the demands of a native, cash-rich landowning and comprador elite of landlords who had settled in Calcutta in search of good life.

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1.4.2 Baroiyari Pujas As the property and prestige of this class of landlords waned with the penetration of the forces of colonially mediated mercantile capital, Durga Puja gradually came out of the thakurdalans and turned into a public festival of baroiyaris (literally twelve friends or as Ray Vidyanidhi translates the word ‘baro’ in Sanskrit into ‘sarbojanin’ or general masses) drawing on the subscriptions by the commoners (Ray Vidyanidhi 1420: 112). He also notes that Durga Puja used to be celebrated in many homes of Bengal even as late as the 1850s. He wonders if it is celebrated with the same grandeur—if at all—in one-sixteenth (ekaana) of these homes after hundred years when he was writing his book (Ray Vidyanidhi 1420: 111). Gone are those days, he laments, when ‘celebrations and joy’ were associated with the villages (Ray Vidyanidhi 1420: 111). As the old world of patronage is now gone, it makes way to the ‘emancipation of the artists from traditional aristocratic patronage’—‘a process which Europe had already passed through’ (Mitter 1994: 14). Raising public subscriptions was not always voluntary even in the late 19th century. As Singha observes: Twenty years ago fund-raisers of community pujas behaved like enforcers of the ‘eighth regulation’! Like unscrupulous tax collectors extorting taxes from the tenants living on rentfree land, they forced people into paying subscriptions. Some, with the gift of the gab, sweet-talked rich people into coughing up money. (Singha 2008: 30)

Public subscriptions became all the more a necessity in the wake of the Great Economic Depression of the late 1930s and early 1940s that dealt a lethal blow to the capability of the nobility and the aristocratic families of meeting the rising expenses of the pujas. A report of the Bengal Chamber of Commerce, for instance, points out that the World War II combined with the famine and the economic crisis that followed it resulted in the disintegration of the old joint families and a corresponding decline in the number of the family pujas, with a noticeable fading of the pomp and splendour (quoted in Biswas 2019: 4). An editorial of the Ananda Bazaar Patrika, for instance, comments: ‘One who is Annapurna (literally the Goddess of paddy grains) and the storekeeper of whom is Kuber 16 Himself, has come to your doorstep in the form of a beggar with a begging bowl’ in her hand (quoted in Biswas 2019: 4). The Partition (1947) only added to the cup of woes. A paper published in The Economic Weekly—a precursor to today’s Economic and Political Weekly—that dealt with ‘the economics of Durga Pujas’ pointed out that in the ‘difficult time’, the economy was badly battered by the floods of north Bengal and the drought in south Bengal with the effect that the government employees did not get the salary of September in 1954 (the year the paper was published) and the homes—particularly of the poor and the hapless—were left ‘cheerless’ with puja expenses being the barometer of the economy (EW 1954: 1089–1090). The present Government College of Art and Craft, originally named The School of Industrial Arts, was established in Calcutta, with the twin objectives of imparting 16 Kuber

is the Lord of wealth in Hindu pantheon.

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education in industrial designs for promoting industrial growth and exploring India’s rich treasure of architecture, sculpture and painting. Insofar as some of the new generation idol makers came to study in the college, they were encouraged not only to experiment with a variety of predominantly European art forms of the Durga idol but also use their knowledge and skill as true entrepreneurs. Kaliprasanna Singha notes the influence of the European art forms on the idols with a touch of his characteristic sarcasm: The community puja idol was about twenty feet high. It was encircled by figures of Highland soldiers on horseback, fairies, birds, flowers, and lotuses. The goddess of Jagaddhatri was seated in the middle. The lion was silvery in colour, and the elephant was draped in green velvet. The goddess looked like a memsahib: her complexion and build were that of a pukka [hundred percent] Jew and Armenian! Brahma, Vishnu, Maheshwara and Indra were singing hymns to her with folded hands. Little British fairies were blowing horns on top of the idol; they had royal ensigns in their hands. In the middle, there was queen’s unicorn and crest. (Singha 2008: 44)

The new crop of Art College graduates ‘enjoying the accolades and praises for speaking the language of the colonizers’, as Chap. 4 cogently argues, was clearly ‘set apart from their brethren in Kumartuli’ although eventually some of them too came under the influence of the European art forms. Krishnanagar, by all accounts, was the harbinger in this respect. The idols of Krishnanagar still bear testimony to the European influence with hanging fairies and angels and their accompanying Biblical allusions, green or brownish eye orbs and distinct European style hair knots and slimness. Subir Pal—a presidential award winner and a renowned sculptor from Ghurni, Krishnanagar—in fact showed us an entire shelf of books of photographs of some of the best-known paintings and sculptures of the world’s top artists as his primary source of inspiration in idol making and sculpting. In fact, the proximity of the artists of Krishnanagar to the European ladies (memsahebs) post the Battle of Plassey (1757) is believed to be the reason why Krishnanagar recorded greater European influence than Kumartuli. If Krishnanagar went too far in introducing and continuing with the realist European art forms in the making of the Goddess, Kumartuli in comparison, as Chap. 2 informs us, was emblematic of the difference that also contained the rudiments of the modern Indian nation with its rendition of the idol as ‘homogenous and aesthetically pure’. This also reminds one of ‘the damage’ done by the forces of colonization and colonially mediated modernization. Chapter 4 reiterates the same point insofar as it points out how ‘the idealized form of Devi’ merged into ‘the concept of the nation as ‘mother posing as a saviour against the colonial rule’. This called for a certain reinvention—if not recreation—of the neo-traditional art forms inaugurated by the ‘Bengal School’. Abanindranath Tagore’s Bharatmata (Mother India) served as ‘a manifesto of the nationalist movement’. Simla Byayam Samiti organized its maiden Durga Puja in north Calcutta in 1926—a year that also witnessed the worst ever orgies of communal riots in Bengal’s history. Thus, Durga Puja became integral to the nationalist movement in the early 20th century and what Bandopadhyay calls a ‘national festival’ regardless of ethnicity, community, language and so forth (Bandopadhyay 2011: 31).

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While these famous neighbourhood pujas seemed to have combined together to disseminate what Bandopadhyay calls ‘jatiya bhav’ or national spirit (Bandopadhyay 2011: 13), the spirit by all means gradually wore thin with Independence and eventually gave birth to a more fragmented and disaggregated para pride or the pride of neighbourhoods organizing the pujas. Bandopadhyay’s tripartite classification of the pujas into the elite, subaltern and middle-class pujas particularly since the 1950s also speaks of the fairly rigid boundaries that separated them (Bandopadhyay 2011: 37–40 ff). Celebration of pujas, by all accounts, was very much locally centred in terms of both their organization and the audiences they would respectively draw. Pandal hopping across the paras, localities and neighbourhoods was fairly unknown with of course some notable exceptions. This also coincided with an exponential proliferation of the neighbourhood pujas (the city of Kolkata alone accounts for over 5000 pujas now) and the persistence of para pride and vigilantism.

1.4.3 The Corporate Pujas It is only with the turn of the new millennium that the pujas acquired what Ghosh calls a ‘translocal’ character. Ghosh shows how the pujas of recent times have released the publics in plural hitherto confined to their respective localities and neighbourhoods and made them hop across a wide spectrum of spaces by way of visiting puja pandals, thereby lending to the pujas a translocal generality that it never had (Ghosh 2010). As the new pujas bring the different publics into existence, the tripartite classification of puja spaces is ‘taken over’ by the plebeians who storm into the big ticket, themed pujas in hordes and account for their exponential footfalls (Ghosh 2000: 299). On the one hand, corporate money started pouring in. With the generous pumping of corporate money, the location of puja becomes unimportant. These global multinationals invest in the pujas regardless of their location—depending on their visibility, footfalls and their potential for advertising and endorsing the products. In 1985, Asian Paints instituted the award for the best puja which was definitely the first of its kind. In 2001 and 2002, Bosepukur Sitala Mandir drew huge crowd because of its innovations in pandals. In 2001, it made a pandal of discarded earthen pots and in 2002 a particular one from the sugarcanes extracted of their juice. Kajal Sarkar—the main organizer of the Puja—is also known as the ‘Dean of the advertising world’ for his closeness to the corporate world. Thus began the new era of corporatization in Durga Pujas. Similarly, in 2016, a corporate organization sponsored the Durga Puja of Deshapriya Park and billed it as ‘the largest Durga’ ever made in history. It drew so much of crowd that it eventually unleashed a law and order problem when the administration instructed the Puja Committee to shut it for public viewing. On the other hand, the more the political parties tightened their control over the neighbourhoods as bases of support—a phenomenon that Bhattacharyya describes as ‘party-society’ (Bhattacharyya 2009: 59–69)—para pride and vigilantism started taking a backseat. Besides, paras now have become much more cosmopolitan than what they had been, say, about two or three decades ago with rapid demographic

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transition in the city. As a result, Durga Puja becomes the site of contest among different political parties. As the Bharatiya Janata Party gained strength after the Lok Sabha elections in 2019, it realized the importance of controlling the para pujas as potential sources of support for the party. Thus, Mukul Ray—an eminent leader of the party – in a state party meeting pointed out: ‘We will have to be part of Durga Puja by whatever means. Not just by organizing bookstalls outside the pandals, but also by entering into the Committees’ (Sengupta 2019: 4). The Sanghashree Puja of South Kolkata was inaugurated in 2018 by the chief minister Mamata Banerjee. The Puja Committee included Kartik Bandyopadhyay—her brother—as the chief advisor. In 2019, Sayantan Basu—an eminent state BJP leader—was reportedly installed as the president of the Puja Committee and Amit Shah—then the all-India president of BJP—was invited to inaugurate it. As per the newspaper reports, some ‘old pujas have been targeted by BJP’ besides Sanghashree for inauguration by Shah. Although BJP managed to make some inroads into the pujas of the districts, they failed to do so in Kolkata (Sengupta 2019: 1). The Sanghashree Puja was ‘recaptured’ by the Trinamool Congress (TMC) as per newspaper reports and Kartik Bandyopadhyay replaced Sayantan Basu as President. Sanghashree accordingly changed its theme. Earlier the idol was supposed to sit on a fully spread out lotus—lotus being the election symbol of BJP. In its place the new theme was ‘sabar opare manush satya’ (man is true above all else). Facing the setback, BJP seems to have changed its strategy by refraining from throwing their weight around directly and trying to exercise their influence, surreptitiously, in order to avoid any possible TMC retaliation. The strategy is threefold: one, to remain associated with the baroiyari pujas from behind the scene; two, even if they sneak into the Puja Committees the information should not be passed on to the news media and should be kept as a closely guarded secret; and three, to try to exercise their influence in those areas where there was strong wind of popularity in their favour. In the words of a BJP leader: ‘There is strong popular wind in their favour; but there is no strong organization’ (‘Durgapujor Ladaiye…’ 2019: 5). Sayantan Basu admitted that they had been negotiating with 54 Puja Committees to establish their toehold (‘Durgapujor Committee Dakhale…’ 2019: 8). On the eve of the pujas in 2019 and in a bid to clean up her party of corruption and consolidating popular support, the chief minister of West Bengal gave the call for paying back to the common men the money (‘cut money’) they had paid by way of bribing the corrupt politicians from her party either for gaining access to the public welfare schemes of the government and currying their favour or for securing protection in the locality against the goons and hooligans (Mallik 2019: 14). In the same year, the Income Tax Department sent out notice to the puja organizing committees asking them to ensure that TDS (tax deduction at source) is deducted from the income payments to the thikadars (contractors). This hit the hornet’s nest. The chief minister described it as ‘puja jijia kar’ in an allusion to the Mughal monarch Aurangzeb’s highly discriminatory taxation on the Hindu pilgrims. In a Facebook post she also described it as ‘Terrible Disaster Scheme’ (TDS). In this TMC sees

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BJP’s perfidious attempt at ‘blocking the Hindu festival’ after they had failed in ‘capturing the puja committees’ (‘Puja Committeer…’ 2019: 5).

1.5 Genealogical Analysis These ‘critical transitions’ notwithstanding, the linearity of history has been the abiding concern in the existing literature on the subject. At each stage of these transitions, there was also the nagging—almost debilitating anxiety shared by some sections in the society—whether all this amounts to any compromise with the sacred symbolism of the puja. A good part of Ray Vidyanidhi’s work dwells on the problem of decoding the elaborate symbolism of the puja although he is not all too happy with the way the pujas of his time were celebrated. In sharp contrast and allaying concerns about any dilution of culture, Nrisingha Prasad Bhaduri in one of his recent interviews held that there was nothing to worry because the deity worship continued in the same format, notwithstanding the visible variety in celebrations.17 McDermott, however, takes the diametrically opposite route while reaching the same argument—by focusing her inquiry on ‘malleability’ and ‘capaciousness’ of the symbols in accommodating and accounting for the critical transitions of history: We have surveyed the P¯uj¯as’ growth and development, their symbolic malleability and capaciousness to a variety of Bengali and non-Bengali actors over a three-hundred-year history, their potential for political utilization, their emotional and familial resonances, their commercialization and commodification, their public, performative, even contentious quality, their intersection with the art world, and their import value to Bengalis resident in towns and cities outside Bengal. (McDermott 2011: 281)

In all these writings, puja symbolism turns into what Talal Asad calls ‘transhistorical essence’ (Asad 1993: 3) that escapes what Chap. 4 calls ‘critical transitions’ and retains its linearity and flatness so much so that history looks like the elaboration of an idea. Borrowing from Asad one may say that Durga Puja in these works alludes to ‘a matter of symbolic meanings linked to ideas of general order, that it has generic functions/features, and that it must not be confused with any of its particular cultural or historical forms’ (Asad 1993: 42). For us on the other hand, these ‘forms’ are immensely important that grandiose histories of cities and metropolises tend to ignore too easily. We have subjected these ‘forms’ to genealogical analysis. In a celebrated excerpt, Foucault observes: Genealogy does not pretend to go back in time to restore an unbroken continuity that operates beyond the dispersion of forgotten things; its duty is not to demonstrate that the past actively exists in the present, that it continues secretly to animate the present, having imposed a predetermined form to its vicissitudes. Genealogy does not resemble the evolution of a species and does not map the destiny of a people. On the contrary, to follow the complex course of descent is to maintain passing events in their proper dispersion; it is to identify 17 https://english.mathrubhumi.com/features/social-issues/traditional-durga-puja-transforming-

into-urban-festival accessed on 14 May 2020.

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S. K. Das and B. Basak the accidents, the minute deviations – or conversely, the complete reversals – the errors, the false appraisals, and the faulty calculations that give birth to these things that continue to exist and have value for us; it is to discover that truth or being do not lie at the root of what we know and what we are, but the exteriority of accidents. (Foucault 1977: 146)

If Durga Puja of Bengal in its present incarnation began in the royal households of Maharaja Krishnachandra and Raja Nabakrishna Deb Bahadur, it began as what Foucault would have called ‘a minute deviation’ from the sacred almanac. The victory of the British East India Company in the Battle of Plassey (1757) benefited both Raja Nabakrishna Deb from Kolkata and Maharaja Krishnachandra Roy of Nadia who were on the other side of the battle aligning with the British fighting under the captainship of Robert Clive. Clive, according to Das, apparently advised both of them to celebrate the victory in a befitting manner. Contrary to the more popular version of preponement of the puja to autumn (and the epic hero Rama’s association with it), this view holds that the Rajas felt compelled to do this, paying heed to Clive’s advice. So the puja was celebrated in autumn in order to make it coincide with the occasion of victory and as the legend would have it they had spent over a lakh18 rupees each during those days (Das 2018: 40). This ‘minute deviation’ in the calendar was made at the instance of Robert Clive. It is not without reason that the autumnal Durga Puja gradually became immensely popular particularly in this land stretching between Krishnanagar and Kolkata. By the time Kaliprasanna was writing his book, baroiyari pujas became very popular particularly in Chinsurah and the areas around it. As he notes: Chinsurah was very famous for its community pujas in the past... Babus from Calcutta and other places hired boats, barges, pinnaces, and bauleahs and thronged to Chinsurah to watch the shongs. They used to attract huge crowds: each banana leaf sold for a rupee, and crooks made a fast buck. The poor, however, went without food. Some villages near Calcutta, like Guptipara, Kanchrapara, Santipur and Ulo also had community pujas with great fanfare a number of times. There was fierce competition between the various community pujas. (Singha 2008: 32)

By all accounts, the first baroiyari puja was held in the last decade of the 18th century when twelve Brahmin men on being denied entry into the household celebration of a babu formed a committee to conduct their own Durga Puja in Guptipara village in the district of Nadia, West Bengal. Insofar as Durga Puja came out of the thakurdalans and became a baroiyari affair, the hegemony of the babus and the bhadraloks was under threat, if not undermined. While Chap. 6 describes baroiyari puja as a ‘democratic observance’, the arrival of democracy, contrary to the commonplace belief, was not accompanied by a saga of struggle for it. It all began with ‘false appraisals and faulty calculations’ that the babus and bhadraloks must have regretted subsequently. The genealogy of these appraisals and calculations opens up multiple possibilities of writing the history of Durga Pujas. If history moves forward while elaborating a set of symbols or an idea, genealogy moves in the opposite direction. The task of genealogy is to trace the ‘roots’ not in the interiority of the idea that unfolds into history, but in ‘the exteriority of accidents’. 18 Indian

count of one lakh is equal to one hundred thousand.

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An oft repeated story of an accident of fire that completely ravaged the Kumartuli puja pandal and destroyed the idols altogether in 1932–33 is believed to have led Gopeshwar Pal—reverentially referred by today’s idol makers of Kumartuli as ‘G. Pal’—to break the traditional ekchala thakur in which idols of the Mother Goddess and her offsprings are accommodated in a single frame or backdrop, and introduce separate frames or backdrops for each of them. Needless to say, what we see today are mostly these single frame idols. This at one level compensated for the lost time and speeded up the process by dividing the task of idol making among different idol makers, instead of continuing with the old practice of entrusting the entire responsibility with only one. This not only would have taken too much time but also made the celebration simply impossible on time. At another level, the introduction of separate frames albeit unwittingly marked the growing disintegration of joint families. Contrary to the commonplace tendency of looking for historical reasons, the paradigmatic change Gopeshwar brought about in the world of idol making by way of setting forth a durable trend cannot be simply reduced to what Talal Asad calls ‘social phenomenon’ (Asad 1993: 64). It is rather the other way round. What comes to be recognized as a ‘social phenomenon’ of disintegration of joint families acquires its ‘identity and truthfulness’, its ‘authoritative status’, only as a product of what is dismissed as an ‘accident’ in history and not as a producer of any paradigmatic change. If slight and humiliation played a role in making the transition to baroiyari puja possible, the same kind of slight and humiliation suffered by the native Indians in the hands of the colonial authorities were also responsible for the gradual infusion of the ‘nationalist spirit’ in the celebration. Excesses—often verging on atrocities— committed by the policemen and soldiers during the pujas was, as Bandopadhyay informs us from his reading of the archive of mainly daily newspapers, ‘an everyday experience’. Asok Sen is reported to have remembered an incident in which he went out to watch Durga Puja with the family and a White (police) sergeant tightly slapped their driver on the face. The situation started changing in the 1940s when a substratum of ‘desperate young men well-endowed with muscle power’ emerged from within the communities of the Hindus and the Muslims who would not be afraid at the sight of the policemen and soldiers and would at least try to put up a semblance of resistance to the colonial authorities (Bandopadhyay 2011: 35). The growth of nationalism consists not just in the history that one otherwise reads, but in this long series of humiliations and slights accumulated over time. It still awaits an archivist for documentation.

1.6 Caste Formation Heritage is not only nested in the intangibles of skill and the works of skill, but in the determinate groups that embody it. Idol makers mostly bearing the surname of ‘Pal’ belong to the occupational caste of Kumbhakars (known as Kumars in colloquial Bengali). Ray Vidyanidhi underlines the importance of appreciating the

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cultural specificities (deshachar) in the making of idols. In Calcutta and Eastern Bengal, the idol makers are called the Kumbhakars while in Mymensingh (now in Bangladesh) and Tripura, they come from the caste of astrologers (grahacharya literally those who make astrological predictions by way of deciphering the planetary movements) (Ray Vidyanidhi 1420 BS: 110). Earlier many of the Kumars used to be sutradhars (sutars or Chhutars) who were associated with woodcraft as per their caste calling. While commenting on the clay modellers of Krishnanagar, Sudhir Chakrabarty emphasises on the distinction between Kumbhakars (potters working with potters’ wheels, making earthen pots and utensils) and Mritsilpis (literally clay artists) with superior ritual status. He goes on to argue that many Kumbhakars have eventually graduated as Mritsilpis although not all of them have been recognized as such. The Kumbhakars may have been segregated as subcastes following differences within their occupation. Later these groups are believed to have assimilated as one with a varying degree of success. Many of the Kumbhakars remain stuck to the traditional occupation of manufacturing clay pots, utensils and well rings and hardly succeeded in securing ‘the patronage of the regional and the aristocratic society’ for making the idols (Chakrabarty 2012: 330). He also notes that many from outside the caste of Kumbhakars like the Sutradhars had already come to this field and captured the local market which the mritsilpis being new entrants, found difficult to crack (Chakrabarty 2012: 330). Thus to cite a more recent instance, Ishwar Chandra Pal was a Kayastha, and therefore belonged to a higher caste than the Kumbhakars. An yet another interesting fact is that the mritsilpis share different surnames like Das, Khan, Pal, Paramanik, Patra, Sannyasi, Khas, Barik and Kundu. However, all those who gained in fame as clay modellers and idol makers were Pals. All this tends to suggest that the Kumbhakars of Kumartuli are an amalgam of castes with multiple caste origins. Our studies indicate that people are not necessarily born into a caste and assigned to a predefined caste occupation; it is rather the pull of occupation that binds the members otherwise drawn from a multiplicity of castes into the caste of Kumbakars. Back in 1975, Nirmal Kumar Bose notes this as a general phenomenon in Bengal: New castes arose because of change of occupation, migration from one place to another, and debasement or purification of customs, but two fundamental principles were accepted by all. Nobody opposed freedom to follow one’s own customs and the right of a family or caste to its particular occupation. (Bose 1975: 166)

The binding by no means proves to be easy. The ‘political and social identification and interests’ of the constituent subcastes often refuse to be ‘subordinated to’ and melt in what—borrowing from Sen—may be called a ‘broader collectivity’ (Sen 2018: 266). Much of this process of miscegenation and assimilation is politically contingent. Narayan Pal tells us that when his forefathers arrived from Shologhar in erstwhile East Pakistan (now Bangladesh) in 1948, both Ramesh and Rakhal Pal—two of his illustrious ancestors—discarded their original surname ‘Rudrapal’ because—as Narayan explains—they did not want to be recognizably distinct from other fellow Pals of Kumartuli. This was their way of proving their acceptability to others and avoiding frictions. Besides, there was also a political factor. With the

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certification of the Kumbhakars as part of the ‘Other Backward Classes’ (OBCs) after the government decided to implement the Mandal Commission recommendations in 1990, about 8–10 families of the Rudrapals living in Kumartuli decided to discard the prefix in order to take advantage of the reservation of posts and seats in government offices and seats in government- and government-aided educational institutions for the OBCs.19 An occupation does not always provide the glue. For one thing, Kumartuli has been a standing witness to many an occupational competition and rivalry. For another, idol makers of ritually impure castes were never accommodated into the fold of Kumbhakars. Thus, the migration of Rudrapals was initially viewed with suspicion—if not animosity—by the native Kumbhakars of Kumartuli. It was never an easy life for them. Narayan remembers the roadblocks and hurdles that their ancestors had to negotiate and overcome in order to be recognized as an integral part of the Kumbhakars of Kumartuli. Ramesh Pal was never allowed to set up his studio (Rupabharati) in Kumartuli. It was partly due to the amiable personality of Rakhal Pal and his legendary troubleshooting ability and partly because of the intermarriages and consequent kinship networks across families of Pals and Rudrapals that the process of caste formation of the Kumbhakars in present-day Kumartuli was enriched immensely. Our ethnographies strongly suggest that there is a limit to the process of caste formation. While such geniuses like G. Pal and Ramesh Pal—both migrants from Krishnanagar and Shologhar respectively—were never allowed to settle in Kumartuli in order perhaps to keep them out of competition in the same trade, the expulsion of Abhay Charan Das is illustrative of a strong sense of caste boundary that separates the Kumbhakars from the lower and ritually impure castes. Abhay Charan came from a poor, low-caste family of shoemakers or cobblers (chamars)—considered as ‘untouchables’—and settled in Kumartuli. People would hardly know of his caste identity. His caste identity got revealed when the fellow natives of Kumartuli discovered to their surprise that the demon (asur) was wielding an ornate shield made of leather by him. Animal leather is considered inauspicious and is never allowed to be used as raw material in the making of the idols and their weapons. Although an exceptionally talented idol maker, Abhay Charan was ignominiously thrown out and was forced to shift his studio from Kumartuli.20 The analogy drawn in Chap. 5 between ghar (in Kumartuli’s context the studiocum-dwelling place of the idol makers, their family members, helping artisans and assistants) and ‘modern guild’ reminds us of Mukerjee’s argument that caste guilds serve as the nurseries of craft and occupational skill in India. While making a paradigmatic case for caste-based, modern guilds way back in 1937, he writes: Occupational castes easily have transformed themselves into guilds in India, guaranteeing the artisans, traders, and merchants both social and economic protection. The guild is nothing but a temporary or permanent union of caste people plying the same craft and trade and 19 Narayan

Pal—the son of Rakhal Pal—was interviewed in his Kumartuli studio on 5 June 2019. Agnihotri mentioned this incident in the consultative workshop on the project held on 25 November 2018. 20 Anita

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S. K. Das and B. Basak framing general rules of conduct and social morality and observances, while sometimes it regulates trade or wages, the conditions of employment of labor and the use of machinery, as well as the education of apprentices and the protection and maintenance of the destitute and the helpless. (Mukerjee 1937: 388)

Our ethnographies however suggest that the analogy between caste and guild cannot be stretched beyond a point: First of all, while guilds are supposed to provide a protective shield against competition, the labour market of the helping artisans and skilled assistants is highly competitive. All the idol makers whom we could meet complained of a high rate of desertion of the helping artisans and skilled assistants at the peak of the idol making season due to the lure of higher wages offered by their rivals whether in Kumartuli or outside. Many of this skilled labour force make their way to Delhi, Mumbai, Bengaluru and such metro cities in search of better work opportunities. Such welfare schemes as Mahatma Gandhi National Rural Employment Guarantee Act that offer the guarantee of 100-days’ work in the countryside keeps the otherwise poor labour from seasonally migrating to Kumartuli and other potters’ hubs. By contrast, the secret of success of the guilds is that they thrive on reduction—if not complete elimination—of competition. In the words of Renard: ‘[T]he guild always tended to arrogate to itself the monopoly of the craft which it carried on in a city… [W]ith a view to equalizing matters between masters, the cornering of the supply of labour was forbidden, and not only was it forbidden to tempt away a rival’s workmen by the offer of a higher wage’ (Renard 2000: 44). Secondly, sustainability of heritage depends not so much on the possession of skill per se by a generation of idol makers, but on its high transmissibility into the future generations. Our ethnographies however suggest no unproblematic transmissibility of skill. One, senior idol makers do not want their sons to succeed them in the profession that, according to them, has not only lost its respectability, but become increasingly competitive and unprofitable. Nor are their sons willing to learn the skill. Many of the senior idol makers are, however, worried about the future of their profession. Two, intersectionalities along the lines as caste, gender, pre-existing village ties and such other factors continue to interrupt the prospects of skill transmission. Many helping artisans and skilled assistants accused their mentoring idol makers of discriminating between their own family members and outsiders hired for working in their studios and are reported to be hesitant to disseminate the skill of idol making in all its stages (particularly the final stage of chokh dewa or drawing the eyes). Similarly, Hemanta Pal did not want his daughter China to learn the art. But she would watch him work from a distance. One day she expressed her desire for ‘drawing the eyes’. Her father asked her to wait till all the employees dispersed and then draw the eyes in an empty studio. China Pal narrated to us her stories of discrimination for being a woman. The untimely death of her father catapulted her into the profession and compelled her to fight against the odds of gender discrimination. Three, while they want this skill to remain confined to their ghar, their own descendants in the family are not necessarily the most talented learners. The descendants of the families of once legendary idol makers like G. Pal, N. C. Pal, Gour Pal have nearly perished in the business of idol making as they could not learn the art. The relation of skill to heredity, to say the least, is far more complicated than is commonly understood.

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1.6.1 Caste Capital Chapter 2 argues that the ‘adaptations’ of the occupational group of Kumbhakars to market forces and changing landscapes of urban modernity were by no means an easy or smooth affair. At one level, the skill that supposedly lies embodied in the Kumbhakars may—borrowing from Bourdieu—be called ‘embodied capital’. While the supply and transmission of the skill are uncertain as noted above, it is the skill that is believed to be the key to the sustainability of the heritage of idol making. At another level, the same capital does not easily convert into other forms of capital. In one of his recently published papers, Bandyopadhyay shows how the caste capital of the ‘closely-knit upper caste group of bhadraloks’ enabled them to exercise their ‘hegemonic control over the public space in colonial Bengal’ in late 19th and early 20th century (Bandyopadhyay 2020: 313). It was precisely because of the lack of caste capital that the entry became equally difficult for the lower castes. Our ethnographies tend to underline the importance of distinguishing embodied or caste capital from capital per se. A classic statement of the social and cultural basis of the latter comes from Weber. As he defines it: Man is dominated by the making of money, by acquisition as the ultimate purpose of his life. Economic acquisition is no longer subordinated to man as the means for the satisfaction of his material needs. This reversal of what we should call the natural relationship, so irrational from a naïve point of view, is evidently as definitely a leading principle of capitalism as it is foreign to all peoples not under capitalistic influence. (Weber 1992: 18)

Many idol makers would stoutly refuse to make idols that, according to them, do not comply with the strict Shastrik prescriptions or aesthetic rules even if they are paid handsomely for violating them. Most of the senior generation idol makers feel deeply invested in the very act of making their idols with an affect for their product. These traits are uncharacteristic of capitalistic transactions. The aesthetic of pleasure is clearly to be distinguished from the capitalist spirit of making money into an end in itself. Chapter 8 illustrates how they feel saddened when their studios become empty thanks to the swift sale of their products on the eve of the pujas. Both Chaps. 8 and 9 also point to the entrepreneurial or managerial ‘appropriation’ of embodied capital albeit with a varying degree of success. The theoretical cue of this discussion is taken from Bourdieu, who argues: [T]he owner of the means of production must find a way of appropriating either the embodied capital which is the precondition of specific appropriation or the services of the holders of this capital. To possess the machines, he only needs economic capital; to appropriate them and use them in accordance with their specific purpose (defined by the cultural capital, of scientific or technical type, incorporated in them), he must have access to embodied cultural capital, either in person or by proxy. (Bourdieu 1998: 246).

While a number of idol makers resolutely shun the lure of being appropriated, the entrepreneurs and managers sublet and parcel out portions of works of idol making and installation to the apparently nameless Kumbhakars of Kumartuli either because they do not have the time to do these themselves or because they lack the skill of doing them. The alliance between caste capital and economic capital is again very

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uncertain and contingent as much as the outcome of the alliance does not always weigh in favour of the owners of embodied capital. Thus, skill is nested in what Chap. 5 designates as an ‘ensemble’ that in its turn is in a constant state of flux.

1.7 Iconographies and Innovations While iconographic studies are focused mostly on the repetition or persistence of styles and forms in the making of idols over a long period of time, our studies contained in this volume take the opposite direction by reflecting on the rather complex relation of such repetition to the irrepressible urge of innovation and vice versa. We see iconography not as a mechanical or mindless repetition or persistence of styles and forms as per the prescribed rules and laws—as is ordinarily understood in the existing literature -but as ‘transgression and exception’ of existing iconographic laws that innovation entails and brings in its wake. Transgression and exception also make it imperative on the part of idol makers to respond to the otherwise abiding demands of repetition and observance of iconographic rules and laws (Deleuze 1994: 5). The world of idol making being a creative art cannot remain oblivious to the sacred rules of iconography as much as to the irrepressible urge of innovation. Chapter 7 discusses in detail at least three sources of such innovation : (a) rapidly changing public demands and tastes; (b) changes in the larger social and economic environment that idol makers are required to encounter; (c) growing scarcity or cost of raw materials forcing idol makers to try out and experiment with alternatives and substitutes often at the risk of kitschification. Indeed the perpetually dialogical nature of the relationship between iconography and innovations may be viewed in both ways: on the one hand, Chap. 6 reflects— with the help of meticulously drawn archival records—on how the inscription of the Goddess into the corpus of fairly rigid iconographic rules also coincides with the ‘appropriation’ of an essentially ‘pre-Vedic’ and ‘non-Aryan’ Goddess in the Brahmanical pantheon. Iconography—unlike what the conventional literature would have us believe—is not immune to power relations. Historical Anthropology of the development of the Jagannatha cult in Odisha, for instance, bears testimony to the same proposition (Eschmann et al. 1978). Lord Jagannatha—believed to be the incarnation of Lord Vishnu, the high Brahmanical God of Hinduism—has His origins in the tribal God of Neeladhwaja worshipped at one time by the forest dwelling hunters and gatherers of coastal Odisha. Many rituals relating to the cult even today have their associations with the tribal past of the God. On the other hand, Chap. 4 argues that iconography is ‘not a dry grammar but is capacious enough to embody changing social relations’. One instance may be cited from out of an entire series cited in the book. If the symbolism of Goddess Durga is said to have been predicated on the simple binary between good and evil being embodied by the Goddess on the one hand and the buffalo demon (Mahisasur) on the other hand respectively, it will be interesting to see how different meanings are read into the figure of the demon at different times. While association of buffalo

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with demon is understandable in a predominantly agrarian society in India where buffaloes were seen as a threat to vast croplands of the Gangetic delta, the same demon was adorned with a British crown during the peak of India’s struggle for Independence. The Goddess was seen as the embodiment of our anti-imperialist sentiments wielding the power of vanquishing the evil imperial force. The more contemporary reincarnations of the demon are evident in the likes of Hitler or Osama bin Laden. Images of hugely muscular Mahisasur resembling a well-known villain from a popular Bollywood movie were doing the rounds in the 1980s. The demon’s recent appearance as Coronasur (the demon of corona) in Kumartuli post the outbreak of COVID-19 pandemic in 2020 on a global scale is perhaps the latest in the series. Insofar as ever-newer and historically specific meanings are brought into play within the same space of the binary between good and evil, they also run the risk of exceeding, if not troubling, the symbolism itself. The irrepressible innovativeness has a tendency of transgressing the established rules of iconography without becoming proportionally successful in reading and rehabilitating those innovations back into those rules. Not all experiments in balancing innovations with iconography have been equally successful. Kumartuli’s has indeed been a success. Kumartuli developed both as ‘transgression and exception’ which were not only sought to be read back into the existing iconographic mould of rules and laws but—as Chap. 7 eloquently argues—‘gave birth to several iconographic formulae which do not find mention in the scriptures’. It shows how words used colloquially at the idol makers’ workshops have been standardized into terminologies of an iconography unique to the place with ‘a new visual code’ being transmitted across generations without any verbal and textual idiom. The discovery of Kumartuli’s unique iconography—a contribution of the chapter mentioned above—is evident mainly in three albeit overlapping spheres: use of raw materials, portraiture and decorative ornaments. Kumartuli is perhaps the first prominent site where the medium of clay was preferred to such conventionally used materials as bronze, wood and stone in a sharp deviation from the norms of scriptural iconography because of the suppleness of the material and the convenience of using it. Chap. 7 points out how Kumartuli artisans developed three paradigmatic portrait styles for their idols: Khas-Bangla (pure Bengali style), Dobhasi (hybrid) and Chhobiana (filmy). They also evolved their own system of iconometry and measurement along with local methods of clay preparation, structure binding, colour extraction, brush making and colour application among other things. Besides, they introduced significant changes in ornaments from commonly used wood to daker saj. Initially, such ornaments used to be despatched from Krishnanagar by post (dak in Bengali and in some other Indian languages), which is believed to be the source of the typical nomenclature—daker saj—for the ornaments. The use of daker saj has become ‘an established iconographical norm introduced by the clay modellers’ of Kumartuli.

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1.8 Nation, Localities, Publics Heritage does not survive by way of quarantining itself from the larger society and shrinking into a cocoon but by drawing its synergy from the rest of the society, by remaining constantly connected to the diverse sectors and constituencies of the society and transcending the fault lines that otherwise separate them. Heritage conservation—very unlike how it is understood in a conventional study of Heritage—is a function of its ability to connect and thereby bring a public into existence instead of keeping it fractured and fragmented. The heritage of idol making is unlikely to survive if it remains restricted to the small caste of Kumbhakars, if the idols are not bought by others, if the organizers do not organize the pujas, if the general masses do not offer subscriptions, if the sponsors and corporates do not come forward and offer their hand of help, if the authorities do not grant permissions, if the artisans do not set up the pandals, if the priests do not perform the puja rituals, if the general public do not see them and so forth. Durga Puja works on an intricately woven network of people that engulfs the entire society. It is important to see how fault lines are overcome, connections are established and the public in effect is brought into existence. While making of the pratima is as good as making of the public, the twin processes—Chap. 8 argues—share the same site. How are the connections and consequently the public made? The existing literature on the subject offers two rather diametrically opposite answers. On the one hand, it is argued that the thread that binds a diversity of social constituencies must be external to each of them. Thus to cite an instance, G. Pal represents the nationalist genre of idol making at the high noon of India’s struggle for independence. He earned accolades for being immensely successful in infusing the otherwise sedentary idols with the fervour and dynamism of the battlefield and thus inaugurated a revolutionary transformation in the world of idol making. In 1938, he made the idol of Kumartuli Sarbajanin in which Durga’s eyes were unwaveringly fixed on the demon and ‘the eyes exude inveterate anger as much as the asur is [made] comparatively thinner and it appears that he has been overwhelmed by [the Goddess Durga] the embodiment of great power’ (Bandopadhyay 2011: 20). In the war between the Goddess and the demon, the Goddess represents not so much what the colonized is—with her raw anger and ‘great power’, as Bandopadhyay describes, but what the colonized wants to become while winning the war. The nation, the Goddess represents, is, to borrow a term that Durkheim used while referring to the role of religion, ‘exterior’ to the colonized; yet the colonized is expressly called upon to identify herself with it; it is as Durkheim describes it, ‘a sentiment of a refuge, a shield and a guardian support which attaches the believer to his cult; it is that which raises him outside himself’ (Durkheim 1915: 415). The symbolism of Durga performs a great social function by imbibing everyone with a collective spirit, by making one larger than what one is. Examples of this sort are by no means rare particularly in the first half of the 20th century. As we have seen above, the advent of Independence contributed to a certain waning of the nationalist genre of idol making as much as it led to the fragmentation

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of the nation as it were into localities and neighbourhoods in Kolkata. Nationalist spirit shrank into para or neighbourhood pride but with a difference. The pujas of the localities and neighbourhoods would reflect the features intrinsic to them. Locality pujas, as we have argued above, are emblematic of the para pride, of the para as it is with its paraphernalia of vigilance, monitoring and surveillance, the being of the para—not it’s becoming. The ultimate manifestation of this fragmentation is well represented in Bandopadhyay’s essay cited above. It proposes a tripartite division of pujas among the elite, subaltern and the middle class ones—accordingly segregating the city space in fairly rigid terms. A good part of the essay discusses in detail the characteristic features of each of these puja types. We have already noted why it is only with the turn of the new millennium that the pujas acquired what Ghosh calls a ‘translocal’ character (Ghosh 2009: 299). The existing literature on the subject under review shuttles across the triad of nation, locality and translocal social formations. Chapter 8 seeks to push Ghosh’s argument a little further. For, it argues on the one hand that the formation of the translocal is not to be confused with the return of the nation or the nationalist genre of idol making. On the other hand, translocal formations represent what Appadurai would have called ‘a regime of value’, that is to say, cultural transactions across a wide spectrum of localities and neighbourhoods with their diverse cultural repertoires. As he puts it: [The] term regimes of value, which do not imply that every act of commodity exchange presupposes a complete cultural sharing of assumptions, but rather that the degree of value coherence may be highly variable from situation to situation, and from commodity to commodity. A regime of value, in this sense, is consistent with both very high and very low sharing of standards by the parties to a particular commodity exchange. Such regimes of value account for the constant transcendence of cultural boundaries by the flow of commodities, where culture is understood as a bounded and localized system of meanings”. (Appadurai 1986: 15)

Chapter 8 tells us how the regime of value comes into being through the act of idol making, how it contributes albeit with a varying degree of success to the transcendence of at least three sets of binaries: between art and hereditarily acquired craft and skill, between art and heritage and between civic and municipal governance and carnival—each with the potential of dividing the localities and neighbourhoods, fields and domains of social life in neat and tightly separate boxes. The regime of value, as the chapter argues, is the key to the formation of the public. While this calls for sufficient demystification of the so-called high art, it also requires that the hereditarily acquired practice as heritage reactivates and sets in motion a newer aesthetic with its claim to a redefinition of art. The enactment of the carnival is made to appear as being complicit with the rules of civic and municipal governance and is therefore called upon to hide the carnivalesque. If Chap. 8 finds out how the sharp edges of the culture manifested through the otherwise widely discussed polarities and binaries are blunted by the making of the connections and the emergence of the public, Chap. 9 cuts open - almost with anatomical precision—the public as a body and shows how it remains perpetually fractured and fragmented. Drawing on her study of the ‘exhibition’ (billed as ‘carnival’ to

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acquire a global-corporate edge) showcasing installations, sculptures, murals and photographs displayed by select sections of the idol makers of Kumartuli on 14 and 15 April 2019, she shows how the public that it brought into existence remained ‘at best partisan’ for it could not gloss over the ‘inherent struggle over what is to be represented, and who will control the means of representation when it comes to Kumartuli’. Thus, neither the ‘reinvention’ of heritage, nor the agency of its representation was unproblematic. Ethnographies cited in the chapter points out why the ‘appropriation’ of the Kumartuli heritage by the exhibition - corporate complex with its claim to what Laurajane Smith calls ‘Authorized Heritage Discourse’ was, to say the least, ‘partial’. The partial nature of appropriation hardly undermines the significance of the festival that was scheduled to occur half a year later. Nor was it a poor cousin of the festival whether in terms of the crowd it drew or the spread, scale and the revelry that it involved. The heritage of making of the idol, in other words, passes through all these events including exhibitions, photo shoots, live telecasts, interviews, documentaries, short films and many more—other than the five-day festival itself. To borrow the words of Marramao, idol making in Kumartuli represents ‘a Babel-like space, a mosaic composed of multiple dispersed forms of life—at once materially heterogeneous and culturally differentiated—that are connected and brought together by the flux of events that traverse them’ (Marramao 2010: 4). These diverse and at times contesting forms of life seamlessly pass through a wide variety of events. If every single event produces its own public, they remain connected through all these events by their common allusion to Durga Puja. If publics do not connect themselves, the events help connect them and weave them into a whole—not necessarily an indivisible one. Plan of Chapters The volume is organized into four sections each revolving on the abovementioned themes of Cityscapes, Genealogies, Iconographies and Publics. Each section comprises two chapters. In the first section, Mazumdar draws upon insights from a whole range of critical studies of urban renewal projects to understand how Kumartuli has been re-imagined as a distinct cultural space in contemporary Kolkata. Chapter 3 by Davies investigates the phenomenon of Durga Puja celebrated by a diasporic community in Glasgow. In Chap. 4 (second section) Deb seeks to understand the development of artistic approaches in the making of Durga in Kumartuli, situating this in the pre- and post-Independent period. The shifts and distinct traits in the making are contextualized in the critical transitions of our history. Chapter 5 in the same section, by Choudhury Lahiri looks at the organization of work among the Kumbhakars by exploring the role of caste as a form of capital, and the paraphernalia of lineage, traditional knowledge, networks and alliances that come to bear on idol making. The third section on Iconography includes Chaps. 6 and 7, respectively. Chapter 6 by Soujit Das is an art historical inquiry into the evolution of unfired Durga clay-idols from Kumartuli since the pre-recorded times. In doing so it delves into parallel cultural artefacts and visual materials as sources. Chapter 7 by Gupta foregrounds the idol makers and their idol making, otherwise marginalized in most

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studies. It focuses on their journey(s) over time as they learnt to negotiate between scriptural prescriptions and the patron’s demand, giving birth to unique iconographical traits. The last section on Publics begins with Chap. 8 in which Samir Das shows how the heritage of idol making is rendered sustainable to the extent to which the act is capable of making connections across wider sections of the society. The last chapter by Basak probes the complex web of power relations between corporate sponsors, professional artists, designers, and idol makers/ pratimasilpis, as they are mediated through a public art event in Kumartuli that attains the tag of a carnival. The main objective of the book is to interrogate and critique the commonplace notion of heritage-in-crisis that informs the nomination dossier mentioned above. With a notion that treats heritage as residing firmly in certain fixed and frozen traits, the Kumbhakars are seen as the repository of traditional hereditary skills which are now endangered owing to changing conditions of art and market, and hence are in an urgent need of preservation. Our study takes off precisely by critiquing these dry, technical and socially disembedded approaches hitherto dominated by such disciplines as architecture, archaeology and art history (Smith 2006, 2012). These approaches seem to unhinge heritage from its social and material basis by attributing an inherent value to the sites, objects, monuments, artefacts and skills that remain stationary and do not change across time. Framed in the genre of what has come to be known as Critical Heritage Studies, this book brings home the fraught, perpetually changing and contingent nature of heritage by way of situating it in the tangled web of its relationship with both art and the public.

References -------. 1954. Economics of the Durga Puja. Economic Weekly, 2 October, 1089–1990. --------. 2019. Pujo Committeer Andolan Pathe Anlen Mamata (in Bengali) (mamata has brought the movement of the puja committees to the streets). Ei Samay, 14 August, p. 5. ---------. 2019. Durgapujor Committee Dakhale Dhakka, BJP Backfoote’ (in Bengali) (Setback in Durgapujo Committee, BJP is on the Backfoot). Ei Samay, 1 August, p. 8. Appadurai, Arjun. 1986. Introduction: Commodities and the politics of value. In The social life of things: Commodities in cultural perspective, ed. Arjun Appadurai, 3–63. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Appadurai, Arjun. 1996. Modernity at large: Cultural dimensions of globalization. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Asad, Talal. 1993. Genealogies of religion: Discipline and reasons of power in Christianity and Islam. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press. Bandopadhyay, Sandip. 2011. Durgapujo: Barobari Theke Baroiyari. Kolkata: El Alma Publications. Bandyopadhyay, Sekhar. 2020. Caste and politics in Bengal: Late 19th and early 20th Century. In A comprehensive history of modern Bengal: 1700–1950, vol. III, ed. Sabyasachi Bhattacharya, 313–354. Kolkata: Asiatic Society/New Delhi Primus. Banerjee, Sumanta. 1989. The parlour and the streets: Elite and popular culture in 19th Century Calcutta. Calcutta: Seagull Books. Banerjee, Sumanta. 2016. Memoirs of roads: Calcutta from colonial urbanization to global modernization. New Delhi: Oxford University Press.

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Bhattacharyya, Dwaipayan. 2009. Of control and factions: The changing ‘Party-Society’ in rural West Bengal. Economic and Political Weekly 44(9), 59–69. Beverley, H. 1876. Report of the census of the town of Calcutta taken on the 6th of April, 1876. Calcutta: Bengal Secretariat Press. (Google Books). Biswas, Atanu. 2019. Mandateo Pujo Jamjamat’ (in Bengali) (Puja revelry is intact even in times of economic slowdown). In Ananda Bazaar Patrika, 13 September. Bose, Nirmal Kumar. 1975. The structure of Hindu Society. Translated from Bengali and introduced by Andre Beteille. Hyderabad: Orient Longman. Bourdieu, Pierre. 1998. Forms of capital. In Handbook of theory and research for the sociology of education, ed. J.G. Richardson, 241–248. New York: Greenwood Press. Chakrabarty, Sudhir. 2012. Krishnanagarer Mritsilpa O Mritsilpi Samaj (in Bengali) (The clay art of Krishnanagar and the society of clay artists) in Sudhir Chakrabarty Rachanavali, 317–407. Lalmati: Kolkata. Chatterjee, Partha. (2008). Introduction in Singha, Kaliprasanna (2008): The Observant Owl, translated by Swarup Roy, 1–6. Ranikhet: Black Kite. Chunder, Bholanath. 1978. Calcutta its origin and growth. In Calcutta Keepsake, ed. Alok Ray, 36–55. Calcutta: Riddhi-India. Das, Biplab. 2018. Baroiyari Puja: Kolkatar Durgapjuor Nana Ajana Kahini (in Bengali). Kolkata: Bodhisattva. Das, Jayanta. 1998. Kumartulir Charso Bochorer Biborton. Desh, Sharodiya Sankhya, 19th September, 63–70. Deleuze, Gilles. 1994. Difference and repetition, trans. Paul Patton. New York: Columbia University Press. Durkheim, Emile. 1915. The elementary forms of the religious life. London: George Allen & Unwin. Fifth Impression 1964. Eschmann, Anncharlott, Herman Kulke, and Gaya Charan Tripathi. 1978. Jagannath and the regional tradition of Orissa. Delhi: Manohar. Foucault, Michel. 1977. Nietzsche, genealogy, history. In Language, counter-memory, practice: Selected essays and interviews, ed. Michel Foucault, with an introduction by Donald F. Bouchard. Trans. Donald F. Bouchard & Sherry Simon, 138–164. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Ghosh, Anjan. 2000. Spaces of recognition: Puja and power in contemporary Calcutta. Journal of South African Studies 26 (2): 289–299. Ghosh, Anjan. 2010. Contested spaces: Puja and its publics in Calcutta. CSSSC Occasional Paper No. 178. Calcutta: CSSSC. Guha-Thakurta, Tapati. 2015. In the Name of the Goddess: The Durga Pujas of Contemporary Kolkata. New Delhi: Primus. Heierstad, Geir. 2017. Caste. Entrepreneurship and the Illusions of Tradition: Branding the potters of Kolkata. Anthem Press. Mallik, Swati. 2019. Cut money Nei, Tai Ki Kop Pujor Budgete’ (in Bengali) (There is no cut money, is that the reason why there has been curb on puja budget). In Ananda Bazaar Patrika, 29 August, p. 14. Marramao, Giacomo. 2010. Thinking Babel: Universality, multiplicity, difference. Iris (II) 3: 3–20. McDermott, Rachel Fell. 2011. Revelry, rivalry and the longing for the Goddesses of Bengal: The fortunes of Hindu festivals. Columbia: Columbia University Press. Mukerjee. Radhakamal. 1937. Caste and social change in India. American Journal of Sociology 43 (3): 377–390. Ray, Alok ed. 1978. Calcutta Keepsake. Calcutta: Riddhi-India. Renard, Georges. (2000). Guilds in the middle ages, trans. Dorothy Terry & edited with an introduction by G. D. H. Cole. Kitchener: Batoche. First published 1918. Sen, Dwaipayan. 2018. The decline of the caste question: Jogendranath Mandal and the defeat of Dalit politics in Bengal. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Sengupta, Manipushpak. 2019. Mamatar Paday Pujor Fite Katben Amit (in Bengali) Amit (Shah) will cut ribbon in the Puja of Mamata’s neighbourhood’ in Ei Samay, 25 July, pp. 1–4.

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Sengupta, Manipuspak. 2020. Catherine der Kumartuli Darshan WhatsApp Video Call e (in Bengali) (Catherines watch Kumartuli on Whatsapp Video Call’) in Ei Samay, 11 May 2020, p. 5. Singha, Pradip. 1978. Calcutta in urban History. Calcutta: Firma KLM. Smith, Laurajane. 2006. Uses of heritage. Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge. Smith, Laurajane. 2012. Editorial. International Journal of Heritage Studies 18: 6, 533–540. https:// doi.org/https://doi.org/10.1080/13527258.2012.720794. Sreemani, Soumitra. 2020. Rise and growth of Calcutta between 1750 and 1850. In A Comprehensive history of modern Bengal 1700–1950, vol. I, ed. Sabyasachi Bhattacharya, 450–496. Kolkata: Asiatic Society/New Delhi Primus. Weber, Max. 1992. The protestant ethic and the spirit of Capitalism. London: Routledge.

Part I

Cityscapes

Chapter 2

Re-imagining Kumartuli—The Artisan and the City Madhumita Mazumdar

Abstract This chapter looks into the complex material and symbolic entanglements of Kumartuli and the city of Kolkata from colonial to contemporary times. It tries to unpack contemporary imaginations of this old potters’ settlement in discourses of city tourism and popular culture and tease out a series of recurring tropes that have been deployed to identify Kumartuli as a distinctive urban cultural space. To contextualize these tropes, the chapter looks at those moments in the life of Kumartuli and its artisans that have been recorded in historical and sociological studies and tries to understand how Kumartuli’s entanglements with Calcutta’s urban modernity and with the public life of its biggest religious festival, Durga Puja, generated different kinds of cultural engagements with it.

It draws upon studies that have documented the structural changes in the life of Kumartuli from its early entry into the city’s colonial history as a rudimentary potters’ enclave to its transformation into a migrant colony of clay image makers and finally its transition into a workshop and a market for readymade icons for the city’s annual Durga Puja festival. While not going through the entire narrative stretch of Kumartuli’s spatial or economic transformations, the chapter tries to explore those studies that indicate the shaping of a distinctive spatial identity for Kumartuli. This spatial identity, I argue has drawn upon a rich reserve of public discourse on the Durga Puja itself and on the abiding legacy of the late 19th century ‘cult of the craftsman’. What is significant as a cultural phenomenon is the quiet congealing and circulation of these tropes in the more contemporary discourse on cultural tourism and the projects to enhance the symbolic economy of the city. Describing some of the most difficult and yet some of the finest moments that went into the making of one of the most successful Bollywood thrillers in recent times, film director Sujoy Ghosh said his film ‘Kahaani’ was shot in some of the most ‘painful’

M. Mazumdar (B) Dhirubhai Ambani Institute of Information and Communication Technology, Gandhinagar, Gujarat, India e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021 S. K. Das et al. (eds.), The Making of Goddess Durga in Bengal: Art, Heritage and the Public, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-0263-4_2

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locations of the city. One of these was Kumartuli.1 A story based in Kolkata with a young woman as the lead protagonist led invariably to times and locations that best conveyed the frenzied moods of an old yet spirited metropolis. Apart from airports, railway stations, police stations and the various offices that marked the pregnant young woman’s frantic journeys in search for her missing husband, a walk down the dimly lit alleys of the Kumartuli artisanal enclave in the weeks before the puja, made a compelling visual statement. Kumartuli challenged the camera like no other place. It was a place filled with both visual fecundity and capricious light. It could evoke a thousand moods of the city and its protagonist.2 I begin with this somewhat longish introduction to the cinematic appeal of Kumartuli as part of a larger reflection on the many recurring symbolic meanings that have accrued to a place which is an old potters settlement but marked in the Kolkata city’s municipal records as a slum. The accrual of a new set of symbolic meanings to this space is indicative of a growing traffic of images, discourses and meanings around Kumartuli in new and unprecedented ways. This circulation of symbolic meanings is reflected in a growing corpus of city tourism discourse that has begun to showcase distinctive neighbourhoods of Kolkata, as sites to be visited, explored, visually consumed as part of a broader cultural experience of the city. The emergent discourse of urban tourism and the configurations of Kumartuli around it can of course be studied and analysed through specific state or private initiatives in city branding, but this chapter seeks to understand the complex circuits of exchange between popular and academic discourses in the configuring of Kumartuli as a distinctive urban cultural space. It teases out a series of tropes that have acquired currency in the discourse of cultural tourism and tries it to see how these have drawn upon historical, sociological and anthropological studies of Kumartuli, Durga Puja and the colonial city of Calcutta. I look at four tropes in particular that have come to inform popular tourist discourses on Kumartuli. First, the framing of Kumartuli as one of the oldest historical relics of colonial Calcutta, second as a space embodying a distinctive cultural nostalgia for ‘tradition’, third, a space embodying the aura of ‘authentic’ craftsmanship and finally a space offering a visually rich cultural experience. To contextualize these tropes, the chapter looks at those moments in the life of Kumartuli and its artisans that have been recorded in historical and sociological studies and tries to understand how Kumartuli’s entanglements with Calcutta’s urban modernity and with the public life of its biggest religious festival, Durga puja, generated different kinds of social and cultural engagements with it. It draws upon studies that have documented the structural changes in the life Kumartuli from its early entry into the city’s colonial history as a rudimentary potters’ enclave to its transformation into a migrant colony of clay image makers and finally its transition into a workshop and a market for readymade icons for the city’s annual Durga Puja festival. While drawing upon historical narratives of Kumartuli’s spatial or economic transformations, the chapter tries to explore those studies that indicate 1 Sujoy 2 Ibid.

Ghosh in the “Making of Kahaani”. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BTImpKexvM0.

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the shaping of a distinctive spatial identity for Kumartuli. This spatial identity, I argue has drawn upon a rich reserve of public discourse on the Durga Puja itself and on the abiding legacy of the late 19th century ‘cult of the craftsman’. What is significant as a cultural phenomenon is the quiet congealing and circulation of these tropes in the more contemporary discourse on cultural tourism and the projects to enhance the ‘symbolic economy’ of the city.3 Most scholars on either the Durga Puja or on Kumartuli, agree, that public interest in Kumartuli peaks at the time of the pujas each year, and finds expression in the media around discussions on contemporary practices of clay image making by the kumars or artisans, their living conditions, individual artistic and aesthetic innovations in the existing iconography of the goddess, shifts in the ‘theme’ driven decorations of marquees that house the goddess, the rising costs of production, the capriciousness of state support and the demands of the market.4 Other academic studies have often taken a longer-term view of Kumartuli and its distinctive formation as caste-based urban settlement in Kolkata that came into being as a result of large-scale migrations of groups of potters from rural Bengal and in particular from the district of Nadia in the late 19th century. Studies informed by sociological questions have focused on the peculiar characteristic of the Kumartuli potters as a conventional caste group but not quite.5 Studies such as these have explored the transition affected by the kumars from clay pottery making or ‘mritsilpa’ to clay image making or ‘pratimasilpa’ and observed the phenomenon of occupational and caste fluidity that marked the social life and identity of this community.6 This chapter brings together these observations from studies of the larger historical and structural conditions that shaped Durga puja and Kolkata’s public culture in the 20th century and the internal shifts in artisanal practice at Kumartuli to understand how these material and social contexts may have informed the contemporary symbolic representations of Kumartuli in the media-tourist-entertainment economy. It draws its analytical frames from a whole body of urban studies scholarship that has 3 Here

I have only looked at online content on travel, tourism and photo-walks and read them from a critical urban studies lens informed by the writings of Henri Lefebvre, on the social and cultural productions of space. Lefebvre argues that ‘space is a social product, or a complex social construction (based on values, and the social production of meanings) that affects spatial practices and perceptions.’ This argument was meant to shift perspective from space to processes of its production. For a fuller explication of Lefebvre’s critical study or urban space see, Lefebvre (1991). 4 McDermott (2011) provides a good summary of most of the Durga Puja/Kumartuli debates in the Bengali Press from the early 20th century onwards. 5 Here I have in mind the recent work of Moumita Sen who looks at the ways in which kumars have negotiated questions of identity, hierarchy and power and status through the practice of their craft. Sen presents an interesting case on how the changing nature of craft can lead to significant changes in individual status and identity. See, Sen (2016: 216–239). 6 An argument that complements Sen’s work has been developed by Geir Heirstadt, who like Sen writes about the kumars of Kumartuli the last of the city’s caste based neighbourhoods and examines the impact of economic transformations on the meaning and practice of caste. Caste identity among the kumars he argues, has increasingly turned into an emblem under which caste is practiced, products sold, markets monopolized and political battles fought. This amounts to a commodification of caste. See, Heierstad (2019).

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begun to ask how cities use culture today? What are the interventions in the ‘symbolic economy’ of the city? Sharon Zukin whose work has informed a whole range of critical studies of urban renewal projects for instance, shows how three notions of culture - as ‘ethnicity’, ‘aesthetic’, and ‘marketing tool’ - are reshaping urban spaces in the era of globalization by tying these to a new ‘symbolic economy’ based on tourism, media and entertainment.7 This chapter draws upon these insights to understand how Kumartuli has come to be re-imagined and represented as a distinctive cultural space in contemporary Kolkata. Section 2.1 takes a brief overview of the entangled fates of Calcutta and Kumartuli through their historic location on the banks over the river Hooghly. It draws attention to a study that looks into the historical forces and structural conditions that led to the emergence of Calcutta into flourishing port city and Kumartuli a prime destination for a potters’ settlement. Section 2.2 focuses on the growing significance of Durga Puja in Bengal’s ritual calendar and the city’s public life and the implications of the commercial and aesthetic investments in the ‘theme’ or ‘art pujas’ on the triggering of a ‘cultural nostalgia’ for ‘traditional’ ritual practices and social conventions of Durga Puja including a renewed interest in the clay image modellers of Kumartuli. Section 2.3 looks at the historical legacies of the global visibility and interest in clay image modelling since colonial times. From the clay image modellers of Ghurni in Nadia making a debut at colonial exhibitions of the mid- and late 19th centuries to Gopeswar Pal’s image making spectacle at Wembley in 1924 to the more recent demonstration of a Kumartuli artist at the British Museum, this section looks at the abiding legacy of a western/cosmopolitan interest in live demonstrations of clay image making and the artisan as a living exhibit of India’s rich and dying crafts heritage. Section 2.4 looks at the dominant tropes through which Kumartuli is framed in popular travel writing, and in the curated photo-walks on offer. These I argue, yoke together the visual and discursive frames discussed earlier and invoke Kumartuli as metaphor for the city marked by both historical richness and a ‘surreal’ appeal. I conclude by drawing attention to a body of writing in critical urban studies that points to the myriad ways in which ‘culture’ is deployed to invigorate economic revival in cities facing industrial decline. The contemporary cultural representations of Kumartuli I argue, need long-range studies in the context of the shifting political economy and cultural politics of urban renewal in Kolkata. Such studies would have implications not merely for our understanding of spatial histories of Kolkata but for the lived realities of the ‘kumars’ of Kumartuli whose precarious existence demands public interventions that may or may not derive from the presumed efficacies of cultural tourism.

7 For

a fuller discussion, see Zukin (1995).

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2.1 Kumartuli—A Historic Relic of Colonial Calcutta Situated in the northern reaches of the city in a cramped space between Upper Chitpur Road (renamed Rabindra Sarani) and the river embankments, Kumartuli takes its name from the artisanal community of potters and clay modellers (kumars) who are first said to have settled in the region from a time before the establishment of the colonial city of Calcutta. They made various kinds of utensils and ritual decorative objects as well as human and animal figurine. Soon after these kumars built their reputation from the end of the 18th century around the sculpting of clay images of Hindu deities for household and community worship. Present-day Kumartuli with its dense agglomeration of nearly 500 clay modelling workshops, shanties and residences is situated within a total area of 6.6 acres within a larger 15 acre ward of the same name and stands as one of the oldest settled areas of the Calcutta. It is one of the few surviving examples of a traditional caste-based occupational zone of the kind that existed in various clusters of the old 18th- and 19th-century city. The lack of development of this quarter—the makeshift hutments and the terrible conditions of living and working– has pushed Kumartuli to be registered as a bustee or slum in contemporary municipal records.8 At the same time, the homogeneity of the caste group residing here (with the surname Pal) several among them descendants of the Pals of Krishnagar and Shantipur in Nadia, and the persistence among them of an unbroken hereditary trade of image making in clay has made this bustee a unique location in the city. The definition of slum under section 3 of the Slum Area Improvement and Clearance Act 1956, is ‘a residential area unfit for human habitation by reasons of dilapidation, overcrowding, faulty arrangements of streets, lack of ventilation, light and sanitation or any combination of these factors which are detrimental to health, safety and morals’. Locally referred to as bustees there are both authorized and unauthorized slums. Kumartuli is recognized as an ‘authorized slum’ in the ‘thika tenant category’ where slum dwellers have taken possession at a fixed rent and constructed their shelters.9 It is in this bustee that the art of sculpting clay idols has continued over generations following a largely unchanged method. The first stage consists of constructing a wooden frame on which is mounted a bamboo armature which is in turn transformed into a straw stuffed mould that is secured to the frame by nails to form the inner core of the image. The mould thereafter is layered with many varieties of alluvial clay mixed with straw and jute chips prepared in different densities to create torsos, limbs and face. A critical ritual purity is attached to this medium of unfired clay—that clay, primarily earth and water, is seen to be most pure and most suitable for the bodies and faces of the gods. In a recent study titled “Caste Entrepreneurship and the Illusions of TraditionBranding the Potters of Kolkata” 2019, Geir Heierstad draws attention to the entangled histories of colonial Calcutta and Kumartuli with a sharp focus on the location 8 Source: 9 For

Census of India (2011, pp. 24–25). a detailed study of the clay artisans or mritsilpis of Krishnagar see, Chakraborty (1985).

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of both on the banks of the Hugli.10 He argues that it’s the singularity of the establishment of colonial Calcutta by the river and the settlement of Kumartuli in close proximity to its banks that allow us to understand the development of Kumartuli in its present location. Any early map of the area in its earliest renditions would indicate that on a slight eminence on the eastern side of the river Hooghly or Ganga as it is also known there existed three villages, Sutanuti, Kalikata and Gobindapur. The main village in terms of inhabitants was Gobindapur, while Sutanuti was a marketplace mostly for cotton goods. Kalikata was probably the smallest and may have been the site for a yearly or seasonal market. All three areas belonged to an administrative area named the twenty-four parganas. The villages were under the control of the Muslim ruler, the Nawab of Bengal and tax collection controlled by Hindu zamindars. The actual age of the villages is uncertain, but their existence is attested to around 1550 when one family of Seths and four families of Basaks all merchants from the weaver caste arrived in Gobindapur from the upriver port of Satgaon.11 Satgaon was, along with Chittagong, one of the two major ports of Bengal when the Portuguese arrived in 1518. The two families, it is argued, moved from Satgaon to Sutanati due to the gradual silting up of the river and because the Gobindapur villages were situated at a place that could still be easily reached from the Bay of Bengal12 The settlement of these families of the Seths and Basaks at Sutanuti helped it emerge as important new market for cotton. Moreover, almost directly opposite on the other bank of the river the temporary town of Betor had been established to service the traders during the season. Sutanati’s pre-eminence got a further boost when in 1557 the Portuguese received permission from the Mughal emperor Akbar to found a settlement at the town of Hooghly further up the river. Thus, as Heierstad observes, Betor lost its importance became largely abandoned and trade transferred to Sutanati. The Portuguese however lost their control over Hooghly when it was captured by Akbar’s successor Shah Jahan who disliked the presence of infidels and the Portuguese inability to fulfil their part of the bargain to halt piracy in 1632. This ended Portuguese the dominance of the area. Further south of the Seths and the Basaks’ new home resided the Sabarna Raichaudhuris who were the zamindars of that area. The Seths, Basaks and Sabarnachaudhuris all had their ancestral homes further up the river. Thus, the elevation along the Ganga with marshes and salt lakes on three sides was a thriving market and port, joining upstream and inland Bengal with the world at large more than a hundred years before the British made it their foothold in Bengal. Heierstad notes that although it is hard to find any indications of how large either Sutanuti or Gobindapur was during this time particularly around 1690, the existence of residing kumbhakars13 is highly possible. Gobindapur must have been a rather large residential village with both nearby markets and the Kalighat temple, which as the most important in Bengal attracted a large number of pilgrims. The kumbhakars’ 10 Geir

Heirstad, 2019, pp. 56–60. p. 57. 12 Ibid., p. 58. 13 Also known as kumars in colloquial Bengali. 11 Ibid.,

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products were needed for both domestic and ritual use. It is difficult to establish from where the pre-1757 kumbhakars came but some contemporary kumars believe they came from the Rarh region (between the western plateau and highlands) probably from Birbhum district. With the establishment of a British trading post in the region, the life of the early Seths–Basak–Raichaudhuri settlements and that of the migrant kumbhakars would undergo a dramatic transformation.14 Heierstad follows the shifting morphology of these settlements and markets by the river through the history of the power struggles between the Portuguese, Dutch and English East India Companies with the Mughal Emperor and the nawabs of Bengal between 1612 and 1690 when the English East India Company was finally able to establish its dominance in the region. He argues that this history of the peculiar configuration of a riverine space is not only key to understanding the significance of the development of Calcutta as a preeminent port city but also the development of a colony of kumbhakars whose production of both ritual and domestic pottery was contingent upon the easily availability of particular kind of riverine clay.15 Heierstad argues that due to its location on the navigable Hooghly and the safety provided by the British Calcutta turned into what Ulf Hannerz called an ‘urban swirl’ a metropolis of high cultural complexity, a place of unusually lively cultural production. It attracted people from all over Bengal and the rest of India as well as from China and Europe.16 Gobindapur with its adjoining markets was a meeting place and a crossing point of flows that reached most parts of the world. It is exactly these factors that constitute the major structural conditions that made it possible for the kumars to make Kumartuli what it is today- a global market place for the traditional caste-based occupation of clay image making. But if these were the structural conditions that allowed Kumartuli to become a distinctive commercial space in later years, it needed the critical mediation of the public Durga Puja in the city and the orientation of clay image modelling toward the market in order to transform it from a space of traditional artisanal production to a one of modern circulation, exchange and consumption.

2.2 The Public Life of Durga Puja and the Impulses of ‘Cultural Nostalgia’ The most important historical indicator of Kumartuli’s existence in written records is the name of the neighbourhood Kumartuli. The basic units of settlement in the city of Calcutta were paras or localities. These were organized around caste, professions or migrants from a given village. Smaller than the paras were the tolas or enclaves of professional groups. A small tola was given the name of tuli, which is its diminutive 14 Ibid.,

p. 59. is the particular kind of ‘entel mati’ or clayey, dough-like soil that lends itself to easy moulding. 16 Ibid., p. 60. 15 This

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form. Kumartuli is such a locality, at the same time it was used by the colonial administrators to designate a larger thana or police station around which the unit was organized.17 This area acquired significance in the course of the expansion of the city in the years following Plassey (1757) when it became part of a settlement of native landowning and comprador elite. It is through the social and political life of this elite, their trades, their growing wealth, patterns of consumption, competition for social and political power that Kumartuli acquired a new place in the city’s history and urban imaginary. Central to this strand of the story is the emergence of Durga Puja as a site of elite consumption, social power and religio-cultural identity. Most scholars agree that Kumartuli’s history is difficult to trace and several contradictory notes on it exist. Little is written about the kumars and Kumartuli in documentation from British India since the kumars did not partake in any business or occupation that catered to the British population in any significant way. They made their products mainly of clay for an indigenous population. Thus in the gazetteers, statistical records, correspondence, kumars or Kumartuli is rarely mentioned. When it comes to the Durga Puja however, there is much more documented information. In paintings and writings, foreigners and locals alike have described the puja in several interesting formats. Although there are several competing stories relating to the origins of the puja in the city, there is consensus among most writers and commentators is that it was a festival popularized by Raja Krishnachandra of Nadia (1710–1782). The Raja was granted the title of Maharaja in 1728, and he established his capital in Krishnanagar where a former ruler had built a palace. As part of his religious duties, the Raja ordered the arrangement of pujas at the palace and in the capital at large. It is known that he frequently gave orders to his subjects to organize Kalipujas or face harsh penalties. Krishnanagar was famous for the celebration of Kalipuja in more than thousand homes. But Krishnachandra also popularized the autumnal Durga Puja and introduced a slew of new aesthetic and ritual conventions with it. One of these conventions was that of the immersion of the clay idol following the completion of the five-day ritual worship. This in fact was the single most important driver of the conventions of annual clay image making as a new professional practice among the community of potters and the reason for their seasonal migration to the city every autumn.18 In the context of Kolkata, it was Raja Nabakrishna Deb at Sovabazar Rajbari in North Kolkata who inspired by Krishnachandra brought it to the city in 1757. It should be mentioned however that some families of Kolkata like the Sabarna Raichaudhuris of Barisha probably arranged their own Durga Puja from 1610. Still it is hard to place this household puja into the contemporary genealogy of the Durga Puja in its more public avatar. The Durga Puja as we know it came to Kolkata in 1757. Kumars who were brought to the city from Krishnanagar made the images;

17 Banerjee 18 A

(2016: 54–5). point made compellingly by Chakraborty (1985).

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and this is the beginning of the Kumartuli of image makers whose relatives still live and work here.19 The growing symbolic charge of the festival played out in the material demands made on the ritual celebration of the puja, central to which was the idol of Ma Durga and the rituals surrounding its worship for five long days. It has to be noted at this point that Kumartuli’s changing character as a growing settlement of migrant clay image makers took shape in the context of the scale and location of the Durga Puja celebrations in the native settlement of North Calcutta. While most Durga Pujas in the late 18th and early 19th century took place within the confines of the homes of the North Calcutta elite, it is some time in the mid-19th century that a nascent form of public puja through private subscriptions became the order of the day. The birth of the baroiyari puja in the mid 1830s with twelve friends in Guptipara in the district of Hooghli organizing a puja in a public premise by raising subscriptions, marked the first entry of the Goddess Durga into the city’s public spaces and her worship a public act.20 The 20th century emergence of the larger subscription-based ‘sarbojanin’ puja pushed this phenomenon into a different level altogether. Anjan Ghosh read this insertion of Bengal’s autumnal festival into the public life of the city away from the interiors of elite households as part of the singularity that marked the colonial genealogy of India/Bengal’s ‘vernacular modernity’. He argued that the ‘community mediated public domain’ since the end of the 19th century created a space between state and civil society that served as arena for ritual acts and performance. Clearly it was in the ‘realm of the symbolic and the performative that the will of the public was increasingly articulated under colonialism’.21 It was thus this shift of the Durga Puja from the realm of private-to-public worship that rendered it into a site of both communitarian aspirations and intense social competition- a site of consumption, revelry and rivalry.22 Durga Puja also became the iconic site for the articulation of a new Bengali Hindu identity. Sociological inquiry into the implications of the public nature of the Durga Puja has also drawn attention to the fact that from this point onwards the puja could no longer be discussed solely through a history of religion and ritual in Bengal, or tell the story the makers of the clay image of the Goddess wanted to, through the conventions of craft or folk art history. Kumartuli, as a place and its artisans who made the images of the Goddess were now integral to a history of the city, the adaptations of a caste-based occupational group to the forces of the market and colonial urban modernity.23 In recent times, academic discussions on the Durga Puja have however turned attention on two distinctive aspects of its public life in the city. First its transformation into a ‘public art festival’ and second its generation of a very new kind of engagement with the city. In his critical review of art historian Tapati Guha-Thakurta’s lavishly 19 This

is the standard version that finds acceptance in most histories of the advent of in Calcutta. Ghosh (2000: 289–99). 21 Ibid. 22 A running argument in McDermott (2016). 23 Heierstad (2019). 20 See

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produced book on the subject, Manas Ray writes that although acknowledged in sociological literature, very little has actually been written on the puja as ‘public culture’. Guha-Thakurta’s work redresses that lack of attention to the public life and visual culture of the festival.24 Her lens is on the churnings of the city’s ‘vernacular modernity’ and the connected histories of popular art production and spectatorship in the city. The book focuses on the turn of the millennium when ‘art of theme pujas’ driven by massive corporate investments came of age. Guha-Thakurta brings together the myriad forces, structures and institutions and individuals and groups that have shaped the contours of the Durga Puja as a ‘public art spectacle’. The main focus of the book she argued was the ‘spectacular visual metamorphosis’ of the city of Calcutta, every autumn season, in an orchestrated build-up that culminates in the week-long annual celebration around the ‘home-coming’ of goddess Durga with her family.25 This spectacular visual metamorphosis of both the puja and the city was rooted in the artistic investments made by organizers in the physical space where the Goddess is worshipped. These are largely patches of common ground in the city where the old style pandal or marqee housing the goddess is replaced by themed installations invoking places, ideas, concepts or political statements far removed from the ritual aspects of worship. The ‘theme’ as it has come to be known has come to connote that part of the puja that invites new forms of public scrutiny, discussion, spectatorship and simple aesthetic enjoyment. Theme pujas transformed the city into a vast ‘exhibitionary complex’.26 Corporate funding demanded the creation of different publics as ‘viewers’ and footfalls became a new metric for the assessment of the popularity of hundreds of neighbourhood pujas. The development of the ‘exhibitionary complex’ posed a new demand that everyone should not just see the ostentatious facades of a Victoria Memorial or the pyramids of Giza but understand the significance of the choice of a particular ‘theme’ and the artistic skills that went into its making. The role of a new group of cultural interlocutors within each neighbourhood puja thus became important. They positioned themselves as ‘spokespersons’ or representatives in the media who were assigned the task of explaining ways in which a particular ‘theme’ spoke to India’s history, politics, aesthetics, tradition, culture, heritage or environment. In the course of documenting, nearly two decades of Kolkata’s theme and art puja Guha-Thakurta identified the crucial shift at the turn of the millennium. From the gaudy fantasy of make-belief and ‘erratic assemblages’ she argues, there was a gradual move toward more coordinated spaces of art and craft as the first decade of the millennium progressed.27 The popularity of the theme and art puja heralded the coming into being of new aesthetic values associated with Durga Puja. This was enthusiastically aided by electronic and print media, which along with corporate patrons of the pujas found 24 Ray

(2017: 1–39). (2015a). 26 Ray (2017, p. 4). 27 Guha-Thakurta (2015b, pp. 199–246). 25 Guha-Thakurta

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new opportunities for certain kind of self-profiling or branding of both the festival and the city. Kolkata’s branding as a city of festivals became part of a collective civic and commercial project involving the state government, corporate groups and nonprofits.28 The unifying theme of these initiatives was not just about the festival but also about the rediscovery and enjoyment of the city. As Manas Ray put it succinctly, “Each season Durga Puja Puja offers a new city to be discovered and traversed. The city of festival becomes a liminal site for imaginary journeys in times and space across India and the globe inculcating new tastes in archaeological tours, heritage viewing and art and craft consumption. One both un-learns and re-engages with the city”.29 The festival’s integration into the spatial topography for Calcutta produced in the process a specific form of identity and identification between the new form of the Durga Pujas and the new face of the metropolis. Guha-Thakurta’s focus on the festival, its visual transformations and its mediations in the shaping of the city is instructive. This reconfiguration of the city she argues is the product of a new ‘set of affects of identification and belonging that are forged through changing practices of touring and spectatorship.’ For each year the city of the festival becomes a fluid site for popular travel, heritage viewing and art and craft consumption.30 While I follow the main arguments of Guha-Thakurta’s reading of Durga Puja both through its internal dynamics and the relations the festival has forged with its publics via changing practices of touring and spectatorship, I try to argue that the new practices of craft consumption honed through the ‘theme’ pujas also reconfigured Kumartuli as a space for cultural consumption for a new generation of cosmopolitan aesthetes. The exhibitionary values invested in the public sites of the Durga Puja in the city, I argue were also overlaid on the specific site of Kumartuli where the clay images of the Goddess were made over centuries. The new discursive investments made in the cultural value of ‘Kumartuli’ were often prompted by what has been described as ‘cultural nostalgia’ for spaces of unalloyed craft production far removed from the razzmatazz of theme-driven marquees and art installations.31 The commercialization of community Pujas has fuelled a collective yearning for more traditional form of the Pujas. The search for novelty has invariably spurred a search for authenticity. This nostalgia has benefited the Pujas of Calcutta’s bonedi baris, the repositories of tradition and aristocratic sensibilities, in particular.32 While the turn to nostalgia triggered by the excesses of the ‘theme’ pujas had specific implications for a renewed interest in other sites of tradition, Kumartuli in particular, I try to look at a longer history of Kumartuli’s transformation into a site 28 Ibid. 29 Ray

(2017, p. 37).

30 Guha-Thakurta draws attention to new forms of organized festival tourism begun both by the state

government in 1995 and later by private non-profits. These efforts saw a surge in the years around 2008–9, pp. 330–331. 31 Rachel Fell McDermott, pp. 35–37. 32 Ibid.

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of cultural nostalgia and aesthetic curiosity triggered by its own dynamics of artistic innovation and adaptation, its closer integration with an organized market economy and the survival of a long nurtured political, economic and aesthetic discourse on the Indian craftsman. While much of this reframing of Kumartuli can be attributed to the shifting iconography of the clay image of the Goddess and to the academic and media interest in the lives of its craftsmen and women, it may also be argued that the greater infusion of ‘art’ in the Durga Puja installations spurred a simultaneous revival of interest in the cult of the craftsman- a long cherished figure in the nationalist imagination and a driving force behind the new surge of cultural nostalgia. It is this reaffirmation of Kumartuli as an authentic site of unalloyed craft, aligned to the festival ‘exhibitionary complex’ but not quite integral to it that has acquired a new link to the city’s past, its heritage.

2.3 Kumartuli and the ‘Cult of the Craftsman’ Scholars focused on the ‘modernization’ of a traditional caste-based occupation of clay image modelling in Kumartuli are hard pressed to define the specific time, nature and terms of this ‘modernity’. Could the modernization of Kumartuli be traced through the lineages of its relationship with the market when the older practice of kumars making idols in the houses of patrons gave way to the supply of readymade images to prospective buyers at Kumartuli itself? Or could the ‘modernization’ of Kumartuli be more appropriately located in the disruptive artistic innovations wrought upon the conventions of ritual clay image modelling by the individual genius of Gopesvar Pal? The prevailing tendency is to look at both in tandem even though Gopeswar Pal’s breakaway from ritual convention and his recasting the Durga image along a purely individual artistic choice had little to do with the overt demands of the market. Having said that it is clear from its later ramifications that his singular act of defiance found legitimacy only through the market. While this debate is interesting for scholars looking at how specific modernizing impulses shaped aesthetic conventions and impacted a traditional caste-based occupation, my focus in this section is on understanding how such changes symbolically reconfigured Kumartuli as an unstructured, informal exhibitionary space.33 I try to understand how the exhibitionary possibilities of clay imaging making first discovered by British colonial art administrators had a role to play in the contemporary configurations of Kumartuli as a artisanal enclave open to public display. I retell the story of Gopeswar Pal and more particularly his visit to the Colonial Exhibition at Wembley in 1924 to locate the implications of his visit within a larger global interest in the Indian artisan from the mid-19th century onwards.

33 Though not formally part of the ‘spectatorial complex’ defined by the theme pujas in the city, Kumartuli has come to be included within a larger exhibitionary complex through new efforts at organizing tourism in the area.

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At this point it may be useful to look at these two forces of individualization and commercialization briefly. I draw much of the story of Pal from the recent study of Geir Heierstad. Heierstad points out that though the story of Gopeswar Pal is fairly well known among contemporary potters in Kumartuli, differences lie in the details of his individual motivations or aspirations as a craftsman/artist or the moment of his transition from one identity to another. What we now know about Gopeswar Pal from various versions of life is this. Gopeswar Pal was born in Nadia in 1896 to a potter’s family. His father died when he was a child and he learnt the craft from his maternal grandfather. Besides learning to make ritual pottery it is surmised that Gopeswar also learned the art of clay-doll making from his grandfather. He honed his skills as he apprenticed with another potter Ramnrisingha who was also a well-known clay image modeller associated with the Panchakot royal family. Gopeswar acquired success and reputation at a young age and was known in Krishnagar, Nabadwip and Ranigunj.34 At this point the story becomes a little hazy. It seems, around the age of twentyfour, Gopeswar travelled to Calcutta in search of a full-time job. It was in Calcutta that he is said to have chanced upon a newspaper advertisement calling participants from artisanal communities to the British empire Exhibition to be held in Wembley, London, 1924–5. It is now established that what made Gopeswar’s journey to Wembley possible was his selection to represent India by Percy Brown, Principal Government Art College Calcutta. This was because of Pal’s demonstrated skills of clay sculpting and his extraordinary ability to sculpt the likeness of any person or matter in minutes. Gopeswar lived up to his reputation at Wembley as was evident from reports in British newspapers. He made a horse’s head in forty-five seconds and a statue of the Duke of Cambridge in an astonishingly short time. He was put in a room with glass walls so that spectators could see him at work. Following his stint at Wembley he went on a sponsored visit to Italy where he visited a few ateliers and learnt the techniques of sculpting in bronze and stone. On returning to Bengal, Gopeswar decided to stay on in Calcutta and open a workshop in Kumartuli. His reputation as an eminent sculptor grew in Calcutta, and in 1932–33, he was requested to make the idol for the Kumartuli Sarbojanin Puja. While the ‘ekchala’ or single frame Durga with her family was the rule, Gopeswar seized the opportunity of launching the trend representing the deities as separate idols. In addition to this radical departure in the iconographic convention of representing Durga, Gopeswar added another deviation. He wanted to capture the action of Durga killing Mahishasur and completely overturn the practice of representing the static image of Durga’s power. His representation of both Durga in realist mode and Mahisha in the styles of Greek sculpture completed the ritual and aesthetic disruption that Kumartuli had never seen. While this disruption, predictably drew censure and disapproval from priests, purists and old style aristocratic or bonedi patrons, Gopeswar’s ‘art er pratima’ was embraced by an emerging market of middle-class consumers. Within his community too, Gopeswar’s new style acquired both legitimacy and popularity in the years to come. 34 Heierstad

(2019, pp. 98–99).

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While this part of the story is well known what is seldom appreciated is the fact that the new demand for custom made Durga idols that Gopeswar’s intervention generated threw up a slew of artistic challenges for the new generation of kumars. They accepted these challenges on the grounds that the break from tradition secured well-paid commissions particularly those that demanded novelty. While it has been observed by scholars that the departure from the iconographic conventions of image making introduced an element of ambivalence in the relationship between the artisans and their images some even grudgingly acknowledging the erosion of the cult value of their workmanship, there was also a feeling of gratification in the growing aesthetic value invested in their images and their artisanal skills.35 This was evident in the growing public interest in the lives and craftsmanship of the Kumartuli and a new concern for understanding and documenting their practice. Rachel Fell McDermott’s mapping of media discourse on Durga Puja in the city and Kumartuli in particular suggests a range of common concerns.36 While there was much debate on ‘tradition vs. modernity’ in the Durga Puja festivities there was also a growing interest in the shifting dynamics within Kumartuli’s caste-based artisanal practice and the new forces of individual artistry unleashed by the disruptive influence of Gopeswar Pal. There were differing perceptions on such changes, one decrying the collective conventions of artisanal practice and the other lauding the effort to adapt or innovate without losing the moorings of community identity and practice.37 Interestingly, at the heart of many of these media driven concerns about changes in the artisanal practices of Kumartuli lay a deep-seated anxiety about the vulnerability of Indian craft traditions and the Indian craftsman in the face of the forces of industrial modernity. Such anxieties informed both late 19th-century colonial and nationalist discourses on the trajectory of India’s socio-economic development. From George Birdwood to R.C Dutt to Gandhi, historians have observed two broad arguments. The first expressed concern over the plight of the Indian craftsman at large and the other advocated the need to ensure her survival by cultivating a broader public taste for craft consumption. Both concerns demanded greater visibility of the Indian craftsman in the public domain. Saloni Mathur in her book “India by Design” argues that if one were to look closely at the Festivals of India organized in the 1980s in the USA, UK or Soviet Union one would notice that for curators and cultural practitioners one important recurrent feature of such exhibitions was the display of not only the ‘products’ of India’s art and craft heritage, but also of artisans demonstrating their skills before a live audience. Touted as displays of the ‘living heritage’ of India the convention of taking a live craftsmen to an exhibitionary site has a long controversial history that can be traced back to the Colonial Exhibitions of the late 19th century. The phenomenon of the Indian craftsmen on display who represent through their physical presence the meeting between industrial society and pre-industrial modalities 35 Ibid;

p. 101. Fell Mcdermott, pp. 251–54.

36 Rachel 37 Ibid.

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of indigenous crafts has an extensive history in South Asia. Mathur explores the intersection of a number of discrete discourses and practices economic, commercial, aesthetic and ethnographic that have created this powerful symbolism of the Indian craftsman. Variously held up as an ‘ancient repository’ of hereditary skills, the key to an indigenous social and political economy and the ‘symbol of difference’ of the modern Indian nation , the idealized figure of the craftsman as a ‘homogenous, male and aesthetically pure also emerged at the centre of a nationalist discourse as a symbol of the damage done to pre-industrial society by the forces of modernization’.38 Gopeswar’s enthusiastic reception by the audience at the Colonial Exhibition at Wembley, resonated with these discourses and continued to inform nationalist representations of Indian craftsman in the years following India. Whether Tulsiram before him or Jaidev Baghel after him, Gopeswar Pal was perceived to embody a living tradition of India while being individual and innovative at the same time.39 He was part of that longer history of colonial and nationalist engagement with the native craftsman whose life and work continued to inspire respect and invoke empathy. Whether as a consequence or a backlash to the overwhelming public interest in the ‘art’ of the theme puja or the innovative interventions in the image making practices by art college educated students, one might argue that there is evidently a growing public interest in both Kumartuli as a historic neighbourhood of the city and Kumartuli craftsmen as a vulnerable social group whose traditions needed to be documented and preserved as part of the city’s cultural heritage. It was the writer Anita Agnihotri’s book on Kumartuli published in the early 2000s that invited popular attention to the artisans of Kumartuli, their history, craftsmanship, their living conditions and the challenges they faced for survival.40 Several other books in that genre followed soon after. Krishna Dutta in her own full-length book on the subject published almost a decade later built upon the same theme but addressed her book ostensibly to a diasporic Bengali readership.41 Dutta’s book marked the reinforcement of a genre of Kumartuli writings in the popular domain that interspersed an objective account of the craft of clay image making with an often reified and romanticized representation of both the craftsmen of Kumartuli and the space they inhabited. The introduction to Dutta’s book in this sense is instructive. She writes, This book is a tribute to the men and women who live and work in the unique and thriving colony of the artisans of Kumartuli and their coworkers in Dompara who create equally fascinating structures of temporary divine abodes of for the Gods. Like the cave paintings of Ajanta near Mumbai and the sculptures of the Sun Temple of Konark these unique and enduring methods of making icons and their stalls at Kumartuli are also parts of our broader artistic and cultural heritage. Since these works unlike stone sculpture or mural painting are essentially ephemeral they are even in greater need of documentation, conservation and special protection.42 38 Mathur

(2007). (2016: 139–59). 40 Agnihotri (2001). 41 Dutta (2016). 42 Ibid. 39 Hacker

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Dutta contended that the Kumartuli story not only needed to be told to a wider diasporic Bengali and global audience but efforts needed to be made to bring the artisans of Kumartuli out of their secluded spaces of work to a wider public domain where their skills could be appreciated before a discerning audience. In the closing sections of her book, she notes with much satisfaction how the British Museum had arranged for a live demonstration of the craftsmanship of Kumartuli in their Great Court in August, 2006. Visitors had the opportunity to observe the process of icon making and the refined ‘artistic skills’ of the artisans from Kumartuli. ‘Most of them’ wrote Dutta, were enthralled to see master craftsman Nemai Chandra Pal and his two assistances Biswajit Chakraborty and Madhu Sudan Pal, create the icon of Goddess Durga and her four children from scratch- imported bamboo, straw and clay.” The Director of the British Museum, Richard Burton too believed it was a rare opportunity to ‘see the skill of Indian craftsmen who could produce a strikingly impressive image of the Goddess Durga and her entourage from very elementary materials and in a very short period of time’.43 Evidently an artisan from Kumartuli in 2016 drew the same kind of interest that his ancestors drew way back in the late 19th century or a little later in 1924. Gopeswar Pal and Nemai Pal were valued not only as artisans who offered their awe-inspiring skills on display but as bearers of a living heritage that needed to be salvaged and preserved before it died out in the face of a rapidly changing world. It’s hard to establish a sequential or causal connection between the discourses of cultural nostalgia, the cult of the craftsman or the enduring anxieties about the ephemeral life of an artisanal heritage, but it is important to note the significance of all three in the shaping of a contemporary nationalist and cosmopolitan interest in Kumartuli as a site of aesthetic contemplation and enjoyment and as framing metaphor for the city itself.

2.4 Kumartuli—Between the Surreal and the Historical One of the most popular mobile travel apps used by tourists all over the world is Culture Trip. The collective effort of a group of travel writers, technologists, tour companies the app as its own descriptive blurb says, ‘Culture Trip is a global start-up operating in travel, media and entertainment. We create stories that reveal what is unique and special about a place, its people and its culture’. We want to inspire people to plan their trips, go beyond their cultural boundaries and connect with the world around them. We aim to bring the world to everyone and bring everyone closer together.44

One of the striking recent entrants into the Culture Trip maps of the city of Kolkata is Kumartuli. Listed as one of the key places to visit in the city along with the Victoria 43 Ibid. 44 https://theculturetrip.com.

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Memorial, Howrah Bridge, the Marble Palace, Jorasanko, Terreti Bazaar and others, the blurb of Kumartuli is instructive. It says, ‘Kolkata’s famous potters’ colony, the only one left of its once flourishing artisan colonies, is an almost ‘surreal’ sight with narrow lanes flagged by seemingly endless shops where sculptors work on a variety of terracotta figures’.45 I draw attention to the word ‘surreal’ used to describe Kumartuli only to argue that it’s a word that resonates in almost every other piece of popular travel writing on the place. It’s a description that appeals to both the discerning traveller and the aesthete. In the paragraphs that follow I look at the recurring trope of the ‘surreal’ deployed to attract the photographer as well as the culture tripper to Kumartuli. Any Internet search on Kumartuli is likely to return hundreds of travel websites offering new walking tours of the city beginning from its northern reaches and then along the river to some of its central commercial districts. There are two clusters of online content that are likely to appear even from a perfunctory survey of these sites. One that treats Kumartuli as a standalone site to be visited and photographed either as part of professional training or amateur interest and the other that encourages a trip to it as part of an introduction to the city’s historical heritage. The common thread that runs through both is a deliberate visual and discursive framing of Kumartuli as Kolkata’s art and museum district, a uniquely rich space for novel cultural experiences. Any random Internet search with the keywords “Kumartuli Photo-Walks” offers thousands of links to western and Indian travel portals, professional training websites, personal blogs, Instagram, Pinterest, Facebook and Twitter as well as to hundreds of online news and features portals. The wealth of visual material on Kumartuli is staggering. There is little on any of these websites or portals that can give us a sense of the history of these photo walks but evidently much of the material relates to age of the Internet and social media. Though professional photographers of the city have included Kumartuli in their albums long before the advent of digital media, the sudden explosion of this photographic interest ties up with the growing corporate interest in the Durga Puja, the state and private investments in organized festival tours, the rise of heritage tours and walks and of course the advent of relatively affordable technology of the phone camera. On the question as to why Kumartuli would be included as a site for the training of photographic skills, there is some suggestion about the unique features of the place for any student learning to shoot in low light. In an article published in the Telegraph in September 2015, it was reported that the veritable invasion of scores of photographers at Kumartuli was proving to be a menace for the artisans in a season when they were at their busiest.46 The image accompanying the article was telling. It showed deep cracks on the clay hand of a Ganesh, allegedly the result of photographers moving around the narrow lanes with large backpacks. This was not an isolated incident as the reporter suggested. Damage to idols as a result of the jostling and peering of photographers keen to take the best shots was becoming routine. On 45 https://theculturetrip.com/asia/india/articles/20-unmissable-attractions-kolkata-india/. 46 Banerjee

(2015).

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asking what made this ‘five acre pocket’ with shacks that stood cheek by jowl an overwhelmingly preferred photographic site, a young photographer said that every photo school and photo club opted for Kumartuli because it gave photographers ample chance to learn about ‘different formations, patterns and light conditions’. Clay models also gave photographers the chance to study lines and patterns that they learnt in their theoretical courses. Finally, the unfinished models and the art of their creation made for surrealistic images that instantly appealed to the eye. Kumartuli in other words was a photographer’s delight a place that offered one the opportunity to both hone one’s skills and tell a visually rich story for popular consumption.47 It is hardly surprising therefore to see the dense assemblages of images of labyrinthine lanes, low lit shacks, bamboo and straw armatures, unfinished clay torsos, tarpaulin sheets, bits of hair and accessories, artisans in various dispositions, some at work, others sitting idle and all of it conjuring up the sense of surreal space that demanded a special kind of aesthetic engagement. This is a theme played up in the second set of framings of Kumartuli in online travel portals. There are once again hundreds of these that appear on a single search and each works to reinforce a similar set of visual and discursive tropes. I read one of these closely as a template that informs several other pieces of the same genre. The structuring of this piece is instructive as it brings together in one coherent narrative the entangled histories of Kumartuli and Kolkata, the cult of the craftsman and rich visual appeal of a surreal space where the sacred and the profane cohabit and collide in relationship of deep ambivalence. In the article that appears on the website of ‘Kolkata City Tours’, a new travel and tour company, Kumartuli is described as a ‘museum district of Kolkata’.48 At Kumartuli its author writes, ‘the colony of potters, you would find almost four hundred sculptors etching through clay brought from the nearby river Ganges to create some of the most fascinating idols of Hindu Gods and Goddesses. A whole army of sculptors, potters, frame decorators and dressers work in harmony with heaps of straw, clay, cheap gold foils, bamboo, beads and mundane things to create art pieces so vivid, stylized and grand that it evokes a lifetime awe’.49 The trope of wonderment and awe is deployed again in the subsequent paragraphs with descriptions of the number of people at work, the types of clay models made and the frenzied creativity that marks the busiest season of the year. ‘You can peep into the workshops” it says invitingly “any time of the year” to see how the sculptors start with building the frame out of the wood, bamboo and straw and then add layers of clay dug out from the riverbeds of the Ganges’.50 The article then goes into a historical description of the origins of Kumartuli as one of colonial Calcutta’s old trade quarters. In three short paragraphs, we are taken through the lay out of the city, the establishment of a potters’ colony near the residential quarters of the city, the advent of Durga Puja and the arrival of a new 47 Ibid. 48 Kolkacitytours.com. 49 Ibid. 50 Ibid.

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migrant community of clay image makers, the spatial shifts of the puja away from the thakurdalans of aristocratic homes into a new public sphere and more significantly the impact of all these on the ‘making of the idols’- the wondrous transformations in the iconography of Durga, her children and the Mahishasur. Evidently the piece draws upon both the vast reserves of both old and new academic writing on Kumartuli as well as on the popular pieces from newspapers and other media. From the academic inquiries, it takes the historical content and from the more popular it draws upon the reframing of the Kumartuli artisans as sculptors. Kumartuli is first introduced as a relic of the earliest history of colonial Calcutta. This is meant to add the first layer of appeal to the discerning visitor, conscious of culture and history. When the British East India Company allotted neighborhoods to the Indian workmen in the early 1760s they acquired much of present North Kolkata and divided them into work-related quarters. So, Chhutorpara was for carpenters, Suripara for wine sellers and Coomartolly (Kumartuli) was for potters. It is fascinating to discover the work of the artisans who carry on the area’s 300-year-old tradition of craftsmanship… In Kumartuli, the potters have weathered the storms of economic change, giving rise to generations trained in the craft of idol making. Some can reportedly trace their family history back to before the foundation of the city itself in 1757. Initially, they shaped clay pots, toys and cooking utensils before moving onto the more lucrative business of creating lavish sculptures for the mansions of Indian aristocrats and local festivals or pujas.

‘With the rise of nationalism’ and ‘the culture of the babus fading out’, the writer goes on. Durga Pujas started dwindling but the breath of fresh air came when the Sarbojanin Durgotsavs were initiated in early decades of 1900. These Durga Pujas were organized by commoners, primarily cultural clubs and organizations to bring Durga Puja out of the mansions of the Babus to the common man’s makeshift temples called Pandals. The Sarbojanin Durga Pujas (Puja by the commoners – for the commoners) caught the imagination of the Benagalee populace. Within the turn of the century, nearly 5000 Durga Pujas were being held in Kolkata alone and the sculptors of Kumartuli are creating masterpieces in clay to adorn the Pandals of Kolkata.51

There are two interesting shifts in the narrative that need to be pointed out. First potters or kumars of Kumartuli are no longer referred to as such, the shifting scale of Durga Puja transforms them into ‘sculptors’ and second, what they now produce are not mere idols but ‘masterpieces in clay’. In the enthralling historic quarter of Kumartuli in Kolkata, potters create lavish idols of deities for religious festivals. Its winding lanes are home to an artistic community that carries on a centuries-old tradition. A historic quarter with a centuries old tradition is thus firmly established. But what follows from this historic detour is more instructive. The author switches gear and becomes not the distant observer of Kumartuli but an engaged ethnographer immersed in the sights and sounds of the place as she walks through it and tells its story through a new personalized sensual register. This segment of the story is told through a series of intimate pictures with short evocative captions. Thus begins the journey. 51 Ibid.

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M. Mazumdar It is the early hours of a pleasant morning in North Kolkata, and the sun casts a welcome light upon the labyrinthine streets of Kumartuli. I had made an early start, keen to escape from the chaotic noise and crowds of the city’s urban sprawl to explore these historic streets. It is here in these narrow lanes that potters diligently hand craft sumptuous idols of Hindu gods for a myriad of religious festivals. So far, it hadn’t disappointed.52

What follows are a series of tropes that have constructed Kumartuli as a visually exciting and disturbing space at once. At the heart of these short narrative assemblages are clusters of images of narrow lanes, ramshackle workshops, rows and rows of unfinished idols in awkward states of nakedness and incompleteness, bamboo and straw armatures, unpainted bodies and headless torsos displayed in their grey dreariness, scattered bits of hair, jewellery and general workshop clutter. An unfinished idol displayed right at the very entrance to the lane evokes in her a strange thrill. The gaudy yet fearsome figure of the Goddess Durga looms before me, resplendent in scarlet and gold. She raises a hand imperiously, her black hair tumbles down over her seven other extended arms as she straddles a Bengali tiger. This regal hauteur is at odds with her surroundings; a humble shanty workshop with dusty tables strewn with tools and pots of paint. The floor is scattered with straw that crackles beneath my feet and only a sheet of tarpaulin covers the slender wooden beams overhead.53

The squalor is ubiquitous. Yet inside a workshop or just somewhere on the thresholds we are told or shown the brilliant kumars, the unassuming artisans immersed in making of their masterpieces. They either acknowledge her presence with a smile or let her pass without any signs of disapproval. This is their home but it’s a public space too and in between the tiny niches they call their workshops are their spare living quarters. For the author, it’s hard to escape the sights and smells of domesticity amid the squalor and clutter. There are glimpses of gas stoves and chullahs awkwardly placed between the clutter, the billowing vapours from pots of cooking rice, the crackling of spices and chillies in frying pans. This is home, studio and survival. The historic, aesthetic and emotional appeal of Kumartuli is given its final touches with a poetic embedding of the space in the soul of the city. Kumartuli is Kolkata, Kolkata is Kumartuli. A wander through Kumartuli offers an engrossing insight into the city’s artistic heritage. But be warned, the area also bears the signs of poverty and squalor that continues to plague, and in many Western minds, define Kolkata. The maze of lanes offers a curious image juxtaposing the sacred and the profane as pieces of rubbish and plastic dot the ground alongside the flamboyant effigies.54

Yet, the writer goes on to conclude, what one could see from the winding paths of Kumartuli, were the riverbanks of the mighty river Hooghly. Here, a very different type of awe-inspiring sight awaited the eye. The crumbling gothic mansions of the British Raj and the Bengali gentry overlook the river and echo the faded grandeur 52 Ibid. 53 Ibid. 54 Ibid.

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of the city’s past. It is hard not to draw the comparison between the demise of this opulent lifestyle and the survival of the creative community of Kumartuli. Kumartuli may bear the marks of the decline of the older grandeur of the city but it knows that its artistic riches lay unscathed.55 This identification of Kumartuli with the vicissitudes of the city’s past with the surreal appeal of its present is the crucial link that brings together the multiple narratives on Kumartuli and Kolkata to a neatly structured end. Kumartuli is a place to be explored, to be experienced not only as the museum district of the city, but also as the soul of the city itself. This is merely one of the hundreds of descriptive pieces on Kumartuli, but it is one that sets the tone and frames the template for all. These pieces tend to suggest that if Kumartuli needed to be branded it had to foreground both its historical past and its timeless aesthetic appeal as a space where craft, piety and the human spirit found their fullest expression.

2.5 Concluding Remarks What I have argued thus far is that although its hard to figure out the exact reserves of historical and cultural knowledge that inform the discourses around Kumartuli and cultural tourism, it is not particularly difficult to trace the history of its specific rhetorical affects. There are clear indications of the traffic in images, discourses and tropes deployed to understand the spatial significance of Kumartuli in the history of Kolkata and the aesthetic and ritual significance of the Kumartuli in the life of the city’s biggest autumnal festival. This productive exchange between academic and popular discourses on the city on the one hand and the festival on the other has served to reconfigure Kumartuli as a space to be visited for a distinctive form of cultural consumption. This re-imagination and representation of Kumartuli needs to be understood in the context of the larger shifts in the city’s political economy as well as its cultural politics wherein economic and political investments in the Durga Puja have acquired unprecedented growth and global visibility.56 Although these aspects of the Durga Puja have been discussed in studies such as those by Tapati Guhathakurta, the ripple effects of the economic scaling up of Durga Puja, its myriad aesthetic and political investments and its global appeal on a space such as Kumartuli, that remains central to the Puja itself, has yet to be studied in depth. Yet it is evident that any study of the cultural reconfigurations of Kumartuli in the context of the twin forces of urban renewal and the cultural politics of a public festival is likely to open up critical questions on the larger history of Kolkata’s urban modernity in the late 20th and early 21st centuries.

55 Ibid. 56 Guha-Thakurta,

see Chaps. 2, 5 and 7 in particular.

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Such historical studies have become staple in the field of critical urban studies that have drawn attention to the ways in which ‘culture’ is used as an economic base for building the symbolic economy of the city culture that can both attract capital and be used as a means for framing space.57 Sharon Zukin as mentioned earlier, has argued that the production of space through critical deployments of culture, either as ethnicity, aesthetics, or as a marketing tool needs to be studied in the context of the structural changes in the urban political economy. Her work in particular looks at the creative deployments of culture in cities that underwent a sharp decline in the aftermath of the larger decline in their manufacturing bases. The deployments of culture in fact became critical to the regeneration of erstwhile manufacturing cities.58 In studies of histories of landscape and space, cultural meanings invested in specific spaces are often gleaned from a range of literary forms and visual practices. Such forms can exist in the realms of both high and popular culture. The literary and visual forms of tourist literature that straddle the intermediate spaces between the two have become new sites for the study of spaces and their cultural inflections. In the particular case of present-day Kolkata, tourist literature indicates that the trajectories of cultural tourism have moved beyond the usual sites of monuments, museums, art galleries and culinary tours to a new appreciation of historic neighbourhoods, streets, lanes that offer glimpses into the city’s creative economy, the unacknowledged sources of its vast reserves of cultural capital. Often these are hitherto known crafts enclaves situated not in the city’s central districts, but on its lesser-developed margins. For Kumartuli and Kolkata, long-range critical studies of the shaping of the city’s symbolic economy are still awaited. What this chapter does is merely point to broad historical contexts that generated specific discursive and visual frames through which Kumartuli could be read and how these in turn could be deployed to brand the city and revitalize its symbolic economy. Whether this insertion of Kumartuli into the city’s symbolic economy revitalizes the traditions of clay image making in Bengal or whether kumars survive the reification of their products and theirselves is hard to tell. Yet it is in the telling of this story that we open up the spaces from where they could perhaps tell theirs.

References Agnihotri, Anita. 2001. Kolkatar Pratimasilpi. Kolkata: Ananda. Banerjee, Tamaghna. 2015. Idols shake in shoot at sight. The Telegraph, 7 (9). https://www.telegr aphindia.com/states/west-bengal/idols-shake-in-shoot-at-site/cid/1495982. Banerjee, Sumanta. 2016. Memoirs of roads: Calcutta from Colonial Urbanization to Global Modernization. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Bose, Pradip. 2008. The heterotopia of Kolkata’s Durga Puja. In Memory’s Gold: Writings on Kolkata, Trans. Manas Ray, ed. Amit Chaudhuri, 291. Delhi: Penguin Viking. 57 Zukin 58 Ibid.

(1995)

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Bennett, Tony. 1988. The exhibitionary complex, New Formations 4 (Spring): 73–102. Census of India. 2011. West Bengal, series 20, Part XII A. In District Census Handbook, Kolkata, Village and Town directory. West Bengal: Directorate of Census Operations. Chakraborty, Sudhir. 1985. Krishnagarer Mritsilpa o Mritsilpi Samaj. Centre for Studies in Social Sciences monograph. Kolkata: K.P. Bagchi. Dutta, Krishna. 2016. Image makers of Kumartuli and the Durga Puja festival. New Delhi: Niyogi Books. Ghosh, Anjan. 2000. Spaces of recognition: Puja and power in contemporary Calcutta. Journal of South African Studies 26 (2): 289–299. https://doi.org/10.1080/03057070050010129. Guha-Thakurta, Tapati. 2015a. In the Name of the Goddess: The Durga Pujas of contemporary Kolkata. New Delhi: Primus Books. Guha-Thakurta, Tapati. 2015b. Chapter 5, The Age of the Theme puja. Hacker, Katherine. 2016. Dismantling of rehabilitating the cult of the craftsman paradigm: Some reflections on Jaidev Baghel’s practice. The Journal of Modern Craft 9 (2): 139–159. https://doi. org/10.1080/17496772.2016.1205280. Heierstad, Geir. 2019. Caste, Entreprenuerhsip and the Illusions of Tradition: Branding the Potters of Kumartuli. London, New York: Anthem Press. Lefebvre, Henri. 1991. The Production of Space. Trans. Donald Nicholson Smith. Oxford: Blackwell Publishers. Mathur, Saloni. 2007. India by Design; Colonial History and Cultural Display. Berkeley, LA, London: University of California Press. McDermott, Rachel Fell. 2011. Revelry, Rivalry, and Longing for the Goddesses of Bengal: The Fortunes of Hindu Festivals. New York: Columbia University Press. Ray, Manas. 2017. Goddess in the city: Durga Pujas of contemporary Kolkata, Modern Asian Studies, 51 (4): 1–39. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0026749X16000913. Sen, Moumita. 2016. Craft identity and hierarchy: The Kumbhakars of Bengal, in The Politics of Caste in West Bengal, ed. Uday Chandra, Geir Heierstad, and Bo. Nielsen, 216–239. New Delhi, London, NY: Routledge. Zukin, Sharon. 1995. Cultures of Cities. Massachusetts, Oxford: Blackwell Publishers.

Chapter 3

Durga Puja in Glasgow John Reuben Davies

Abstract This is an exploration of Durga Puja in Glasgow. By comparing and contrasting Durga Puja in Glasgow with that of contemporary Kolkata, as well as Rachel Fell McDermott’s picture of the puja in the north-eastern USA, the chapter explores the aesthetic tradition, the nature of the pratimas, the religious and community context, and the stated aims of the puja committee. The Muslim dimension of the Bengali diaspora is also brought into consideration, finding overlaps between what is significant to all Bengalis, and identifying how Bengali culture manifests itself in the context of the religious practices of Islam. Language and cultural traditions are important across the diaspora communities, but the fostering of religious and national identity nevertheless results in separate expressions and resources for the promotion of the Bengali Language. The diverse Hindu religious traditions of the Indian diaspora have their different manifestations too. The promotion of the Bengali Language can be viewed as crucial to the identity of the Muslim Bangladeshi diaspora; but for the West Bengali community, it is Durga Puja above all that emerges as the unique focus of identity, creating a ‘home from home’, as well as acting as a means of inclusion for the Bengali-speaking Hindus of Glasgow.

3.1 Introduction During the last decade of the 20th century and first of the new millennium, Rachel Fell McDermott aimed her scholarly attentions at the Hindu goddess-centred traditions of West Bengal. In her second significant study, published in 2011, Revelry, Rivalry, and Longing for the Goddesses of Bengal, she started thinking about the pujas in a transnational context. Training her attentions towards the north-east of the USA, McDermott interpreted Bengali pujas in the North-American manifestation of the Bengali diaspora as an expression of, and vehicle for, nostalgic memories of ancestral home, childhood, family and tradition. McDermott’s work, with its originality and perceptiveness, offered itself as an obvious starting point for this chapter, J. R. Davies (B) School of Humanities, University of Glasgow, Glasgow, UK e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021 S. K. Das et al. (eds.), The Making of Goddess Durga in Bengal: Art, Heritage and the Public, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-0263-4_3

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which sets out to explore the history and contemporary experience of Durga Puja in the Bengali diaspora in Scotland, and specifically Glasgow.1 The point of contrast here is with the celebration of Durga Puja as it happens in contemporary Kolkata, rather than in the Hindu communities of Bangladesh or rural Bengali-speaking areas of West Bengal, because, as we shall see, it is to Kolkata that the Glasgow Bengali community (or at least the puja committee) looks, not least in the procurement of the pratima from Kumartuli. I also look across to McDermott’s portrait of the Puja in New York and the north-eastern USA in order to think about the aesthetic tradition and the relative conservatism of a diaspora culture; the nature of the pratimas, with (semi-) permanent rather than temporary sculptures; the religious and community context, observing aspects of the life of a small minority in a largely culturally Christian, but nevertheless diverse setting; and reflecting on the stated aims of the puja committee, from keeping Bengali customs and traditions alive—especially among the younger generation—to sharing beliefs with other communities in Scotland. A distinction may be drawn with McDermott’s approach, however, in my consideration of the Muslim dimension of the Bengali diaspora. Here, one can look for and notice overlaps between what might be significant to all Bengalis, observing how local circumstances influence traditional ritual, and also recognizing how Bengali cultures can manifest themselves in the context of the religious practices of Islam, which has a greater degree of universality in its practice compared with the much more regional character of Durga Puja. The importance of language across the diaspora communities is one final, but crucial, aspect of the study, as a defining characteristic of the Bengali-speaking West Bengalis and Bangladeshis. From the beginning, however, one must acknowledge that the primary reason for the presence of the first Bengali people in Great Britain, in Scotland, and in Glasgow, as well as the fostering of the undoubted affinity with Great Britain—however the quality of that affinity might be defined—which brought Indians to the UK in the later 20th century, began with the East India Company and its officers in the 18th century. 1 It is sometimes important to know the perspective from which an author approaches their work, and

as the only White British author contributing to this volume, some background might be particularly worthy of explanation. I have attempted to write this study through the eyes of a detached observer. And in most respects, I would consider myself to be an outsider in relation to the West Bengali community in Glasgow, whom I did not know in any great numbers before Durga Puja 2019. As a Welshman educated in England, I have not lived in Glasgow as long as most of the people I have been writing about, or even in my native Britain for as long as some of the Bengali Indian and Bangladeshi people who moved to the UK in the 1960s. Yet I do share the affinities of a fellow resident of Glasgow, with close personal ties to West Bengal, and Kolkata in particular, where (outside the restrictions of pandemic diseases) I have spent several weeks or months every year, since 2011, as the guest of local Bengali family friends. I have, in Kolkata, a well-established social circle, Muslim as well as Hindu, Chinese and Christian, extending from that great cosmopolis into Bangladesh. I am in contact with several of my West Bengali and Bangladeshi friends either daily or weekly. I therefore present this study as someone with a personal investment in Bengal and Glasgow, and a commitment of profound friendship and deep regard towards the people of Glasgow, West Bengal and Bangladesh.

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3.2 The Bengali Diaspora in Scotland and Glasgow Scottish connections with India began in earnest from 1725, when a new system of patronage, operated by the British government, aimed to keep the Scottish peers and representatives in parliament lined up in support of Robert Walpole’s administration (McGilvray 2011). By the time Calcutta had become the headquarters of the East India Company, fifty years later, there were so many Scots employed as writers that one of them wrote to his sister that he was frequently bumping into old acquaintances from home (Bryant 1985: 22). This was the route by which we first learn of native Bengalis arriving in Scotland. Our earliest reference to a person of Bengali origin, however, is not a happy one. A woman called Bell, alias Belinda, was recognized by the Circuit Court of Justiciary sitting at Perth in September 1771, as being the slave or servant of John Johnstone (1734–1795), a prominent tax collector and merchant in the East India Company, who had been based in Calcutta, Dhaka, and latterly Burdwan (Prior 2004; Rothschild 2011, 87–91). Johnstone returned from Bengal with several Indian servants, of whom Bell was one (Rothschild 2011, 21).2 Being accused, but not convicted, of the death of her new-born child, the Bengali servant, described in the record as ‘a black girl who calls herself Bell or Belinda’, was sentenced to be banished to a plantation in the Americas and was committed to Patrick Colquhoun, a Glasgow merchant. Colquhoun was contracted ‘to find a proper opportunity for her transportation’.3 Bell or Belinda arrived in the British Colony of Virginia in 1772 (Rothschild 2011, 91). Perhaps the most consistent inflow of Indians, from the mid-18th century to the mid-20th, was of the poorly paid merchant seamen, known as lascars. Towards the end of the 19th century, there were groups of such Indian sailors, who had jumped ship and formed small colonies in Scotland’s port cities—in Dundee, Edinburgh and Glasgow—taking refuge and seeking employment on British registered merchant vessels (McFarland 1991, 493–515; Maan 2008, 185–214). We know that in 1903, there were around 5,500 Indian seamen on the books of the Glasgow Sailors’ Home (Ansari 2018, 40). So numerous was this group that there was a branch of the AllIndia Union of Seamen in Glasgow by the end of World War II (Ansari 2018: 127). Despite their relatively high numbers, these were nevertheless only sojourners who nearly all returned to India. During the 19th and early 20th centuries, with Glasgow’s trading importance making it a ‘second city of Empire’, we find wealthy Indian princes and noblemen visiting Scotland and being entertained by the Lord Provost of Glasgow—most notably Maharaja Duleep Singh in 1863 (Maan 1992, 66–9). But it is not until the

2 Johnstone

was fluent in Bengali, and this may explain why Bell or Belinda could still not speak or understand English after living in Scotland for several years (Rothschild, 21). It is interesting to note that, as MP for Dysart, Johnstone was known, together with his brother George (1730–1787, MP for various English seats), as an opponent of the slave trade (Rothschild, 22, 321 note 58; Haden-Guest; Fabel). 3 For detailed source references, see Rothschild,368–9, notes 117–122; 454, note 55.

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1870s that we start seeing middle-class Indians resident in the city, as the University began to attract students from the Empire. The first Indian graduate of the University of Glasgow was Gopal Chandra Roy, who arrived from Bengal in 1869 and qualified as a doctor in 1871 (University of Glasgow website). Roy published a paper, ‘On the solvent action of Papaya juice on the nitrogenous articles of food’, in the Glasgow Medical Journal (1874), and this is considered to be ‘most probably the first article written by a native Indian to be published in a foreign journal’ (Roy and Sen 2010, 1848). During the first half of the 20th century, over 1000 Indian students came to the University of Glasgow to study a range of subjects, engineering and medicine being the most popular (University of Glasgow website). Not until the second half of the 20th century, however, did Indian migrants to Great Britain begin to put down roots in significant numbers. For the UK as a whole, Omar Shaikh and Stefano Bonino have analysed the pattern of immigration from the subcontinent in the 20th century as follows (Shaikh and Bonino 2017, 175). 1920s–1947

Early migrants/settlers/pioneers

Mainly Muslims as well as Hindus and Sikhs from pre-partition India

c. 1947–1965

First generation

Those who migrated to the UK from India or Pakistan, of working age and seeking employment, and eventually gained citizenship

c. 1960s–1970s

Second generation

Those who either came to Britain at a very young age (pre-employment) and gained citizenship or were born to first-generation settlers

c. 1965–1980s

Third generation

Children born in the UK to second-generation parents

1990s–2000 onwards

Fourth generation

Children born in the UK to third-generation parents

By 1940, there were 400 Indians living in Glasgow, who were either Sikhs (35%) or Muslims (65%). By 1960, the number of South Asians in Glasgow who had immigrated from the subcontinent had risen to 4000. This figure had trebled a decade later and began to stabilize through the 1980s. Only six per cent of the South-Asianorigin population of Glasgow, however, was Hindu; a yet smaller proportion came from West Bengal.4 In spite of the very small size of the Bengali community, its permanent status by the outset of the 1970s finally impelled its members to re-invigorate their practice of the traditions of the homeland. And so, we find the first beginnings of the celebration of Durga Puja in Glasgow in 1971, the year in which a Mahalaya programme was first inaugurated. After a decade of growth, and the foundation of a Bengali Cultural Association, as well as a puja committee, Durga Puja started to be celebrated fully in Glasgow from 1981 onwards, two centuries after the first Bengalis came to Scotland. 4 For

analysis of the census data, see Bailey et al. (1995).

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3.3 The Claim to a Space not One’s Own In 1970, a ‘sense of adventure’ inspired Brojo Gopal Burman Roy and other Glasgow Bengalis as they came to an instinctive understanding that the Bengali community as a whole was at a critical point and needed to re-embrace its common cultural roots. They had begun to meet at first as an informal organization, gathering in one another’s homes on a weekend, to read, sing, recite poetry, listen to Indian music and discuss politics as India’s ‘new cultural emergence’ got under way; and they also shared meals, holding close once again the Indian manner of living (BSP 2019a). By September 1971, these casual but regular gatherings had led to the idea of the Bangiya Sanskritik Parishad (‘Bengali Cultural Association’, or BSP). Kalyan Basu, B. G. Burman Roy, Gopinath Sen, Gurudas Biswas, Shibdas Chakraborti, Ashok Chakraborti and Pratima Sengupta constituted an executive committee, with Kalyan Basu as the first president. Scotland’s first Durga Puja was inaugurated by Pulak Mukherjee and Dipen Mukherjee in 1981, celebrated at the Glasgow Arts Centre— the former Washington Street School in Anderston—on the edge of Glasgow city centre. From then on, Durga Puja came to be celebrated continuously in the city with the establishment of a Durga Puja committee. The puja is now such an established fixture that Glasgow Life, the cultural arm of Glasgow City Council, gives support to the committee and provides safekeeping in one of its museums for the images used in the Puja. The Glasgow Bengali community is obviously a people living in diaspora, and one can identify among Glasgow’s Bengalis what McDermott recognized in New York as ‘a mental and emotional yearning for “home”; a desire to strengthen bonds of social cohesion; and pride in ethnic identity’ (McDermott 2011, 234). Indeed, the settled Bengali community in Glasgow even refers to itself as ‘We Bengalis abroad’, evidently expressing a sense of being away from home (BSP 2019b, 4). When, in 1981, the Durga Puja committee was founded by Dr. P. K. Mukherjee, his wife, Sheela Mukherjee (the Chairperson of the Puja Committee during the period of the present study, 2019/20), worked for the Race Relations Council and used her contacts there to secure a space for the Bengali community to hold its celebrations at the Glasgow Arts Centre.5 For several years, the Glasgow Durga Puja moved around, from venue to venue. In time, however, Glasgow City Council offered the use of the Couper Institute, an historic municipal building in Cathcart, on the South Side of Glasgow, and this has now become a permanent venue (Fig. 3.1). As a community ‘claiming a space not its own’, the glossy souvenir brochure is an instructive and enlightening exercise in the demonstration of official approbation and encouragement. Messages of goodwill have been obtained from the First Minister of Scotland, the Lord Provost of Glasgow (the Scottish equivalent to a mayor), the Consul General of India in Edinburgh, and in 2019, for the first time, there was a

5 Dr. Pulak Kumar Mukherjee, born in Calcutta in 1938, had emigrated from West Bengal to England

in 1967, moving to Scotland in 1974 to be a consultant psychiatrist for the Lanarkshire Health Board and died at the age of 51 on 16 August 1989 (BMJ).

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Fig. 3.1 Durga Puja at Couper Hall, Cathcart, Glasgow

message from the Prime Minister of the UK, Boris Johnson (BSP 2019b, 6–9).6 In fact, the seeking of these kinds of felicitation from political and national leaders and representatives is a recognized feature of the puja in diaspora. In 2002, McDermott tells us, New York’s Bangladesh Puja Samiti secured letters and photographs from, among others, President George W. Bush; the Governor of New York, George Pataki; and the Mayor of New York City, Michael Bloomberg (McDermott 2011, 227).7 Notwithstanding the high-profile gestures of support and felicitation, and although 6 Mr

Johnson had been Prime Minister for two months by the time of Mahalaya (28 September 2019). He wrote, I send my warmest regards to everyone in Glasgow and across the UK celebrating Durga Puja. Symbolizing the triumph of good over evil, the ceremonial worship of the Goddess Durga is of sacred importance to those of the Hindu faith and is also a wonderful celebration of Hindu traditions, culture and popular customs. On behalf of the UK Government, I send my best wishes to everyone as you come together to enjoy this year’s celebrations.

7 The

suggestion was made by a respondent to this paper, when it was delivered at a symposium in Kolkata that the soliciting and procuring of a letter of felicitation from the Conservative Prime Minister of the UK might imply something about the potential right-wing politics of the Glasgow Durga Puja committee. The likely motivation for seeking the endorsement of the UK Prime Minister, however, can more straightforwardly be explained by comparison with the scenario in New York as described by McDermott. As Mayor of London, Johnson ran on his ‘enthusiasm for London’s “great cultural and ethnic mix,” detailing on his campaign website how his cosmopolitan lineage

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local dignitaries had been invited, there was no evidence of celebrities or local dignitaries appearing at the Glasgow pujas. Meanwhile, private businesses continue to sponsor the puja programme and advertise in the souvenir brochure. That contributions are made at the door, rather than through community subscription, indicates a positive quality of openness in the nature of the events.

3.4 Constitution of Glasgow’s Bengali Community The older generation of Bengali immigrants to Glasgow is made up primarily of doctors and engineers. In the current generation, the engineering has moved in the direction of computer technology, and those Bengalis who are not doctors are often IT specialists. Of the three purohits who celebrated the pujas in 2019, one is a consultant physician, one a consultant surgeon, and the third is an IT specialist, all working for the National Health Service. Although official statistics are not available, a significant majority of Glasgow’s Hindu Bengalis encountered at the Durga Puja celebrations were born in West Bengal (although not necessarily in Kolkata). Only the younger children speak with a local Glasgow accent, and the pattern has been mainly for Bengali women to marry into the ethnographic categories of ‘White Scottish’ or ‘White British’ families. The only ethnically White Scottish/British males observed at the pujas were married to Bengali women, although some ethnic Bengalis born in Scotland in the 1970s have certainly married White British or Irish women. The result is that this is still very much a community which operates in the medium of the Bengali Language at every level, and even the teenagers speak to each other in Bangla and can be seen making video calls to family or girlfriends in India. Membership (£25 per annum per individual/£50 per family/£10 for OAP and students) is open to: – All Bengali speaking (and/or Bengali ethnic origin) residents of the UK. Residents shall include visitors for short period as well. – Spouses and children of ordinary members. – Membership shall also be open to any persons who appreciate and uphold the aims and objectives of the organisation.8 We should also note, however, that there are at least some native Glaswegians of Bengali Brahmin heritage, employed in blue-collar jobs, who have now fallen away from attending the communal puja festivities in Cathcart that had been part of their upbringing. One can also observe that there is no evidence of intra-community disputation. Only one Bengali Durga Puja is held in Glasgow, compared with the scenario in New meant he personified it’, gaining positive coverage even from the UK’s most liberal newspaper (Hill 2011) 8 https://www.bspglasgow.com/membership (accessed 24 June 2020).

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York City (as reported by McDermott), where rival groups are formed ‘when one association splits into two because of quarrels over leadership, finances, organization, or perceived non-inclusiveness on the part of the parent body’ (McDermott 2011: 228). And although there is some journalism comparing Bangal versus Ghoti rivalry (East Bengali versus West Bengali) to the sectarian rivalry between Catholic and Protestant, or Celtic and Rangers football clubs, in Glasgow, there is no evidence of such tensions in the makeup of contemporary Bengali Hindu society in the city (Ahuja 2019). Indeed, the BSP wishes to view the Pujas as a cohesive force for Glasgow, and perhaps Scotland’s Bengali population as a whole. ‘What works wonders to add to the joy of the Pujas’, they say, ‘is we are then able to carry forward the same expressions of joy into the remaining year—whilst we continue to meet, greet and of course, eat, together’.9 Indeed, so cohesive are the pujas seen to be, that ‘no Glasgow Bengali can ever truly be homesick’, since they have ‘the best of home right here, on soil which is no longer “foreign”. Yes, we have the best of both the worlds’ (McDermott 2011: 228).

3.5 Materiality and Visual Aesthetics Like so many cultures in diaspora, the ethos of the Glasgow Bengali community presents a conventional and—in a certain sense—conservative one. This conservative aspect is best seen in the celebration of Durga Puja. At the first Glasgow Durga Puja, in 1981, a painted image in a frame was used rather than the sculpted pratima of tradition, since acquiring and transporting one from India at that time was not possible (BSP 2019a). By 1982, however, the BSP had managed to procure a pratima from Kumartuli. Since this is only one communal celebration of a community in diaspora, and the pratima is not renewed every year, the pratima has always been of a conventional design of the westernized/realist tradition, made of durable and varnished paper pulp. The skin of Maa Durga is a realistic, fair tone; and her features are sweet, naturalistic and plump, with deep red lips and a delicate chin. The image of Durga is therefore conservative in the sense that it is conventional and familiar in aesthetic to any Bengali; she is neither the haldi-mukhi or yellow-faced goddess with turmeric complexion, triangular visage, and almond eyes, of the most religious Kumartuli Silpis, nor the kitsch or avantgarde Durga found in Kolkata’s contemporary themed pandals. As in the USA, images are kept for several years and stored until new ones are commissioned again from India (McDermott 2011: 227). In fact, the Glasgow Bengalis source their pratimas from Kumartuli—so there is some level of ‘brand’ awareness. This again corresponds with McDermott’s observations on Durga Puja in New York (McDermott 2011: 225):

9 https://www.bspglasgow.com/event

(accessed 24 June 2020).

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The images or pratim¯as tend to be made by artisans from Kumartuli in Kolkata, who specialize in the foreign export market and develop images of lightweight materials such as s´ol¯a, plaster of paris, fiberglass, or thermocol. The images I have seen tend to be of the older, static bodies, and stylized green asurs, or Durg¯as with traditional bodies but sweetened faces.

McDermott’s study has also noticed that the Bengalis in diaspora ‘try to stay as close as possible to the traditions of home, duplicating an “authentic” experience of P¯uj¯a as it had been experienced in Kolkata, Dhaka, or the ancestral village’ (McDermott 2011: 225). To this end, we again find that various other ritual items are sourced from India—Ganges water, bel leaves, the almanac and so on. The religious ceremonies in Glasgow are celebrated by two purohits, estimated age mid-to-late 50s. As we have already observed, one is a consultant physician, one an IT specialist working for the National Health Service, and a third purohit, who celebrated at Kali Puja, is a consultant surgeon. The purohits were assisted by about six or seven women aged 60–80 (blowing the conch etc.). The men played the drums and struck the gongs and cymbals while the deity images were being adorned with garlands during the Pushpanjali. The setting for the puja is a fine, 19th-century municipal hall with a stage and galleried seating above the main floor. The floor was ‘secular space’, and shoes were worn. Only the stage, where the deity images were standing, was the sacred space. It is also notable that the Durga programme is done in full, unlike many American pujas, which shorten the festival to two or three days (McDermott 2011: 229). From its first celebration in Glasgow, the puja was observed with Mahalaya, followed by the five days of the traditional Durga Puja; there was also the celebration of Lakshmi Puja. People from across Scotland and Northern England came to the Glasgow pujas, because they were the only ones within travelling distance being celebrated at the time. At first, Durga Puja was performed separately, outside the auspices of the BSP. But as several of its original planners lived in Edinburgh and Dundee, they had difficulty organizing the Puja, and so, the BSP took over the duties. In time, Sarasvati Puja, planned and arranged (for perhaps obvious reasons) by the Glasgow Indian Students’ Association, was encompassed within the ambit of BSP too. The following table shows the full programme of pujas celebrated by Glasgow’s Bengali community throughout the year, including Lakshmi and Kali Puja.10 Puja Programme in Glasgow for 2019/20 Mahalaya—Saturday 28 September Shri Chandi Paath (mantra) and Ananda Bhoj (meal): 6:30 pm–10 pm Sarbojanin Durgotsav Maha Shashti—Friday 4 October Kalparambha, Bodhan, Amontran, Adhibas, Arati: 5 pm–7 pm

10 McDermott

(2011) (233) suggests that this would be rare in the USA diaspora.

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Preeti Bhoj: 7 pm–9 pm Maha Saptami—Saturday 5 October Puja, Pushpanjali, Arati, Prasad: 1:30 pm–5 pm Bhog Bitoron: 6 pm–8 pm Maha Ashtami—Sunday 6 October Puja, Pushpanjali, Arati, Prasad: 1:30 pm–5 pm, Sandhi Puja: 6 pm Bhog Bitoron: 6 pm–8 pm Maha Navami—Monday 7 October Puja, Pushpanjali (flowers), Arati, Prasad: 6 pm–8 pm; Bhog Bitoron: 8 pm–10 pm Maha Dashami—Tuesday 8 October Puja, Bisorjan (immersion), Santijal (water), and Prasad: 6 pm–8 pm; Preeti Bhoj: 8 pm–10 pm Maha Lakshmi Puja—Saturday 12 October Puja, Pushpanjali, Arati, Prasad: 7:35 pm–8:35 pm; Bhog Bitoron: 8:35 pm–10 pm Maha Kali Puja—Sunday 27 October Puja, Pushpanjali, Arati, Prasad: 5 pm–8 pm; Bhog Bitoron: 8 pm–10 pm Maha Saraswati Puja—Saturday 1 February Puja, Pushpanjali, Arati, Prasad: 12 pm–2 pm; Bhog Bitoron: 2 pm–5 pm There are also functions for Christmas, the Bengali new year (Noboborsho or Poyla Boishakh), as well as an annual picnic. The ability to hold such a full programme for Durga Puja comes down to official support from the City Council and the Scottish Government, as well as a more flexible working pattern in the UK than in other diaspora countries, such as the USA, with workers being entitled by law to 28 days of paid annual leave, compared with an average of 10 days in the USA. Perhaps, the most significant difference between the celebration of Durga Puja held in Glasgow and the popular democratized pujas of Kolkata (or elsewhere in Bengal) is that it is a stationary celebration held indoors. There is no diversity of outdoor pandals, no pandal hopping, no public revelry. In this sense, the puja in diaspora takes on a more conservative aspect, perhaps recapturing to a certain extent both the character and the emotional quality of 19th-century pujas, held in large

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private houses, where guests were entertained ‘in a huge salon, with … sparkling lights, tables spread with meats … excellent singing and dancing girls’.11 Although open to all who might wish to come, the Glasgow puja is nevertheless a semi-private celebration, held indoors with limited publicity and little outward indication of the festivities being enjoyed inside. The BSP explains the aesthetic and the dynamic in the following way (BSP 2019a). If you were to walk into the Couper Institute on Glasgow’s southside on any one of the days during the Pujas, you would most certainly be transported back to the colourful and chaotic colours of Kolkata. Truth be told, us Glasgow Bengalis feel we have an edge over the ‘back home’ Pujas. Because we seem to have amalgamated the best of both styles, i.e., The Sarbajanin (for everybody), and The Barwari (for one household). Here, in Glasgow, our numbers may run into hundreds, but we know each other as extended family members. And for these five days, our hearts beat together as one, along with the pulsating beat of the ‘dhaak’.

Once again, McDermott’s analysis has something of interest to tell us. Writing primarily of the celebration of Durga Puja in West Bengal, and noting that the celebrations have become more accessible to the general population during the past century, with the sponsorship of neighbourhoods and civic organizations supporting public pujas, she has observed that Bengalis nevertheless ‘continue to look to the traditional pujas of the old aristocratic families as bearers of traditional values’, who ‘function as cultural mascots, markers of national Bengali identity, and reminders of a special heritage’ (McDermott 2011: 36). There are two ways in which this observation could be translated to the Glasgow scenario; first, in the nature of the puja celebrations, which essentially take place in a private space, a grand hall, and which do not form a public and popular spectacle; and secondly, in that the oversight of the puja programme is in the hands of the most venerable of the Bengali community, who grew up in India. The static and singular nature of the Glasgow puja, moreover, is also bound to foster conservatism in the aesthetic. The modern development of the themed puja, with its systematic coherence of pandal, pratima and decoration, has not won favour; and one suspects that it is not likely to while there is only one instance of the celebration and the pratima is obtained from Kumartuli. A further crucial difference between the celebration of Durga Puja in Kolkata and Glasgow is the manner of bisarjan and the closing ritual of the puja where the image of the goddess departs. After the ritualized departure of the goddess, there is no immersion in the river or the sea, as in Bengal. The pratima of Durga is removed from the place of worship, and rather than being taken to the water, where she will be dissolved as part of the cycle of creation, dissolution and recreation, she is stored for safekeeping until her next visitation the following year. This re-use of the pratima has two main reasons. First, the acquisition of the pratima is a complicated business, and sourcing a new one every year from Kumartuli would be difficult and costly. Secondly, environmental regulations in the UK mean 11 McDermott quoting a British description from 1825 of the house of ‘Baboo Pron Kissen Holdor’ in Chinsurah (Hooghly district, West Bengal, near Chandannagar) (McDermott 2011: 11).

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Fig. 3.2 Durga pratima formerly used by BSP, now at the Hindu Temple of Scotland, Rutherglen

that the immersion of the pratima cannot take place in a river or near the seashore.12 The immersion of the pratima has nevertheless happened in the past (in 2009), when it was taken out deep into the Firth of Clyde. Otherwise, when the pratima has been renewed, usually after five years, it has been given to the Kelvingrove Museum and Gallery in Glasgow, and to the Hindu Temple of Scotland in Rutherglen (South Glasgow) (Fig. 3.2.), which serves the Malayali community.

3.6 Culture, Religiosity, Nostalgia and Community Feeling Mrs Sheela Mukherjee’s vocation in the Race Relations Council no doubt influenced her theme as she wrote her message as Chair of the puja committee in the souvenir 12 The problem of pollution associated with Durga Puja is well understood in West Bengal too (Das 2018; NDTV 2019).

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programme: ‘Let us cross all barriers of faith and religion to love and respect each other on this special occasion’ (BSP 2019b, 5). The Glasgow Durga Puja committee, in its Editorial, explicitly states that, the ‘celebrations enrich all our lives, both young and old, and serve to maintain and further our Bengali religious and cultural heritage’ (BSP 2019b, 3). In both these statements, there is at least some kind of dialogue—if not tension—between the secular and the religious ethos of the Puja. In practice, the observed religious devotion during the festivities appeared to come almost entirely from the oldest generation: those in their sixties, seventies and eighties. As with the Malayali community at the temple in Rutherglen—who celebrate a full programme of pujas throughout the year, from regular Sunday pujas to Ganesha Chaturthi, Hanuman Jayanti, veneration of the Shiva Linga, and Onam puja—there is a concern among the older generation to ensure that their cultural traditions are not forgotten, or that the children now being born in Britain grow up knowing the Bengali traditions. From the outset in 1978, the executive committee of the BSP set up a Bengali language school, which was made possible by financial aid from the Strathclyde Regional Council. The school began with a class of twelve pupils and a teacher. In 1979/80, they began to teach Bengali music; and by the middle of the 1980s, the BSP had three staff, and the children were entered for the O-level (later GCSE) examinations in Bengali. Because parents were keen for their young ones to be educated in the culture of India and Bengal, and as the number of children increased, the school expanded not only to music but to dance as well—as a result, regular cultural programmes featured in the BSP’s activities, and children began to perform during the annual puja activities.13 As a result of the musical education provided by the BSP, the quality of the performances began to receive acknowledgement and recognition, and they were consequently invited to lay on a programme for the 1988 Glasgow Garden Festival. 13 A similar pattern is to be found among the Malayalam community at the Hindu temple in Rutherglen. Carnatic music classes are run every Sunday at the temple. At present, there are three levels available to interested students. All classes are aimed at children. Students follow the syllabus set by OFAAL (Oriental Fine Arts Academy of London), and the classes have various objectives suited to ethnically Indian children growing up in the West (Hindu Temple of Scotland website):

To appreciate our dynamic rich culture and traditions To be able to pronounce words in Sanskrit, Hindi, Tamil, Telugu, Kannada and Malayalam like a native speaker To understand how our music system began and evolved and to have an idea of how ancient some of our systems are To gain an insight into our literature and to appreciate our poets and composers To understand our Mythology and the advanced understanding our culture had about philosophy of life To be able to read the sapta swaras in Devanagari, Tamil, Telugu, Malayalam and Kannada scripts. The ultimate objective is to produce students who can be independent learners of music, capable of understanding in detail the workings of a Carnatic Music concert. There are also Bharatanatyam classes (a major form of Indian classical dance, originating in Tamil Nadu) and Art of Living classes, teaching Yoga.

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In 1990, Glasgow was the European Capital of Culture, and this gave the BSP an additional forum in which to make known the high calibre and success of its cultural ventures, and invitations came to perform across Scotland. Further augmenting the Bengali community’s religious year, Amal Chakraborti and Haradhan Datta inaugurated the celebration of Kali Puja in 1996, which was quickly taken under the wing of the BSP too. The BSP set up an annual magazine, with articles written by members of the Parishad, and although its publication has lapsed, the committee in 2020 began planning for its revival. A library also added to the range of the BSP’s cultural resources, but the lack of premises to accommodate such an important facility meant that it was eventually handed over to Glasgow’s landmark Mitchell Library, one of Europe’s largest public libraries. The secular traditions of West Bengal have therefore been taken very seriously by the diaspora community, yet there appears to be some reticence in acknowledging the religious core of Durga Puja. This aspect of the pujas seemed to be viewed by many participants at the Couper Institute as an excuse for a social gathering and for the community to get together. Sanjeet Bhattacharya, the President of the BSP, himself states that Durga Puja ‘is an occasion for the reunion and rejuvenation of friendships, relationships and camaraderie in a background of traditional customs’. In this respect, the various messages from political and national figures provide interesting evidence for this dialogue between secular ideals and religious truths. The message from the Prime Minister of the UK speaks of Durga Puja ‘symbolising the triumph of good over evil’, and that it is ‘a wonderful celebration of Hindu traditions, culture and popular customs’. The message of support from the First Minister of Scotland again picks up the theme of the triumph of good over evil, upon which Durga Puja is an opportunity to reflect and celebrate. The contribution of the Hindu community is ‘deeply valued’ as one ‘enriching Scotland’. The message from the Lord Provost of Glasgow refers (less obviously, though quite accurately) to ‘the Goddess Durga’s victory over the evil buffalo demon Mahishasur’ as a ‘universal message that resonates across continents and cultures’. She also points out that Glasgow’s Durga Puja ‘is the biggest and oldest celebration of its kind, held here in Scotland’. The ‘energy, colour and excitement it generates’ are also remarked upon, and the festival is referred to as ‘a deeply religious occasion’. This is also an opportunity for the Lord Provost to promote Glasgow’s ‘long and proud tradition of friendliness, multiculturalism, tolerance and diversity’. Finally, there is a message from the Consul General of India in Edinburgh, Ms Anju Ranjan. She refers to the celebration of Durga Puja as ‘a continuation of the glorious cultural tradition of India’. Going further than the UK politicians, she talks of Durga Puja symbolizing ‘the victory of good over evil, light over darkness, and knowledge over ignorance’, then going on to quote Br.had¯aran.yaka Upanis.ad (1.3.28), ‘Lead us from ignorance to truth, Lead us from darkness to light, Lead us from death to deathlessness’. She

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bids prayer for Maa Durga ‘to shower her blessings on all of us to bring peace, harmony in the multi-cultural, multi-ethnic society of Scotland’.14 Perhaps more subtly important, however, is that just one out of the three political felicitations related Durga Puja to the Bengali community. The Prime Minister referred to the ‘Hindu faith’ and ‘Hindu traditions’, while the Lord Provost of Glasgow wrote of the opportunity for ‘Hindus to contemplate their faith’. Only the First Minister acknowledged Durga Puja as a ‘Hindu Bengali festival’. The Indian Consul General—as one would expect—made two explicit references to the Durga Puja Committee of the Bangiya Sanskritik Parishad, as well as to ‘Glasgow’s Bengali community and Indian community’. Whereas all the politicians had taken care to understand the basic theological principles of Durga Puja, only the First Minister demonstrated any knowledge of the community celebrating the festival.

3.7 The Muslim Dimension in Glasgow’s Bengali Diaspora The official statistics do not separate the Bengali population within the total Indian population in Glasgow, and so, it is difficult to compare its size with the Bangladeshi population. At the time of the 2011 Census, there were around 3800 respondents from Glasgow who identified as ‘Asian, Asian Scottish or Asian British: Bangladeshi’ (compared with 33,000 Indian and 49,000 Pakistani) (NRS 2011). Given its small size, the ethnically Bangladeshi population of Glasgow has a thriving cultural life, with a Bangladesh Association and a Bangla Centre (see websites). In common with the West Bengal community, the Bangla language is very important, and the speaking and writing of the language are maintained, with publications containing essays and poetry in Bangla, and the Bangla Centre runs a Bangla School to teach Bengali children the mother tongue. Most Muslims in Scotland come from parts of South Asia: mainly Pakistan, India and Bangladesh (Kidd and Jamieson 2011, 8). A study by Stefano Bonino has highlighted how ‘Scottish Muslims feel more Scottish (24%) than English Muslims feel English (14%) and over two thirds of them express some sort of affiliation to the United Kingdom’ (Bonino 2016). Pakistani Muslims in particular prioritize Scottish (31%) or British (34%) identities over ethnic ones (13%), but there are no figures for Muslim Bangladeshis. Muslims in Glasgow record the highest feelings of belonging to Scotland and the lowest affiliations to non-UK ethnic identities—but again, this may not apply in the same way to Bengali Muslims—especially Muslim Bangladeshis—who hold very tightly to a Bengali culture. 14 It should be noted that only 4% of the population of Scotland identified as belonging to an ethnic

minority in the 2011 census, making Scotland one of the least ethnically diverse regions of the UK— only Northern Ireland, Wales and the north-east of England are less ethnically diverse—although the ratio in Glasgow is 12%, putting Scotland’s largest city near the top of Britain’s ethnically diverse cities, but still a long way behind London, which is at around 40% Black, Asian, and minority ethnic (BAME). See NRS (2011), Russell (2013), ONS (2018).

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And while Glasgow, with the highest South-Asian Muslim population in Scotland, was one of only two local authorities to record a majority vote for independence in 2014 (two-thirds of Asian Scots surveyed before the referendum intended to vote ‘Yes’; Ng 2014), it is notable that Sheela Mukherjee, as chairperson of the Bengali Hindu Bangiya Sanskritik Parishad, told the Times of India, ‘I can vouch that 99% of the Bengali community in Glasgow will vote against separation. We want to stay with UK’ (Sinha 2014). It is not clear, however, whether Mrs Mukherjee was including the Bangladeshi Bengalis or Muslim Bengalis in that statement.15 One analysis would suggest that the Bangladeshi commitment to Bengali culture and identity is a result of Bangladesh’s specific historical inheritance. The Bangladesh Liberation War of 1971 remains the most significant landmark in the historical memory of the Bangladeshi people, bestowing the equal status of nation-state among the nations of the world. While other (de jure) subnational groups in both India and Pakistan were also vexed and aggravated by the imposition of a federal polity, it was only in East Pakistan (formerly East Bengal, and subsequently Bangladesh) that rebellion and the conception of a recognizably different, separate and distinctive cultural identity—here, a secular, Bengali culture—led to a new nation, with the Bengali language at its heart (Ahmed 2017). There is therefore significance to be inferred from the inauguration in 2019 of ‘BHASHA—The Glasgow Language Festival’, on International Mother Language Day, 21 February, by the Bangladesh Association of Glasgow.16

3.8 Eid al-Adha in Glasgow’s Bengali Community: Religion and the Formation of Identity A focus of recent literature on Muslim communities has been identity formation, and the extent to which religion is an increasingly important factor in the formation of identity for Muslims in Britain. Religion has been found to be an important way in which Muslims might self-identify; and religion is also one of several elements of identity formation (Kabir 2010; Hopkins 2017). We have already seen how Muslims in Scotland are more likely to identify as Scottish compared with Muslims in England identifying as English. Although the literature shows that Scottish identity was typically seen as an important dimension of the identity of research participants, feelings of national belonging were nevertheless conditional, and many were aware of being viewed as outsiders because of visible

15 The author’s own anecdotal experience is that ‘Bangal’ Bengalis (i.e. Hindu Bengalis whose families originated in East Bengal/Bangladesh) were fiercely opposed to Scottish independence. 16 The festival was sponsored by the University of Strathclyde (Glasgow), Education Scotland, The British Council and the Scottish Government (SCILT 2020). International Mother Language Day was proclaimed by the UNESCO in 1999 following a motion to the General Conference submitted by Bangladesh (UNESCO 1999, 38).

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difference from the majority ethnic population, as well as on account of religious distinctiveness (Kidd and Jamieson 2011, 7–8). An important theme in the literature is the extent to which British-born Muslims are increasingly identifying with their religious identity rather than their ethnic heritage. Nevertheless, it is suggested that some have been able to reconcile the tensions resulting from their dual cultural contexts better than others, and it would be interesting to investigate to what extent this might apply to the Bangla-speaking and Bangladeshi-heritage community (Kidd and Jamieson 2011, 20). In the meantime, we can note that, in the observance of religious seasons and festivals, the Bangla-speaking Muslim community (which is nearly all of Bangladeshi origin or heritage) naturally has more in common with the wider Islamic population of Glasgow than does the Hindu Bengali population with the wider Hindu population, since the Sunni Muslim population shares the same festivals, places of worship and other religious activities. For example, while Dawatul Islam Glasgow, a mosque and Islamic centre in Oakfield Avenue, was founded in 1978 by Bangladeshi Muslims ‘for the wider benefit of the Bangladeshi community in particular’, it is also explicitly for ‘all’ the Muslim community ‘in general’.17 Overall, given the relative simplicity and universality of (Sunni) Islamic forms of worship and observance, there is little difference between the basic practice in Bengal and Glasgow. Yet there are significant differences in the practicalities. A notable distinction in the observance of Ramadan is the very long hours of fasting required in Glasgow. When Ramadan occurs in June, for example, fasting can last from around 4am until after 10 pm. Eid al-Fitr, when it comes, is celebrated with communal events, such as ‘Eid in the Park’, promising ‘fun filled activities for families to enjoy’, including a ‘food marquee offering tastes from around the Muslim world’, as well as ‘a host of inflatable rides and bouncy castles’. It aims to be ‘a joyous day out for all the family’ (Palmer 2016). Perhaps, the most significant cultural compromise comes at Eid al-Adha. Whereas, in Bengal, the animal for the offering is slaughtered at home, UK regulations concerning the slaughter of livestock require that the animal be slaughtered in a regulated Halal slaughterhouse. Moreover, compared with Kolkata, and most of Bangladesh, where the more prevalent practice is for a family to buy a cow for the offering on Eid al-Adha (although goats are also widely bought), in Glasgow, sheep tend to be procured. The extent of this practice is significant enough that it affects the livestock market and in 2017 was commented upon by The Herald’s farming correspondent, because older sheep would be required, thereby having an effect on prices and supply (Wood 2017).18 In the compromises relating to the ritual slaughtering of livestock in the Islamic tradition, we can find a comparison with the alteration in practice for the immersion of the pratima in the Hindu context. The celebration of Eid al-Adha in Glasgow certainly has a strong spiritual flavour and emphasis and is connected with significant acts of charity, including provision of meals for asylum seekers, refugees and vulnerable members of the community. 17 https://www.facebook.com/DawatulIslamGlasgow/ 18 The

(accessed 24 June 2020). Herald is a national broadsheet newspaper for Scotland, published in Glasgow.

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But, as with Durga Puja, there are more secular social activities too. The Bangla Centre, for example, hosts an Eid al-Adha re-union party as a way of making sure the Bangla-speaking Muslim community maintains personal contact within the city. The Eid al-Adha gathering for Dawatul Islam Glasgow (the main Bangladeshi Islamic centre) takes place across the city, on the southern edges of Greater Glasgow, at Clarkston Hall, Clarkston (a property administered by East Renfrewshire Council). The programme is an entirely conventional one for Eid al-Adha, with nothing distinctively Bengali about it. For some members of the Bangladeshi heritage Muslim population of Glasgow, however, Durga Puja can evoke nostalgia for the ancestral homeland. ‘Durga Puja means home’, one Muslim student (who attends Dawatul Islam) told me in an excited tone after a presentation I made on the subject in the University of Glasgow. ‘My family is from Barisal’, she continued, ‘and when you talked about Durga Puja, it took me back to my home city, where the festival is celebrated by the significant Hindu-minority population’.19 By contrast with other religious festivals performed by the South Asian diaspora communities in Scotland, then, Durga Puja is emerging as the most powerful vehicle of a national-cultural identity in a way that other religious festivals, whether Hindu or Muslim, do not and probably cannot.

3.9 Conclusions Durga Puja in Glasgow seems to represent something quite conservative, yet at the same time also a rather different phenomenon from the festival celebrated in Kolkata, the larger cities of West Bengal and parts of Bangladesh. The ritual formalities are observed in full, with only minor compromises for the local circumstances. The pratimas are entirely familiar, and the music and dancing conform to the best traditions of Bengal. The Bangla language is used by most of those present, and the majority wear traditional dress. This is nevertheless a celebration that takes place in a single location and out of the public gaze: a small and homogeneous minority population celebrating their goddess and their sense of identity in a wider cultural setting that is at once diverse but culturally Christian. The stated aims of the puja committee are to keep Bengali customs and traditions alive, especially among the younger generation, and to share beliefs with other communities in Scotland; aims with which national, regional and local politicians can all publicly and explicitly agree. Indeed, Durga Puja in Glasgow even encourages the uniform enunciation, from UK Prime Minister to local Lord Provost, of the theological principle of the triumph of good over evil. Finally, Durga even has a place in the cultural consciousness of the Muslim Bengali diaspora. For although the celebration of Durga Puja is not part of Muslim Bengali

19 Personal

communication, University of Glasgow, 31 October 2019.

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practice, it nevertheless forms an element of a cultural background whose distinctiveness is otherwise expressed more self-consciously and systematically through the promotion, encouragement and formal teaching of the Bangla language and its literature in a way that is not so prominent among the Hindu Bengalis of the city. Devotion to and celebration of Durga, along with Kali, Lakshmi and Sarasvati, continues with enthusiasm in the small Glasgow Bengali diaspora. And as the UK government in 2020 changes its immigration rules to encourage doctors and nurses wishing to emigrate from India to work in the NHS and reintroduces the post-study work visa, immigration from Bengal is likely to continue and increase, providing new connections with the homeland as the source of authentic tradition (Migration Advisory Committee 2020). In this sense, it is the new immigrants who are just as likely to be a force for conservatism as the oldest generation; for change and innovation are more likely to come within a community whose generational link with Bengal is more distant, and which has begun to marry into families with different religious and cultural heritages. While Bengali immigration continues, the celebration of Durga Puja seems unlikely to die away or be diluted and integrated into a pan-Indian cultural scenario. Once more, one can concur with Rachel Fell McDermott as she concluded, As in India and Bangladesh, so here: the Goddess is a national symbol of what it means to be a Hindu Bengali, and in celebrating her, Bengali devotees proclaim and nourish their own sense of identity (McDermott 2011, 240).

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Rothschild, Emma. 2011. The inner life of empires: An eighteenth-century history. Princeton NJ and Oxford: Princeton University Press. Roy, Sanku Bilas, and Subir K. Sen. 2010. Scientific research papers by native Bengali authors during the nineteenth century. Current Science, 99: 1848–1857. Russell, Raymond. 2013. Census 2011: Detailed characteristics of ethnicity and country of Birth at the Northern Ireland level. Northern Ireland Assembly Research and Information Service Research Paper 138/13. https://www.niassembly.gov.uk/globalassets/documents/raise/publicati ons/2013/general/13813.pdf. Accessed 24 June 2020. SCILT. 2020. Events. https://scilt.org.uk/Events/EventDetails/tabid/1306/articleType/ArticleView/ articleId/13568/BHASHA--The-Glasgow-Language-Festival.aspx. Accessed 24 June 2020. Shaikh, Omar, and Stefano Bonino. 2017. Feeling scottish and being Muslim: Findings from the colourful heritage project. Hopkins 2017: 171–196. Sinha, Kounteya. 2014. Indian diaspora divided over the upcoming Scottish referendum on breaking away from UK. Times of India, September 17. https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/world/uk/Ind ian-diaspora-divided-over-the-upcoming-Scottish-referendum-on-breaking-away-from-UK/art icleshow/42722912.cms. Accessed 24 June 2020. UNESCO. 1999. Draft report of Commission II. In UNESCO General Conference 30th Session. 30 C/DR.35. Paris: UNESCO. University of Glasgow Website. 2020. India. https://www.gla.ac.uk/international/country/india/. Accessed 21 June 2020. Wood, Rog. 2017. Older sheep required for this year’s festival of Eid-ad-Adha. The Herald, August 19. https://www.heraldscotland.com/business_hq/15483281.older-sheep-required-forthis-years-festival-of-eid-al-adha/. Accessed 24 June 2020.

Part II

Genealogies

Chapter 4

Manifestation of Icon in the Idol of Goddess Durga in Bengal During the Pre-independent and Post-independent Period Mrinmoyee Deb Abstract This paper is an attempt to understand the artistic approaches in the Kumartuli vocabulary of ‘making’ Durga idol, situating them in the socio-political trajectories of pre- and post-independence contexts in India. Durga as a manifestation of power or Sakti evince a continual presence in the cultural matrix of Bengal. During the tumultuous years of pre-independence, the nation was striving to take refuge in the image of the divine prowess synonymizing her with the ‘imagined nation’. In the immediate aftermath of Partition after independence in 1947, the populace of partitioned Bengal sought refuge once more in the invocation of the goddess, this time the idol of the Devi shifted from an intimate, religious boundary to a much broader, secular arena of popular culture. The numerous popular images that were produced as ‘icons’ of the Devi were reflected in the idol making of Kumartuli.

4.1 Introduction ‘Durga-Kali is the theistic manifestation of a widespread concept in Indian religion called Sakti, or the religion of “Power”. As the “Goddess” (Devi), she is regarded as both Mother of Timelessness and Life and Arbitress of Time and Death’.1 (Beane 1977).

The concept of Durga as the quintessential power or Sakti has been manifest in various forms in the history of religion, mythology, sociology, anthropology, ethnography and a vast range of related disciplines, that has been much discussed, debated and proposed in an inexhaustible body of scholarship. The phenomenal works of Swami Prajnanananda, Yogeshchandra Ray Vidyanidhi and W.C. Beane2 consider M. Deb (B) Mrinmoyee Deb, Government College of Art and Craft Calcutta, Kolkata, India e-mail: [email protected] 1 Refer

to Beane 1977, Preface. Ray Vidyanidhi, in Puja Parbon, elaborately discusses the concretization of the image of Mahisasurmardini within the Indian context and gives astronomical explanations regarding Devi’s worship during SharatKaal or autumn season. (Vidyanidhi 1951):145–185). Swami Prajnanananda, in Mahisasurmardini Durga, discusses the formulation the idea of Mahisasurmardini 2 Yogeshchandra

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021 S. K. Das et al. (eds.), The Making of Goddess Durga in Bengal: Art, Heritage and the Public, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-0263-4_4

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the multiplicity of the forms of Goddess Durga in Bengal within the religious, theological and cosmological contours. In this essay, I have tried to comprehend the image of Durga as worshipped in Bengal against the backdrop of developments between the early decades of 20th and mid-12th century in the post-independence phase, delineating the evolution of Kumartuli clay idols as the potters’ colony tried to reconcile with the changing parameters. I seek to probe the ways in which the worshipping of the goddess becomes a space of accumulation and propagation of political authority and how the feminine Sakti becomes manifest in the political space of the nation during the nationalist movement. This results in a proliferation of numerous images of Devi taking the shape of nationalist ‘icon’. These specific developments influenced the later visual developments in clay idol-making of Kumartuli. Emile Durkheim’s argument that the deity that societies worship is an emblematic form of themselves legitimizing the correlation of political authority and religiosity of the goddess within a definite polity, has been considered in the essay to enumerate the developments in Kumartuli idol-making. Durga Puja of Bengal with its long preceding history encompassing not only the religious sentiments of Hindu Bengalis reverberates in the continuous growth of the populace of the city of Calcutta as the city moves from colonial era to post-colonial times. It has a long, trailing history of accommodation and assimilation within the formal attributes of the image of Durga, since its inception in the Puranas and its inclusion in the medieval Mangal Kavyas in Bengal, to the display in the Thaakurdalan3 of the rich households of 19th century Bengali Babus, and the final emergence of a Devi with imposing ‘look’ of a saviour of the Indian race or a national ‘icon’ during the early 20th century. The annual festival of the worship of the Goddess Durga, which has been popularly termed as Sharodotsav (festival during Autumn season or Sharata), has continually changed its character with corresponding changes in societal conditions, political developments and cultural shifts in Bengal. A lot of variations have been introduced not only in the dispositions in idol making but also in the nature of the festival itself. Today’s Durga Puja perceived as a unique phenomenon encapsulates a series of critical transitions in its timing, forms and locations of the festival in Bengal in a history that has been shown to stretch from the 15th century to the present time.4 Exactly when and how the present Durga and the initiation of her worship in Bengal, taking into account, the innumerable prescriptions of the Sanskrit puranas and various shashtras, and the origin of Great Goddess in other parts of the world.(Prajnanananda 1990) W.C. Beane, in his Myth, Cult and Symbols in Sakta Hinduism. A Study of the Indian Mother Goddess explicitly researches the cosmological, ritualistic and eschatological aspects of Durga-Kali.(Beane 1977). 3 Portico in rich Zamindar households, where the idol of Durga is worshipped. 4 Tithi Bhattacharya mentions in Tracking the Goddess: Religion, Community, and Identity in the Durga Puja Ceremonies of 19th-Century Calcutta: ‘According to Kunal Chakrabarti’s excellent study on the subject, from the 6th century onward, the Hindu Puranas began a conscious and highly creative process of integrating non-Vedic goddesses into the Brahminic pantheon. Hindu texts that mention Durga before this process began, such as the Mahabharata and the Harivamsa, have a very different picture of Durga than the one that we are familiar with. She is described as a fearless virgin, hunting and living in mountains (Vindhya or the Himalayas), craggy terrains, and caves. Her companions are ghosts and wild beasts, and she is dressed in peacock feathers. Her diet, consisting mostly of meat and alcohol, is not very Brahminic either. Chakrabarti sees her in

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iconography of Mahisasurmardini Durga with her family got relevance in Bengal that deviated from a singular figure of goddess Durga killing the demon Mahisasur to a composite tableau of Mahisasurmardini with her four children, is a phenomenon that needs sociological, cultural and historical considerations.5 In this essay, I have tried to explore the comprehensive contribution of Kumartuli that has continually evolved in character and dimension to accommodate new ideologies, definitions, variants in style and formal attributes in clay idol-making dominating various phases in Calcutta’s history. Kumartuli has grown in its stature and dimension as a space that has continually reconciled with the invisible boundaries of visual language between an ‘artist’ and ‘artisan’, ‘high art’ and ‘low art’, ‘Western academic realism’ and ‘realism’ of indigenous genre, synthesizing all within the context of ‘making’ of Durga idol. The first section of the essay introspects the socio-political matrix which brought considerable changes in the phenomenon of Durga Puja from its initiation during the rule of Nawabs in Bengal and establishment of colonial rule in Bengal, to the flourishing of Bonedi Bari Puja in Bengali elite households during 18th and 19th century in Bengal. The constant alliance of shifting political powers in Bengal with the worship of goddess Durga has been traced back as early as 15th century (Chatterjee 2013) that continued to progress in the colonial era. The second section of the essay deals with the negotiations and challenges that Kumartuli confronted with the introduction of new mediums of printing and the establishment of art institute to impart Western art education in 19th century colonial Calcutta (Chatterjee 1996:217). The establishment of an art school with the sole aim of refining the taste of the natives (Guhathakurta 1992) in colonial Bengal delineated several diversifying trends within the context of visual culture, and Kumartuli was not alienated from them. The formal approach in rendition of goddess Durga, although remaining unchanged during this period, does not veer away our attention from a distinct visible change in the activities of Kumartuli. This was inevitably influenced by the Western academic realism taught in the art school, a consequence of the initiatives taken by the British authority to glorify European civilization and British colonial rule. A constant influx of Krishnanagar clay modellers6 in Kumartuli has these texts “primarily as a war-goddess who is fond of battles and destroys demons—especially Mahisasura, is endowed with a variety of weapons… and protects her devotees” She is a clearly nonVedic deity given space for the first time in a Brahminical text. Her assimilation, which begins from this time onward, is completed in the Devimahatmya, which forms a part of the larger Markandeya Purana (thirteen chapters), possibly composed in the 6th century’. (Bhattacharya 2007: 925). 5 The first appearance of the goddess in this recognizable form is in the medieval poet Mukundaram Chakrabarti’s narrative ballad, the Chandimangal of the 6th century. The hunter Kalketu offers the goddess his prayers as she is surrounded by her family. The literary tradition of the Mangalkavya, of which the Chandimangal was a part, had a colourful and catholic past. They appeared around the 15th century as a new genre of mythological literature in vernacular Bengali to be sung as ballads at auspicious occasions.(Bhattacharya 2007: 927). 6 The Kumartuli lineage on my maternal side had experienced such shifts from Krishnanagar to Calcutta. My maternal side in Krishnanagar had continued with the family business of making clay dolls, continuing the legacy of the famous Krishnanagar clay dolls. Much later in the late 50 s, my maternal grandfather, Sudhir Pal, moved to Kumartuli in Calcutta and continued to create clay

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been conspicuous throughout Kumartuli’s history that got acclaimed by the British administrators. Many of them received Western academic training in art school, with their works being exhibited in the World Art Exhibitions in late 19th century. The divergent trends within the periphery of the art world have been investigated, which essentially inclined towards Western academic realism proposed as ‘high-art’, to understand the later changes and developments that emerged within the Kumartuli vocabulary of idol-making. Engaging with the discourse of traditional art practices in Kumartuli and the distinct variants of art practices in Art School, the establishment of two distinct forms of Durga idol stands as discreetly two variants of idol making in Kumartuli. One of these was the Oriental Arter Thakur 7 articulated by Netai Chandra Pal and the other, Gopeshwar Pal’s Durga idol evincing profound realism during the early phase of 20th century. These concur with parallel developments of the establishment of Western academic realism on the one hand and the rise of revivalist trends in modern Indian art on the other. A kind of ‘desire to construct an aesthetic form that was ‘modern’ and ‘national’, and yet recognizably different from the Western’ (Chatterjee 1996), became prominent while Kumartuli tried to reconcile itself with the socio-cultural parameters in colonial India. The third section introspects a different trend in idol making in the preindependence phase that was more directly connected to the emerging Swadeshi ideals inculcated by the Swadeshi leaders during the nationalist upsurge. One of the ideologies of the many trends of Bengal nationalism that synonymized Swadeshi with the essential Hindu ideals (Sarkar 1973) got advocacy in the rising number of Durga Pujas arranged by the emerging organizations, which were later labelled as ‘clubs’. The activities pertaining to anti-colonial nationalist movement that merged with the celebration of the manifestation of Sakti have been considered while focusing on the changing facets of Durga idol. The formation of Bagbazar Sarbojanin Puja, Simla Byayam Samity Sarbojanin, Kumartuli Park Sarbojanin Puja and the likes proclaimed the united power of the mass. This may be justified by Emile Durkheim’s justification of ‘community solidarity, often the source of powerful emotions, particularly in public gatherings, is the greatest source of strength, offering the best defence against enemies and the surest weapon against fear. This internally felt force, or collective effervescence, is each individual’s experience of the deity, which in fact is an energy generated by the group itself.’ (Rodrigues 2003: 292).The collective strength took refuge in the ‘icon’ of Durga represented in the Bharat Mata composed by Abanindranath Tagore in 1905, which later became the source of reference for the Bharat Mata Puja initiated by Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose. The fourth section deals with the emergent issues of socio-political changes that became visible during the post-independence period in Bengal. These formed the backdrop against which the new parameters of Durga Puja may be assessed, representing divergent trends in the making of a ‘new’ visual language in a city which models and idols that were steeped in Western academic realism, being trained by Gopeshwar Pal or G. Paul. 7 Oriental Arter Thakur is a specific term coined at Kumartuli to denote the huge Durga idol that drew references from classical Indian sculptures.

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was fast transforming into an accommodative space for the refugees from erstwhile East Pakistan ( present Bangladesh). Kumartuli developed a ‘new language’ in idol making during this phase that was specifically and heavily based on individual, conceptual stylizations initiating a ‘new’ chapter in idol making.

4.2 The Earliest Initiation of Durga Puja and Its Cognition as a Mass Phenomenon in Bengal: Durga Puja in 18th and 19th Century Colonial Calcutta It is said that the present-day Kumartuli (the potters’ colony, where potter means kumar and tuli or tola means colony) is intrinsically connected to the physical existence and growth of the city of Calcutta. Over the years, this potters’ colony increased in dimension and made a formidable position of its own in the city’s physical and cultural existence. Scholars8 have justified that the conception of the present image of Goddess Durga was the result of continuous interaction between the later developments of Brahmanical orientation and the pre-existing non-Vedic orientation of the deity. In a later phase of development in the iconography of Durga in Bengal, the image of the goddess was shaped by a new set of thought that was generated by the medieval Mangal Kavyas of Bengal, delineating Mahisasurmardini Durga along with her family, still worshipped ceremoniously till this day. The history of Durga Puja in Bengal goes back as early as 15th century. Raja Ganesh (1400–1421) who usurped effective power from the Sultan of Bengal, as well as his son, who is said to have converted to Islam and ruled as Sultan Jalaluddin Mahumud (1415–1432), proclaimed their association with the goddess by performing ritual worship and by issuing coins bearing symbols associated with this deity (Chatterjee 2013). During the late Sultanate and the initiation of Mughal rule, the alliance of the aspiring rajas of Bengal with the goddess became quite visible. These historical anecdotes become relevant in justifying the alliance of political power with that of religious affirmations in the early stage of Durga Puja in Bengal. Later in the 18th century, Raja Krishnachandra initiated the worship of the Goddess with great pomp and celebration at Krishnanagar in Nadia district. This was succeeded by Raja Nabakrishna Deb’s ostentatious celebration of Durga Puja in Calcutta after the historical victory of British East India Company over the Nawabs of Bengal in the Battle of Palassey in 1757. Lord Robert Clive participated in this thanksgiving to the goddess by personally sending over a number of goats to be sacrificed to the Devi. (Chatterjee, 1996) This clearly points to the political alliance of the emerging British East India Company with that of the Bengal Zamindars. Following the triumph at Plassey and the power of ruling Bengal passing into the hands of the English Company with Mirzafar on the musnud of Murshidabad, Calcutta was growing fast as a seat of colonial power (Roy 8 Scholars

like Jogesh Chandra Vidyanidhi and Swami Prajnanananda have dwelt exhaustively on the evolution of the iconography of Durga and the ritualistic proceedings of Durga Puja. Refer to (Prajnanananda 1990: 38 - 39, 224 - 229) and(Vidyanidhi 1951)114 - 122).

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1946). Calcutta’s growth was marked by its newly expanding residential areas of the rich Zamindars and a corresponding development of its economy with an enormous rise in trading activities. The potter’s community—which in the early days of Calcutta was essentially engaged in making clay and terracotta utensils—shifted to making clay idols. With the increase in number of Durga Puja in rich Bengali households, the demand of clay modellers from areas like Shantipur, Krishnanagar, Nabadweep in Nadia district and Bikrampur in Dhaka and Faridpur districts of undivided Bengal increased. They would arrive at a definite time of the year to make the Durga idol in these wealthy households. To meet the constant demand of clay idols of Hindu deities, these clay modellers settled in Kumartuli on the bank of river Hooghly, a region quite reasonably chosen for an assured supply of bamboo and clay. These were the two basic raw materials for the making of sun-baked clay idols. The Kumartuli clay modellers supplied sun-baked clay idols to the Zamindar families like Raja NabaKrishna Deb’s family at Shova Bazaar, Dawn family at Jorasanko, Dutta family at Hatkhola, Khelat Ghosh’s family at Pathuriaghata street, to name only a few. With the growth of trades and businesses Calcutta became the most sought-after city in respect of acquisition of wealth and property. The rich and affluent Zamindar houses of Calcutta bear testimony to the procurement and hoarding of enormous wealth and land properties. The potters’ colony or Kumartuli was one of the many spots in the city that was profusely patronized by the rich Zamindars. The liaison of the Zamindars with that of the British tradesmen, who by late 18th century, had established themselves as the sovereign ruler of the subcontinent, brought forth an inexorable supply of wealth to the nascent developing city. The religious phenomenon of Durga Puja became synonymous with the ostentatious display of private treasures and wealth of the Zamindars. The city expanded with its authentication as a business and trade centre by the East India Company, Job Charnock being the first servant of the Company to land in the colonial city. As an early record puts forth: ‘1690. August 24th . This day, at Sankraal, ordered Captain Brooke to come up with his vessel to Chuttanutty, where we arrived about noon, but found the place in a deplorable condition, nothing being left for our present accommodation, and the rain falling day and night. We are forced to betake ourselves to boats, which, considering the season of the year, is very unhealthy, Mullick Burcoodar and the country people, at our leaving this place, burning and carrying away what they could. In this way was Calcutta founded, and such was the manner of the coming of Job Charnock to his last port—the spot where his bones were to lie beneath a stately mausoleum through the centuries, while the settlement he founded amid every circumstance of discouragement and discomfort grew and prospered till it became the capital city of the British Empire in India, such an Empire as the wildest dreams of the Great Mogul never compassed’ (Blechynden 1905: 3).

Over the centuries, the city has extended in terms of population, trade and commerce and as the colonial Capital of British India. The phenomenon of Durga Puja in Calcutta has become an integral part of the historicity of the city, synchronized with its growth as a British colony, and a profitable trading centre of wealthy merchants, Zamindars and the opportunistic intermediaries serving the East India Company. While the city was expanding in this way, the ceremony of Durga Puja

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became distinctly associated with its progress. In the very earliest days of Calcutta’s establishment, the name of Sabarna Roychoudhuri family has the first mention in performing Durga Puja. The Brahmin family of the Sabarna RoyChoudhuris, whose founder had been, according to family history, a revenue officer under Pratapaditya, switched its support to the Mughals and acquired a large part of the territory of Calcutta. They are supposed to have patronized the priestly family of the Kali temple and other Brahmins who got rent-free land in what was to develop as Calcutta proper in the early 18th century. With the puja being attested by a powerful and wealthy family of the area, it gradually entered into the vocabulary of the new populace that was gradually progressing towards a new kind of urbanization. New establishments and settlements were created by the wealthy class of people, who encouraged the annual celebration of Durga Puja as a mark of status symbol. In the second half of the 18th century, ‘baniandom’ reached its most complex level of development. The typical banian was no doubt a kind of broker or agent, a species which became thick as locusts on a lush pasture as is evident from the judicial records of the late 18th century. Some men of ability could, however, rise above the level of mere intermediaries, though they maintained for their advantage a link with powerful Englishmen as agents (Sinha 1978). By the end of the 18th century, however, the banians and dewans had combined to give a definite shape to Calcutta’s comprador elite as the topmost layer in the ‘native’ economic community in the city and as a more or less homogeneous group, consisting of families of fortune-makers (Sinha 1978). These comprador families, exclusively Hindu, and almost entirely Bengali (except for one north-Indian Khatri family) tended to be concentrated in the northern division of the city (Sinha 1978). It was through 18th and 19th centuries that Durga Puja, as we know today came into being, a spectacular phenomenon wedding religiosity with non-religiosity, transcending the limits and obligations of class and creed, yet maintaining the religious conjectures according to Brahmanical scriptures. While discussing the iconography of Durga in the context of Bengal, we observe a distinct departure of the idol from the warrior goddess of the puranas to a benevolent and motherly figure accompanied by her family, arriving once a year to the earthly abode from Mount Kailasha. As the story goes, the earliest Durga Puja in Bengal was arranged by Raja Kangsanarayan of Tahirpur, who was advised by one of the wise brahmins to make arrangements for Durga Puja as a conduct of sanctification abiding by the puranas (Guha-Thakurta 2015). In a way, Durga Puja has been a kind of Bengali consciousness that has continually been shaped and re-shaped and accommodated itself in the changing social and political conditions. Alongside the evolution of Bengal’s specific mixed iconography of Durga, this important change in the timing of the Durga Pujas in Bengal has been interpreted by scholars as a part of the ‘Sanskritization’ of the ritual event and its induction within the new structures of Brahmanical orthodoxy and the rising political authority of Hindu land-owning magnates during the 17th and 18th centuries (Guha-Thakurta 2015: 3). Durga Puja attained great heights in Bengal during the waning days of the Nawabs, with the East India Company establishing itself as an obvious ruling power. An elaborate description of the ritual procedures of Bonedi Barir Puja has been depicted in Pratapchandra

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Ghosha’s Durga Puja,9 a 19th Century observation that explicitly describes the puja, initiated by the worship of the khuti or the ceremonial piece of bamboo slit on the auspicious day of Rathayatra, and the gradual ‘making’ of the pratima (idol), the elaborate ritual proceedings during the five-day ceremony ending with the immersion of the clay idol of the goddess. The burgeoning Bengali nouveau riche arranged extravagant Durga Puja in 18th and 19th Century Calcutta. The idolatry became synonymous with extravaganza of the Zamindars, which consequently gave rise to the ideological diversification within Bengali society of the bhadralok, that criticized the whole paraphernalia of image worship. This period was crucial in the formulation of idol of goddess Durga in Kumartuli, as each of the Bonedi Bari had their own set of Brahmins advocating the ritual proceedings of puja, who interpreted the ancient scriptures in distinct ways to give form to the idol of the goddess of the individual households, thus formulating specific formal attributes of goddess Durga along with her family tableau, while negotiating with the basic prescriptions of giving form to the Devi murti.

4.2.1 From Barir Puja to Baroiyari Puja: The Festival Becoming a ‘Public Phenomenon’ The first notable change on a sociological ground with the phenomenon of Durga Puja became visible with the introduction of Baroiyari Puja, which brought the religious event, till then confined to the wealthy household premises of the feudal lords and Zamindars—within the public sphere. This particular incident, where twelve (baro) friends (yaar) arranged Durga Puja at Guptipara in Hooghly district, set the backdrop for this transformation in Bengal.10 The introduction of Baroiyari Puja in Bengal was a distinct development of the religious phenomenon within the societal matrix, where the common public found scope in offering their devotion to the Devi. The social 9 In

all probabilities, Pratapchandra Ghosha’s work was meant especially for an English readership of 19th Century colonial Bengal, eulogizing the Hindu deification. 10 Tapati GuhaThakurta in her In the Name of the Goddess, The Durga Pujas of Contemporary Kolkata, reflects on the evolution of Durga Puja in Bengal as a reaction to the immediate sociopolitical changes that occurred through each phase of historical development in Bengal—‘All along, the evolving religious history of the festival powerfully coalesces with its changing social and political roles in Bengal under late Mughal and early colonial rule. If the first public performances of the worship of Durga were staged in the courts and households of the Hindu zamindars from the turn of the 17th century, more well-known are the later shifts and travels of the Pujas through the colonial era—first, from this rural feudatory setup to the wealthy mansions of the new merchant aristocracy of the colonial city, producing the new ostentatious entity of the Banedi Bari (aristocratic household) Pujas, and thereafter from the exclusive precincts of elite homes to the spaces of communities, neighbourhoods and open grounds of the city. With these transitions come about the new nomenclatures of the public community Pujas—of, first, the Barowari Puja (literally meaning a Puja begun by twelve friends or associates) and next, the Sarbojanin Puja (connoting a Puja belonging to all) —which over the course of the 19th and early 20th centuries gradually defined the contours of the modern urban festival’. (Guha-Thakurta 2015): 3–4).

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discriminations based on a constricting caste system throughout the 17th and 18th centuries had restricted the participation of commoners in the religious procedures to retain the sanctity of the pious ceremony. With the initiation of Baroiyari Puja the populace of Bengal in a way re-affirmed the disposition of Devi Purana that says, this is a ceremony that can be celebrated by Brahmanas, Kshatrias, Vaisyas, Sudras and by other slaves, also by various Mlechchhas and Dasyus. Indeed, it is a national festival, and no native of any caste or creed can avoid the contagion of the jubilee (Ghosha 1871). Such an intriguing disposition of the festival of Durga Puja was quite imposing on the nationalist sentiment while catering to the Bengali bhadralok leadership in 19th century Bengal, in creating an idealized form of the undivided ‘nation’. This, perhaps, in a way, proposes the second phase of period of nationalism that Partha Chatterjee asserts as the ‘inner’ domain bearing the ‘essential’ mark of cultural identity (Chatterjee 1996). The Guptipara Baroiyari Puja was a path-breaking event, being in a way instrumental in encouraging ‘public participation’, breaking the shackles of the Goddess confined to the precincts of rich households, and eventually taking up the stature of the present-day ‘look’ of Durga Puja. Shibkrishna Dawn (1837–73) of Jorasanko was one of the first to initiate the baroiyari form in Calcutta. Although a rich man himself, having major investments in the railways and in iron, he was noted for collecting subscriptions from the rich and famous of the city in order to hold the festivities. Hutom,11 however, remains the best chronicler of the Baroiyari Puja. He called the collectors of puja subscriptions as fearsome as the government revenue collectors for the Permanent Settlement that had ruined so many zamindari estates of the times (Nag 1991). This eventuality has been especially emphasized so that it will help in a way to understand the formal attributes of the image of Durga which Kumartuli has produced over the years. The earliest prototype of Durga image, Khas Bangla—or specifically that of Bengal as it has been termed—was a more primitive variant that was attached to a more divine-like form, evincing large and elongated eyes extending almost till the ears on both sides of the face, with the face having an angular, sharpened and awe inspiring look. This represented the slender form of bamboo leaf12 reminiscent of wooden prototypes in the sculptural history of Bengal. The moving of Durga Puja from the ‘sanctified’ space of rich households to the ‘sovereign’ space of public mass was instrumental in bringing about a distinct change in the stylized traits of the Goddess. Though it has not been specified as to exactly from which date and how the facial traits of Durga have undergone specific changes to be known as Dobhasi,13 it is supposedly the more humanized facial category that came into 11 Hutom was the pseudonym of Kaliprasanna Singha, the 19th century Bengali author who made a satirical comment on the then contemporary Bengali society in his celebrated work, HutomPencharnaksha. 12 Clay modellers of Kumartuli continue to recall such accounts of making of Pratima that has changed continually through ages. 13 The terms like Khas Bangla and Dobhasi have essentially generated as Kumartuli lingo or lingo of the potters. Where Khas Bangla implicitly means ‘essentially Bengali’, Dobhasi means a mannerism that speaks essentially two kinds of languages, one of the gods and the other of the humans. According to the artisans of Kumartuli, the stylized forms of pratima have changed over the years,

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vogue over the years. The Dobhasi pratima, an expression prevailing in Kumartuli, denotes a stylized form of Durga with extended, broadened eyes, a much fuller face that expresses the grandeur and beauty of the Devi, but with a different nuance. Though gradual changes from Khas Bangla to Dobhasi cannot be ascertained to a specific time, the clay modellers of Kumartuli suggest that the Khas Bangla Mukh (Khas Bangla portrait) of the Pratima was an archaic variant of the idol of Durga that used to be executed in much earlier days in Kumartuli. Did the formal attributes of the idol change to suit the tastes of changing times? Did the slender and angular archaic appearance of the idol have anything to do with the earlier precedents of wood carving in Bengal, who preceded the clay modellers? The eminent researcher and essayist, Sudhir Chakrabarti, discusses the ethnographical lineage of the carpenter or sutradhar class throughout Bengal, in his Krishnanagarer Mritsilpo o Mritsilpi Samaj, which had an obvious influence on the patuas or the clay modellers of Bengal. The angular dimension of the Khas Bangla pattern of expression perhaps suggests the earliest referential departure from the medium of wood into that of clay. Later, the Dobhasi pattern was again a prominent change in the Kumartuli tradition of idol making that is still persisting in the traditional idols of Bonedi Bari pujo. Whether the much fuller and rounded face of the Durga idol in Dobhasi pattern recalls a certain similitude with the women folks of rich households or Bonedi Bari needs consideration. The shifting formal attributes of Dobhasi Pratima, putting on the garb of the lady of the household, identified in her Saj or bedecking that reflected contemporary fashion in jewellery workshops of the swarnakars or the goldsmiths of 19th century Calcutta, might reflect the ‘humanization’ of the divine image manifest in the process of ‘secularization’ (Bhattacharya 2007) of the Hindu orthodoxies of 19th century Bengal. During this time, the imagining of homecoming of the goddess from her celestial abode for five days was also synonymized with the homecoming of a Bengali married girl from her in-laws, perceptively reflected in the generic songs of Agomoni and Bijaya.

4.3 The Internalization of Art School Trends Within Kumartuli’s Precincts The Bengali nouveaux-riches or the ‘babu’ class, who by the mid 19th century was creating a different variation of middle class, bhadralok 14 gentlemen, introduced a kind of reformation in the age-old thoughts in colonial Bengal drawing references from European history and its development. 19th century Calcutta had become a real the previous form of Khas Bangla connoted a primitive form in the ‘look’ of the pratima or the Goddess that sustained the deification in the earlier days; whereas the Dobhasi form was a more humanized version of the pratima in the later years. 14 As Sumit Sarkar explains the bhadralok class of 19th century Calcutta: ‘This, in its own perception was a middle-class (madhyasreni, madhyabitta), bhadralok world which situated itself below the aristocracy of dewans and banians but above the lesser folk who had to soil their hands with manual labour in countryside or town, and who tended to be lower caste or Muslim’. (Sarkar 1997: 169).

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metropolis for the bhadralok, providing education, opportunities for jobs, printed books, a taste for new cultural values (Sarkar 1997). By the mid-19th century British administrators, with a view to impart art education among the Indians, established various institutes to spearhead the progress of colonial rule. Their actual intention was to train them as draughtsmen for assisting and easing the process of administration. With the establishment of Government School of Art in 1854 in Calcutta, a group of trained artists came into existence, who were sufficing the needs of the British officials in preparing drafts and designs for various architectures and official buildings whose foundations were being laid during the same period. With the establishment of the art school in Calcutta, a new genre of art tradition was propounded. This essentially justified its function as a training institute for imparting education in the spheres of industrial designs to facilitate the accelerating growth of the expanding British empire and also to excavate and explore India’s rich treasure of architecture, sculpture and mural traditions. In the meanwhile, many of the traditional clay modellers of Kumartuli got the scope to acquire academic training at the art school. There was indeed a reverberation of art school training within the premise of Kumartuli that had continued to create sculptural language in an intensely indigenous form, within the context of iconographical norms prescribed by the canonical texts or the silpashastras. It was the nouveaux-riche families of the 19th century Calcutta, known as Bonedi Poribar or the aristocratic families, who commissioned the highly skilful and dexterous clay modellers of Kumartuli to create magnificent copies of Greek and Roman classical sculptures, to embellish their mansions imitating the Baroque designs prevailing in the then contemporary Europe. The mansions of Khelat Ghosh in Pathuriaghata, Dawn household, Marble Palace of the Mullick family, Tagore’s household at Jorasanko, Hatkhola Dutta household and many such flamboyant architectures bear testimony to the master craftsmen of Kumartuli. A distinct genre of clay modelling and making of clay objects have flourished at Krishnanagar in Nadia district since the pre-colonial era that is historically related to the growth of the Kumartuli or the potters’ colony in Calcutta.15 The traditional clay modelling of Krishnanagar meticulously replicated not only the realistic objects but also executed the exact copy of human portraits. This attracted the attention of the British administrative heads and the British officials. A continuous trend of migration of Krishnanagar clay modellers from Krishnanagar to Kumartuli has been conspicuous since the establishment of the potters’ colony in Calcutta. The Krishnanagar clay modellers have been, always, looked upon with reverence, by the British art connoisseurs. This had made way for the display of excellent art works of these master artists in the world exhibitions that were arranged by the British authority throughout the world, during mid-19th and early 20th century. Whether the forte of the traditional artists of Kumartuli or Krishnanagar was challenged by the new generation of art school trained artists needs to be considered. A question arises 15 This reflects the collection and exhibition of Indian traditional art objects in world art exhibitions during the 19th century. ‘Figures in clay, painted and dressed up in muslins, silks and spangles, are admirably modelled at Krishnanagar, Calcutta, Lucknow and Poona’. This has been put forth in The Arts of India, Indian Referee for the Indian Section of the South Kengsington Museum. G.C.M. Birdwood (p. 222).

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whether the artists attaining academic training and equipped to serve the Victorian empire were posing a challenge to the traditional clay modellers of Kumartuli and Krishnanagar. That the teachers of art school motivated the traditional clay modellers is a known fact. Jadunath Pal, one of the exceptionally talented clay modellers from Krishnanagar, was selected to take sculpture lessons in art school and later became a teacher in the same institute. A distinct genre of artists evolved who had an essential knowledge of clay modelling which they inherited and was further developed by their academic training in art school by the mid-19th century. In this respect, we can recall the names of famous artists like Gopal Chandra Pal,16 Jadunath Pal,17 Motilal Pal18 and the likes, who were imparted art school training and simultaneously served as teachers in Modelling and Sculpture section in the same institute. The excellent works of these artists were displayed in the World Art Exhibitions and in Art Exhibitions of Calcutta.19 These artists, who were being trained to excel in academic realism, formed a definite group of colonized mass set apart from their brethren in Kumartuli and enjoying the accolades and praises for ‘speaking the language of the colonizers’. The obvious dividing ridge between the art school trained group of clay modellers and the traditional Kumartuli clay modellers was laid within such parameters of colonial constructions of a ‘modernized’ society within Indian context. It was obvious that Kumartuli underwent a dramatic change with the establishment of the art institute, as a comprehensive visual language was created with the subsequent exchange of ideas involving the participation of art school trained artists and Kumartuli clay modellers nurturing traditional knowledge. The indigenous language of realism assimilated with the Western academic realism creating a genre of modelling, still continuing in the ‘studios’ of Kumartuli. I would contest the position that it was solely the knowledge of Western academic realism that was instrumental in formulating the formal language of Kumartuli Durga idol that became so popular during the early decades of 20th century. I am elaborating these interfaces of distinct cultural nuances of traditional Kumartuli and Krishnanagar clay modelling and that of the Western academic realism, to justify the later developments that ushered in the sphere of making of Durga idols in Calcutta during the early decades of 20th century. How the religious idol of the preceding centuries moved to different precincts as a more ‘secular’ entity to assert 16 Gopal Chandra Pal was one of the students who joined the Industrial School of Arts in its initial year in 1854 and later joined the institute as a teacher in modelling section while H.H. Locke was acting as principal. See. Kamal Sarkar’s Bharater Bhaskar o Chitrasilpi. 17 Jadunath Pal was introduced by the then District Magistrate of Nadia to the Governor General Lord Northbrooke, who took the initiative to finance a young talent to study in art school. Later Jadunath Pal joined the art school as a modelling instructor. His ceremonial works made their way to the best art exhibitions around the world. See Kamal Sarkar’s Bharater Bhaskar o Chitrasilpi. 18 Motilal Pal was an eminent clay modeller from Ghurni, who too, participated in several world art exhibitions held during the closing phase of 19th century. See Kamal Sarkar’s Bharater Bhaskar o Chitrasilpi. 19 Tapati Guha Thakurta opines in The Making of a New ‘Indian’ Art: Artists, aesthetics and nationalism in Bengal, c. 1850-1920: ‘Exhibitions played a crucial role in propagating the new model of ‘fine arts’ through primarily the works of visiting European artists in India and copies of European Old Masters’.(Guhathakurta 1992): 46).

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her pertinence in the early decades of 20th century needs a certain introspection of the time. Colonial rule had imposed radically new models of ‘art’ and ‘artist’ on indigenous society, bolstering these with an elaborate structure of patronage and education (Guha-Thakurta 2015). Confronting those ‘new models of art’, Kumartuli clay modellers, too, were being segregated into two diverging halves, one attaining the art school education and absorbing the Western academic norms, being regarded as the Western-style ‘artists’ (Guha-Thakurta 2015) while the other sufficing the demands of the indigenous market, considered as native ‘artisans’.20 The forsaking of Gopeshwar Pal by the community of clay modellers of Kumartuli can be justified on this very note, as he was the chosen one who was sent by the British authority to the British Empire Exhibition. One of the notorious and repressive policies of the colonial rule during the early 20th century of asserting itself on the Indian commune was that of ‘divide and rule’. I would assert that the forsaking of Gopeshwar Pal by his brethren community was no stray incident. Artists like Jadunath Pal, G. Pal, were sieved out from their native connection and were being aura-filled with a sense of superiority among their very own associates. This was due to the colonial hegemony that consciously demarcated a separating line between the ‘bazaar art’ of 19th century popular prints in woodcuts, lithographs, indigenous clay modelling and stone carving on the one hand, and ‘high art’ of Western Academic realism on the other (Fig. 4.1). The succeeding developments within the premise of Government School of Art, Calcutta, witnessed several dichotomies, where the mission of British colonial rule to refine the aesthetic tastes of native Indians was contradicted in itself as protests among Indian students arose in succeeding years, when the Indian students noticed biased selection of art works in the ‘Fine Art Exhibitions’ (Guhathakurta 1992) of Calcutta. The British and Indian orientalists, during this period, sought to work on the antiquities of India for a ‘Western readership’ (Guhathakurta 1992). The art school saw a new trend of development in changing aesthetics, where orientalists like Havell, Abanindranath Tagore, Coomaraswamy, Kakuzo Okakura and Sister Nivedita asserted the esteemed glory of India and endeavoured in a revivalist mode to sanctify the Indian sentiments. The reformative ideologies of E.B. Havell brought about changes in art school that increased resentments among a group of Indian students. They thought that his decision of sanctifying the art school (Guhathakurta 1992) curriculum with the aesthetics of ‘Indianness’ was a denial of Western academic training to the Indian students. With the advocacy of orientalism, Indian students in art school became more inclined towards the treasures of Indian art and architecture that had been relegated to a marginalized domain far from the zone of ‘high art’. In Kumartuli, this was manifest in Netai Chandra Pal modelling the huge figure of Durga with heavy borrowings from Indian classical sculpture that came to be known as Oriental Arter Thakur. This prevailed for several decades in Durga Puja scenario in Calcutta with

20 The

legendary Gopeshwar Pal was invited to the British Empire Exhibition in 1924, where he was highly appraised for his ingenuity in replicating portraits in their exactitude.

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Fig. 4.1 Gopeshwar Pal’s Durga idol along with her family, where the idols have been separately placed on various planes of the stage built within the ‘pandal’ to emphasize the dramatic mood of the celestial combat. Photo courtesy: C.Bros and sons

much grandiose representation. This particular genre of Arter Thakur 21 continued to prevail in Kumartuli as it specifically derived the norms of modelling from Indian classical sculpture through several decades, moving into post-independence phase too (Fig. 4.2). A dramatic change was brought about by legendary Gopeshwar Pal of Kumartuli, popularly known as G.Paul, in the making of Durga pratima, in the second decade of 20th century. Gopeshwar Pal created Durga idol steeped in realism. In a stark contrast to the precedence of Bangla Chaler Thakur or Ekchala Pratima, that represented the idol of Mahisasurmardini Durga along with the idols of Lakshmi, Saraswati, Ganesha and Kartikeya against a single backdrop or chal or chali, he modelled the idols as individual entities, placing them on different planes throughout the stage-like structure of the pandal. The individual idols came to be known as ‘side putul’, a term coined by the artist. ‘Side putul’ indicates the placement of minor idols beside the idol of Goddess Durga.22 It was this revolutionary step taken up by the genius of Gopeshwar Pal that paved the way for ushering in of individual artistic expressions 21 Arter Thakur, this particular term got its hold in the domain of Kumartuli during the early decades of 20th century. This particularly suggests that the emphasis on the term ‘Arter Thakur’ was in itself a variant of the traditional Durga idol and emphasizes on the ‘modernity’ of the idol, that derived from the specific Western academism taught in the Art school. 22 In this case, it seems the coinage of the term ‘side putul’ is relevant as the Kumartuli modellers were concerned about the form and positioning of the models, more than anything else.

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Fig. 4.2 One of the Gopeshwar Pal’s Durga that was highly realistic in its approach. The individual models of the deities were placed on an ‘imagined’ and ‘constructed’ space of the pandal. Courtesy: C.Bros and sons

in the Kumartuli tradition of idol making, which till then was deemed as a mere craft tradition denying the artists’ imaginative excellence. This gave birth to a new genre of Durga idol, termed as Arter Thakur which is still prevailing to this date in varied denominations. The much static posture of the idols in Bangla Chaler Thakur was replaced by the goddess combating Mahisasur, set amidst the pseudo-abode of Mount Kailasha. The genius of Gopeshwar Pal not only tried to replicate the puranic tale, but also brought in contemporary happenings going around the world within the context of the composition of Durga idol. That Gopeshwar Pal went on to impose Adolf Hitler’s portrait as the Asura justifies the fact more pertinently. The asura being imagined as the fascist ruler, Hitler, reflected the artist’s conceptual ingenuity that was quite intriguing in Kumartulli clay modelling history. This influenced the later experimentations in modelling Durga idol during the post-independence period in Calcutta. These developments in the idol-making tradition in Kumartuli were extremely crucial in determining the succeeding progression of ‘new’ individualistic expression in the idol of Durga that came to be known as chhobiana variety (the term originated from chhayachhobi or film, showing the heroines who were represented in the facial expression of goddess Durga). This particular development specifically asserted the humanized form of Durga idol in Kumartuli vocabulary.

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4.4 Changing Facets of the Idol of Durga as the Manifestation of Nationalist ‘Icon’. 4.4.1 The Impact of the Icon of Bharat Mata on the National Sentiment and its Imposing Effect on the Idol of Durga The succeeding events that emerged within the polity of India in the early decades of 20th century are extremely crucial in understanding the ‘secularization’ (Bhattacharya 2007) of the image of Goddess Durga that transcended the religious margins and emerged as a glorified idol manifested within the ‘icon’. Visuality and other embodied practices have played a central role in the constitution of Indian public culture. The enormous body of printed images of calendars and posters, which were created during the years of nationalist movement in colonial Bengal, played a decisive role in the imagination of ‘nation’ as ‘Mother’ (Pinney 2004: 9). The large number of artistic portraits of the nation, and the nation evoked in Swadeshi songs, poems and idioms gave rise to a distinct cult of Bangajanani, or Mother Bengal. The image of Mother Bengal soon became linked to the image of the nation suggested in the final verse of Bankim Chandra Chattapadhyaya’s song Bande Mataram, a key to national hymn by this time. It was in Bangadarshan23 that he imagined the nation as ‘Mother’. The emergence of nation as ‘Mother’ within the national sentiment was central to the formulation of the ‘new’ visual image of Durga, where the goddess stands triumphant against the colonial rulers and as saviour of the nation imagined in its cartographical representation. Sumathi Ramaswamy24 and Christopher Pinney25 elucidate this specific psychology of Indian mass culture at length in their substantial works. In Photos of the Gods, Pinney26 moves on to justify the role of 19th century printed images or the chromolithographs that formed a huge repertoire of visual communication to assert the religious and political alliance. At a time when the nation was in the quest of its own identity looking back into its rich past, a phase of revivalism ushered in the field of art with the outset of ‘Bengal School’, a distinct genre of painting created by Abanindranath Tagore. Bharat Mata, originally named Banga Mata, was conceived by Abanindranath Tagore as the image of the motherland. In each hand, the Mother carries the blessings of food, clothing, learning and spiritual salvation. Her multiple arms, the halo around her head and the white lotuses at her feet emphasize the divinity of the image. In painting it, Abanindranath was conscious of creating for the first time, a new ‘artistic’ icon for 23 Bangadarshan,

a monthly Bengali literary journal, was founded in 1872 by Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay, one of the eminent authors of 19th century Bengal. 24 Refer to Sumathi Ramaswamy’s Maps, Mother/Goddesses, and Martyrdom in Modern India. She attempts to look at the political map of India evoking the spirit of ‘nationalism ’, as a result of the mass production of printed images during the 20th century. (Ramaswamy 2008). 25 Refer to Christopher Pinney’s Photos of the Gods. The Printed image and political Struggle in India. Pinney tries to re-construct the history of India through the countless printed images that flooded the 19th and 20th century public sphere in India. (Pinney 2004). 26 ibid.

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the Indian nation (Guhathakurta 1992). While investigating the shifts in the distinct ‘look’ of the image of Durga, the aspect of ‘humanization’ becomes pervasive in the visual language created during the Swadeshi movement. Abanindranath’s Bharat Mata was ushered in as a ‘national icon’, where he essentially ‘had in mind his daughter’s face’ (Bose 2017: 9). It was precisely this dual impression of intimate familiarity and divine transcendence—the role of daughter, mother and goddess all merged into one—which Nivedita also emphasized that seemed to lie at the heart of the appeal of this picture (Guhathakurta 1992). This particular image was a visual reference that inspired Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose to worship goddess Durga with four hands attuned to Abanindranath’s Bharat Mata at Bharat Mata Puja in the southern fringe of Calcutta, which later came to be known as Bijoygarh in post-independent Bengal.

4.4.2 Germination of Organizational Activities Acted as Catalyst in Imagining an Independent Identity of the Nation By the end of the 19th century, various trends within the nationalist movement were apparent in its bifurcations witnessed in the Hindu youths, the Bengali bhadraloks and the larger mass of under privileged Bengalis. The Swadeshi movement during the later phase of 19th century saw an outburst of ‘organized efforts to promote self-help in economic and social life, and the development of samitis with a wide range of activities’ (Sarkar 1973: 337). The continuous battling between the extremists and the moderates was becoming a decisive force in the emerging debates on paths to resist the colonial power. The contrasting and contradictory ideals of these groups became instrumental in gyrating the nationalist movement in the succeeding century. With the birth of innumerable associations, expressions of the self could expand beyond the realm of thoughts and change the character of the social and political life of Bengal (Ghosh 2017). The bifurcations within nationalist movement gave rise to various organizations and associations which appear as a prelude to the later club activities in the post-independence phase in Bengal. According to Sumit Sarkar, the emergence of ‘samitis’27 or ‘national volunteer’ movements was one of the major achievements of the Swadeshi age. These organizations encouraged to build up a self-sustained Indian community and worked across the length and breadth of undivided Bengal.28 This phenomenon in the history of colonial India coincides

27 Also

referred to as ‘Samity’ as in Simla Byayam Samity Sarbojanin. Sarkar mentions in his The Swadeshi Movement in Bengal, ‘Apart from Calcutta, with 19 samitis reported by the police in 1907, the main strength of the movement was in East Bengal. This included a central bloc consisting of Bakargunj, Faridpur, Dacca and Mymensingh districts (where originated the five principal samitis which were to be banned in January 1909—Swadesh Bandhav, Brati, Dacca Anushilan, Suhrid, Sadhana), strong organizations in Rangpur, Tippera, Sylhet and 28 Sumit

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with Emile Durkheim’s proposition of community solidarity. The emergence of organizational activities in undivided Bengal as self- dependent and self-reliant groups surely gave birth to the terms, viz., sabha, samiti, sarbojanin, denoting inclusion, participation and engagement of the mass. The establishment of Sanatan Dharmotsahini Sabha at Bhabanipur in South Calcutta, Bagbazar Sarbojanin, Simla Byayam Samity Sarbojanin, Kumartuli Park Sarbojanin, etc., hints at the collective efforts of common people. There was an intense enthusiasm among people surrounding

Fig. 4.3 One of the archival images of Simla Byayam Samity Sarbojanin, showing the nationalist leaders attending a feast during Annakut Utsav in 1938 at the club premise. Photo Courtesy: Simla Byayam Samiti Club

the Durga Puja celebration, while invoking the power of the goddess to deliver her children from suffering, intensified by the colonial rule. Baroiyari Puja got a new the part of the old province lying to the east of the Hooghly river, and some societies in all districts except Sibsagar, Goalpara and Garo hills’. (Sarkar 1973) (p. 120–122).

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dimension within the context of nationalist movement in Bengal, as the associations got involved in multifarious activities to propagate nationalist ideals of reformers, thinkers and activists (Fig. 4.3). It was in 1919 that Nebu Bagan Baroiyari Durga Puja was initiated under inspiration of the ideologies of great reformers, like that of Ramakrishna Paramhangsha, Swami Vivekananda, Girish Ghosh, Surendranath Banerjee and the likes. The Swadeshi ideals of the nationalists, like that of Sister Nivedita and Bipin Chandra Pal, motivated the youth to participate in various physical activities to sanctify soul and body to combat British imperialism.(Sarkar 1973) The Nebu Bagan Baroiyari Durga Puja changed to Bagbazar Sarbojonin Durgotsab29 in 1926, which held Swadeshi Silpa Mela (fairs were held to promote the sale of indigenous objects in various parts of the city) in 1930 and witnessed the participation of Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose in its programme, where he delivered highly emotive speeches.30 The activities of Simla Byayam Samity must be taken into consideration, where Birastami Puja used to be held as a motivation for the youths, invoking their inner power as a means of resistance against the colonial power. Sarala Devi, niece of Rabindranath Tagore, first came up with the idea of celebrating Birastami (the eighth day in the auspicious fortnight of Devipaksha, that is, the fortnight during which the festival of Goddess Durga takes place) (Ghosh 2017). Simla Byayam Samity organized Birastami Puja to celebrate the ‘inner strength’ which was advocated by nationalists like Bipin Pal and Aurobindo Ghosh. The Durga Puja celebration in these Sarbojanin Pujas became the chosen places where the nationalist leaders conversed with the mass community. The festivals like Pratapaditya Utsav31 and Shivaji Utsav32 were taken into account in 29 The puja of Bagbazar Sarbojonin Durgotsav was changed to Bagbazar Sarbojonin Durgotsav o Pradarshani Committee in 1930. 30 My maternal grandfather, Sudhir Pal, who was instrumental in setting up the first ‘samity’ or forum for the welfare of the clay modellers of Kumartuli, was engaged with the legendary clay modeller, G.Paul or Gopeshwar Pal, in putting up the Kumartuli Park’s Durga Puja that was destroyed in a devastating fire during the pre-independence period. This was a kind of mythical story that I had heard several times from my mother. The part of the story that intrigued me was the fact that the very next day it was to be inaugurated by Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose, the nationalist leader. The whole incident had a kind of obvious and immediate impact on my childhood consciousness. The continuous imagining and re-imagining of the incident points poignantly towards the obvious connection of the overwhelming celebration of Durga Puja with the active participation of the nationalist leaders. 31 Refer to Semanti Ghosh’s Different Nationalisms. Bengal 1905–1947: ‘When around the time of the first pronouncement of Bengal Partition, a prominent lady of the illustrious Tagore family and a niece of Rabindranath Tagore named Sarala Devi rediscovered Pratapaditya, a lost historical hero of Bengal, and introduced the Pratapaditya Utsav in April 1903, her mission was to instil a sense of one-ness among the ‘Bengalis’ through the popularization of the glories of Pratapaditya. One of the famous baro bhuyians of the Bengal subah (province), that is, the twelve local chieftains-cumlandlords known to have put up a brave fight against the Mughals, Pratapaditya supposed to have saved Hindu rulers in an era of political turmoil’. (Ghosh 2017: 52–53). Ghosh moves on to criticize the overtly nationalist approach of Sarala Devi, where ‘Sarala Devi completely neglected the fact that Pratapaditya actually turned into an extortionist ruler, later deposed by his own rebellious subjects aided by the Mughal general Man Singh. (Ghosh 2017: 53). 32 The Shivaji Utsav, too, gained similar impetus as Pratapaditya Utsav, to arouse the nationalist fervour of the mass. Refer to Semanti Ghosh’s Different Nationalisms. Bengal 1905–1947: ‘ The

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Bengal as a celebration of the empowered nation as a united force against the colonial rule. In all probabilities, the club pujas became the chosen sites for conglomeration of people, who sought to re-construct an image of the feminine Sakti in Durga, as a saviour of nation, within the parameters of the colonial nation, creating the essential ‘own domain of sovereignty’ which Partha Chatterjee asserts as a means of ‘anticolonial nationalism’ (Chatterjee 1996: 217). The attestation of Goddess Durga as the nation was a deliberate effort to imagine the nation as an ‘individual identity’, which has been critically analysed by Samita Sen in her article ‘Motherhood and Mothercraft: Gender and Nationalism in Bengal’, where she contests it was not until the early years of 20th century that the image of nation as ‘Mother’ became relevant in the agenda of nationalist movement (Sen 1993).33 The resilient force against the colonial power was posed by the domestic periphery that was the sacred and ideal space untrodden by foreign authority. In a way, the debates and discussions surrounding the reformist movement of 19th century Bengal built up the essential platform for the metaphorical imagination of nation as ‘Sakti’ or the feminine power bestowed in ‘Durga’ and ‘Kali’ (Ramos 2015).

4.4.3 Invoking the Power of Sakti in Devi Durga as a Nationalist Sentiment in 23 Pally Club Puja The proposition of creation of a ‘spiritual domain’ and a ‘material domain’ within a colonial society evincing anti-colonial nationalism (Chatterjee 1996) remains at the very core of the celebration of Durga Puja. The innermost power of the ‘Self’, aptly denoted as Atmasakti, was invoked, likened to ‘constructive swadeshi’, a term coined by Sumit Sarkar in his Swadeshi Movement in Bengal—1903–1908 (Sarkar 1973)34 . This invocation of the empowerment of the inner ‘Self’ synchronizes with the invocation of the image of Durga and Kali as a feminine aspect of Sakti uplifting the spirit of one of the ideologies of Swadeshi nationalism. The philosophy of merging the essential Hindu sentiments with Swadeshi nationalism was visible in the writings same was true for Shivaji, the iconic Maratha warrior-ruler. Throughout the first few years of the 20th century, the cult of Shivaji continued to spread in various parts of Bengal. It was celebrated in June 1906 by the extremists of the movement in a clearly Hindu manner. (Ghosh 2017: 53). 33 ‘The nation as the mother demonstrated clearly how women had become the arena in which agreements and conflicts between the colonial bureaucracy and the colonised middle class were played out. She was not only the captive to be freed by her morally inspired children but the central figure who created and protected the sanctuary of the home, where the colonised intelligentsia, besieged by the colonial rule, could take refuge’. (Sen 1993: 233) Sen went on to scrutinize the position of women as a specific gender, posing as crucial elements in the debates arising within the 20th century nationalist movement. ‘In envisioning the family as the unit of the nation and the home as the cradle of its citizenry, nationalist discourse set up a series of connected binary oppositions between the ‘home and the world’, the nursery and the nation, the private and the public’. (Sen 1993: 233). 34 Refer to Sumit Sarkar’s Swadeshi Movement in Bengal- 1903–1908. (p. 47–49).

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of Sister Nivedita and Bipin Chandra Pal. Just as Bipin Chandra Pal, another highpriest of Swadeshi, urged a worship of Durga, ‘not merely as a pauranic deity or as a mythological figure, but as the visible representation of the eternal spirit of their race’, so also Nivedita evoked the spirit of India in the dual images of Shiva, the very ‘ideal of Manhood, embodiment of Godhead’, and of Kali, Shakti incarnate and a symbol of ‘Eternal Motherhood’ (Guhathakurta 1992: 172). ‘Our history’, wrote Pal, ‘is the sacred biography of the Mother. Our philosophies are the revelations of the Mother’s mind. Our arts—our poetry and our painting, our music and our drama, our architecture and our sculpture, all these are the outflow of the Mother’s diverse emotional moods and experiences. Our religion is the organized expression of the soul of the Mother. The outsider knows her as India…’ (Bose 2017:1). Sugata Bose (2017) argues in his The Nation as Mother and other visions of Nationhood how the image of nation as Mother was envisioned by Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay in his song Bande Mataram, creating controversies over the image of goddess Durga envisioned in the final verse. The whole debate on communal antagonisms within anti-colonial nationalist movement arose within such imaginings of ‘nation’ based on Hindu ideologies approved by leaders like Bipin Pal and Aurobindo Ghose. The ‘full truth and reality of this concept’ could only be grasped, in Pal’s view, ‘in the light of the entire Nature philosophy of the Hindus’, especially the conception of Earth as Prakriti (Bose 2017: 6). It was much earlier in 1882 that Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay had imagined the nation as ‘mother’ in his famous novel Ananadamath, which he included in one of his serially published social commentaries, Kamalakanter Daptar in the monthly magazine, Bangadarshan.35 Being an ardent nationalist, he anticipated the necessity of imagining the nation as ‘Mother’. He visualizes the nation incarnate in the image of ‘Mother’, a ten-armed Devi bedecked with countless ornaments, with her arms stretched in ten directions standing amidst the timeless ocean, vanquishing her enemies. He invokes the ‘Mother’ and vows before her to offer the souls of sixty million Bengali sons. This kind of emphatic imagery of the nation imagined as ‘mother’ heavily relied on the notion of woman as an entity safeguarding her domicile. The imagery of nation imagined as ‘mother’ gained huge impetus during the early years of anti-colonial movement, as nationalists like Bipin Pal, Aurobindo Ghosh, Sister Nivedita preached Swadeshi ideals synonymizing it with Hindu ideals. This phenomenon of imagining Goddess Durga as a manifestation of ‘colonial nation’ becomes prominent if we consider the Durga Puja of 23 Pally Club Puja at Harish Mukherjee Road.36 The famous Kumartuli artist Nitai Chandra Pal designed the Durga idol for 23 Pally Club Puja in the initial years, which was taken up by 35 Bangadarshan, a Bengali monthly literary journal was founded in 1872 by Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay, one of the greatest writers of 19th century Bengal. 36 The early decades of 20th century witnessed the proliferation of club pujas in Calcutta that may be justified probably as an immediate reaction to the repressive policies of the British government, as a defensive measure to continue the ‘Swadeshi Movement’. It was in 1910 that the first Baroiyari Durga Puja was held by Bhavanipur Dharmotsahini Sabha at Jora Mandir of Mukherjee Ghat by the banks of Adi Ganga in Calcutta. Later a gamut of Baroiyari Durga Puja was initiated in Calcutta

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Kumartuli artist Jiten Pal in the succeeding years. The idol of Goddess Durga, in these club pujas, took on a different look hinting at the same tendency of the clay modeller to draw upon the rich culture of the nation, within its vast store of sculptures, architectures and paintings. (Guha-Thakurta 2015). One of the major observations that may be made here is the way art school revivalism construed its path and infiltrated into the ‘making’ of Durga idol in the public arena. This was demonstrated in Jiten Pal’s attempt to design one of his Durga idols based on one of Nandalal Bose’s celebratory works on Mahisasurmardini. The artist’s imagination rendered a different ‘look’ to the buffalo-demon bedecking him with a British Crown, symbolizing British imperialism. Such specific symbolical annotations became conspicuous during the pre-independence period within Kumartuli vocabulary that gained impetus in the larger context of Sarbojanin Puja. Jiten Pal’s creation is a marked indicator of the inculcation of ‘new’ aesthetics in Indian art pioneered by Abanindranath Tagore’s disciple, Nandalal Bose, who was ideologically inclined towards the ideals of Swaraj. In the volatile climate of Swadeshi activities in Bengal, Nivedita declared that ‘Art, like science, like education, like industry, like trade itself, must now be followed “for the remaking of the Motherland”, and for no other aim’ (Guhathakurta 1992: 185). 23 Pally Durga idols were mostly oriental arter thakur steeped in the essence of Indian classical art. The genre of oriental arter thakur was highly acclaimed in the Durga idol making scenario of the succeeding decades, which perhaps signifies a mass appreciation of Indian revivalist art movement that negated the existing Western academic realism style. Kumartuli artists like Niranjan Pal were highly appreciated for their ideation of idols of Devi murti stylized in ‘oriental style’. The Durga idols at 23 Pally Club Puja became the epitome of oriental arter thakur as various forms of the genre were developed over the following years. The 23 Pally Club Puja committee established the Durga temple (23 Pally Durga Mandir) in the post-independence phase, which housed a magnificent idol of goddess Durga in metal cast which was a copy of one of the Durga idols displayed in annual Durga Puja celebration. This particular Durga idol represented the ‘hill goddess’ or Tantric ascetic look with matted hair, crescent moon, serpent, and a tiger skin attire (Guha-Thakurta 2015: 165). With the permanent instalment of the Durga idol in the Durga temple at Harish Mukherjee road, the appropriation of Durga idol within the public space came to a completion (Fig. 4.4).

like that of Shyampukur Adi Sarbojonin Durgotsav (1911), Pataldanga Srisri Sharadiya Maha Puja (1913),Bagbazaar Sarbojonin Durgotsav (1918), Simla Byayam Samiti (1925) and so forth.

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Fig. 4.4 One of the Durga idols of 23 Pally Sarbojanin Club Puja, conceptualized by Kumartuli artist, Jiten Pal, essentially reflecting the genre of Oriental Arter Thakur of Kumartuli. Photo Courtesy: 23 Pally Club

4.5 Post-independence Stature of Durga Idols in Kumartuli: Reminiscing the Past and Creating ‘New’ Visual Language in Durga Idol 4.5.1 The Persistence of ‘Iconic’ Image of Durga as the Saviour of the Nation The ‘iconic’ image of Goddess Durga was persistent in the construction of the image of the independent nation of India with drastic changes in the political map of the country. The first decade of 20th century, with the declaration of Partition of Bengal received the first shock of eventualities that permanently changed the destiny of Bengal. With the historical declaration of division of Bengal, the populace of undivided Bengal underwent a huge change ( Chatterjee 1994). The Partition plan of the British colonizers that was persistent since 1905 saw its final outbreak with the Partition of the nation into India and Pakistan, where Bengal was severely affected due to its Partition and the formation of East Pakistan (present Bangladesh) as one half and West Bengal in India as the other half. In the previous section, I argued how the festival of Durga Puja was transcending its religious denominations, becoming

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an indispensable weapon for the ‘construction’ of an all-pervasive image of Sakti, the saviour of the nation and her people. The Partition of Bengal brought about several developments within Calcutta’s populace, which in a way transformed the ‘look’ of Calcutta’s Durga Puja in the years succeeding 1947. In another way, the festival influenced the populace of the city to gain its strength and vigour, as the ‘refugees’ (primarily Hindu refugees) or the displaced people from Bangladesh thronged the nooks and corners of the city of Calcutta.37 The social fabric of the city was disturbed as it tried to accommodate the hapless lot of people uprooted from their homeland. The people from the eastern part of Bengal or opar Bangla struggled to survive within the city that was unknown and at times hostile to them.38 Kumartuli being an integral part of the city felt the intensity of the pressure of the immigrants, who streamed into the potters’ colony in great numbers, to earn a livelihood.39 It was during this period that the refugees at various units in the city united to celebrate Durga Puja. The Bharat Mata Puja was intrinsically related to the history of the conflict between the refugees from East Pakistan and the landlords settled in Kolkata. Much political dialogue emanated from the Bharat Mata Puja that remained politicized throughout its progression. The octogenarian artist, Shyamal Sengupta, a disciple of Ramesh Pal, shared his experiences as he articulated the clay models of Durga for a period of more than one and half decade for Bharat Mata Puja since the 1970. The artist reminiscences how the idol of Durga conformed to the iconic image of Bharat Mata, envisioned by Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose as a four-armed goddess holding the tricolour national flag. Sumathi Ramaswamy asserts the ‘emergence of the gendered representation of India as “Mother India” in the last quarter of the 19th century in Bengal, from where her popularity soon spread over the subcontinent during the course of the next few decades. This exceptional female figure appears as both divine and human; as “Indian” but also reminiscent of female figurations of the nation from other parts of the world, especially the imperial West; as invincible but also vulnerable; as benevolent but also bloodthirsty; as comely maiden but also as an ageless matron; and as guardian goddess of the nation but at the same time in need of her sons’ care and protection’. (Ramaswamy 2008: 827) The Bharat Mata Puja needs special mention in justifying the persistence of representation of iconic image of Durga in her idol. The representation of goddess Durga as a benevolent ‘mother’ figure within the cartographic representation of India becomes poignant in the goddess’s formulation. She stands victorious over her enemies, demonstrated in 37 Refer to Calcutta. The Living City. The Present and Future. Vol II. Nilanjana Chatterjee puts forth in her article, ‘The East Bengal Refugees A Lesson in Survival’: These 6,85,672 people were officially classed as ‘displaced persons’. They were primarily Hindu refugees, dislocated by the events arising out of the partition of British India and the creation of Pakistan. (p.70). 38 Ibid. ‘East Bengal refugees have long been negatively stereotyped as victims and trouble-makers – indolent, obstructive, unreasonably demanding and unwilling to adapt to new environments’. (p.71). 39 ‘Squalor and congestion has long been the order of the day in the Kumortuli basti. Already, in 1876, the population density of this settlement was recorded in the census as the second highest in the city, with 163 persons per acre. The figure moved in 1951 to 342 persons per acre’(Guha-Thakurta 2015: 154).

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one instance as a Dragon-figure symbolizing China as the nation’s enemy during Indo-China war. Several times she is emerging as the nation incarnate embodying the political map of the Indian nation.

4.5.2 The Distinct Changes in Kumartuli Idol-Making Vocabulary, Giving Form to Individual Concepts With the streaming of Opar Bangla artists, Kumartuli experienced deliberate and conspicuous changes in the articulation of the idol of Durga. Kumartuli distinctly marks a dividing line between the two schools of idol making that of Opar Bangla and the other of Epar Bangla (the Western part of undivided Bengal). The intense ‘realism’ in the image of Durga that was experimented by Gopeshwar Pal in the preindependence period came into vogue in the post-independence scenario of ‘making’ of Durga idol that became phenomenal. The intensity of the appeal of a humanized variant of Durga idol was too strong to be ignored and later experimentations in Kumartuli unleashed a kind of cascading of stylistic variations in realistic image making of Durga. Artists like Ramesh Pal, Rakhal Pal and Gorachand Pal stole the show during the 50s, 60s and 70s. While Ramesh Pal fashioned a form for the goddess that would dominate the scene from the 1950s, there would be others, like Gorachand Pal, who in the 1970s gave his Durgas the appearance of a simple, unadorned, open-haired Bengali village woman draped in a red-bordered white sari, reminiscent of the village girl in Ramprasad’s devotional songs for Kali. (Guha-Thakurta 2015: 165) The ‘realism’ of Durga idol that Gopeshwar Pal expounded was necessarily the Western academic realism taught in art school that got appropriated within the Kumartuli vocabulary of idol making. The proliferation of the realist mode of stylization of Durga in the ingenious hands of Ramesh Pal, Rakhal Pal and Gorachand Pal seemed to usher in every year new ideas of representing the idol, eloquent in her expressive ‘look’, dramatized postures and dynamic movements as she triumphed over the demon. In this context, it may be argued that the strengthening of the Sarbojanin Puja (puja for all irrespective of caste and creed) arranged by the clubs, became instrumental in dictating specific improvizations to the Kumartuli artists, which in a way intensified the ‘public’ nature of Durga Puja. It was the post-independence period that witnessed the growth of club pujas inviting ‘public participation’ on a larger scale. The genre of Durga idol proposed by the ‘RudraPal’ lineage from Opar Bangla got high acclaim emphasizing the grandiosity of Durga idol, with heavy adornments or saaj of Durga and generic making up of eyes. The Ghoti Durga or the West Bengal variant also became quite prominent during the succeeding phases. In this unceasing cultural rivalry of Bangals and Ghotis in post-Independence Bengal, the decade of the 1980s would bring into predominance a Bangal mritshilpi family, that of Rakhal and Mohanbanshi Rudra Pal who had migrated to Kumortuli from Dhaka, Bikrampur in 1948, with the former seen as the main architect of the later-day success of the family trade (Guha-Thakurta 2015: 166). The sign board before Rakhal Pal’s studio is

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visibly written as Bikrampur Silpagar or Art studio of Bikrampur artists, distinctly proclaiming the existential crisis of the artists from Opar Bangla, who migrated to Calcutta. The distinct variant of Durga idol became more and more humanized giving birth to the distinct genre of Chhobiyana thakur or Durga idol resembling the heroines of chhayachhobi or films. The post-independence phase witnessed massive experimentations in fashioning Durga idol by Kumartuli’s master craftsmen. The artists delineated their individual concepts based on the prevailing socio-political scenario, while portraying the goddess. It was the magic touch of Rakhal Pal that transformed goddess Durga into the popular image of Bharat Mata with her serene look of a Bengali Mother, with cascading, rippling hair over her shoulders. Flanked on both sides were two figures, one of Chhatrapati Shivaji and the other of a child. This particular image of Durga idol is attuned to the popular icon of Bharat Mata or nation envisioned as ‘Mother’ that resonates Benedict Anderson’s reference to ‘print capitalism’ intimately linked to ‘nationalism’. Both create a sense of commonality through a reflexive awareness of the collective enterprise of worshipping gods and affirming political leaders (Pinney 2004: 12).40 In an exhaustive documentation of Kumartuli clay modellers, Anita Agnihotri41 in Kolkatar Protima Silpira (Agnihotri 2001) gives an intimate picture of the Kumartuli artists who were making Durga idols during the post-independence phase. Anita Agnihotri’s vivid description of the eminent Kumartuli artists, like Ramesh Pal, Rakhal Chandra Rudrapal (popularly known as Rakhal Pal)), Mohonbanshi Rudrapal, projects the ordeal of these artists in the Nehruvian era, where the goddess triumphed over poverty and ignorance and the ‘new’ nation dreamt of a reformed society. Anita Agnihotri’s account emphatically unearths the ruminations of Kumartuli’s idol makers, who were the show-stoppers in high-budget Calcutta Baroiyari Club Pujas in the decades of 60s, 70s, 80s. Through Rakhal Pal’s intimate musings, the difficulties of the uprooted people of East Pakistan became visible. The sojourn of the image maker within the colony of idol makers in Kumartuli, where he was trying to make a place for himself and his family, marks a new beginning in the chapter of idol making in post-independent Calcutta. The insignia of new forms and styles in the making of Durga pratima became prevalent in the Baroiyari Durga Pujas of Calcutta from the 1970s. Being given the artist’s freedom, these idol makers experimented lavishly with the ‘look’ of the pratima that varied with each artist’s individual concept of the battle between the goddess and the demon. It was once again the socio-politically charged context that prompted artists like Aloke Sen and Ashok Gupta to visualize different kinds of pratima.

40 Pinney, in his Photos of the Gods. The Printed Image and Political Struggle in India, discusses the printed images of 19th century Calcutta influencing the Indian consciousness. 41 Tapati Guhathakurta, while enumerating the variations in the looks of Kumartuli clay idol of goddess Durga, refers to Anita Agnihotri’s book Kolkatar Pratima Silpira: ‘In charting a brief schematic history of the transforming appearance of the goddess, I use as a main source her small evocative book, based on her memories of growing up watching the idols being made at the Kalighat Patuapara, and her later interviews with mritsilpis across north and south Calcutta, conducted between 1997 and 2000 . (Guha-Thakurta 2015: 161).

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As Anita Agnihotri interviewed Aloke Sen, the artist candidly shared his opinion ‘Durga was born out of political turmoil. How can I fabricate Durga keeping apart politics?’42 A devout ‘non-conformist’, according to Agnihotri, Aloke Sen’s Durga idols emanated from the ideological belief of the artist, where the idols resonated the artist’s vision of the pervasive battle between good and evil, emphatically stressing on the prevailing political conditions. Aloke Sen’s popularity revolved around his realist style, and his interpolation of real-life scenarios of train accident sites, jungles with gun-toting guerrilla fighters, cavalcades of armed forces and masked terrorists, or a more symbolic setting of attacking serpents, in which the goddess’s own battle with evil was situated. (Guha-Thakurta 2015: 172) The highly contesting concept of the artist was his insignia in portraying the Durga idols. Ashok Gupta, too, criticized the socio-political conditions through his portrayal of Durga idols. These artists fabricated strong social and political comments as the political scenario in West Bengal underwent drastic changes through the formative decades in post-independent India, while making space for the new wave of ‘conceptual puja’ or ‘theme puja’ in Durga Puja scenario in Kolkata. Concluding Note The resplendent goddess stands as the ‘icon’ of power, the power that flows incessantly within the polity where we exist. Since her inception, the image of Durga has deliberated political connections that have been well construed within the vocabulary of Kumartuli idol making. By the late 1980s, the wave of ‘theme puja’ made its way in Durga Puja scenario in Kolkata that has created a whole new genre of formulation of Devi idols along with a construction of puja paraphernalia. This particular essay sought to comprehend the trajectories within a polity, where a religious phenomenon is construing its path traversing the ‘private’ and ‘public’ space simultaneously, while reconciling with the immediate emerging issues of socio-political connotations. The involvement of Kumartuli as the idol-making space brings in more relevance by making negotiations within the broader visual space, where the intimate, traditional conjectures contest the larger ‘public’ domain and vice versa, specifically creating a distinct visual culture within the context of Durga Puja of Bengal.

References Agnihotri, Anita. 2001. Kolkatar Protima Silpira. Calcutta: Ananda Publishers PVT LTD. ´akta Hinduism: A Study of the Indian Beane, Wendell Charles. 1977. Myth, Cult and Symbols in S¯ Mother Goddess. New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers Ltd. Bhattacharya, Tithi. 2007. Tracking the goddess: Religion, community, and identity in the durga puja ceremonies of 19th century Calcutta. Journal of Asian Studies 66: 919–962. https://doi.org/ 10.1017/S0021911807001258. Blechynden, Kathleen. 1905. Calcutta Past and Present by Kathleen Blechynden. London: Thacker, Spink & co. 42 Refer

to Anita Agnihotri’s Kolkatar Protima Silpira. (p.111).

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Bose, Sugata. 2017. The nation as mother and other visions of nationhood. Penguin Viking. https:// doi.org/10.1080/00043249.1962.10794338. Chatterjee, Joya. 1994. Bengal divided, Hindu Communalism and partition 1932–1947. Edited by S.J. Bayly, C.A., Hawthorn, G.P., Johnson Gordon, Tambiah. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. https://doi.org/10.1192/bjp.112.483.211-a. Chatterjee, Kumkum. 2013. Goddess encounters : Mughals , Monsters and the Goddess in Bengal. Modern Asian Studies, 1–53. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0026749X13000073. Chatterjee, Partha. 1996. Whose Imagined Community? In Mapping the nation, ed. Gopal Balakrishnan, 214–225. Verso. https://doi.org/10.1080/02564602.1985.11437753. Ghosh, Semanti. 2017. Different Nationalisms, Bengal 1905–1947 OUP. Ghosha, Pratapchandra. 1871. 1871. Durga puja With Notes And Illustrations. Calcutta: Hindoo patriot press. Guha-Thakurta, Tapati. 2015. In the Name of the Goddess_23–04–15 (PDF with watermark) (1). First publ. Delhi: Primus Books, Delhi. Guhathakurta, Tapati. 1992. The Making of a New ‘Indian’ Art: Artists, aesthetics and nationalism in Bengal, c. 1850–1920. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Nag, Arun, ed. 1991. Satik Hutom Penchar Naksha. Calcutta: Subarnarekha. Pinney, Christopher. 2004. Photos of the Gods. London, UK: Reaktion Books Ltd. Prajnanananda, Swami. 1990. Mahisasuramardini Durga: Shashtriya, Aitihasik o Gobeshonamulak Alochona. Calcutta: Sri Ramakrishna Bedanta Math. Ramaswamy, Sumathi. 2008. Maps, mother/goddesses, and martyrdom in modern India. Journal of Asian Studies 67: 819–853. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021911808001174. Ramos, Imma. 2015. Contesting the colonial gaze : image worship debates in 19th century Bengal. South Asian Studies 31: 237–246. https://doi.org/10.1080/02666030.2015.1094208. Rodrigues, Hillary. 2003. 2003. Ritual Worship of the Great Goddess. USA: State University of New York Press. Roy, B.V. 1946. Old Calcutta Cameos. Calcutta: S.K. Chatterjee, 169. Vivekananda Road, Calcutta. Sarkar, Sumit. 1973. The Swadeshi Movement in Bengal 1903–1908. Calcutta: People’s Publishing House. Sarkar, Sumit. 1997. Writing Social History. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Sen, Samita. 1993. Motherhood and mothercraft: gender and nationalism in Bengal. Gender and History 5: 231–243. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1468-0424.1993.tb00174.x. Sinha, Pradip. 1978. Calcutta in Urban History, Pradip Sinha, Firma KLM.pdf . First. Calcutta: Firma KLM Private Limited. Vidyanidhi, Yogeshchandra Ray. 1951. Puja Parbon. Calcutta: Visva Bharati Granthabibhag.

Chapter 5

Performing Tradition, Constructing Heritage: Work, Life and Social Transformation Among the Kumbhakars of Kumartuli Shoma Choudhury Lahiri Abstract Social anthropological studies of craft-based communities have documented the relation between ecologies of work, ritual practice, biographies of craftsmen and their communities. Since the late 19th-early 20th century, there have also been attempts to link the artisan to the processes of nation building, upholding him as a catalyst and a beneficiary of rural development. This paper adds to the repertoire, by looking at the organization of work among the Kumbhakars—a caste of idol makers in Kumartuli in Kolkata, West Bengal, and the processes through which tradition is kept alive through their craft. The paper explores the role of caste as a form of capital, the significance of lineage and traditional knowledge, the importance of patronage—corporate and individual, the experimentation and transformation in the craft wrought over time and various negotiations and struggles through which the work of idol making continues in contemporary times. Drawing upon in-depth interviews with members of the Kumbhakar caste, the paper would attempt to elucidate how the notion of heritage and value is constituted through such an engagement in everyday life.

5.1 Introduction This paper explores the lives of idol makers settled in Kumartuli,1 an urban castebased cluster of potters and clay modellers in North Calcutta, whose existence has been traced back to a time before the coming into being of the colonial city. Spread out over 6.5 acre area in North Calcutta, Kumartuli today houses nearly 500 workshops, shanties and residences mostly involved in the task of idol making, a substantial section of whom belong to the Kumbhakar 2 caste, (and go by the surname Pal). Apart from the Kumbhakars, the place also accommodates a large number of people 1 Kumartuli,

signifies a place where the Kumars live. are also referred to as ‘kumars’ meaning potters or idol makers.

2 Kumbhakars

S. Choudhury Lahiri (B) Department of Sociology, St. Xavier’s College, Kolkata, India e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021 S. K. Das et al. (eds.), The Making of Goddess Durga in Bengal: Art, Heritage and the Public, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-0263-4_5

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belonging to other castes who as migrant labour perform various kinds of work associated with the industry. Oral accounts suggest that the forest infested place was originally occupied by 10–11 families, traditionally known as kumars or potters, who had come to settle here from the northern parts (known as Rarh region) of erstwhile Bengal. They were skilled in making various kinds of utensils (handi, patil, shora, khuri), dolls, playthings, fireworks (urantubri) ritual and decorative objects. A more recent history (Guha Thakurata 2015) suggests that it was only gradually, perhaps towards the end of the 18th century that they built their reputation around the sculpting of clay images of Hindu deities for household and community worship and came to be known as ‘pratimasilpis’. As probably the largest cluster of hereditary artisans in the city, Kumartuli is considered to be ‘one of the few surviving examples of a traditional caste-based occupational zone of the kind that once existed in the various clusters of the old 18th and 19th century city’ (Guha Thakurata 2015). The paper narrates the story of the Kumbhakar community, a middle-level caste engaged in the task of idol making and clay modelling as part of their traditional occupation. Though the linkage between castes and occupation has become unstuck in the context of modernization and development, caste clustering still exists in several occupations in the urban contexts. The paper looks at the internal differentiations within the Kumbhakars of Kumartuli, outlining their varied interests, and the ways in which they use their social capital to leverage their position vis-à-vis other castes in this occupation who neither have the social capital nor the economic resources. Thus, knowledge, experience and skill bestow a relative advantage to the Kumbhakars, ensuring their caste monopoly to remain intact in a seemingly open, urban labour market. A second theme explored in the paper concerns the ways in which changes within the occupation have come to be negotiated by the Kumbhakars while retaining their artistic agency in the face of competition. Finally, the paper dwells on the notion of ‘heritage’ and sustainability of such urban communities in the context of a transforming city life.

5.2 Silpi, Karigar, Byabshayi: Vicissitudes of Artistic Labour The practice of idol making is a long drawn out process that stretches over months and is based on collective enterprise and labour. Yet within the idol makers, there exists different kinds of distinctions along lines of expertise and ownership. This is expressed through the prevalence and usage of terms like silpi, karigar, malik, etc., signifying different kinds of interest in the profession. The malik, who is often the owner of the workspace where idols are made, is in most of the cases the master craftsman or the silpi who has several workers under him. He is the one who is contacted when the clubs finalize their decisions about the purchase of idols. Every year, families approach the malik and renew their trust in old networks in the months

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of July and August before the festival season begins. Workers too seek work right at the beginning of the season in the month of Falgun—Chaitra from these owners of workshops. The malik has a group of workers who assist, train and live with him just like in the modern guild. These workers usually referred to as karigars are drawn from different districts of West Bengal like Nadia, Howrah, Bardhaman and Murshidabad. They work individually on particular idols or in a group on a range of varied tasks depending on their level of expertise and exposure to this work. Among the karigars also, there are different terms of reference which denotes different levels of expertise or stages through which a karigar passes, namely half patel, full patel, half karigar, full karigar, etc., their terms of remuneration depending on the nature of work they perform and the level at which they are in. In the words of a young, upcoming pratimasilpi, ‘a full karigar can be regarded as closer to being a silpi’. But lack of capital, the need for training and skill acquisition also keeps the karigar attached to particular maliks who could be a silpi (master craftsman) himself or get work done in his workshop through a master craftsman. This aspect though is yet to be explored. Kumartuli also contains malik or owners of workshops who do not do the work of idol making themselves but get the bulk of the work done by the karigars, though these distinctions remain. Then, there are also karigars who have long settled here and make idols on a small scale and at the same time labour in the workshops of their old maliks. There are also skilled karigars who are not attached to any malik any longer, but are free to sell their labour in the market and command a higher rate. ‘As the rates increase and go on increasing as the festival approaches, it becomes very difficult for us to retain a karigar (here it would refer to a skilled craftsman) in some cases, then we do not have any other option but to let him go’ said the owner of a workshop and a pratimasilpi himself. Thus, there are different kinds of workrelated arrangements that exist. The relation between the maliks and the karigars has undergone considerable transformation over the years, and conversations with maliks reflect the nature of expectation and tension that marks this relationship. Thus says Dipak Pal,3 In West Bengal today, what is being nurtured are karigars, not silpis. They worry more about money, not about learning the art, ‘poisha r chinta ta beshi, kaaj pore shikhbo’. In addition, now there is easily available hard cash as part of the 100 days work under NREGA, so it is difficult to get trainees who will carry on this practice with care. ‘Shikshanabish (trainee) paowa jachchena..’ Earlier during my father’s time he made me learn this art forcibly, now can you make someone learn in the same manner?

Considerations of remuneration lie at the heart of the relationship between malik and karigar today and cause stresses and strains in this relation. It is during times of great demand for labour that the karigars or the skilled craftsmen are able to strike a hard bargain vis-à-vis the malik and earn a little more. There are also other malik/silpi who say that they still rely on their old karigars and continue to learn from them. They are able to draw them in when they require, either for consultation regarding measurement, etc., or when they are short of hands. Sometimes, old karigars also 3 All

names of respondents have been changed to maintain confidentiality.

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come back when they are offered a higher price for their skill and ensure that the malik is able to meet the demand that he has committed himself to. Thus, networks of trust and support are crucial as they facilitate the continuity of this trade in myriad ways. The idol makers also refer to themselves as ‘byabshayi’ or businessmen which signifies that they are embedded in both formal and informal markets and are influenced and shaped by its trends. They often have to take into consideration the demands of the customers and shape their creation accordingly. Instead of being concerned only with the creative aspects, the silpi has to transform himself into an entrepreneur who has to strike a bargain with different groups of people on whom he is dependent for practising his craft in an informal economy. Though the maliks have an upper hand in this profession due to inherited social capital and enjoy a degree of autonomy and authority in decision making, they are quite dependent on their karigars to see them through, in the completion of their work. Since work is undertaken on a big scale in this industry, a young, upcoming silpi felt that they cannot do without the helping hands. ‘It is these people (i.e. the workers or karigars ) who assist by preparing and providing the material at hand, “jogaan dyay”, so if they are not there, if we have to arrange everything and then sit down to work, by that time the urge to do anything creative goes away’. The workers in many workshops are also responsible for preserving the tools that are used to do the work, ‘many a times you would not even be able to find them, in their absence’. ‘There are many maliks who do not work themselves, they simply direct their labourers, but for those who can do creative work, this dependence on labourers is an important part of this profession’. Another aspect which can cause a crisis to emerge is when ‘workers are lured away very easily by neighbours. When they see that someone is working well with me, they would try to wean him away by offering him more money. This happens all the time’ narrates Ramen, a silpi. This upsets the terms of the trade, especially when faced with competition. Further, ‘exchange of information among the labourers also raises their expectations to great heights and causes them to leave the malik’ for other maliks. The conditions of work have changed. The decline in the traditional guild system has ensured that ‘labourers do not strictly live with us, as they used to earlier, hence some responsibilities have to be taken by the maliks’. ‘That is why we have to keep our bonding alive’, said Ramen. This increases the moral density of relationships between the malik and the karigars. As the scale of work increases and diversifies, the dependence of the malik on the karigars increases and so does their vulnerability in certain senses. In modern societies based on organic solidarities, Durkheim (2007 (1893)) would argue that what is encouraged and promoted is individual specialization and division of labour. Individuals are encouraged to cultivate what is unique about them, individual merit and the propensity to do hard work is rewarded as it results in social mobility. Individual autonomy is regarded as a functional prerequisite for modern societies to work well (Jodhka 2015). And yet, Durkheim would say ‘each one of us depends more intimately on society, the more labour is divided up and on the other, the activity of each one of us is correspondingly more specialized, the more

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personal it is’ (Durkheim 2007 (1893): 170). ‘Society becomes more effective in moving in concert at the same time as each of its elements has more movements that are peculiarly its own’ (ibid: 171). Here, the force of the collective derives from the norms, customs and practices that we conform to and that which is common to us, while leaving scope for the individuality of the parts. In the local economy, the terms of the informal contract between the malik and his karigars serve as a force which is binding and yet it is through the individual propensities and skill of the malik and his karigar that work is secured. Though modern society encourages and privileges individualism, individual creativity and merit in forms of work like that of idol making, individual virtuosity is underwritten and made possible by collective labour and enterprise. Kumartuli thus represents a unique place where the dialectic of individualism and collective participation within the same shared space makes artistic labour possible.

5.3 Caste, Lineage and Patronage: The Making of Social Capital Though idol making is largely a caste-based occupation, it has not remained limited to being one. A plethora of castes in Bengal, namely the Sutradhars, the Kumbhakars, the Karmakar, the Chitrakar or the Patua caste people, are all involved in this profession. The practice of idol making in the city is also quite diversified today because it has increased manifold in scale and proportion and has moved from being home-based production units, (also referred as karkhanas) to larger spaces which are often taken on rent during the festival season. Yet amidst this expansion, Kumartuli still remains an area which is still largely dominated by the Pals. ‘Pal e der Gusthi boro’—the Pals as a clan are numerous, and there is a connection between them. These connections arise as a result of living in close proximity with each other in small spaces, which may sometimes transform into kin relations through marriage. Marriages are generally solemnized within the community, ‘we generally get our sons and daughters married to other Pals, unless someone does not want to come into our family. It helps, because our women have to do a lot of hard work’. Women in the family also participate by assisting in the process of idol making, behind the scenes, when the pressure is severe, during the festival season. The kin relations forged through marriage cement the bonds between families and act as networks which enable many idol makers to stand on their own in a competitive market economy. Living together in Kumartuli among one’s own caste members makes for certain advantages—it allows for certain material and cultural exchanges like sharing of resources required for idol making ‘amar jokhon matti dorkar hoy ba kom pore, amaay shahjyo kore’ said a senior silpi. It also makes possible sharing of knowledge about the craft. ‘If we go wrong in our work, there will be someone to point out and tell us the right way’. In the words of an upcoming silpi, ‘knowledge sharing

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among the Pals ensures that the quality of production is maintained. I have seen that as people move out from Kumartuli and set up shop elsewhere, the quality of their work suffers, it is not the same’. In other words, the idol makers of Kumartuli believe that Kumartuli’s distinctiveness lies in the ‘quality’ of its production. The creation of social capital for those located here thus entails ‘transforming contingent relations such as those of neighbourhood, work place or even kinship’ (Bourdieu 1986: 22) into relationships that imply ‘durable obligations’ that are experienced, maintained and guarantee certain rights. Similarly, lineage is an important channel of domestic transmission of knowledge and skill within the Kumbhakar community. Knowledge of idol making is generally passed down through the male line within Kumbhakar families though some exceptions within the community can be found as women have become more visible in this profession in recent times. Recounting about the family tradition in Kumbhakar families, Majumdar (2009) mentions that women in these households always knew the art of making dolls and idols for worship, but these would be relatively small in size, made during festivals for household consumption or sold during fairs in the rural areas for the community’s consumption. However, today, most of the businesses in Kumortuli are run in the name of the idol maker’s father or the grandfather who is ‘known’ or has ‘porichiti’, ‘a name’. Sen (2016) mentions how the dissemination of technique within the Mritsilpi community is closely guarded by families and strictly passed down from the father to the son. There are instances where the idol maker may have learnt from a relative, but ‘the predominant story of the great masters of particularly Krishnanagar is a lineage of father and sons’ (Sen 2016: 236). This practice not only allows them to forge a continuity with their family’s living tradition, but is also perhaps a way to emphasize the importance of ‘credentials’—‘a collectively owned capital which entitles them to credit in the various senses of the word, and to durable networks and material and symbolic exchanges that sustain them (Bourdieu 1986: 21)’. It is only a recent trend among the younger idol makers to strike out on their own. The paucity of space in Kumartuli, the increasing demand and the scale of production as well as the urge to make a name for themselves by crafting a unique signature style may have spawned this trend. Guha Thakurata (2015: 175) mentions the case of Pradip Narayan Rudra Pal who works from multiple sites and continues to produce both traditional Durgas under his father’s name of Mohan Banshi Rudra Pal and more experimental ones under his own name. The role of the lineage is perceived to be important because it shapes the sensibilities of the young idol makers in the profession, ‘if there is a trend in the family, he will be able to catch more easily’, said a senior idol maker. Another senior silpi, who is nearly 70 year old now, vociferously endorses the fact that lineage has had a big role to play in his career, ‘I am still carrying on this work, at this age, it is because I learnt it from my father’. But ironically, despite the advantages of a lineage Dipak Pal’s son does not want to carry on in his father’s footsteps. He would rather be a manager for another emerging pratimasilpi for it gives him a fixed salary amidst the uncertainties of an informal economy. Lineage is also a source of great pride, as it allows the next generation of idol makers to partake of the family name which

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has been built over generations with care and labour. In the words of Bourdieu, ‘the possessors of such an inherited social capital, symbolized by a great name are then able to transform all circumstantial relationships into lasting connections’ (Bourdieu 1986:23). While the importance of lineage is recognized as an aspect which shapes the choices of young men within the community and enables them to make a foray in this field, certain qualities also go into the making of an independent idol maker. ‘Najor jodi bhalo hoy aar shekhar jodi agroho thake’—i.e. if there is an interest and aptitude for learning and an eye for detail, the transition does not take much time, said a senior silpi. Another senior silpi Jatin Pal said, ‘There is a role for family lineage in the way things shape up’ but ‘those who have an interest/eagerness and initiative they will progress’ ‘jaar ichche achche, agroho achche, shei boro hoy’. This admission is relevant, because idol making today is no longer limited to the Kumbhakars in Kumartuli. As the next generation of Pals move away from this work, there is an anxiety among the existing Kumbhakars—‘Paleder chelera aajkal ei kaaj e asche na’—and would have implications for the community in future, an aspect which requires further exploration. Patronage by individuals, families, corporate groups and the state has enabled the Kumbhakars to flourish and grow in their trade over time. Though the nature of patronage received has differed between individuals within the community of idol makers, it has provided an opportunity for Kumbhakars to experiment with various styles and materials, thus creating a space for the recognition of their artistic imagination. The oft recounted story of the extraordinary virtuosity of Gopeshwar Pal and the nature of exposure and recognition received by him in exhibitions abroad during the colonial period or the state patronage received by the legendary Ramesh Pal in the creation of public statuary in the state of West Bengal is already well known.4 In rural Bengal, patronage has sustained these service castes to a large extent. Kamal Kumar Majumdar in his account of Banglar Mritshilpo (2009) mentions that such occupational castes like the Kumbhakars do not sustain themselves all year around by pursuing their caste occupation; they pursue cultivation in the small pieces of land that they might have got as gifts from the landlords in return for their services. In fact, in areas where there are no big patrons or existence of markets, or place of pilgrimage, if the idol makers have an engagement, it should be understood that the practice of village-level worship is quite prevalent in that region (2009: 64). Although different kinds of idols are made in Kumartuli, it is the Durga ensemble which fetches the highest in terms of price and constitutes the high point for the idol makers. In contemporary times as the idol makers engage in their craft, they revive their networks with the households while simultaneously keeping an eye out for new customers. Since Durga Puja today has not remained restricted to the traditional households of the ex-zamindars and the wealthy, idol makers thrive on the patronage 4 For

a detailed account of the role of exhibitions and patronage in the lives of Kumbhakars of Krishnanagar, see Chakrabarti (2012). Guha Thakurata (2015) and Agnihotri (2013) also mention the role of several such legendary craftsmen.

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that they receive from households which carry on the worship and local clubs which have proliferated all around in the neighbourhoods of Kolkata. These clubs have gone a long way towards making the Durga Puja ‘sarbojanin’ and popular. Some of the idol makers in Kumartuli only prefer making murtis for clubs. They feel that ‘it is less of a problem than making murtis for the households/families as they demand more of our time’; ‘moreover families do not want to increase the amount that they pay for the idols—‘thakurer belay poisha dite chaayna’—at the most we get 500–1000 rupees more for the idol every year’—were some of the responses received during fieldwork. The fact that local clubs collect sponsorships, allocate a budget and are in a position to spend more for the Durga idol is also an important factor which shapes the preferences of the idol makers. It is not that an idol maker always agrees to the terms of the contract. ‘A few years ago, a particular club had come to me, but I refused to make the idol for them, ‘rate e poshayni’—rates were not suitable says Dipak Pal. However, ‘good relations’ are generally nurtured, for these may translate into economic transactions and gain in future. Some idol makers in Kumartuli also work with different kinds of sculpting materials during the months of November to December which is generally a lean season. This brings them new kinds of work, patronage and a degree of economic selfsufficiency. In fact, according to a senior silpi, who works with fibre, ‘those who are able to make this transition to fibre based work have become economically better off to some extent’. However, since these new forms of work are not regarded as ritually pure (or shuddho), workshops are not permitted to take up such work before the festival season ends. The work is also strenuous, and the process of work is also physically uncomfortable.5 But ‘I do this work because it fetches some money’, says Dipak Pal. The existence of a patron gives immense boost to an idol maker, and recurrent orders instil a sense of confidence, ‘There is a demand for such work but since I am not able to do it all the year round, I am not able to supply as many as madame wants’. There is a sense of pride when Pal says, ‘two years ago for a church in Park Street, I made the Baptist Font, Mother Teresa, Mother Mary, Pieta and many candles. I also shipped about 30 such candles to Goa, where there is a lot of demand. You can see it even today if you go there’. Thus, patronage creates a sense of value, a feeling of pride and confidence in the artist. Moreover, unlike in clay-based work which is perishable, fibre-related artefacts stand testimony to the artist’s skill and creativity. The capacity to imagine and diversify by working with materials other than clay in a creative manner also comes through training in modern methods and exposure to new technology. In fact, the Art College training of some of the modern generation idol makers have enabled experimentation in various art forms during Durga Puja, facilitated the use of their knowledge and skill to be entrepreneurial and gradually wrought their transformation from silpi to ‘an artist’ or bhaskar.

5 According to a silpi, it emits a lot of sound and smell and causes discomfort. As a thin film of very

fine dust settles on the karigar’s body during the course of work, not many are able to do this work.

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In this manner, caste, lineage and patronage work together to sustain the Kumbhakars by giving them legitimacy, competence and an authority to exert their knowledge in this practice of idol making bringing in distinction for the owners. With the collapse of caste as a system brought on due to urbanization, the erosion of caste monopolies, democratic participation and mobilization in the political arena, castes play out their logic in different ways in urban India. Assertive caste identities have ensured that ritual dominance no longer matters (Gupta 2004). Castes have been found to freely express their competitive spirit vis-à-vis each other, and they take pride in their knowledge, skills and entrepreneurial capabilities and are ready to go beyond the context of the village to realize their economic and political ambitions. Though castes are technically free to follow many other occupations other than their traditional ones, caste clustering in occupations still persists. As ‘a form of ascriptive hierarchy’ caste matters as it shapes ‘opportunity structures, status differences and cultural values in contemporary India’ (Jodhka 2015: 2). Caste-based knowledge as a form of competency which transmutes as skill works to maintain the dominance of the Kumbhakars in this profession in Kumartuli. The invisible transmission of knowledge since childhood, the prolonged investment of time, labour and energy needed for acquisition of such a skill, the recognition and careful nurturing of family name, the experience of being in this profession over a long time, the wide-ranging networks of interdependence and trust forged with a variety of people in the process of putting an ensemble together work as a strategic resource, as an accumulated form of caste capital (Deshpande 2013; Bandyopadhyay 2016). This aids the individual entrepreneurs and the community at large in its relation with the wider world. The circulation of their products to different parts of the city has led to mutual recognition of knowledge and skill, ensuring the caste’s dominance in the profession and their social reproduction as a status group. Caste in the post-liberalization economy does not denote a single process or effect (Mosse 2018: 430). As Harriss-White and Vidyarthee (2010, cited in Mosse 2018: 430) put it, ‘caste has the perplexing capacity to dissolve as ascriptive characteristics give way to acquired ones (such as skills, compliance and trust, experience and creative competence), and as capital becomes mobile. But, at the same time, it persists and transforms itself as a regulative structure of the economy—sometimes in the same site.’ The Pals of Kumartuli having honed their skills over generations now have experienced social mobility in the process and held on to their trade of idol making through the influence of their caste capital. As the diversification within the occupation continues slowly, it remains to be seen whether it loosens and ultimately breaks the caste-based hierarchy that characterizes this work or gives rise to new forms of hierarchy based on skill and training. This section thus attempted to show how caste, lineage and different forms of patronage work as accumulated forms of social capital among the Kumbhakars and in the process serve to reinforce their distinction and the advantage that they enjoy vis-a-vis the workers who are engaged in the same profession.

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5.4 Tradition, Innovation and Negotiations Though sociological studies of clay modellers and idol makers are quite few, a common perception about potters is that in general, the potters are quite conservative, that they adhere to tried and tested ways rather than experiment with new processes which might have negative outcomes. The economic security of the potter lies in following the tested processes, thus making him a traditionalist (Foster 1965; Behura 1978; Gupta 1969 cited in Sodhi 2014). The section dwells upon how Kumartuli as a space embodies tradition which is upheld through the work of the idol makers that is integral to it, but alongside, it also elaborates on how idol making as creative practice consolidates itself through repetitive acts even as it incorporates change, variability and novelty in the process. The process of innovation results as much due to public demand and changing tastes, changes in the environment as due to the financial and other pragmatic concerns that an idol maker confronts. For the idol makers, Kumartuli is seen as the seat of tradition and culture, ‘thakurer aturghar’—‘a nursery of idols’. It is described as a ‘milan mandir’ a place where several cultures and people meet and hence a site of experimentation, where creativity is nurtured. Idol making as a practice too follows a well laid out method, spread out across seasons. It is through repeated practice that tradition is internalized and upheld. The process of training entails learning the process of idol making which evolves through several stages and activities that can be broadly delineated as preparing the clay, preparing the frame (katham toiri kora), tying the hay around the frame (bichali bandha), using the first round of clay (prothom mati deowa), mukh jamano, nyakradewa, rong kora, chokh deowa, etc.—each of which is learnt by doing over and over again. This resonates with the ideas of Giles Deluze on craft as repetitive, embodied practice, used by Chatterji (2016) in her work on the folk artists of Medinipur. She claims that ‘…artisanal forms of learning through repetition enable creative novelty to emerge not in the mode of purposeful self-expression, but by cultivating habits in the form of embodied practice that are responsive to continual variation in the environment’ (ibid: 100). Thus, techniques of craft are also embedded in interactive contexts: ‘When I was young and was studying in college, my father used to insist that I come and see how work was being done here. I used to observe my uncle, kaka ke dekhtam. I used to notice how the hand moves, angul gulo ki bhabe ghurche’ said Jatin Pal. Observing is a very important part of learning—‘bhalo silpi r kaaj dekhte hoy’; ‘one must observe how good artists work’. ‘Korte korte hoye jaay’, it happens through practice and a process of imbibing, say the senior craftsmen of the community. Craft practice is thus shaped and embedded in interactive contexts. The performance of tradition inculcates deep knowledge, of how the body ‘is required to behave like an automaton, producing rhythmic movements that do not require conscious thought’ which then gives way to variability and creativity. ‘Amar haate thik eshe jaay, thakurer adol’ said another silpi who has been involved in preparing the Durga idol for a family

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since the past 40 years. Finally, it is through skill and confidence and a feeling of reverence through which the Goddess is created. Innovations in such practice arise under many circumstances and at many levels. Innovations can result due to a state of crisis or expediency. An often repeated story in the course of my interactions with the idol makers was about Gopeshwar Pal who was responsible for the shift in style from the traditional ekchala pratima, i.e. the Goddess and her family within a single frame to the practice of separate idols that we see today. ‘Kumartuli was ravaged by fire once, Gopeshwar Pal is said to have prepared idols of Gods overnight. Gopeshwar Pal made “realistic” Gods, resembling human beings, and from that time onwards many of us have been inspired by his style’, recalls Dipak Pal. Similarly, another major source of innovation in the form, style and iconography of the goddess Durga in the city was ushered in through a shift to the theme puja since the 1990s onwards which showcases the puja as a form of art and spectacle and garners unparalleled media attention. In this context, the introduction of ‘the artist’ by several puja committees in the city is a change that the idol makers have had to accept and reckon with. These new artists are commissioned by the clubs to bring a sense of the novelty to the puja and attract footfalls. Increased footfalls are in turn linked to prizes by media houses sometimes in the form of sponsorships, certificates and visibility and are therefore hugely desired by the idol makers as well as the puja committees, even though such practices have gradually led to a corporatization of the puja. But yielding place to the artists is not always easy. Though the changing context of work forces idol makers to work with these new ‘artists’, the traditional silpi realizes that negotiations with the artists over the form and representation of the Mother Goddess, spiralling costs of material and labour, diminishes the value of his skill as well as the returns that accrue from it. ‘The artists of today’s generation can give directions but they cannot do it alone, while I can do it on my own. It requires a lot of patience and hard work, they will not invest their time or energy in it,’ said a senior silpi.

In a competitive market, they can leverage their position by foregrounding their skill, their capacity to imagine and translate in practice the desires and expectations of the customers and the novelty that they bring to their work. Dipak Pal recounted that in 2006, he received his own share of media attention as a result of a controversy. He had made Mahisasur look like Greg Chappell, the Australian cricket player who was the manager of the Indian cricket team at that time. The conflict between the Indian team’s captain Sourav Ganguly and Greg Chappell was one of the big stories that the media focused upon for days together. My intention in doing so was to say that Sourav Ganguly should be taken back in the game. Unfortunately, the police came and requested me to do away with such a representation and I had to agree. In the same year for another club based puja in Baruipur, I made Mahisasur look like the football player Zidane where I wanted to say that ‘you are player, you must behave like one in the field!’ Subsequently, for Baranagar Yubak Sangha I have also made Veerappan the sandalwood smuggler as Mahisasur to suggest that ‘you cannot barter away our national wealth’! I also had an intention of making Osama bin Laden as Mahisasur for one of the clubs but the police got wind of it and asked me to refrain from doing so, as it

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would have hurt the sentiments of a certain section of people. They thought it might lead to communal problems.

Parodic jibes as a form of social commentary have been used in the past. Perhaps what is important to foreground here is that incessant repetition and embodied habitual practice instil a deep knowledge of a mode of doing that shapes the way that the material behaves in the hands of the craftsman and allows for innovation in technique and skill marking the signature of the idol maker. But this in a way also symbolizes ‘the struggle of the Mritsilpi towards bhadralok artisanhood’. Another kind of negotiation is witnessed as ‘the struggle towards the identity of an ‘artist’ as opposed to an ‘artisan’ is squarely located in the value that the worlds of art ascribed to the objects that they produce’ (Sen 2016: 229) and in the social acceptance of their styles of art. In recent times, we also find that the worship of a traditional (sabeki) representation of the Goddess is accompanied by an attempt to relate to a social cause or an ongoing issue. For example, Adi Ballygunge Sarbojanin Durgotsav in its 70th year in 2019 decided to celebrate and commemorate the first anniversary of repealment of the draconian Section 377 which had constrained the sexual minorities from expressing themselves. The society thus celebrated #PujowithPride.6 In recent times, such forays bring together the traditional and the contemporary, the mythological and the secular as a form of popular entertainment allowing artists to respond in new ways to the traditional (puranic) and the social (samajik), just like the chitrakars or the folk artists studied by Chatterji (2016) who in recent times have taken to representing a wide variety of novel themes and narrative subjects in their scroll paintings with great enthusiasm. These forms of ‘artistic agency manifest itself as contingent acts—unexpected connections that reveal their potential only retrospectively after the art work is actualized’ (Chatterji 2016: 100). At the local level, unavailability of materials also forces idol makers to think of substitutes in their practice and bring about innovation. For example, according to a silpi, ‘earlier Ma Durga’s adornment would be made of shola-pith but since shola is difficult to get these days, gradually it has moved to thermocol or even zari based work. Further, the Goddess used to be adorned in a normal saree, now she is dressed up in Banarasi which has increased the costs’. Demands of customers are also responsible for bringing in changes in the craft although it involves different kinds of adjustments and negotiations in the practice, a weighing of costs and profits accrued and often a test of the idol maker’s skills, tenacity and capability to experiment with his craft. Technology has been beneficial for idol makers in some ways enabling experimentation and changes wrought over time. Certain old practices are retained for the sake of convenience; a few others are replaced, while a mixture of the new and the old persists in certain cases. For example a senior silpi said, earlier we used to paint the Goddess using paint brushes and it would be a day long affair but now we have the machine gun/compressor which sprays paint and the whole process can be completed in 8 hrs. This has been of great help. 6 Riju,

Basu. 2019. Ramdhanu Garimay Bhora Pujo Mandap. Ei Samay, 23rd September.

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But the benefits of technological development cannot always be enjoyed by those who labour. The Berger Company once gave each of us here, a tin of colour and said that we wouldn’t have to apply varnish and it was truly effective. But it didn’t last long, each tin is quite costly around 600 rupees a tin, so we went back to our old ways of colouring the idols. Though we were sensitized to aspects of the environmental pollution, we have to think of cost effective measures too!

Thus, this section dealt with how change is ushered in the practice of idol making, different kinds of negotiations that the idol maker has to contend and wrestle with in the course of bringing in novelty, how creativity and artistic agency are shaped by social acceptance and endorsement of the art as well as practical concerns like availability of materials and economic capabilities of the idol maker.

5.5 Constituting Heritage Kumartuli is not only one of the oldest places in the city where caste-based occupational practices of idol making and pandal making still exist; it is also a thriving market for clay-based deities worshipped and celebrated round the year according to the Bengali calendar. The Durga ensemble occupies the pride of place among its products and fetches the highest price. A distinctive aspect of Kumartuli is that it is a space which draws in and sustains a variety of people belonging to different castes and regions who are engaged in this huge industry that has come up around the Durga Puja and other Hindu festivals. Since recorded or chronicled history of Kumartuli is very few (Souvenir 2001), it survives through the oral narratives of the people who reside there and engage themselves in their distinctive craft. Though this paper specifically dwells on the practitioners of idol making who constitute the most substantial section among the residents of that space, this colony of potters and clay modellers also includes a variety of people who are involved in this practice though indirectly – the shopkeepers who sell a variety of wares, mementos, decorative items, materials like rope, iron nails, etc., required for making idols, the migrant workers from Bihar and Andhra Pradesh who put in tremendous amount of labour to transfer the huge idols to different parts of the city, the idol makers from Nadia, Bardhdhaman, who travel to this region during the festival season and move out soon after the season is over and many others. In other words, Kumartuli symbolizes an ecology of life which is built around diversity. Kumartuli is not only to be seen as a site which embodies tradition; in reality, it is listed as a bustee or a registered slum that awaits development. The contrast between the glitz and the glamour that it produces and the small, densely packed workshops and tenements in which the maliks and the karigars live reflects the deep inequality that characterizes the profession. The place has seen bitter contestations over the nature of redevelopment and rehabilitation that was promised to its residents, during the early part of the decade, leading to political division between the residents. With

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no resolution yet worked out, squalor and congestion still continue to characterise Kumartuli. What is the notion of heritage that Kumartuli bequeaths us? The understanding of heritage which Kumartuli holds out for social scientists and the future generations can be comprehended through the values and the meaning that the craft reflects, as articulated by the idol makers and artists themselves. In the words of Dipak Pal, In Kumartuli we have to depend on lots of other groups of people. For bali maati (which is extracted from the deeper levels of the Ganges) people from Sundarban supply it to us, Ma Durga’s hair is made by Muslims from Bargachia, the adornments of the Goddess come from Krishnanagar, some are made here in Kumartuli as well. Those who want the chalchitra (a pictoral representation of stories from the myths prepared by artists who are often traditionally known as Chitrakars) behind the Goddess they have to get it done from a community of artists, who live in a settlement adjacent to Kumartuli. If the sari and jewellery of the Goddesses are made from shola then it has to be brought from Katoa, Bardhdhaman, We decorate the Goddess as the customer wants us to. Ma Durga can be decorated by using jewellery made of wire, which then we have to procure from Krishnanagar.

This organic dependence between groups of people is what gives Kumartuli its distinctiveness and its sense of heritage. Further as explained in an earlier section, even in the making of the idol, the homogeneity of castes has given way to a lot of diversification whereby villagebased networks are activated to bring in labour. A senior silpi Jatin Pal said, ‘Many caste groups are involved now in this work. There are no jobs available, moreover the scale of this work has also increased considerably, we need many more hands, we have even had a Brahmin’s son who has worked for us’. Thus, the occasional subversion of caste hierarchy, and the fact that it is a source of income for many households when formal opportunities and jobs have declined, makes it an attractive profession for many rural folk. Further, ‘Kumartuli allows a lot of experimental work to take place, it supports innovation’, says Ramen Pal. This opportunity for creativity supports many new ‘artists’ trained in modern institutions and gives them a unique leverage and space vis-à-vis their contemporaries or even the old idol makers in the profession. ‘The Puja industry also contributes to economic growth and revival not only of the national economy but also of the many families who wait for the festival season. There is a huge turnover of crores of rupees as part of the Durga Puja and other subsequent pujas that follow during this time. Money reaches a large number of families through several Puja Committees at this time. Puja therefore is very important for us’ says silpi Ramen Pal.

The economic value of this work has been assessed many times with estimations about its increasing scale and profit. The fact that the practitioners of the craft want to continue in this profession, despite hardships and the risks only testifies to its merit and worth. Though tradition and heritage are deployed interchangeably in everyday parlance, Savyasaachi (2003, 2017) shows that there is a difference in their meaning. In discussing ‘what is worthy of conservation?’, he says that ‘unlike tradition, it (heritage) does not constitute the identity of any single cultural-ethnic group. Heritage

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either belongs to all (a diversity of peoples) who have contributed their labour to its protection and conservation or to none’ (Savyassachi 2003: 19). The caretakers and custodians of heritage do so on behalf of ‘all’, they do not own it. In fact, tradition is transformed into heritage ‘when its identity and survival in the world is not dependent on the labour of the community that built it but on the labour of love and care from diverse groups of people who have looked after it’ (ibid: 19). In other words, tradition is exclusive, whereas heritage is inclusive. An old silpi laments, please think, if we do not prepare murtis, can Bengal’s culture sustain itself? our work in Kumartuli does not fetch adequate price, work has increased in Kumartuli but the value of creative artists has not increased in a commensurate manner. There is no welfare, no grant from this Government…the clubs have been given grants but we have not been given any assistance. As soon as the Goddess is immersed in water, people forget about us!

Herein lies the role of the state, the civil society, the clubs and the wider community who depend on the idol makers and other such groups for the affirmation of their cultural and religious identity through the Durga Puja. The understanding of heritage and its sustainability has to begin by inaugurating a sense of responsibility. It is not enough to market and promote the products and the artefacts or to celebrate the skill and the knowledge embedded in this space of tradition, but the lives, language and livelihood of the people who produce these things of value also need to be safeguarded. Only then, justice would prevail and efforts at preservation would then be based on ‘reverence for life, heritage and democracy’ (Savyasaachi 2018).

References Agnihotri, Anita. 2013. Kolkata r Pratimasilpira, 3rd ed. Kolkata: Ananda Publishers. Bandyopadhyay, Sarbani. 2016. Another history: Bhadralok responses to Dalit political assertion in Colonial Bengal. In The Politics of Caste in West Bengal, ed. Uday Chandra, Geir Heierstad and Kenneth Bo Nielsen, 35–59. Routledge: New Delhi. Bourdieu, Pierre. 1986. The forms of capital. In Handbook of Theory and Research for the Sociology of Education, ed. J. Richardson, 241–258. Westport CT: Greenwood. Chakravarti, Sudhir. 2012. Krishnanagarer Mritshilpo O Mritsilpi Samaj. In Sudhir Chakrabarti Rachanabali Pratham Khanda, 325–407. Kolkata: Lalmati Prakashan. Chatterji, Roma. 2016. Repitition, improvisation, tradition: Deluzean themes in the folk art of Bengal. Cultural Analysis 15 (1): 99–127. Deshpande, Satish. 2013. Caste and castelessness: Towards a biography of the ‘general category’. Economic and Political Weekly XLVIII (15): 32–39. Dasgupta, Abhijit, Sekhar Bandyopadhyay, and Willem Van Schendel. 1994. Introduction. In Communities, Development and States, ed. A. Dasgupta, et al., 1–16. New Delhi: Manohar. Durkheim, Emile. (1893)2007. The division of labour in society. In Classical sociological theory, 2nd ed., ed. Craig Calhoun et al., 158–180. USA: Blackwell Publishing. Guha Thakurata, Tapati. 2015. Prehistories of the present: On pratima and pandal makers. In In the Name of the Goddess: The Durga Pujas of Contemporary Kolkata, 149. Delhi: Primus Books. Gupta, Dipankar. 2004. The certitudes of caste: When identity trumps hierarchy. Contributions to Indian Sociology (n.s.) 38 (1 and 2): v–xv.

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Heierstad, Geir. 2016. The commodification of caste and politics in Kolkata’s kumartuli. In The Politics of Caste in West Bengal, ed. Uday Chandra, Geir Heierstad and Kenneth Bo Nielsen, 240–261. Routledge: New Delhi. Jodhka, Surinder. 2015. Ascriptive hierarchies: Caste and its reproduction in contemporary India. Current Sociology 1–16. Majumdar, Kamal Kumar. 2009. Banglar Mritshilpo. In Prabandha Sangraha, 58–85. Kolkata: Charchapad. Mosse, David. 2018. Caste and development: Contemporary perspectives on a structure of discrimination and advantage. World Development 110: 422–436. Savyasaachi. 2003. Conflicts and conservation. Seminar 530: 18–25. ISSN: 0971-6742. Savyasaachi. 2017. What is worthy of conservation? In HRIDAY reflections. A monograph on the Heritage City Development and Augmentation (Report) Yojna, Ministry of Housing and Urban Affairs, Government of India. A Collaboration between CEPT University and ICOMOS India, 27–30. Savyasaachi. 2018. Reverence for life, heritage and democracy. Seminar 705: 24–27. Sen, Moumita. 2016. Craft, Identity, Hierarchy: The Kumbhakars of Bengal. In The Politics of Caste in West Bengal, ed. Uday Chandra, GeirHeierstad and Kenneth Bo Nielsen, 216–239. Routledge: New Delhi. Srinivas, M.N. 1997. Caste : Its 20th Century Avatar. Haryana: Penguin books India. Sodhi, Geeta Jayaram. 2014. Traditional potters and technological change in a North Indian Town. In Sociology of Science and Technology in India, ed. Binay Pattanaik, 181–196. New Delhi: SAGE. Souveneir. 2001. 200th year. Kumartuli Thakurpatti Barowari Samiti.

Part III

Iconographies

Chapter 6

In Search of the Prototype: An Art Historical Enquiry into the Evolving Form of Pratimas in Kumartuli, West Bengal Soujit Das Abstract The essay attempts to trace the evolution of unfired Durga clay idols (pratima) from Kumartuli and gauge its transitions from traditional to modern forms. The pratimas are ephemeral as they undergo bisarjan (ritual of immersion) after worship, becoming part of ‘perishable material culture’. It is thus difficult to ascertain the characteristics of the original form, from which the idol makers had possibly borrowed their primary lexis at an early date. The Durga idol in Bengal has transformed over centuries through several cultural interactions, especially under the colonial influence and zamindari patronage. The post-zamindari forms are also unique in several ways. Mediaeval sculptural formulations from undivided Bengal also fail to provide comprehensive understanding about the inception of clay idols. This essay attempts to understand the shifts and delves into parallel cultural artefacts and visual materials, produced between 18th to late 19th century, to delineate the possible source and to revisit the formal constructs of the pratimas through a comparative study. The essay also initiates contextual art historical enquiry and comments upon how traditional knowledge of idol making was formulated and disseminated to Kumartuli clay idol makers.

6.1 Introduction Om ˙ Rise Goddess C¯amun.d.a¯ and accept the splendid worship Make my fortune with your eight s´aktis Om ˙ Depart to the supreme place, your dwelling place Goddess Can.d.ik¯a Go in flowing water while you stay in my home for prosperity and wealth Durgabhaktitarangini by Vidyapati (Sarkar 2012: 386).

Every year on the tenth lunar day of the biggest autumnal festival of the Bengali Hindu populace, the unfired clay idol of the Goddess Durga along with her family is S. Das (B) Government College of Art & Craft Calcutta, Kolkata, India e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021 S. K. Das et al. (eds.), The Making of Goddess Durga in Bengal: Art, Heritage and the Public, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-0263-4_6

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immersed in the water, bidding them adieu for their journey back home. She again comes back next year with her children to bless the people. In Bengal, Durga Puja is no small affair. It is a special worship (biseshpuja) which requires a certain affluence to host and perform. Back in the late mediaeval and early modern Bengal, it was observed as a ten-day utsava (festivity) which only the local kings, zamindars and wealthy merchant families could afford.1 Today, in Kolkata and among the Bengali diaspora world over, an unimaginably large budget is spent towards the sarbojanin puja celebrations. A large section of the budget today is spent towards the construction of complex temporal public structures built to house the idols, whereas the idol itself is becoming secondary in the spree of external pomp and show. For centuries now, the pratimasilpi (idol maker) community has been catering to the seasonal demand of unfired clay idols which are worshipped. The oldest idol makers workshop situated in a locality called Kumartuli in North Calcutta has been the laboratory of many experiments. Down the ages, they have engaged in making different idols for different festivities, all of which are finally immersed in the water, to mark the end of a ritual cycle. Although the idol worship has been part of an unbroken annual event, yet it becomes difficult to envision the prototype from which the idol makers have modelled their figures. In the absence of photographic sources, one has to reconstruct mental images of the form through description in texts and parallel visual materials documenting the event. The idol of the most iconic celebration – Durga also posits the same challenge. Popular legends credit Raja Krishnachandra Roy of Nadia as the pioneer who included bisarjan as an integral part of the rituals, so that newer images could be produced every year (Bordeaux 2015). This assumption does not hold water as ever since 12th century C.E. one comes across hymns relating to bisarjan. But it is true that the ritual of bisarjan does not find mention in other regional texts related to the Goddess and could be a local formulation (Sarkar 2012). The immersion of the idols through public procession occupied a special place in Bengali public life as it not only set the soul of the deity who is summoned and housed in the clay idol free but also that of the revellers along with it.2 1 During the colonial period, Durga Puja emerged as a public spectacle where the upper-class Bhadralok (gentlefolk) established their power and authority by hosting elaborate and extravagant rituals which included expensive offerings. Still earlier in mediaeval Bengal in around 1580 C.E Raja Kanshanarayan of Taherpur who is often credited as the initiator of Durga Puja celebrations in Bengal is said to have spent rupees eight and a half lakh (Prajnanananda 2018). It is also to be noted here that in Guptipara of Hooghly district, a community puja was organized around 1790 C.E. by collecting funds from the locals (Bandopadhayay 2017: 164). The fame of such public events was also dependent on the head counts in Kangali bhojan (feeding the poor) (Sinha 1967: 394). 2 There are many accounts which record the carnival like bisarjan processions in detail. Fray Sebastian Manrique (c.1585–1669 C.E.), the Portuguese missionary and traveller who visited Bengal (1629–1643 C.E.) during the Mughal reign observes the chaos in detail and even refers to ‘Druga’ (sic) as prostitute of Hindu ‘false deities’. For Manrique every encounter in India was a barbaric experience in a heathen land (Manrique et al. 1927: 71). Charles Coleman also observed in 1832 C.E. that during the bisarjan ‘licentiousness and obscenity’ prevail (Coleman 1995: 84). The native Shib Chunder Bose in 1881 C.E. also describes the revelry as ‘bestial fanaticism’ where obscene songs and indecent gestures were common and observed that road blockages due to excessive number of onlookers were common occurrences during bisarjan (Bose 1881). The Calcutta police

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Most of the scholars state that the pratimasilpis of Kumartuli had first migrated from Dhaka and Natore areas of present-day Bangladesh to Krishnanagar and Ghurni areas of Nadia district, and settled in Calcutta during the early 18th century.3 Although they were engaged in idol making but until the second half of 19th century, hardly any respectable family bought images directly from their workshops (Ghosh 1871). Most of the households observing different religious events constructed a dedicated space for worship and rituals in their lavish mansions which came to be known as the thaakurdalan. It is here that the pratimasilpis were invited to give shape to the idols. Thus, it could be argued that although the pratimasilpis who were commissioned to execute the mrit-pratimas shared a common knowledge about the iconography, but their stylistic characters matured independently of each other as they worked outside their collective community space. This individuality of style got affixed with each aristocratic household who have tried to retain their unique features even today. The primary mould has helped many households to successfully recreate the facial features year after year.4 Such unique and distinct expressions have accumulatively built a complex lexicon for reference, where finding the locus is a challenging task. In the changing socio-economic milieu of 18th–19th-century Bengal, most of the aristocratic pujas provided the young zamindars and merchants an opportunity to seal their business prospects with the British company officials and to advertise their own social position. It is evident that the growing Christian influence changed the mode of worship, thus borrowing from the Christian traditions of public mass, Durga Puja rituals too became a public affair from a private religious engagement. It is not difficult to assume the reasons as to why even the pratimas were also assimilating traits of European art in a milieu of neo-anglophiles. I would argue that it is problematic to view the pratimas from the fixed lens of ‘tradition’ where the word itself has been overused and its meaning reduced to a great extent. The evolution of Durga pratima in Bengal is historically contested; thus, it could be said that the practice itself is part of a timeless living tradition, which has constantly adapted and evolved with the need of time.

superintendent in fact imposed certain traffic restrictions in 1849 C.E. which Rani Rashmoni and other affluent natives criticized heavily (De 2018). In the context of indecent behaviour commonly observed during bisarjan, one must note that the mediaeval texts of Jimutvahana and Sulapani encourage such utterance during immersion rituals (Sarkar 2012: 356). 3 Refer to (Ray 1953). The earliest known clay modeller from Ghurni was Mohan Pal born in 1745 C. E. The shifts in the mode of rituals also changed the process of idol making (Smith and Stevenson 2010). 4 There are several exceptions, where the portrait is modelled by hand instead of using a mould. For example Rani Rashmoni’s Family puja held at the house located on Rani Rashmoni Road, Kolkata, engages in such a practice.

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6.2 The Many Imaginations of Devi Durga: Early Sources and Iconography The Devi or Sakti is seen as a form of the primordial god who is formless. The text Navaratnesvara states that the Devi could be imagined both as female and a male entity as she is not bound by a single identity or form (Woodroffe 2001). It is believed that the ritual of invoking the Goddess in her anthropomorphic embodied form is primarily done through the internal process of visualization or dhyana (Sarkar 2012).5 Durga, the virgin mother, has found her mention in several important texts in our country. She has been addressed by several epithets and has assumed many forms in the collective imagination.6 Within the Hindu religious literary tradition, scholars often debate over the origin of Durga and her mention in ancient scriptures. Durga has been addressed both as a Vedic Goddess and a Puranic Goddess in different texts. Pandit Haran Chandra Sashtri states that idol worship was present from the Vedic age; otherwise, it could not have received wide spread recognition during the Puranic era. He also contests the view that idol worship in Brahmanical rites is a later development combating the challenge of Buddhism (Prajnanananda 2018: 208). At a much later date, the Goddess became synonymous with Durga in Bengal. The virgin Goddess Durga underwent a series of transformation in her status as a Goddess. In early literature, her position as an all powerful female deity was established. Gradually, she was associated with Siva as her consort where her feminine individuality was curbed. It is to be noted that the widespread legend regarding the origin of Durga also reflects the patriarchal imagination, as she was created by the energy of several male Gods. But it is also interesting to note in this context that she was seen as a supreme power within a patriarchal structure, who killed Mahisasur– the mighty buffalo demon, who remained invincible to the male Gods (Gross 1978). In Mahabharata, scholars have noted that the Goddess was mentioned by the name Durga for the very first time. In Mahabharata’s sixth chapter of Virata-parvan and twenty-third chapter of Bhisma-parvan as well in two hundred twenty-ninth chapter of Vana-parvan, one finds interesting accounts of Durga. In Virata-parvan Durga is referred by Yudisthira as the daughter of Yashoda and sister of Vasudeva 5 According

to the Gaudiya-Durga Puja traditions which emerged from Bengal, the worshipper transitorily identifies himself/herself with the Goddess through the ritual process of atmapuja or worshipping the self. It is followed by the ritual of ‘Nabapatrika’ inviting the Goddess to reside in the leaves of nine important crops native to the land. The Goddess is also invoked in a bel tree branch apart from the clay image which is installed at the site of worship. Through the ritual of dhyana, the modelled clay image of the deity becomes a projected form of one’s own self through the utterance of specific mantras. Thus, it could be argued that probably the pratimasilpis too were identifying the deities with their own selves and surroundings and giving shape to the clay. That could also be one of the reasons of experimentation with Chhobiana and Dobhasi style of portrait in the idols. According to legends, the first potter was created by Siva and he modelled a female figure in the likeness of Durga. 6 Durga is known by several names—Uma, Katyayani, Kali, Haimavati, Ishani, Sati, Narayani, Chandika, Mahisasurmardini, Mahamaya, Chamunda, Annapurna, Jagaddhatri, Basanti, etc. where each name is associated with several meanings and myths (Seal 1947: 34).

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who wears peacock’s tail as her armlet and possesses four heads and four arms. Her complexion is described as dark. In Bhisma-parvan, Arjuna invokes Durga and seeks her blessings to defeat the Kauravas. In the hymns he addresses Durga as Kokamukha which means dog-faced. Such iconographical representation is really rare. In Raipur, in the district of Bankura, West Bengal, one comes across a stone sculpture of such description (Bidyanidhi 2013: 107). No reflection of this iconographical formulation is to be seen further in the imagination of Durga by the artists of eastern India or elsewhere. In Vana-parvan of Mahabharata, Durga was not conceived as Mahisasurmardini, in fact it is stated that Skanda, the son of Agni killed the demon Mahisasur. In Puranic and later literature, Durga Mahisasurmardini is often seen in different forms. She is mostly seen as the virgin Devi. The formulae for artistic representation were widely borrowed from these texts, but very often there is a discrepancy between the text and the image. The Vishnu-purana mentions the Devi as blue-skinned and eight-armed Mahakali. Matsya-purana on the other hand mentions Durga as a tenarmed Goddess who is also blue-skinned, resembling the colour of Atasi or flax flower. It also mentions that she is addressed as Uma who is of the colour of blue lotus. According to the myth, Uma performed a certain penance and later became fair skinned (Bidyanidhi 2013: 190). Markendya-purana mentions Devi as Vindhyavasini Durga among other epithets and compares her brilliance to that of the rising full moon. It is here that for the first time, the clay idol of Durga is mentioned. It records how Surath the king of the Kol people had worshipped a clay idol of Durga.7 Markendya-purana also mentions the Goddess as the vanquisher of the great asur named ‘Durga’ (Seal 1947: 34).8 In Devi-purana, Durga is addressed as the saviour from all hindrances. Kalika-purana mentions Durga with the complexion of molten gold. It is in Kalika-purana where we find the mention of three different multiarmed forms of Mahisasurmardini Durga. It mentions about Ugra-Chandi with eighteen hands, Bhadrakali with sixteen hands and Katyayani with ten hands. Kalikapurana’s description of the ten-armed Durga is of a youthful, bejewelled, goldencoloured maiden with jata and crescent moon on her head. It is well discussed by different scholars that Kalika-purana and Devimahatmya became the source book for different Durga Puja rituals at a later date. Composed in the Kamrup area of present-day Assam, it influenced the works of Raghunandan Bhattacharya and other Bengali scholars, whose works paved way to new means of regional idol worship.9

7 The

Kol country could be located in the eastern Vindhya region in Chottanagpur. Santhali legend popular in the areas of Bankura and Birbhum narrates a story about their mighty mythical king Hunder Durge and the beautiful damsel named Saro. It mentions the curse of Hunder Durge who was forbidden to show lust towards any woman. The story identifies Saro as an Aryan woman who tricked Hunder Durge into battle, killed him and usurped the land. They believe that Saro took the name Durga after killing Durge. The Santhali community observe Dasain festival corresponding to the sixth day of Durga Puja, commemorating the unjust killing of their just king (Chakrabarty 2017: 6). 9 Kalika-purana also informs us about an interesting legend of Mahisasur. It mentions that Rambha, Mahisasur’s father received a boon from Siva and on his way back, in a state of excitement, he 8 The

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Durga’s origin as a Vedic and Puranic Goddess is contested as many of her characteristics hint at her non-aryan and pre-vedic past. As stated earlier, the Markendya-purana itself hints at the Devi as a tribal Goddess who has been appropriated in the Brahmanic pantheon at a later date. According to several accounts, until late 7th century C.E./early 8th century C.E., Durga was worshipped by the Koli or Kol womenfolk and Savaras where offerings of human blood and wine were made (Mazumdar 1906: 358). In Harivamsa-purana, the Goddess was mentioned as the deity of the Savara community, who wore turmeric leaves. This association with the Savaras, earned the Goddess the epithet of ‘Parna-Savari’ or the leaf clad Savari. The sophisticated image of the Devi emerged after traversing many routes of migration. The Devi is thought to have her roots in agro-pastoral economy where she was associated with vegetation and crops. In many cases, she has been associated with fertility cults. In the process of appropriation, many folk and tribal deities who later came to be associated with Durga retained their local names such as Khambeswari, Mohuri Kalua, Markama from Orissa; Danteshwari from Chattisgarh and others (Mallebrein 1999: 138). In Kulta, Dumal and Sud tribal communities of Orissa’s Sambalpur, Vana-Durga is worshipped in the form of a plantain tree. The kumaripuja rituals prevalent within their society also refer to the Vana-Durga.10 Several scholars opine that the association of Mahisa as a demon comes from this root, where buffaloes were seen as a threat to crop lands. Durga has assumed the role of a protector Goddess over her journey from a non-Aryan to an Aryan Goddess. Durga in folk narratives is also seen as a protector from diseases such as cholera and small-pox. Gram-devatas (village deities) such as Halima, Malini, Vrnila, Arya, Palala and Vaimitra were associated as her daughters, who not only protect children but also curse them (Santiko 1997; Lewis 2016). It is important to discuss this evolution from the earliest prototypes to the later mature sculptural traditions, in order to understand the possible reference points which influenced the idol makers at a later date. I strongly believe that visuals have a connected past and its evolution is dependent on mutual borrowing. It is like a meandering river where traits are historically retained as an under flowing current. During the age of the Kushanas, the iconography of Mahisasurmardini borrowed heavily from other cultural traditions. The strange parallels with the Sumerian Goddess Inana/Nana/Ishtar have been studied by scholars where both the Goddesses appear to be associated with battle and are virgin mothers who ride lions and overpower animals including the buffalo (Viennot 1956: 371).11 It needs to be mentioned that it was during the Kushana era when the female figures started appearing with godhika (iguana) forms (Agrawala 1958: 123). This godhika appears as a mount and as an ravished a buffalo–cow in which Siva was part incarnated. Thus Mahisasur is also part of Siva (Hiltebeitel 1978: 776). 10 In Birbhum district of West Bengal, she is known as Gundi Thakurani and is worshipped by the tribal people in the absence of Brahmin priests. The rituals include offerings of eggs of ducks, hens and pigeons (McDaniel 2004: 211). 11 Goddess Inana aka Ishtar was known as Astarte in Greece and Cybele in Troy. Cybele was thought to be so powerful that she was taken away to Rome in 204 BC from Anatolia and appropriated in Roman pantheon as Magna Mater Deium or Great Mother of all Gods.

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attribute in later iconography including images in Bengal (Chakravarty 1971: 139). During the time of the Kushanas, the mother figures undergoing massive transformations were zoo-anthropomorphic forms such as Osadhis (bird faced), Bidali (golden eye cat faced), Aja-mukhi (goat faced), Sarpa-mukhi (serpent faced), Simha-mukhi (lion faced) and many other similar forms. As the female divinity underwent several transformations, at a later date, it probably emerged in an independent anthropomorphic form, separating the zoomorphic identity as its vehicle (Jayakar 1989: 182). During the Gupta era, the Puranic iconographical prescriptions found maturity in stone. The twelve-armed Mahisasurmardini in Cave 6 of Udaygiri is an exquisite example reflecting the artistic and aesthetic sensibility of the age. Mahisasurmardini at Cave 17 of Udaygiri also echoes the same understanding of form and in both cases the animal symbolism of godhika reappears. It is for the first time under the Gupta artistic patronage that the buffalo appears with his head at the bottom, and finally, he is trampled by the Goddess. In post-Gupta period, we find several examples of Mahisasurmardini in different mediums, especially in stone and in metal from across the country. In many south Indian relief sculptures, the Durga is shown riding the lion in battle as in the case of Mahabalipuram’s Mahisasurmardini Cave. In post-Gupta period, a new iconography also emerged as Mrigavahini Durga.12 Apart from several south Indian examples, many examples were found from undivided Bengal. Chakravarty has mentioned a few outstanding figures: a black stone figure from Dhaka, one each from Varendra (North Bengal), and Mandoil in the collection of Varendra Research Society, respectively, and another found from Raiganj which is presently in the collection of Bangiya Sahitya Parishad, Calcutta (Chakravarty 1971). It is through these examples that one may put forth the argument that the Mrigavahini image of Devi was popular in Bengal, but it was not borrowed as a source by the later artists especially the pratimasilpis. We hardly come across any mrit-pratima of Mrigavahini Durga. The exclusion of such popular iconography from the lexicon of idol makers could be an interesting matter for investigation. It was in the post-Gupta era that the idea of Mahisasurmardini was transmitted in other cultures too. These would include: a 6th or 7th century silver rhyton (drinking vessel) from Iran; a form of buffalo slayer Goddess, in the collection of Cleveland Museum of Art (Acc No: 1964:96) showing the Indian features of half closed eyes and broad lips. During the same time, the eastern and south Indian dynasties developed socio-religious and political ties with Java, Sumatra, Bali and other neighbour countries. Numerous sculptures of Mahisasurmardini have been found from the central Javanese and Middle Javanese period.13 The Majapahit period (13th–15th century C.E.) sculptures demand special attention as they show the Goddess with canine teeth and grimacing face. The legend of Calong Arong establishes the tantric rituals 12 There are many examples of Mrigavahini Mahisasurmardini from Pallava and Chola dynasties as

well as Orissan Bhaumakara and other eastern Indian dynasties. The text Silappadikaram associated with Korravai cult as well as literary works like Paykalaippavai and Kalaippariurdi mention darting deer as the vehicle of the Goddess (Chakravarty 1971: 138). In Chola sculptures from Pullamangai and Punjai, one comes across the same symbolism where the deer is seen harnessed and saddled (Harle 1963: 238). 13 There are 32 Durga Sculptures in Museum Nasional, Jakarta. For details refer to (Bumke 2004).

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associated with the Goddess (Santiko 1997). Again in Singasari group of figures, the figure of the Goddess appears as distant and aloof, achieving a calm expression with invincible strength (Viennot 1956). Metal sculptures from Nepal produced around 14th–16th century, also display a similar serene expression. These sculptures borrow heavily from the Pala-Sena School of sculpture but appear to be more animated.14 Many scholars have also found parallels in the Tibetan Goddess Lha-mo who is called the queen of the warring weapons. These characteristics accumulatively find expression in the later sculptural programme in Bengal.

6.3 The Appropriation of the Goddess in Bengali Imagination: Locating the Pratima The worship of Durga in undivided Bengal finds mention in the mediaeval times. It is observed that prior to the Pala-Sena era, no such images are found from the area. It is critical to ascertain the time of inception of Durga worship in Bengal. It is observed from records that 14th century onwards, there was a sudden rise in the status of Durga worship. We get the mention of Durga Puja rites in Bengal still earlier, from 12th century. It was in the Mithila region of Bihar and in Bengal, where from 14th to 16th centuries, a number of manuals were written for the worship of the Goddess (Sarkar 2012). It is well established that Raghunandan Bhattacharya (1520 C.E.–1575 C.E.) in the 16th century wrote two manuals, namely Durgapujatattva and Durgotsavatattva which became the basis of Durga Puja in Bengal. The modern rites and rituals that are observed today are primarily based on these texts. Interestingly, it was much before Raghunandan that we come across the mention of clay idol worship in Bengal. Bhabadev Bhatta in 12th century mentions about the worship of clay idols (Bidyanidhi 2013). The important works that preceded the work of Raghunandan include Durgotsavanirmaya from Kalaviveka of Jimutavahana (1100 C.E.–1150 C.E.), Durgotsavaviveka by Sulapani (1375 C.E.–1460 C.E.) which he composed for autumnal worship, later composing Vasantavikeka for the spring worship of Durga. Other texts would include Durgabhaktitarangini by the 14th century scholar Vidyapati (1375 C.E.–1450 C.E.), Krtyacintamani by Vacaspati Misra (1425 C.E.–1480 C.E.) and Krtyattvarnava by Srinath Acaryacudamani (1470 C.E.–1540 C.E.) (Sarkar 2012: 331).15 These texts also provide prescriptions for the clay image. It is to be argued that although these codified texts were in circulation, and a new process of worship was evolving, it remains a matter of debate, 14 Refer to Mahisasurmardini metal sculptures from Nepal housed at Metropolitan Museum of Art with Acc. Nos.: 1986.498 and 2012.444.1 and compare it with 12th century C.E. Argillite sculpture from Pala-Sena period with Acc. No: 1993.7 and dark grey stone stele of Durga Mahisasurmardini from late 10th/early 11th century C.E. Pala period sold at Christies New York on 21 March 2018, Lot no. 317. 15 In the 12th century work of Bhabadev Bhatta, we also come across two other names Zikon and Bulak, who wrote about Durga Puja (Seal 1947: 46). The Saivaite and Vaishnavaite traditions followed different methods of clay image making in Bengal (Robinson 1983).

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as to how much knowledge was transmitted to the pratimasilpis who were engaged in giving shape to the idol as the caste hierarchy seems to have been a challenge in the process of free access of knowledge. No substantial evidence informs us about this possible borrowing. However, earlier scholars have stated that it was in the texts of Vacaspati, Raghunanandan and Mukundaram Chakrabarti’s 16th century text of Chandimangalkavya that the first allusions of Durga’s children occur as opposed to any other texts (McDermott 2011: 91). It is to be noted that the word ‘pratima’ is not to be simply understood as ‘Idol’. The word idol is often negatively associated with the idea of ‘false god’ in the west. The word pratima has larger aesthetical connotation attached to it. The word pratima in Sanskrit stands for resemblance, form and shadow. As in the Hindu conception, it is believed that pratima is the form or shadow or resemblance of the Supreme Being (Bhattacharya 1921). The ancient texts such as Silpa-samhita, Silpa-ratna, etc. speak of pratima as an integral part of worship. If we try to look back at the recorded history of clay idol worship in Bengal, we will find that Durga in her clay image was worshipped to ward off enemies, gain a good harvest and in order to be saved from epidemics. Another reason could be simply practical. As Bengal did not have major stone quarries, clay became the most accessible and inexpensive material to work with. It must be noted that the Durga Puja manuals inform us that in Bengal, the rites were not exclusive to only higher castes; on the contrary, the puja was meant to be observed by all social classes (Sarkar 2012). The unfired clay images for worship were conceived to have earned religious merit and prosperity for the worshipper, and it is for this reason probably that popularity accrued to clay idols in Bengal. The Brhannandiksvara-purana instructs the worshipper that along with nabapatrika or nine leaves, one must worship a clay image for sons, long life and wealth (Ibid.). The initiation of clay idol worship in Bengal predates recorded history as one finds mention of it in a legend. According to some sources, it was probably Jagat Malla of Malla Dynasty of Bishnupur in the 10th century who was instructed by the Goddess Mrimoyee herself to worship her in the pratima form (Östör 2004: 45). Bidyanidhi notes that the task of pratima making in Bengal was shared by different communities. In the Rarh country, sutradhars or carpenters were engaged with the art whereas in Dhaka and Kolkata kumbhakars or potters were associated with it. He further notes that in Tripura, the grahacharya or astrologers made the clay idols. According to Hayasirshapancharata, the pratima may be made of earth, wood, iron, crystals, stones, fragrant substance and flowers. Each material has its own merit. A wooden image fulfils all wishes of the worshipper16 ; an image made out of gold provides salvation; a silver image brings heavenly bliss; a copper image provides long life; a bell metal image brings peace and victory to the worshipper; marble brings enjoyment; crystal brings beatitude and clay houses all of the previously mentioned 16 In

Coochbehar, North Bengal, the Debi Bari puja worships a wooden idol made each year out of a moyna tree. The puja is said to predate Kanshanarayan’s puja and started in 1510 C.E. The wooden idol is over 10 feet in height with a gigantic representation of Mahisasur. Interestingly, a lion as well as a tiger figure is seen attacking the demon. The tableau does not contain the image of other Gods and Goddesses, although clay images of Jaya and Vijaya appear beside the central group.

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merits (Ghosh 1871).17 The Krtya-tattvarnava by Srinath Acaryacudamani mentions an injunction on the worship of terracotta images as it will bring great misfortune and the wrath of the Goddess. One who worships a burnt clay idol will turn to ashes themselves. Lime was also not supposedly used. It further mentions that larger idols will bring revolution, lean bellied pratimas will invite famine, thin figures will ensure poverty, scarred idols will bring fistula, weaponless idols lead to death, the blunt nosed Goddess will bring bad spirits and low breasted figures will lead to the death and destruction of one’s friend (Ibid.).18 In contemporary situation, most of these injunctions are not followed. The pratima, especially in the community pujas, are seen today only as a mean to locate the Goddess in physical terms. In the spree of ‘theme-pujas’, more and more images are coming up which not only negate these prohibitions, but bring in newer forms in order to excel in the race of winning the coveted prizes.19 Weaponless, lean bodied and colossal pratimas are common sight. From the second quarter of 20th century itself, the languid slim bodied Durga is in vogue. It is to be noted here that although these texts inform us about the pratimas but nowhere in the scriptures or manuals we find the mention of Chalchitra or the painted backdrop that is part of the clay image tableau. The recorded references of Durga pratimas in Bengal envision the Goddess as the daughter of the land, who comes for annual visit to her parent’s home. According to scholars, it was under the artists Dhiman and Bitpal, that a distinct form of sculpture known as the Gaudiya School emerged in Bengal during the Pala and Sena era, but their formulation of the Durga image was quite different from the later form of mritpratimas that came to be worshipped. The most striking feature is the inclusion of Saraswati, Lakshmi, Ganesha and Kartikeya as the off-springs of Durga. None of the ancient scriptures or manuals discusses this arrangement nor did Raghunandan Bhattacharya. The only reference of such inclusion comes from the mediaeval tantric text Matsyasuktam-tantra composed in Bengal by the Gaudiya sect (Prajnanananda 2018: 209). The Goddess in Bengal is imagined in her domestic form rather than as a war goddess. The pratima tableau in traditional format is often seen with the figures of Jaya and Vijaya, Rama and Hanuman. Ghosh (1871) gives a vivid contemporary account from the second half of 19th century. He informs us that the ten-armed goddess stands with her right foot on the back of the lion that is modelled in the attacking posture, while the left foot is placed 17 There is a custom prevalent within the pratimasilpi community to bring the first clay from the nearby prostitute quarters to model the image of the Devi. This act is also suggestive of a process of submission to the supreme. 18 It is important to note that the adversities listed here are directly or indirectly related to the ideas of polity and governance. 19 Various materials from plastic, metal junk, jute, leather, pith to sawdust, husk, bottle caps, etc. are used today for the theme puja pratimas. The fame of a puja pandal partly lies in the innovative material used in their creative pursuit. There are many places where the actual puja is performed in the ghat and in the nabapatrika; thus, the pratimas becomes secondary. In the gynomorphic form of the ghat or jar, one may identify two natural elements which have been associated with the Goddess: the earth and the celestial water. The shape also resembles a pregnant woman or the conception of microsomic representation of the universe (Rodrigues 2003).

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on the buffalo demon. Her hair has several braids and she wears the crescent moon, has three eyes, stands in tribhanga posture and is of a complexion of bright yellow. The buffalo has a headless trunk, from where the demon in his human form springs up with a shield and a sword.20 The lion has many variations from elongating mouth to that of a horse–lion composite.21 Lakshmi is seen as standing on the white lotus, leaning to the right while holding two full blown white lotuses. She is yellowish gold in colour. Saraswati is said to be clad in white, leans to her left, holds a Veena and is of marble white complexion. To the right of Lakshmi, sits vermillion redskinned, four-armed, round-bodied and big-bellied elephant headed Ganesha who holds a lotus, a noose, a goad and a chakra.22 His shoulders are decorated with a wreath made of the king of serpents and his dress is also red in colour. On the left of Saraswati, sits Kartikeya on his peacock. The right hand holds a lance, whereas the left is raised in varada-mudra. He further adds that in the right nook of the frame, the three-eyed Siva is seen seated on his bull mount-Nandi, holding a damaru in his right hand and an enormous horn in his left hand. In the left nook, a green-coloured Rama is seen along with Hanumana. Rama holds an arrow and a bow in each hand. Two small attendant figures of yellow-skinned Jaya and red-skinned Vijaya are found standing at the lower base. Ghosh also gives a vivid account of a Bangala round Chalchitra and comments upon the iconographic scheme in detail.23 In 1832 C.E., in 20 In Devimahatmya, it is described that during the battle, the Buffalo demon is transformed several times. He first appears as a buffalo who transforms into a lion and the head is decapitated; it turns into a man with a sword in hand and gets pierced by arrows; he then transforms himself into an elephant demon (Karindrasur) and the trunk gets chopped; he then turns back into the form of a buffalo when Durga mounts her lion and pierces him with the trident and at last he emerges as a man from the buffalo mouth and Durga decapitates his head (Hiltebeitel 1978: 782). It is interesting to note that in most of the representations in the mrit-pratimas the trident piercing act is seen as the photographic moment. It was probably a matter of aesthetic choice that was commonly adopted by the clay idol makers. Bidyanidhi states that the Mahisasur form with a human two armed upper torso and a quadrapule lower zoomorphic form were widely produced till the 1800s. 21 Many scholars also compare the mount with the mythical beast Shardula found in numerous temples across India. Some scholars have also commented that the figure had been borrowed from the British royal family’s court of arms, where the native artists came up with a composite form (McDermott 2011: 107). In Gujrat, the goddess is often seen riding a mystical animal named Sarabha: a composite figure with tiger’s body and elephant’s head. 22 In some families, Ganesha is two armed with complexion varying from light orange to light green and his tusk is often painted white. 23 Pratapchandra Ghosh in the third quarter of 19th century notes that two types of chalchitra were popular among the households. The first one commonly seen was a round chal, known as Bangala chal, whereas the other chal or backdrop had three ‘separate semi-circular, triangular, spherically triangular pieces, with a truncated conical top’. This type of chal is known as math chauri resembling the tower structure of a Bengali terracotta temple. One must note that the pratima tableau seen in some of the oldest Bonedi Bari’r puja still reflect such different triangular type backdrop formats. Chatu Babu Latu Babu house (puja started around 1770 C.E.), Darjipara Mitra Bari (puja started in 1807 C.E.), Girish Chandra Ghosh house (puja started in 1856 C.E.) and Balaram Dey Street Dutta Bari (puja started in 1882 C.E.) are among the few households where such exceptions may still be observed. Thus it could be argued that although the legendary artist Gopeswar Pal is credited with installing the five idols with individual chalas within the larger tableau, the format was already present from mid 19th century in a slightly different form. Other variants of chali such as Brindabani,

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an earlier account by Thomas Coleman, we find the mention of the centrally placed Durga figure along with only Ganesh and Kartikeya. The illustration in the book by a native artist named Chit Roy whom Coleman praises for his accurate rendering of the event also confirms this (Coleman 1995). None of the recorded accounts of pratimas mention Durga to be blue skinned as mentioned in the texts. The autumn worship of Durga brings her into the realm of the mortal beyond ‘cosmology, creation and cosmogony’ (Östör 2004: 41). The Durga Puja rites to a great extent are exclusively observed by the womenfolk of the household where the Goddess comes to reside. The Goddess is seen as Uma, a daughter of the house, who has been married off and returns home each year during the autumnal celebrations. In each possible way from literary to ocular, this familial relationship has been established. Thus, changes in her iconography have also taken place. There are several poems, ballads and legends which were composed and circulated in early modern Bengal. Being composed and narrated in vernacular Bengali, the literary works gained much in popularity among the masses. In this process, a humanization and regionalization took place (McDermott 2011). The late 18th and 19th century works of Ramprasad Sen, Kamalakanta Chakravarti, Trailokyanath Sanyal, Dvijendralal Ray, Nabin Moyra, Bireswar Charavarti, Kalidas Bhattacharya, Rasik Chandra Ray, Dasharathi Ray and others also helped in the development of this personal mundane connect (Dehejia and Sengupta 1999; Sircar 2004). The changing iconography too borrowing from the Bengali sensibility towards an ideal female form thus developed a new aesthetics appealing to the Bengali populace. The conventions of traditional or sabeki type of pratima mark a clear departure from the earlier forms of Durga seen in pan-Indian imagination. In the traditional form of pratima, the rounded facial form resembling a betel leaf (pan-pata)24 ; elongated lid less eyes stretched up to the ears (tana-tana chokh); thick eyebrows; small mouth and square chin (choukathuthni); sharp nose (tikolo-naak); heavy body and rounded limbs (gol-gol haat pa) became the markers of female beauty (McDermott 2011: 106). Women with such pratima like qualities are still considered to be the most beautiful according to Bengali cultural standards. The pratimas started evolving gradually from such idealized form to more observable commonplace forms, at a later date around end-19th century under the influence of colonial artistic education. The transition from one form can only be discerned now if we look at parallel artistic productions, reflecting the shared artistic ethos of that time.

Ramchandri, Dasavatari, Indrani, Bhrahmani, and Sarbasundari were already obsolete by late 19th century (Das 1998). I would further argue that the claim by contemporary scholars that the break-up of chalchitra reflects a social shift in terms of family structure is to be challenged here. It should also be noted that the idols in Baghbazaar Sarbojanin—where the first experiments with chali came into existence—are pretty huge in their size, so probably this too was also a practical approach to the problem of design. 24 Betel leaf occupied a special place in Bengali culture. In Mughal Bengal, it was also used as a royal gift. The social and economic value of betel leaf was immense (Curley 2003).

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6.4 Reconstructing the Past: Understanding the Present Since the inception of Durga Puja in Bengal, including pujas that are observed even today, the pratimas have come a long way. These pujas are part of a continuous living tradition, but it is difficult to say with certainty that there had been no change in their forms. Most of the households claim that the form of their pratimas has remained largely unaltered as generations of the same potter family continue to provide their service to the houses. It must be understood, that in late 18th till at least mid 19th century, the pratimasilpis were providing their service for free, at least during the autumnal festivities; as a gesture towards the past favours showered on their ancestors by the local zamindars/respective household (McLane 2002: 104). From the late 19th century, with the advent of photography in India, one may still possibly construct the past in a convincing way, but in order to understand what proceeded before, one has to dig into the past for visual references. Here, I attempt to provide a broader understanding of the evolving pratimas through the reference of select artistic productions of the contemporary times. These include company paintings for European patrons as well as native court paintings, clay and porcelain miniature figures produced in Kolkata and elsewhere as a part of the souvenir market; scroll and sara paintings produced by the patua, kumbhakar and sutradhar communities and lithographs and woodcuts produced in late 19th century as an integral part of popular culture. The shifts in pratimasilpa from the early 20th century have been discussed to a great extent by a number of contemporary scholars; thus, I consciously choose not to venture into that area in the present scope of the study. I attempt to establish the visual connect between different mediums of artistic expression, dealing with the representation of Durga in the 18th and 19th centuries. The genre of company paintings primarily catered to the European taste with detailed observations of one’s surroundings. It was also one of the first attempts to realistically portray the happenings around. In case of patachitra or painted scrolls, this and the sara (painted earthen platters) are still the prevalent forms of worship of Durga in many respectable houses in Bankura and Birbhum areas. This is a tradition said to be existing—from the early days of worship in Bengal. The Hatserandi village in Birbhum district still worships six feet by six feet huge painted scrolls, during the autumnal worship (Adhikari 2014). Interestingly, one finds the sutradhar community associated with this particular format of scroll painting. The ivory carving tradition in Bengal is much old where under the patronage of the Nawabs the craft reached new heights. Later, the European sensibility was accommodated and a change was noticed. The ivory tableaus of Durga received much appreciation overseas and became coveted products of the growing art industry in India (Dutt 1901). The flourishing printing culture of mid-19th century Calcutta and the rise of Government School of Art and Craft changed many things. Under the light of European academic training, the popular lithograph and woodcut prints reflected the sensibilities of the time and mimicking the forms in a realistic manner.25 From the late 19th century, the influence was more dominant as pratimasilpis started borrowing from Western classical art models. These 25 For

details see Mitter (2017).

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parallel artistic productions are important documents to tally the notions of pratimas, as they too represented the same forms in a different medium. An interesting late 18th century painting (Fig. 6.1) in Gouache on paper, from Rajasthan in the collection of British Museum, represents Mahisasurmardini figure under the blank ekchala of Bengal. The central figure is flanked by two attendant female devotee figures. The horse and the lion represented here unmistakably remind one of the Bengali prototypes. The Kartikeya figure enthroned on the peacock mount is modelled after a local king, recognizable through the headgear and jama that he wears. The drawing of Ganesha and other figures also is closer to the Rajasthani

Fig. 6.1 Durga Mahisasurmardini, Gouache on Paper, Rajasthan School, 1790–1810 C.E. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Museum No: 1880,0.2190

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Fig. 6.2 Durgah Poojah, Balthazar Solvyns, Coloured Engraving, From the Album Costume of Hindoostan. 1810 C.E., By kind permission of Victoria Memorial Hall Kolkata, Accession no: R2554-2-3-1

schools of painting. Another image (Museum No: 1880.0.2319) from the same collection produced at a slightly later date also echo the same characters.26 It makes us speculate that from late 18th century onwards either pratimasilpis were migrating to Rajasthani courts to produce pratimas for worship or small clay figurines or other objects were in circulation, bearing the traits of then contemporary pratimas.27 European painters as well as native painters including company painters have left visual records of Durga Puja. The grand festival finds mention in several British records as they were hosted with grand reception at the houses of the wealthy worshippers. Warren Hastings and Lord Clive’s names appear in historical records. In Coleman’s account as well as in Shib Chunder Bose’s writings, the vivid picture comes alive (Bose 1881; Coleman 1995). Among the visiting European painters, the Flemish artist-illustrator Balthazar Solvyns had documented life around him with much accuracy. In one of his colour engravings titled ‘Doorgah Pujah’ (Fig. 6.2), one comes across the representation of the event within a Bonedi household. Here, 26 Compare both with the Krishnanagar Durga pat in the same collection. (Museum No: As1987,17.7). 27 Another image from 1775 C.E., in the Chester Beatty Library of Dublin shows the same scheme of representation where the Goddess Durga is housed in a typical ekchala Bengali hut, flanked by two enclosures where Saraswati and Lakshmi appear. Here, interestingly enough the Mahisasur is also modelled after local parlance. Image reproduced in (Das 2017).

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Fig. 6.3 One of thirty-two paintings depicting festivals, ceremonies and occupations. Gouache on Mica, Murshidabad, 1800 C.E., © Victoria and Albert Museum London, l 22 cm × w 12 cm, Museum No: IS.35:20-1961

one finds the Durga figure to be little stylized in terms of her dress and modelling but largely conforming to the traditional prototype discussed earlier. It does not record the presence of a painted backdrop. In another visual representation (Fig. 6.3) one comes across a mica painting from the Murshidabad School which depicts a bisarjan scene. The Goddess may be seen as being carried on a wood and bamboo structure while a procession is on the move. Here, the artist also does not fail to depict the iconographic traits including the colour scheme. Another mica painting in the collection of British Museum (Museum No: 2003,0224,0.41), from a slightly later date, executed at Patna shows the Durga being worshipped in the pandal. Here too, the iconographic scene is well observed and represented, documenting the rites and the grandeur of the event. A rare clay figurine of Durga and her family in the collection of the British Museum provides important clue to contemporary pratimas (Fig. 6.4). Dated around 1845 C.E., this miniature tableau reflects all sensibilities of the larger pratima. During the 19th century, the potter and patua community around important religious sites, especially the Kalighat temple area, produced such clay figurines for sale. They were like portable shrines. Clay models were in high demand even in the west.28 Richard Blurton notes that the figure of Kartikeya in this case prefigures the later forms of 28 In

1883 C.E., clay models by Jadunath Pal were sent for the Amsterdam Exhibition (Mukharji 1883: 15). Interestingly much before the establishment of the School of Art in Calcutta, Kashinath Pal’s extremely realistic sculptures were already sold to American Captain named Briggs in 1823 C.E. and in 1848 C.E. a realistic clay portrait of Radhanath Mullick by Ram Pal also ended up in America. The fame of native modellers in the Western world was already on the rise by the end of 19th century (Bean 2012).

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Fig. 6.4 Figure of Durga, painted clay and pasted textile, 1845 C.E. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Museum No: 1845,1105

Kartikeya shown as a ‘Calcutta dandy’. During the second half of the 19th century individuals like Jadunath Pal, his brother Ram Lal Pal, his nephew Bakkeswar Pal and another kin named Rakhal Das Pal found much fame. They were probably only the last four modellers from Krishnanagar around that time. It is recorded that Jadunath Pal and his kin had received numerous awards at the world expositions overseas since the great exhibition of London was held in 1851 C.E.29 Jadunath also received several medals and won applause for his work at the Paris Exposition of 1900 C.E., initiating a new era (Bean 2017: 624). Their work was highly regarded but Mr. H. H. Locke, the then superintendent of Calcutta Art School heavily criticized them for the choices of peripheral materials used in their work. A Mahisasurmardini miniature image 29 For

further details, see (The Illustrated Catalogue of the Industry of All Nations 1851 1851; The Illustrated Catalogue of the Universal Exhibition 1867 1868; Birdwood 1880; Tellery 1893).

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by Rakhal Das Pal like the one discussed above was sent to Glasgow International Exhibition, priced at Rs. 175 in 1888 C.E. (Mukharji 1888). Apart from clay figures and figurines, ivory carved tableaus were of special interest in the expositions. The ivory tableaus also reflect the essence of contemporary mrit-pratimas. The ivory figures were being exported to foreign lands and were being given away as royal gifts. One such work (Fig. 6.5) produced around 1836 C.E. by artist Toolsee Ram was gifted by Mubarak Ali Khan II, Nawab of Bengal (r. 1810–1838 C.E.) to King William the IV (d.1837 C.E.). It is interesting to note how a Hindu religious icon was gifted by a Muslim Nawab for establishing political ties with a Christian ruler. The inscription on the work reads ‘His Highness of Bengal’. This particular work ended up in the collection of Windsor Castle and was exhibited at the Art Treasures

Fig. 6.5 Copy drawing after Ivory Altarpiece of Durga Mahisasurmardini by artist Toolsee Ram made around 1836 C.E., Graphite Pencil on Paper, 2020, Artist: Tarun Maity

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Fig. 6.6 Durga model figure, painted clay, late 19th century, made in North India by a native artist employed by an Italian dealer. © Victoria and Albert Museum London, Museum No: IS.190-1949

Exhibition of 1857 C.E. held in Manchester. In this work, the attire of the Goddess reflects Mughal taste, while Kartikeya wears a European hat and the attacking posture of the lion mimics the lion figure from the Victorian court of arms. Another carved ivory image in the collection of Victoria and Albert Museum London (Museum Number: 1070–1852) was exhibited at the Great Exhibition of 1851 C.E. Produced a little later, this tableau shows slender body types, a more stylized lion, Kartikeya and the lotus base. Another ivory image [Museum Number: 02466 (IS)] from the same collection was acquired from the Paris Exposition Universelle held in 1855 C.E. Here, a more urban version of Kartikeya appears. These ivory figures were also in much demand and were roughly priced at Rs. 25 each (Mukharji 1883: 18).30 Another clay image from Victoria and Albert Museum collection produced during the second half of the 19th century documents the changing attitudes towards treating the human form. (Fig. 6.6). Under the influence of Western art, a new hybrid imagination found expression in decorative arts. This painted clay figure produced in North India was probably modelled after some contemporary lithographic print. Here the theatricality of the battle comes alive and the lion appears to be more realistic than ever. It was probably commissioned by an Italian dealer who was involved with porcelain trade. During this time, a few German companies also started producing 30 The ivory carving by Toolsee Ram was sold at Christies New York Indian and South East Asian Sale, 23rd March 2010, Lot 181 for USD 470,500.

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excellent specimens of porcelain figurines, depicting Hindu Gods and Goddesses. These decorative art pieces especially white porcelain soon entered the middle-class market and was to be found in every household. Popular chromolithographs representing Indian mythological characters and narratives were also mass produced in Germany for export to India. Jyotindra Jain informs us that such German porcelain figures of Kartikeya, Ganesh Janani, Saraswati etc., have been majorly found in Rajasthan’s Shekawati region and in Calcutta, and that in many cases, they have been directly adapted from oleographs of Raja Ravi Verma, M.V. Dhurandhar and Bamapada Bandopadhyay as well as from the languid vocabulary of Kalighat paintings (Jain 2017: 29). He also notes that the painted clay figures that were sold around Kalighat temple and other potter’s colony became the prototype for the German white porcelain figurines (Jain 2011: 57). Names of makers such as Abhay Charan Das and others also appear as a part of the decorative scheme. In this process of cross-cultural dialogue, Durga was imagined in her ‘memsaheb’ avatar. Around the turn of the 19th century potters as well as porcelain makers started depicting Durga as the fairskinned English queen.31 The Art studios in North Calcutta engaged in the production of popular oleographs and wood cut prints embodied similar aesthetical ethos of the time. The chosen chromolithograph (Fig. 6.7) from Bengal Art Studio Calcutta and woodcut from Jorabagan area (Fig. 6.8) of Calcutta, among many such similar examples, conform to the prevalent visual vocabulary. The chromolithograph produced in the last decade of 19th century already documents the shifts in the form. The figures here show more humanized characters beyond idealization. The facial characteristics are closer to the porcelain figurines discussed above. In the woodcut print by Nrtyalal Dutta, the same approach is observed in the treatment of figures. An uncanny resemblance with terracotta temple panels must also be mentioned here. The pratimas of Kumartuli have been constantly evolving from their inception. Susan Bean has rightly observed that ‘unfired clay sculpture in Bengal became an art form central to both evolving regimes of taste and aesthetics and to the contest for advancing social agendas’ (Bean 2012: 624). At the turn of the 19th century, amidst the volatile socio-political ambience, traditional pratimasilpis too were probably seeking a new kind of validation. The creative individual among each pratimasilpi has always been seeking new avenues of representation, accommodating their own innovative ideas within the traditional proscriptions. Today at least through digital means, one can preserve, document and disseminate the ephemeral forms of pratimas for posterity, and help to trace their roots.

31 One such example is housed at Salar Jung Museum in Hyderabad. Refer to the object with Accession No: CS-I-313 (https://museumsofindia.gov.in/repository/record/sjm_hyd-CS-I-1-3134304).

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Fig. 6.7 Popular print of Durga, Bengal Art Studio, 1895 C.E., Colour Lithograph. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Museum No: 2003,1022,0.25

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Fig. 6.8 Sri Sri Durga Puja, late 19th century, woodcut, Jorabagan School, made by Nrityalal Dutta, By kind permission of Victoria Memorial Hall Kolkata, Museum No: R5139-a

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Bean, Susan S. 2012. The Unfired Clay Sculpture of Bengal in the Artscape of Modern South Asia. In A Companion to Asian Art and Architecture, ed. Rebecca M. Brown and Deborah S. Hutton, 604–628. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing Limited. https://doi.org/10.1002/9781444396355.ch25. Bean, Susan S. 2017. Vernacular Clay Sculptors Shaping Modern India’s Artscape—Jadunath Pal and G.K. Mhatre. In Indian Ceramics: History and Practice, vol. 69, ed. Kristine Michael, 22–26. Bombay: Marg Publications. Bhattacharya, Brindavan C. 1921. Indian Images—Part I: The Brahmanic Iconography. Calcutta: Baptist Mission Press. Bidyanidhi, Yogesh Chandra Roy. 2013. Puja-Parbon. Reprint. Calcutta: Visva Bharati Publications. Birdwood, George C. M. 1880. The Industrial Arts of India. Piccadilly: Chapman and Hill. Bordeaux, Joel. 2015. The Mythic King: Raja Krishnacandra and Early Modern Bengal. Columbia University. Bose, Shib Chunder. 1881. Hindoos as They Are: A Description of the Manners, Customs and Inner Life of Hindoo Society in Bengal. Calcutta: W. Newman & Co. Bumke, Krista Knirck. 2004. Victorious Durga Javanese Images of the Hindu Goddess who Conquered the Buffalo Demon. Asian Art, June 3. Chakrabarty, Kakali. 2017. Durga, the Great Goddess: An Anthropological Appraisal. All India Scanner, September. Chakravarty, D.K. 1971. Mrigavahini and Simhavahini Durga and Her Prototypes in the West. Proceedings of the Indian History Congress 33: 138–147. Coleman, Charles. 1995. The Mythology of The Hindus with Notices of Various Mountain and Island Tribes. Reprint. New Delhi: Asian Educational Services. Curley, David. 2003. Voluntary’ Relationships and Royal Gifts of Pan in Mughal Bengal. In Robes of Honour: Khil‘at in Pre-Colonial and Colonial India, ed. Stewart Gordon. London: Oxford University Press. Das, Asok Kumar. 2017. Durgar Baahon Singho Chilo Na. Anandabazar Patrika, September 23. Das, Jayanta. 1998. Kumartulir Charso Bochorer Biborton. Desh, September. De, Sarmistha. 2018. Bijoya Dashami: Rulers and Natives Fight Over Right of Passage. In Calcutta in the 19th Century: An Archival Exploration, ed. Bidisha Chakraborty and Sarmistha De. New Delhi: Niyogi Books. Dehejia, Vidya, and Sagaree Sengupta. 1999. Poetic Visions of Great Goddess: Tamil Nadu and Bengal. In Devi—The Great Goddess: Female Divinity in South Asian Art, ed. Vidya Dehejia, 99–118. Munich: Mapin and Prestel Verlag. Dutt, G.C. 1901. A Monograph on Ivory Carving in Bengal. Calcutta: Bengal Secretariat Press. Ghosh, Pratapchandra. 1871. Durga Puja with Notes and Illustrations. Calcutta: Hindoo Patriot Press. Gross, Rita. 1978. Hindu Female Deities as a Resource for the Contemporary Rediscovery of the Goddess. Journal of the American Academy of Religion 46: 269–291. Harle, James C. 1963. Durg¯a, Goddess of Victory. Artibus Asiae 26: 237–246. Hiltebeitel, Alf. 1978. The Indus Valley “Proto-Siva”, Reexamined through Reflections on the Goddess, the Buffalo, and the Symbolism of vãhanas. Anthropos 73: 767–797. Jain, Jyotindra. 2011. Indian Popular Culture: The Conquest of the World as Picture. Second Rev. New Delhi: CIVIC & Ford Foundation. Jain, Jyotindra. 2017. German Porcelain Gods for Indian Home. In Indian Ceramics: History and Practice, vol. 69, ed. Kristine Michael, 29. Bombay: Marg Publications. Jayakar, Pupul. 1989. The Earth Mother: Legends, Goddesses and Ritual Arts of India. San Francisco: Harper and Row. Lewis, Stephen G. 2016. Goddesses in the Hindu Tradition. Marburg Journal of Religion 18: 1–18. Mallebrein, Cornelia. 1999. Tribal and Local Deities: Assimilations and Transformations. In Devi— The Great Goddess: Female Divinity in South Asian Art, ed. Vidya Dehejia, 137–156. Munich: Mapin and Prestel Verlag. Manrique, Sebastian, Charles Eckford Luard, and Henry Hosten. 1927. Travels of Frey Sebastian Manrique 1629–1643. London: Hakluyt Society.

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Mazumdar, B. C. 1906. Durga: Her Origin and History. The Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland 355–362. McDaniel, June. 2004. Offering Flowers, Feeding Skulls: Popular Goddess Worship in West Bengal. New York: Oxford University Press. McDermott, Rachel Fell. 2011. Revelry, Rivalry, and Longing for the Goddesses of Bengal: The Fortunes of Hindu Festivals. New York: Columbia University Press. McLane, John R. 2002. Land and Local Kingship in 18th Century Bengal. New York: Cambridge University Press. Mitter, Partho. 2017. The Rise of the Art Schools and the Debate on the Status of Traditional Crafts. In Indian Ceramics: History and Practice, vol. 69, ed. Kristine Michael, 16–21. Bombay: Marg Publications. Mukharji, T.N. 1883. A Handbook of Indian Products: Art Manufacturers and Raw Materials. Calcutta: J. Patterson. Mukharji, T.N. 1888. Art Manufactures of India: Specially Compiled for the Glasgow International Exhibition, 1888. Calcutta: Superintendent of Government Printing. Östör, Ákos. 2004. The Play of the Gods: Locality, Ideology, Structure, and Time in the Festivals of a Bengali Town. New Delhi: Chronicle Books. Prajnanananda, Swami. 2018. Mahisasurmardini Durga: Shastriya,Oitihasik o Gobeshonamulok Alochona. Reprint. Kolkata: Ramkrishna Vedanta Math. Ray, Sudhanshu Kumar. 1953. The Artisan Castes of West Bengal and Their Craft. In Tribes and Castes of West Bengal, 299–347. Calcutta: West Bengal Government Press. Robinson, J D. 1983. The Worship of Clay Images in Bengal. University of Oxford. Rodrigues, Hillary Peter. 2003. Ritual Worship of the Great Goddess: The Liturgy of the Durga Puja with Interpretations. Albany: State University of New York Press. Santiko, Hariani. 1997. The Goddess Durga in the East—Javanese Period. Asian Folklore Studies 56: 209–226. Sarkar, Bihani. 2012. The Rite of Durg¯a in medieval Bengal: An Introductory Study of Raghunandana’s Durg¯ap¯uj¯atattva with Text and Translation of the Principal Rites. Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society 22: 325–390. https://doi.org/10.1017/S1356186312000181. Seal, Satish Chandra. 1947. Debdebitattwa, vol. I. Calcutta: Sri Bharati Press. Sinha, Pradip. 1967. Social Changes. In History of Bengal, ed. Narendra Krishna Sinha, 1st ed., 384–428. Calcutta: University of Calcutta. Sircar, Jawhar. 2004. The Domestication of the Warrior Godess, Durga: An Attempted “Rationalist” Deconstruction. In Women’s Education and Politics of Gender, ed. Jashodhara Bagchi. Smith, Charlotte H F., and Michelle Stevenson. 2010. Modeling Cultures: 19th Century Indian Clay Figures. Museum Anthropology 33: 37–48. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1548-1379.2010.01074.x. Tellery, S.J. 1893. The Industrial Manufactures of the Indian Empire. Delhi: S. J. Tellery & Co. The Illustrated Catalogue of the Universal Exhibition 1867. 1868. London: The Art Journal. Viennot, Odette. 1956. The Goddess Mahishasuramardini in Kushana Art. Artibus Asiae 19: 368– 369+371–373. Virtue, George. 1851. The Illustrated Catalogue of the Industry of All Nations 1851. 1851. London: The Art Journal. Woodroffe, John. 2001. Hymns to the Goddess and Hymns to Kali. Reprint. Madras: Ganesh & Company.

Chapter 7

The Heritage of Kumartuli: A Shifting Paradigm Debdutta Gupta

Abstract The potters’ colony of Kumartuli has evolved for the last few centuries catering to the festive and ritualistic demand of the Bengali populace. In the course of its evolution as an art-hub, the community has continually redefined its practice. Their roots, as well as the routes of migration, have directly impacted their creative process introducing new stylistic variants in the idol. The idol makers over time have learned to negotiate between scriptural prescriptions and local patron’s demand, giving birth to unique iconographical traits, peculiar to Bengal. History has been unkind in assessing the artistic contribution of the pratimasilpi—relegating them to the margins. This essay attempts to throw light on this neglected area of idol making. It also discusses about the transition of the idols, from 19th to 20th century in Kumartuli, which adopted the new language of academic realism. The rise of Baroiyari puja and nationalist ideas behind idol making in early 20th century has also been addressed.

7.1 Introduction Kumartuli, the potters’ enclave situated in the northern part of the City of Joy, has thrived for the past few centuries by giving shape to the clay idols worshipped annually during several festivities of the Bengali populace. The worship of the idol of Devi Durga was previously organized during the spring season or Basanta-ritu as known in Sanskrit. Thus, this spring worship came to be addressed as Basanti Puja in Bengal. Contrary to this springtime worship, the autumnal worship of Durga gained much popularity in Bengal which is better known as ‘Akal-Bodhan’ or the untimely worship. According to the epic verses of Krittibash Ojha’s Ramayana, Lord Rama worshipped Devi Durga or the Mahashakti to kill Ravana, the king of Lanka during the autumn season or Sharata. The legend of Ramayana informs one that when Rama was engaged in the fierce battle with Ravana, he wanted to seek blessings from Devi Durga to triumph over the evil. He arranged for the worship to evoke the D. Gupta (B) Multimedia and Animation Department, St. Xavier’s College, Kolkata, India e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021 S. K. Das et al. (eds.), The Making of Goddess Durga in Bengal: Art, Heritage and the Public, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-0263-4_7

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goddess during one autumnal night, to draw her attention to his dire plight, thereby initiating the ritual in an untimely (in Akal) manner. However, Valmiki’s Ramayana puts forth that Lord Rama worshipped Surya or the Sun God to vanquish the evil powers of Ravana, but somehow the Krittibash’s version inspired the psyche of the larger Bengali Hindu devotees, establishing the Akal Bodhan as their major religious festivity. It is noteworthy that Bengal has transformed the image of Goddess Durga, as a warrior Goddess (exemplified in the Mahisasurmardini of sixth century CE at Kailasa temple, Ellora) and has brought her much nearer to her devotees by visualizing her as a beloved daughter of Himalaya (Uma or Gouri). She also bears myriad names, like, Shakambhari, Chandika, Vindhyvasini, Kumari, Shivani, Annapurna, Yogeshwari, Ambika, Katyayani, Bhadrakali, and so forth. The Kumartuli potters have been relentlessly giving shape to these ideas for generations. Kumartuli is not just a prevalent school of idol-making art of Bengal, rather it is a learning hub that gives birth to artisans, instead of ‘making’ them. These are the artisans who conceptualize and visualize life in a clay idol down generations and learn from peers the art of idol making, instead of picking lessons from any modern art institution. Yet, these artisans know how to experiment every year with the Goddess of Clay. The inception of clay idol making in Bengal remains contested as several legends and narratives have shrouded the past. Some of the scholars trace back the history of this living tradition to the 14th-century character of Raja Jagatram Roy while others credit Raja Jagatram Bhaduri, the King of Maldaha or Barendra Bhumi who probably initiated the worship of Devi Durga in her clay form. According to another widespread legend, Malla King Jagat Malla of Mallabhumi aka Bishnupur probably initiated and popularized the clay idol worship of Devi Durga and patronized the distinct local form of worship which came to be known as Bishnupuri-Riti. This arrangement saw the placement of the gods Ganesha and Kartikeya in the upper panel alongside Devi Durga, while the other accompanying goddess figures of Lakshmi and Saraswati appeared in the lower panel. This traditional model of clay idol worship is still observed strictly by several households in the district of Bankura and elsewhere in the state of West Bengal. During the late mediaeval period, Taherpur, a municipal town in the district of Rajshahi of present Bangladesh on the banks of river Barnai, also emerged as a major centre of idol making. It is well-known through several parallel legends that King Kangsha Narayan of Taherpur is also credited as the pioneer of clay idol worship of Devi Durga in Bengal. Nevertheless, historical facts have established that Durga idol worship was conducted in the AshwaMedhas by King Surath around 1100 C.E., who himself shaped the clay idol and immersed it in the flowing waters after his worship (Prajnanananda 2018). The mediaeval scholar Bhabadeb Bhatta also propounded the particular rites of Durga Puja and since then clay idol worship has been continuing in Bengal as an unbroken tradition. The legends mention that the Durga Puja which was initiated by the King Kangsha Narayan of Taherpur, son of Hari Narayan, became popular through the introduction of a distinct style of clay idol tableaux known as Kangsha Narayani Chal. Here, the Devi Durga’s progenies appear in a different arrangement as compared to the Bishnupuri variant discussed earlier. The deity figures of Ganesha and Kartikeya appear in the lower register while the

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figures of Lakshmi and Saraswati appear in the upper register, as simply reverse of the Bishnupuri style. This style has also been adopted by several Bengali affluent households especially by the Zamindar families across the state for centuries now. From the perspective of iconography, the sculptural representation of Durga in mediaeval Bengal or Indic art does not initially appear with her children. Originally, this conception of family representation was absent. Thus, it appears that these mritsilpis of Bishnupur and Taherpur introduced this scheme in their local artistic formulations of Bishnupuri and Kangsha Narayani styles, respectively. The Foujdar clan of idol makers from Bishnupur and the Kumbhakar 1 clan of idol makers from Taherpur may be credited for inventing the unique vocabulary of clay Durga idol making which eventually got disseminated to other parts of Bengal. Traditional iconographical norms never allowed clay as a medium for making sculptures. Bronze, wood and stone were specified for the purpose of making sculptures or small idols, but the shift could be seen with the Kumbhakar silpis choosing their traditional medium of clay over other prescribed mediums for idol making especially that of the wood. Originally, clay was used for making earthen pottery (Agnihotri 2010). As for Bengal’s connection with clay, it has an abundance of soft, alluvium soil by the banks of the river Ganga and its tributaries. People in this area, thus, have developed an affinity and bondage with this medium, which has resulted in the flourishing of terracotta temple architecture during 14th and 15th centuries throughout Bengal. It is perhaps in the terracotta temples that the oldest examples of Devi Durga are present. In Bengal, though unfired clay images for worship have probably been in use for at least a millennium, only in the 17th century did they become important in the annual round of festivals. Bhabananda, founder of the Nadia dynasty, and Laxmikanta of Barisha, whose family transferred rights to the East India Company for the area that became Calcutta, are both remembered for holding lavish Durga Pujas centred on the worship of clay images. The practice spread to other small kingdoms in the region including Gaur, Rajmahal and Murshidabad. Around mid-18th century, the shift to clay is greatly attributed to Maharaja Krishnachandra Roy of Nadia (r. 1723-83 CE), who not only recognized the sculptor’s distinctive virtuosity with the medium but also the potential it offered in terms of formal metamorphosis (Fig. 7.1). The plastic quality of the idols produced in Krishnanagar found fame in no time. Kalachand Pal, an 18th-century sculptor from this region found fame by modelling a composite horse comprising thirty-two animals and a composite elephant with five female figures (Pal 2009: 50). Bengal had made a distinct place in the history of idol making, since the eighth century CE. During the reign of Pala and Sena dynasties, a new sculptural revolution started in this fertile land which evinced the aesthetic opulence of the Indian sculptural traditions in experimenting with the form of Devi Durga as seen in Mahabalipuram, Aihole, Ellora and elsewhere (Mukhopadhyay 1990). The tradition of patronage passed on from the royals to the elite zamindars of Bengal who carried on the legacy

1 Also

known as ‘kumar’ in colloquial Bengali.

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Fig. 7.1 Image of Durga from Krishnanagar Rajbari in Nadia © Author

of ritual worship adhering to the ancient texts. Idol makers from Krishnanagar, Shantipur and Nabadweep of Nadia district and Bikrampur of Dhaka arrived in hordes and stayed at the royal household to give shape to idols of Devi Durga. Later, these artisans settled in the Kumartuli area of Kolkata and continued the ‘living tradition’ of idol making. With Durga Puja attaining popularity, potters were no longer confined to the land of Nadia. Instead, Calcutta became an important centre for clay sculptures, second to Krishnanagar/Ghurni. The potters’ quarter in Calcutta at Kumartuli in the beginning was an outpost of Krishnanagar, where sculptors worked during the festive season and even brought their clay from Krishnanagar. Later, sculptors from other towns of Bengal moved to Calcutta in response to the ever-growing demand for idols. Any art needs an eye for appreciation and patronage to survive. They stayed in wealthy households during festive seasons, to give shape to the deity. But why did these artisans choose to settle in Kumartuli? Well, this area had a location advantage for deriving raw materials to make idols. The supply of bamboo and clay was in abundance. Several zamindari families were located in its proximity, such as the houses of Raja Naba Krishna Deb, Radhakanta Deb of Shova Bazaar, Dawn family of Jorasanko, Dutta family of Hatkhola, Khelat Ghosh’s family of Pathuriaghata Street and many others who were benevolent patrons. It needs to be mentioned that at a later date, a parallel landscape of art activities was also flourishing around Kalighat, a region adjacent to the Kali Temple in the city’s southern fringes. This was the place that gave birth to another style of clay idol making (Pal 1990). Thus, a new visual language was begun in the city’s art arena. Those who have seen hundreds of such images during a particular puja are aware of the astonishing variety of their forms and iconography. Also, those who have observed these festivals must have noticed how their forms and iconography can change dramatically from year to year. Such

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changes not only reflect the subtle nuances of the prevailing aesthetic tastes but are occasionally reflective of the current political and social realities.

7.2 Kumartuli—Changing Iconographic Styles The Kumatuli artists gave birth to several iconographic formulae which do not find mention in the scriptures: they emerged from the figment of their artistic imagination. The words used colloquially at their workshops have transformed into standard terminologies to describe different aspects associated with clay idol making. The structural form of Devi Durga remained unaltered almost for two centuries, which has been termed as ‘Bangla Chaler Thakur’ or the idol reflecting essentially a Bengali character. It might be mentioned here that the formal attributes of the Durga idol have remained unchanged for a considerable period of time due to the interdictions imposed by the religious scriptures and texts, which are still being followed unquestionably in several Bonedi Barir puja or the pujas organized by the Bengali elite and aristocratic household. This form arranged the figures against a single backdrop or Chali on the same platform. The goddess in her Mahisasurmardini form, graces the central space, flanked by her off-springs, Lakshmi, Saraswati, Ganesha and Kartikeya on their respective mounts. Here, the deities strike a frontal posture. This iconographic scheme was introduced by the clay modellers of Kumartuli. Devi Durga’s right leg and the left leg stretch apart while she stands unvanquished upon her vahana, the mighty lion. Lakshmi and Saraswati appear in the cross-legged posture where the right leg is bent in front of the left leg. This kind of cross-legged posture of Lakshmi and Saraswati may be compared to the standing posture of Lord Krishna which borrows from the prevalent iconographic scheme popular with the clay modellers. In addition, the skin of Ganesha is painted red. The following description provides an understanding of the typical colour scheme adopted in a traditional Bangla Chaler Thakur. According to the clay modellers of Kumartuli, the Durga idol is coloured with bright golden yellow or Atashi Varna. According to the Kumartuli artisans, this particular colour symbolizes the reflection of bright sun rays on the idol’s face. Another reddish yellow colour known as Bramha Rang symbolizes the reflection of the first rays of the rising sun. This variant of Bramha Rang has almost become obsolete from use. Only a few idols of Bonedi Baris show a continuity in the use of the traditional colour of Bramha Rang. In the recent past, the colours of traditional Devi idols have started undergoing changes in response to the commercial demand, when even the natural flesh tone is used as could be marked in Arter Thakur. But traditionally, the Asur is unmistakably painted with Sap Green, and the lion is in white with the inner side of its mouth-coloured red. In the traditional Bangla Chaler Thakur, the lion was represented as a hybrid form, with a horse’s face also known as Ghoramukhi Simha. A white-coloured moustache is painted on the lion’s face. This form of lion was obviously a product of Bengal which can still be seen in the pujas of the Zamindar families like, Deb Bari, Lahabari, Dawn Bari, Khelat Ghosh’s Bari to name a few. This horse-faced lion has been taken

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from the Dasavatar playing cards or Ganjifa playing cards which we also get to see in the terracotta temple relief panels. The Kumartuli artists picked up the Nara Simha Avatar’s face for making the lion for the Bangla Chal style of Thakur. But with the establishment of the lion figure atop the gate of Raj Bhavan or the present Governor’s House which was symbolic to the expanding empire of Queen Victoria, this European lion figure made its way into the Kumartuli workshops. It could be treated as the iconographical experimentation by the Kumartuli artisans. This lion was the symbol of British imperialism (Mitra 2003). Since then, this form of yellow maned naturalistic lion with an aggressive look on its face was favoured by the artisans. It is a dubious proposition that the Indian milieu accepted the ‘British Raj’, yet such changes in formal disposition brings up such questions as to whether the feeling of captivation and the feeling of being ruled intrigued the artists as they too were part of the colonial regime. The Kumartuli artisans primarily developed three distinct portrait styles for their figures which are known as Khas Bangla, Dobhasi and Chhobiana. The Khas Bangla portrait reflects primal features of the Devi with a much-elongated pair of eyes and eyebrows which almost extend to the ears, a sharp nose like the beak of a Shuk Pakhi or a parrot, sporting a slender look with a stiff smile on her lips. The ‘Dobhasi’ form was a much later development where the elongated pair of eyes and eyebrows were shortened, the distance between the eyes and the eyebrows increased, the portrait became much fuller, the shades of the eyes too changed as the eye-balls occupied a much broader space, in an effort to portray a more humane character of the Devi. Later, with the intrusion of the Arter Thakur, the Chhobiana (here, the term is derived from chhobi which refers to film) portrait came in vogue in which the facial expression of the idol became more recognizable to that of the real-life woman. The Kumartuli idol makers not only shaped new styles of portraits but also evolved their own system of iconometry along with local methods of clay preparation, structure binding, colour extraction, brush making, and colour application among several other things. The rendition of the eyes and the changing proportions with changing postures are all part of the non-scriptural vocabulary shared in the workshops. For example, they used to measure the idols in the scale of Poa,1 Poa being equal to 4 1/2 in., Adh Haat (a half measure of the hand) equal to 9 in. and Ek Haat (one hand) being equal to 18 in. This new relative system of iconometry has no relation with the classical iconometry; this system has been established by the Kumartuli artisans. The Kumartuli style of idol making (Fig. 7.2) is also influenced by the ethnic distribution of the space impacted by the artisans’ migrations from both parts of present West Bengal and ertswhile East Bengal, modern Bangladesh. Thus, two distinct stylizations can be predominantly observed. The first is the style of the artists from Krishnanagar, Nabadwip, better known as Ghoti style, and the second style is that of Opar Bangla, i.e. the style of the artists who migrated from Dhaka, Vikrampur, Natore and Jessore areas of present-day Bangladesh (Agnihotri 2010). The stalwarts of the East Bengal tradition were Mohan Banshi Rudra Pal, Rakhal Pal, Gorachand Pal, Pradip Rudra Pal, Kartik Pal and Krishna Pal among others. In Opar Bangla style or the style introduced by the Rudra Pal community, one can locate distinct features of iconography introduced by these artisans. Rudra Pals’ Durga is generally flabby,

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Fig. 7.2 Interior of a Kumartuli idol maker’s Workshop © Author

voluptuous, having a downward thrust along with the divine appearance attributed to the application of Garjan Tel or a special glazing oil at the final stage of finishing. The Rudra Pals’ attempts to absorb the aesthetic qualities of Indic stone sculptures are evident in the roundness. On the contrary, the Ghoti style exponents refrain from using the glazing oil, in order to imbibe the tactile life-like qualities of human flesh. The Kumartuli idol makers have always been very observant of their changing surroundings, having borrowed a great deal from the cultural mannerisms of the time. For instance, 19th-century Bengal especially Calcutta witnessed the burgeoning of Babus or the upper-class gentlefolk who not only led an extravagant lifestyle but also attracted the sympathetic attention of the British Lords. The Kumartuli sculptors found a ready reference in them for representing the character of Kartikeya. These particular Babus were represented in the image of Kartikeya with a kurta, dhoti, nagrai-choti (sandel) and wearing a typical turban of a Babu. The way in which they incorporated the social mannerisms demonstrated the definite eclecticism of the Kumartuli artists. Later, this style of Kartikeya with nagrai-choti, babri-chul (hair style), Albert gof (moustache resembling that of Prince Albert) were established as standard iconographical norms for representing Kartikeya. Moreover, the Kumartuli artists have also incorporated popular imagery candidly responding to their conceptual demands. They have been influenced by the enthusiastic ventures of the Bengali acrobats during the early 20th century when the educated Bengali populace showed special interests in acrobatic and wrestling events. The muscular body of wrestlers like Gobor Guha and Shyamakanta was the ideal one to study for the Kumartuli artists, as they executed the body of the Asur. The myriad imageries of the circus

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shows were later used by these artists in fashioning the idol of Devi Durga. Several new formats of backdrop were also introduced by these Kumartuli idol makers, at times unique to individual households. For instance, one of the oldest pujas hosted in the city is by the descendants of Barisha Saborno Roy Choudhury family. Here, the Devi is represented in her ten-armed Mahisasurmardini form with a naturalistic lion. The Chali for all the idols are in Math Chauri (tower shaped backdrop resembling Ratha) pattern, except that of the Durga Chali of Majher Bari that is an Ekchala (A semicircular shaped Chali—a single backdrop structure decked with ornamentation). The idols made for these Bonedi households were worshipped in the thaakurdalans—a unique space within the aristocratic households dedicated to religious worship. The elite zamindars took special care in construction of it as it also became a marker of aristocratic grandeur and opulence (Basu Mullick 2013). The thaakurdalans once hosting the colonial guests have evolved over time as a space for ritual performances. The ancient thaakurdalan of the Barisha Saborno Roy Choudhury household has gone through changes in its architecture, yet the originality has been retained in the remnants of pillars of the Natamandir. These thaakurdalans share an intrinsic relationship with the pratimas which are built within its space. The Abhaya Durga murti worshipped by the Dhar household of 32 Debendra Mallick Street in Kolutala could be of interest here. Krishna Chandra Dhar started worshipping Abhaya Durga form in their ancestral house in Sarshe Para in Chandannagar around mid-19th century. His son Purna Chandra Dhar built the mansion at the abovementioned address which later got divided between its residents, and presently, there are two thaakurdalans in the same household who alternatively host the Pujas. The Goddess appears in her two-armed Abhaya form, flanked by her children. Quite exceptionally, we see a representation of two lions, albeit small in scale, near the feet of the Goddess (Figs. 7.3 and 7.4). This new scheme of iconography was also introduced by the Kumartuli idol makers who were commissioned and instructed by the elders of the household. The ancestral connection links the family with Sukhamoy Roy, the Raja of Posta area. The late Badan Chand Roy who was an eminent member of this family actually started the puja around 1858 C.E. a year after the Sepoy Mutiny. He built a trust in the same year as ‘Badan Chandra Roy Estate’ which continues to bear the expenses of the annual rites till date. The thaakurdalan consists of five arches and two porticos. The expansive courtyard in front consists of a Natamandir with decorative iron-cast railings. The Durga idol is a ten-armed Mahisasurmardini Durga bedecked with Daker Saj and is placed against an Ekchala. The thaakurdalan at Dutta Bari in Madanmohan Dutta Lane consists of two porticos with three arches respectively. The arches are beautifully decorated with floral motifs but with the passage of time this elegant architecture is gradually reaching a sad dilapidated state. Here, the Mahisasurmardini form of the Devi appears with a Matha Chauri Chali and rides atop a Ghoramukhi Simha or horse-faced lion. Here, the idol makers of Kumartuli used to paint the clay drapery before dressing up the idol with an original piece of cloth. The same tradition is followed in the Chhatu Babu Latu Babu household at Beadon Street (Fig. 7.5).

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Fig. 7.3 Detail of the twin lion figure seen at Dhar household of 32 Debendra Mallick Street in Kolutala © Author

The Chandra household at 24 A Bechu Chatterjee Street also worship the Abhaya Murti of the Devi in their grand thaakurdalan. Ramprasad Chandra and other forefathers made a fortune in the gold business and shifted their base from Adisaptagram to the Jorasanko area of Kolkata. It was Ramprasad who initiated the worship around 1761–62 C.E. but with their settlement in Kolkata, it was Subal Chandra who built the grand thaakurdalan and introduced much pomp in the celebrations. Here, the Abhaya Murti Devi sits in the lap of Lord Shiva on a tiger skin. The central figures of Abhaya Durga with Shiva are flanked by the usual figures of Ganesha, Kartikeya, Lakshmi and Saraswati. Interestingly, the Kumartuli idol makers had modelled the portrait of Shiva in a striking resemblance to the Greco-Roman sculptures, adding to the repertoire of iconographic changes. Another interesting case in point is that of the Mallick family puja. The Mallick family puja of Bhawanipur was initially started by Sri Radha Gobinda Mallick in Guptipara, and later around 1925 C.E., it shifted to the present premises of Kolkata. The puja rituals are performed at two locations within their residence better known as Annapurna Dalan and Durga Dalan. The Mallick family follows Vaishnavism and its influence may be seen in the form of their Durga pratimas. The portrait of the Devi resembles the traditional brass/Kansha idols of Gopala or Gopala Murti. This too was a new intervention by the idol makers catering to the demands of the household, imbibing the religious spirit of their patrons in their

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Fig. 7.4 Detail of the twin Lion Figure seen at Dhar household, another view

art. At times, the clay modellers also played with their own vocabulary. The Bhawanipore Mitra family Durga Puja bears testimony to this. Started around 1757 C.E. immediately after the Battle of Plassey, the Durga idol here apparently appears as dasha bhuja or ten armed but upon a closer look one can find that actually eight hands are shorter and placed on the shoulders. Once the idol is dressed, the shorter hands cannot be seen. Here, Lakshmi and Saraswati do not appear on their mounts/ vahanas, rather they are found seated on lotuses, flanking the central figure. The lion figure almost resembles a horse and is painted white with a black moustache. This indeed was a notable change brought in by the idol makers of Kumartuli. The Kumartuli artisans not only brought changes in the form of the Goddess but also in the ornaments. It has been noticed that the decorative elements in the ornaments of Durga idol owe immensely to the Battala woodcut tradition. The woodcut was a wholly new form of artistic genre in the then Kolkata and catered to the needs of a huge section of population. This resulted in the intrusion of artisans beyond the Hindu community. Thus, the ornament decorations showed Islamic influence as Muslim artisans got engaged in this trade. Previously, the ornaments reached the Kumartuli area by post (post is termed as Dak in Bengali) from Krishnanagar, which has given its typical name of Daker Saj (Chattapadhyay 2013). Several workshops of this handicraft exist in various regions of Santipur, Bagachhra (Nadia) Sonarpur, Baruipur, and Joynagar. The use of Daker Saj is also an established iconographical norm introduced by the clay modellers.

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Fig. 7.5 Painted drapery of Durga Idol at Dutta Bari at Madan Mohan Dutta Lane © Author

7.3 Traditional Raw Materials Kumartuli forms not only the spine of our festive season, but also acts as the life line of various art and craft communities. The involvement of various artistic communities could be mapped at every stage of the entire process of idol making. The making of the idol primarily revolves around three basic processes. Unlike terracotta, here the clay idols are dried under the sun, following an age old process. The scriptural embargo refrain the artists from making terracotta images, as it is considered inauspicious. The pratimasilpis do not make a maquette, as the impression of the final image is contained within their mind. At the initial stage, a bamboo and straw frame is prepared, over which wet clods are applied directly to bring out the basic shape. Cloth pieces are dipped in mud water and placed over the basic shape and smoothened by hand, repeating the process for several times along with application of wet clay, till the desired shape is achieved. This process provides the necessary strength to the clay structure and prevents the sun dried idol from cracking up. At the second phase, a coat of white paint prepared from natural sources is applied which also acts as a primer. The alchemy of natural colours, making of brushes and other tools, is learned by every pratimasilpi in a playful engagement. The growing demand of idols over the past decades has introduced cheaper and commercially available alternatives, which help the pratimasilpis to meet their deadlines. These gaudy colours are reflective of new

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age aesthetics. The idol makers have tried to keep pace with modern equipments, often employing spray paints and driers to speed up the process. Climatic uncertainties are negotiated this way in order to continue with the work. At the final stage, the dust of Sirish tree is boiled to a certain consistency to prepare a special glue that is used to paste the different decorations, sequins and drape to the body. Modern adhesives have also increasingly found their space in the studio, often helping in last minute touches. We came to know from various Kumartuli artists that the dried straw (locally termed as khar), a basic raw material for making the primary structure of the idol, used to come from the Bagbazaar market which was supplied from Midnapore district. Wood and bamboo, the other basic raw materials, used to come from Shyambazar and Salkia, Murshidabad, respectively. Clay was supplied from Uluberia which was much sticky in consistency and much darker in colour (this kind of clay is termed as entel mati which is much finer and devoid of impurities like stone particles). Another kind of clay is used in the idol-making procedure which is known as bali-mati (or the clay which consisted sand in considerable amount). The entel mati is mixed with the outer skin of paddy (termed as tush) and applied in the preliminary stage, over the basic structure of the idol. In the second phase, the mixing proportion of bali-mati and entel mati varies according to the strength desired of the clay in various steps of idol making. According to the artists, the basic structure of the idol or the basic anatomy is made with the sheer intuitive vision of the clay modeller which does not require any art school training. They are the creators of their own technique. Here, we may mention Mora Dhara. Mora Dhara is a process of calculation relating to the proportion of the goddess while making the armature and application of the earthen layer over it—the veteran artist has to measure the size that shrinks (Mora) during the process of drying of the applied layer, thus having to calculate (Dhara) the actual proportion of the idol and managing the initial size accordingly. They have their own style of colouring as well. Kumartuli artists are continuing the unique clay modelling tradition of Krishnanagar, which modelled human figures and objects realistically. This becomes prominent as we observe the clay of deities in Kumartuli. The colour shades are used to bring out specific mass and volume of the models, for e.g., the muscular dispersal of the demon, Mahisasur, the creases in the lion’s facial expression, etc. After the application of final layer of colour on the clay idols, a kind of binder made with local ingredients is applied. Later, a synthetic varnish known as Gham Tel is applied on the idols to give the final lustre. Due to the application of this particular varnish, an outstanding glow oozes out from the Devi idol.

7.4 The Changing Social Milieu and Its Impact The changing social milieu also changed the mode of festivity over decades. The exclusive Bonedi celebrations slowly gave way to a more democratic observance of Durga Puja in the Baroiyari and Sarbojanin puja formats. It is well documented that around 1759 C.E. Baroiyari Bindhyabasini Puja was started in Guptipara,

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Hooghly, where subscription for the celebrations was achieved through a collective initiative. Guptipara was famous as a seat of learning as several toles or centres for Sanskrit education were established here. It was also home to several great scholars like Mathuresh Vidyalankar, Baneshwar Vidyalankar, Krishnananda Swami only to name a few. The place also has a temple dedicated to the Bindhyabasini Mata. As common people were restricted from participating in the private celebrations of the Zamindari households, twelve noble men initiated this mode of public celebration. In the coming centuries, the Baroiyari Durga Puja gained in extreme popularity in Kolkata and acquired a parallel stature in creating a spectacle. This was a puja arranged by the public and for the public. Around the early decades of 20th century, Bengal became one of the major centres for the nationalist movement. The agitation and protests against the colonial power took a new turn when local people in Kolkata took an active interest in awakening the mass through organized events in their neighbourhood. Durga Puja too served the purpose in uniting the people against British tyranny. Some of these Baroiyarii Durga Pujas continued with their tradition through clubs/associations at a later date. Some of the important names include Ahiritolla Sarbojanin Durgotsav (1948), Tala Baroiyari (1948), Kolutolla Sarbojanin Durgotsav (1948), Shyambazar Street Sarbojanin Durgotsav (1948), Hati Bagan Sarbojanin Durgotsav (1948), Howrah Sangher Durgotsav (1948), Jorasanko Sadharon Durgotsav (1948), Deshbandhu Park Club Puja (1948), Jhamapukur Sarbojanin Durgotsav (1948), Bharatiya Tarun Sarbojanin Durgotsav (1948), Mandirtala Sarbojanin Durgotsav (1948), 8 Palli Sarbojanin Durgotsav (1948), Hatkhola Sarbojanin Durgotsav (1948), 6 Palli Sarbojanin Durgotsav (1950), Kala Bagan Sarbojanin Durgotsav (1950), Bagh Bazar Sarbojanin Durgotsav (1950), Sealdaha Sarbojanin Durgotsav (1950), Chor Bagan Sarbojanin Durgotsav (1950), Bara Bazar Beadon Square Sarbojanin Durgotsav (1950), Udvastu Shibir (Refugee) Sarbojanin Durgotsav (1950), Uttar Narkeldanga Shitala Sarbojanin Durgotsav (1950), Kendriya Sarbojanin Durgotsav Committee (1950), National Fire Service Brigade Sarbojanin Durgotsav (1950), Manicktala Chalta Bagan Sarbojanin Durgotsav (1950) among others. The Baroiyari puja samities channelized the patriotic sentiments also providing the platform to several leaders of the Indian nationalist movement for addressing the public (Chaki 2013). The Bhawanipore Dharmatsahini Sabha organized the first-ever Baroiyari puja celebrations in Kolkata in 1910. At the Balaram Basu Ghat Road by the banks of Adi Ganga, eminent personalities like late Surendranath Mukhopadhyay, late Bibhutibhusan Mukhopadhyay, late Charu Chandra Chattopadhyay and several others gathered to host the puja for a greater cause. The year 1919 witnessed the inception of Nebu Bagan Baroiyari Durga Puja. Initially, it was held at 55 Bag Bazaar Street. It was a crucial phase in Bengal’s history when the spirit of nationalism was spreading like a conflagration, impacted by the ideologies of great religious reformers, like Sri Ramakrishna, Swami Vivekananda and visionaries like Rabindranath Tagore, Surendranath Banerjee, Girish Ghosh and others. People enthusiastically participated in Birastami Puja. Daker Saj was compulsory for the idols here and the Kumartuli artisans added oriental design in the backdrop chali. The oriental design in the chali became the new style established by the clay

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modellers. In 1926, Simla Byaam Samiti too came forward and organized Durga Puja for the first time. It was a crucial year in the history of Indian national movement as due to the notorious policies of British administration, entire Bengal was torn apart by communal riots. The social equilibrium was completely devastated. It was during this time of crisis that Simla Byaam Samiti sought to revive and restore the situation through various social and cultural acts. In order to rekindle the ethos of Indian sculptures, they adopted the Oriental Arter Thakur as a definitive statement. Political leaders like Deshapriyo Jyotindra Mohon Sengupta, Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose, Sarat Chandra Bose, Suresh Chandra Majumdar, Makhan Lal Sen, Dr. Bhupendra Dutta and many others regularly visited Simla Byaam Samiti and the members of the Samiti were directly involved in the nationalist movement. Late Shri NitaiCharan Pal of Kumartuli was given the responsibility for making the idol for its inaugural year. The idol was draped in Khadi cloth and soon this form of idol came to be known as Swadeshi Thakur in the learned circles. Another important breakthrough could be marked in the organization of the 23 Pally Durgotsav from 1939 onwards. Here, the Kumartuli idol makers showcased their creative freedom by adorning the Mahisasur or the buffalo demon with a British crown. It symbolized the evil power inherent in British imperialism. Ideally, the Devi became the vanquisher of this evil imperial force. Late Jiten Pal who created several masterpieces for the club was heavily influenced by one of the doyens of modern Indian art—Acharya Nandalal Bose. Nandalal in his own inimitable way dedicated his art to the cause of promoting national sentiments. Late Jiten Pal replicated one of the pen and ink drawings of Nandalal and transformed it into clay. Such incorporations also brought in a distinct change in the iconographic scheme of Kumartuli idol makers.

7.5 Social Changes and Kumartuli The representation and reception of images evolve through space and time along with the changing values of a culture. Culture is not a constant. The social criterion instigated by anxiety and agonies, fear and veneration has coerced idol makers to rethink about their own practice and formulations. The kitsch has entered Kumartuli. Thus, images of muscular Mahisasur resembling a well-known villain character from a popular Bollywood flick comes in vogue. Bollywood is omnipresent. The changing ethos of modernity is well represented through the clay idols at puja pandals. The pratimasilpis are observant of the social changes and their work encapsulates the spirit and nuances of our contemporary times. The Kartikeya figure thus evolves from its old avatar and uninhibitedly sports a macho look, following the footsteps of tinsel town heroes. Saraswati and Lakshmi figures are also often seen holding phones, and other cutting-edge electronic equipments. Changes in Ganesha’s posture could also be seen, as often he rests against a bolster, in a cosy homely atmosphere. What is most striking is that Durga emerges in multifarious avatars with each passing year. Her feminine aspect is aesthetically celebrated by modelling her after the likeness of modern day celebrities, often imbibing their characteristics. This aesthetic shift

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is also driven by the market trends, where the consumer controls certain aspects of idol making. In a world where we are constantly surrounded by advertisement and entertainment images, it is simply hard to escape them. The pratimasilpis are also no exception. They however ensure that the quintessential ‘Bengali’ traits are retained amidst this spree of experimentation. The cultural notions of beauty are represented through curvaceous body, with dark flowing hair, fair complexion with full lips and big eyes. These imaginations have taken shape over the centuries, especially after the women of wealthy households. Even their dressing style and fashion continue to get imitated even to this day, creating a cultural stereotype. One can argue that these images are witness to changing times that negotiated between colonial taste and ‘Bengali’ identity. The pratimas thus also acquire a romantic identity that is real yet unreal at the same time.

7.6 Conclusion The Kumartuli tradition of clay modelling has developed as a distinctive ‘school’ catering its own kind of art education through ages. While these aged artists share their valuable experiences with us, we also become privy to the gradual development of the Kumartuli ‘schooling’ and the development of the idol of Durga from its traditional stature to a contemporary one, where a huge array of experimentation is still continuing. Kumartuli artists developed new forms of iconography which were largely influenced by patronage and the changing social milieu. As creative individuals, they did not follow the scriptural prescriptions blindly, rather developed a new visual code that has been handed down from one generation to the other as a non-verbal, non-textual idiom. In course of the study, a few distinct approaches have surfaced: firstly, the relation of art and society, where the societal changes and development become comprehensible in the growth of Durga Puja in Bengal; secondly, the intermingling of art educational approaches in a definite societal set up which has helped in the establishment of the ‘new’ stature of Devi idol. The pratimas despite undergoing thematic changes continue to cohere to the embryonic idea of seeking blessing of the divine, for a better future. With each autumnal season as the puja approaches, the Kumartuli by lanes pulsate with an unparallel creative energy. The colourful ambiance and occasional smell of petrichor reminds one that the Devi is about to arrive. In the process, it reinstates that change exists, but traditions continue.

References Agnihotri, Anita. 2010. Kumartulir Pratimasilpira. Reprint. Kolkata: Ananda Publishers. Basu Mullick, Goutam. 2013. Kolkatar Paribarik Durga Puja. Kolkata: Karigar Publishers. Chaki, Leena. 2013. Durga. Kolkata: Dey’s Publishers.

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Chattapadhyay, Samrat. 2013. Durga pujar Notebook. Kolkata: Deep Prakashani. Mitra, Anjan. 2003. Kolkata o Durga Puja. Kolkata: Ananda Publishers. Mukhopadhyay, Bratindranath. 1990. Shaktir Roop: Bharate o Madhya Asiayay. Kolkata: Ananda Publishers. Pal, Pratapaditya, ed. 1990. Changing visions, lasting images: Calcutta through 300 years. Mumbai: Marg Publications. Pal, Pratapaditya, ed. 2009. Goddess Durga: the power and the glory. Mumbai: Marg Publications. Prajnanananda, Swami. 2018. Mahisasurmardini Durga: Shastriya, Oitihasik o Gobeshonamulok Alochona. Reprint. Kolkata: Ramkrishna Vedanta Math.

Part IV

Publics

Chapter 8

Pratimasilpa and the Making of the Public Samir Kumar Das

Abstract The heritage of idol making is unlikely to survive if it remains restricted to the small caste of Kumbhakars. The heritage is rendered sustainable to the extent that their works establish connections across wider sections of the public who as the potential patrons, organizers of festivals, helping artisans and skilled assistants, decorators and pandal makers, discerning connoisseurs, buyers, ordinary visitors, consumers and so forth help keep the heritage alive. Making of the pratima (idols) and making of the public therefore share the same site. This first of all calls for sufficient demystification of the so-called high art. Secondly, the hereditarily acquired practice as heritage also reactivates and sets in motion a new aesthetic with its claim to a redefinition of art. Thirdly, the enactment of the Durga Puja carnival is made to appear as being complicit with the rules of civic and municipal governance and is therefore called upon to hide the carnivalesque within it. Each of the above steers between the widely known binaries of art and hereditarily acquired craft or skill, between art and heritage of the idol making caste of Kumbhakars and between civic governance and carnival, respectively.

Ki thakur dyakhlam nani (What an idol I have seen, grandma!) —From a well-known folksong of erstwhile East Bengal.

As the little Muslim child narrates her experience of having seen the ‘Durga Puja of the Hindus’ to her grandmother in the above epigraph, she raises a series of questions that do not always have easy answers: first of all, does this act of seeing necessarily bring her together with others—thus cutting across the religious and other fault lines that exist in the society? Does this act necessarily bring the public into existence? What does bringing the public into existence mean? Does this mean that the public is one or are there many publics? How do many publics coalesce into one? How does this little Muslim child become an integral part of the public? Or does she at all? How is this coalescence of publics made possible by the idol that is being S. K. Das (B) Department of Political Science, University of Calcutta, Kolkata, India e-mail: [email protected] © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021 S. K. Das et al. (eds.), The Making of Goddess Durga in Bengal: Art, Heritage and the Public, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-0263-4_8

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seen by one and all? Secondly, what is it in the idol that she feels drawn to—its ‘high art’ or the sheer aura and amazement that the idol evokes as the little Muslim child witnesses meticulous observance of an elaborately laid out repertoire of rituals with loads of leaves of bel (aegle mermelos), charanamrita (offering of the water from the river Budi Ganga for washing the feet of the idol) and so forth? Does idol as a work of art lose its hallowed status as it becomes an object of ordinary consumption, in this case by the little Muslim child? Or art and the public are intertwined in a way that the idol she sees represents neither of them, but is made into a new cultural form that has the power to attract everyone—Hindus and Muslims, rich and poor, high and low in the society? Thirdly, does this feeling of intense amazement necessarily liberate her from the everyday chores and rules that otherwise set the communities apart? Can this experience be called carnivalesque? This chapter is a modest attempt at answering these three sets of questions while helping us understand the complex relation of pratimasilpa (the art of making unbaked clay idols of Hindu Gods and Goddesses) to the making of the public. Although pratimasilpa heritage in Bengal is intangible, in our instance it is embodied in the community of pratimasilpis (the makers of such idols mainly, though not exclusively, bearing the surname of ‘Pal’). While at one level the connection between the two is considered as crucial to the sustainability of the heritage in question, at another level the connection, by all accounts, is tenuous. For one thing, the makers are no longer restricted to the hereditarily defined caste of Kumbhakars(Kumars or Kumors in colloquial Bengali) in West Bengal with the effect that the sustainability of pratimasilpa heritage may not necessarily mean the sustainability of the caste in question. Examples of descendants of hereditary pratimasilpis opting for other professions are by no means rare. Their families also encourage them to join other more profitable occupations. Many of the new crop of pratimasilpis who have been successful in making ‘art-er thakur’ (the ‘artistic’ idols as defined below) usually displayed in themed pujas1 (that is, pujas with a focus on a particular theme presumably of contemporary interest or with a social message2 ) and earning their name and fame in the profession do not belong to the occupational caste of Kumbhakars. Insofar as the art of making idols slowly slips out of the traditionally exclusive preserve of the occupational caste of Kumbhakars, they face the challenge to their livelihood as much as the ‘original’ and ‘authentic’ heritage once developed by them faces the threat of extinction. While we will make albeit passing reference to this problem, this chapter does not directly focus on this

1 The term is used in two albeit complementary senses: First, in the literal sense of actually worship-

ping the Goddess and second, in the accompanying sense of turning it into an occasion for hopping of pandals (see below), meeting friends, kinsmen and dear ones, social gathering, revelry and merriment. ‘Pujo’ is the more colloquial form of ‘puja’. The word ‘pujo’ is used mostly by the ghotis, that is to say, the native Bengalis of West Bengal as distinguishable from the ex-refugees of Partition settled here (1947). 2 Since the puja becomes an explication of a theme, it ‘is premised on the figure of the artist/designer and his work team and the idea of an integrated production, conceived and integrated by a single designer and his work team that often involves a professional idol-maker with added titles and concept notes’ (Guha-Thakurta 2016: 319).

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source of threat emanating from the divergence of the art of making from the social constituency of makers. For another, pratimasilpa heritage can be rendered sustainable to the extent that their works (of art) simultaneously reach a wider public who as the potential patrons, organizers of pujas, discerning appreciators, connoisseurs, buyers, ordinary visitors, consumers and so forth keep the heritage alive by developing a taste for them. Is this wider public one? Or does it represent a contingent coalescence of many publics? Pratimasilpa heritage will have no future if it remains confined to the tiny caste of Kumbhakars or for that matter only a few in the society. This chapter reflects more on the problematic nature of the connection across different groups and communities, castes, creeds, gender groups and sections of people that eventually help weave them into a public, than the one between the Kumbhakars on the one hand and their works. The singularity of the public, as we will argue, does not rule out the plurality that it contains within itself. What we describe as the new cultural form also contributes to the making of a new public that is neither irreducibly singular nor a mere arithmetic sum of many publics. The new public emerges in the very site of this new cultural form that pushes them out of both the so-called high art on one hand and the heritage of ‘low’ craft and hereditarily acquired skill on the other. The chapter seeks to understand the making of the new public through the making of the new cultural form of idols. Connection of the second type has at least two albeit overlapping implications: first, Kumbhakars—unlike other heritage minorities3 of Kolkata (the Armenians, the Baghdadi Jews or the Chinese as extreme examples of such heritage minorities)—are called upon to be in touch with the other public/s by virtue of being involved in the very art of making the idols—whether as buyers or as consumers or as patrons, sponsors, organizers of pujas, ordinary visitors, appreciators, revelry makers, conscience raisers and carriers of social and political message and so forth or any combination of them. Empirical studies conducted on the other heritage minorities constantly point to their isolated and secluded nature. In fact, their increasingly growing isolation and seclusion from the rest of the society are believed to be one of the reasons why they are on the verge of extinction. Unlike the heritage minorities, the pratimasilpis face the challenge of catering to and thus creating a public in a way that there is demand for the idols they make through their works. The demand here is understood in a wider sense to include both the effective demand of having the ability of others to buy them and also the ability of the works to be appreciated and consumed by one and all. Secondly, while it is commonplace to believe that the public is always already there that the pratimasilpis are required to reach out and cater to, we propose to turn the argument by its head. For it is necessary to problematize the act of reaching out by way of arguing that the public comes into being by the very act of making of the idols. A very recently conducted survey of literature on the otherwise fledgling yet 3I

use the term ‘heritage minorities’ to refer to the groups and communities who are increasingly becoming numerically extinct and disappearing fast from public life. This is one of the reasons why the heritage embodied in the heritage minorities faces a threat.

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growing body of work on the subject points out how the public sphere in India is split into many publics (Dalit public sphere is just one instance) and serves as what the survey describes as ‘the critical battleground’ among them (Behar 2019: 419). Idol making is simultaneously an act of making of the public. The public, in short, is the product of the very process of production of idols. In simple terms, the sustainability of pratimasilpa heritage is critically dependent on the ability of the pratimasilpis to contribute to the making of a new public through purchase, patronization, sponsorship, appreciation, sensitization and simple consumption of their products—that again have the potential of transcending the differences that otherwise threaten to set a variety of publics apart along such lines of class, caste, gender, sexuality and community and so forth. The connection between the heritage and the formation of the public is taken either as given as McDermott indeed does in her book (2011) or as an easily manipulable instrument that can be leveraged in one’s favour marking one’s complete hegemony in the public sphere. Neither of the assumptions is true. As McDermott puts it in the context of Durga Puja: ‘… [M]ass production releases art from ritual into politics, from elite contexts to a display culture, where the exhibition of novelty is valued over the repetition of cultic rites’ (McDermott 2011: 149). All this, McDermott concludes, is driven singularly as it were by the demand which is taken as extraneous to the supply and the very art of making of the idols and the demand is allowed to fluctuate only in tune with the changing requirements of time over which the makers seem to have no control. We propose to view the festival—not as an embodiment of social relations as McDermott does—but as conditions that contribute to the production of cultural goods, works of art, tastes for them and most importantly social relations that eventually go into the constitution of the public albeit with a varying degree of success. Moreover, it is believed that Durga Puja along with the other pujas are also celebrated with the intent of showing one’s power, prowess, property and prestige in the society as much as of garnering popular support and mobilizing people mostly by the politicians. All this, the chapter argues, is contingent on the connection that gets (or for that matter does not get) established between the works of the makers and the making of the public. The degree of manipulability is mediated by the connection or even the very absence of it.

8.1 Invisible Fault Lines This act of reaching out, in its turn, brings the public into existence. The festival, by all accounts doing the rounds, has reached out from the homes and courtyards of the babus and bhadraloks4 of the late 19th century to the people by the early 20th century. Baroiyari pujas (literally pujas drawing on the subscriptions of 12 iyars or 4 The terms are used to refer mostly to the absentee landlords who were the beneficiaries of Permanent

Settlement by the colonial authorities, migrated to the city of Calcutta, had no dearth of money and could involve themselves in wasteful and conspicuous consumption. The avenues to reinvesting the

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friends), Ray Vidyanidhi tells us, also means in Sanskrit sarbojanin or ‘by and for one and all’ (Ray Vidyanidhi 1420: 112). The first baroiyari worship was held in the last decade of the 18th century when twelve Brahmin men denied entry into a household celebration of a babu formed a committee to conduct their own Durga Puja in Guptipara Village in Nadia District of West Bengal. Kaliprasanna Singha was perhaps the first to have realized the public nature of the festival when it started making the transition into public arenas, to parks, roads, streets, alleys and other public spaces. The advent of baroiyari pujas made it possible for the commoners to enter into the scene. Kaliprasanna writes: ‘Earlier, Durga Puja used to be celebrated only in the houses of the rajas and rich people. But nowadays, even ‘two-bit oilpressers can be seen carrying home an idol of Durga for worship’ (Singha 2008: 152). Although a Hindu festival, for long the Muslims from the villages would come in hordes to see Durga Puja in Kolkata (Bandopadhyay 2011: 30–31). Many Muslims are associated with the organization of the puja now. Das notes that in Munshiganj Durga Puja of Khidirpore (western Kolkata), many Muslims are involved in organizing it. Jehangir goes on fast while purifying himself before the Puja in deference to a typical Hindu practice, because he has to help the purohit (priest) during the puja. He takes it as a ‘great responsibility’ (Das 2018: 127). In the same puja pandal5 , Das happened to have met Kohinur Begum, Ayesha Bibi and Sabina Begum who would assist by cutting fruits for offering and would play vermilion with their Hindu neighbours on the fourth and final day (Das 2018: 128). Das describes the involvement of the non-Bengalis and the Muslims as ‘an extraordinary example of amity in the state’ (Das 2018: 130). Jahangir is quoted as saying: ‘We are poor and we celebrate the festivals together’ regardless of their party affiliations (Das 2018: 128). When Jahangir was pestered and reminded of the history of communal riots in the locality, he replied: ‘I have been telling you many times, we will remain as we are. This is a poor neighbourhood. For us, religious identity is important, but more urgent is friendship. Why are you bringing in the Hindu-Muslim [issues]? There you see Bikash, he is my friend since childhood. Will he not give me blood should anything happens to me! If something happens to him, will not Salahuddin come? Does this ever happen that way? We will do [it] together. No schism will creep in here, period’. In fact, the inmates from the nearby red light areas also crowd in their pandal. Non-Bengalis also join in numbers (Bandopadhyay 2011: 40). Thus, to cite yet another instance, the neighbourhood of Sekrapara Lane in the Bowbazar area of Kolkata had to be evacuated as the vast area caved in thanks to the construction of the underground tunnel for the expansion of metro rail operations. They found it difficult to organize the baroiyari puja in their neighbourhood. The nearby Jagat Mukherjee Park puja committee extended their hands of sympathy surplus they could accumulate in agriculture were hardly available thanks to the competition from the colonial authorities. As a result, many of these landlords ended up in penury in no time. 5 A marquee or a temporarily set up architecture where the Goddess is housed during the Pujas. Observers estimate that more than 10,000 marquees come up in West Bengal every year and nearly 40% of which are in Kolkata.

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and asked the Sekrapara neighbourhood to join them which they gladly accepted (Anischit Pujo… 2019: 16). According to a report, in the 300-year-old history of Durga Puja in Bengal the devotees for the first time in 2018 worshipped a transgender Durga idol that had been fashioned after the androgynous form of the divine couple—Shiva and Parvati— Ardhanarishvara (half female, half male Hindu God). Pratyay Gender Trust—a nonprofit organization—decided to include a dozen transgender women in collaboration with the local puja committee called Udyami Yuvak Brinda (enterprising band of youths). One half of the idol had a moustache, a pectoral instead of a breast, smaller eyelashes, and a dhoti [traditional Bengali male garment tied around the waist]. The other half was the female Durga idol usually seen in puja pandals. Breaking the age-old tradition, where everything is male dominated, the idea was mooted by a 55-year-old transgender, Bhanu Naskar and the idol crafted by China Pal, then the only woman artisan of Kumartuli. The Trust that works for Kolkata’s kothi, Hijra and gender non-conforming rights, maintains: “This is [an] attempt to reclaim the social space of the marginalised transgender community. We are conscious [of] how sites of worship and associated rituals have Brahminical associations and are a site for misogyny and prejudice. …Ours is an attempt to question these practices and caste/class structures and to cross gender lines - as ‘women’ and ‘outcastes’ - who have traditionally been barred from taking part in integral aspects of socio-religious functions such as Durga Pujas, where decision making powers and participation has (sic) by and large remained in the control of men and powerful and upper castes/classes”.6 In the same year, Yubakbrinda (band of youth) Durga Puja pandal in Ahiritola (an old north Kolkata neighbourhood) decided to project the women sex workers in style. The streets of Ahiritola were painted with a 300-feet long graffiti that depicts the hardships and the various reasons that force women to get into this profession. Uttam Saha, working president of Yubakbrinda, said: ‘Through time, our orthodox society has neglected the community of sex workers. We fail to realise that they are also someone’s mother, someone’s sister. They also have a family that should get the right to live a life with love and dignity, instead of facing torture and hatred from people’. Debarjoon Kar, curator of the project, said: ‘Durga Puja is about social mingling and celebrations by all, including sex workers. With this graffiti, we are pledging to return their basic rights to live in society, keeping their head high just like others’. The pandal’s premises have been completely dedicated to these women with props, handmade posters, and even art installations showing the daily struggles of these marginalised sections of society. Durbar Mahila Samanvoy Committee (DMSC), an NGO that works with sex workers, was invited to unveil the project and the artwork. Kajol Bose, secretary of DMSC, said, ‘We are done being on the margins. Till a few years ago, it might have been true that we were shunned from the puja festivities, but not any longer. Now, not only do we host our own puja, 6 https://www.indiatoday.in/fyi/story/breaking-traditions-first-ever-transgender-durga-avatar-to-

be-worshipped-in-kolkata-268278-2015-10-15 accessed on 23 March 2020. All quotations in this context are also cited from the above source.

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but also people invite us to pandals, make us judges of puja competitions, ask us to participate in sindoor khela7 and many more activities surrounding the festival. All I can say is, we are moving forward and finally, we are getting results for all that we have been fighting for’. Manas Roy, an artist who has worked on this Durga project, said, ‘A woman becomes a sex worker either due to trafficking or for the sake of running her family. She is also a mother, who despite all odds, takes care of her children and family. There can’t be disparity when we celebrate womanhood in the form of goddess Durga”.8 All these tinted glass stories of intermingling, bonhomie and collective participation will have to be deconstructed and read against many other stories that point to the deep scars and schisms that remain submerged in the society. As per the Hindu ritual, the earth collected from the patio of the brothels (particularly Sonagachi in Kolkata, the largest red light district in Kolkata) is used as one of the ingredients for the clay used for making the Durga pratimas. This ritual, according to an Indologist, attests to the inclusive nature of our society and ‘unites all of us in worship’. Shockingly, for the past few years, sex workers have been refusing to give it: ‘The reason for refusal is Durga Puja itself. Even though the mud from their courtyards is considered sacred, they are not. … [T]hey are not allowed to even enter the pandals. They are treated as if their mere presence will pollute the pandal and make it unfit for the Puja’.9 Bharti De, the mentor and advisor of Durbar Mahila Samonvoy Committee, is quoted as saying: ‘Durga’s idol is made from the clay of the sex worker’s courtyard, the event is held with their donations, but when the sex workers want to go to the Durga pandal, they are not allowed to enter. The question is that if our soil is sacred, our money is sacred [in the sense that their subscriptions are more often than not forcibly collected], and the body consumed by so-called civilized men in the dark of the night is sacred, then why are we considered profane’?10 Significantly, she describes the society as ‘conniving and deceitful’.11 Similarly, asurs—a small tribal12 community living in the western fringes of West Bengal, now almost on the verge of extinction—consider themselves and are considered by others—as the descendants of Mahisasur—the demon King hiding in the body of a buffalo being slain by Goddess Durga in the idol. While the entire state turns resplendent with festivities, the asurs observe the occasion as their mourning period. ‘In the imagination of India’s Dalits13 and tribals’, an editorial published in the Hindusthan Times explains, ‘Durga Puja is the grotesque celebration of the 7 Playing

with vermilion by the married women in celebration of their married life, fertility, motherhood and in their prayer for longer life of their husbands. 8 https://yourstory.com/2018/10/durga-puja-sonagachi-sex-workers. Accessed on 24 March 2020. 9 https://www.forwardpress.in/2018/10/why-are-sex-workers-refusing-to-give-mud-for-durgaidols/. Accessed on 27 March 2020. 10 ibid. 11 ibid. 12 Such terms as ‘tribe’ and ‘tribal’ are used freely both in official and popular circles in India without any of their necessarily pejorative connotations. 13 Literally the depressed including the lower castes, minorities and the backward classes.

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murder of their king and the usurping of their land by a foreign power. We may try and whitewash this memory of violence with pop-feminism but it’s not going away’.14 On being interviewed by a news channel, Sushma Asur—a dancer from the community invited to perform during the puja organized by FE Block Residents’ Association in Kolkata’s upmarket Salt Lake City—for instance, argues: ‘I won’t go inside the pandals, it would mean breaking with [our] tradition. This is a time for mourning for us, not celebration’.15 The Jharkhandi Bhasha Sahitya Sanskriti Akhra (the congregation of Jharkhandi language and culture of the dalits) asked her to show cause in a meeting for why Sushma Asur had accepted the invitation in the first place. She could have faced expulsion from her native village had she not been able to prove that her acceptance of the invitation had not gone against the ethos of the organization that works towards preserving and documenting the culture of the dwindling Asur community. Besides, Durga Puja includes a plethora of elaborately laid out customs and rituals performed as part of the process of propitiating and worshipping the Goddess that are clearly exclusionary. This paper does not offer us the scope for reviewing them in detail. We refer to the following excerpt in order to highlight only a few examples of such exclusionary rituals, customs and practices: Anyone who has been to any pandal anywhere in the world will know scriptures dictate everything: from the hours of arati [offering of lamps] and the clothes people should wear to the kind of food made and the way Pujo is conducted. Priests are always Brahmins and those helming the Pujo are always married, dominant-caste folks… Durga doesn’t stand for every kind of woman and the Pujo is filled with sexist, exclusionary rituals such as Sindoor Khela … where only married (read upper-caste) women can take part… My mother would tell you Pujo is a battleground to keep out those the genteel Bengali society doesn’t approve: the unmarried, the divorced, the poor. Small rituals such as cutting fruits, preparing or serving bhog [food offerings] or chaperoning the purohit [the priest] are tools to establish fief and it is only through collective frenzy that we see them as harmless fun.16

What we see in the above is the revelry making crowd that appears to be a juxtaposition of many classes, castes, communities of people, not necessarily closing their ranks and melting into a single public. The users and consumers of social media, for instance, may not reflect the opinions of those who are on the wrong side of the digital divide—‘the crowd who are coming from the rural hinterland here’. The chapter is based on a series of fairly long ethnographies conducted in Kumartuli—considered as the largest potters’ hub in the world located in Kolkata, Uttarpara in Hooghly, Krishnanagar and Santipur in Nadia at different points of time during the past one year (2019). It also draws on the web sources particularly while chronicling events. Durga Puja has a wide web presence. In many cases, data are collected 14 https://www.hindustantimes.com/opinion/taking-a-stand-for-tribal-rights-why-i-am-not-celebr

ating-durga-pujo/story-RWvXVmwnIVlJdKNcJWK7TK.html. Accessed on 27 March 2020. 15 https://www.forwardpress.in/2016/10/when-asurs-refused-to-enter-a-kolkata-durga-puja-pan dal/. Accessed on 27 March 2020. 16 https://www.hindustantimes.com/opinion/taking-a-stand-for-tribal-rights-why-i-am-not-celebr ating-durga-pujo/story-RWvXVmwnIVlJdKNcJWK7TK.html. Accessed on 27 March 2020.

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through participant observation. Primary sources available in print including documents, policy statements, pamphlets, contributions by the idol makers to the special issues of little magazines, etc., have been utilized to supplement other sources. A few focus group discussions organized mainly in Kumartuli and Santipur were of enormous help. Long and relaxed chats with Soumen Pal over numerous cups of tea in the narrow, dingy and serpentine lanes of Kumartuli were not only full of insights, but helped me in making sense of some of the terms and allusions made by the senior idol makers in their conversations.

8.2 Between Art and the Public The act of reaching out does not prove to be easy. First, it is argued that the elevation of unbaked clay idols into an art form was made possible thanks to the entry of Art College professionals and with them the introduction of ‘realist’ art into the domain of idol making since the middle of the last century.17 This does not, however, explain why the public at large feels drawn to the artistic products. Art is usually believed to be too esoteric to become public and the public response to art, to say the least, has always been indifferent, if not inadequate: ‘There has been a mounting dissatisfaction among artists and others about this situation. Artists have known for a long time that the present public response, even from the cultivated public, is inadequate. First they blamed the people for this, then they blamed the critic, then the society, then themselves as a class, and finally the vocation itself’ (Subramanyan 1987: 42). This implies ‘confinement of art (or all aesthetic activity) to a special sphere in society’ (Subramanyan 1987: 66) and its inability to spread across the cross sections of the wider public. The history of modern art in India is also the history of dissociation of art from ‘social conventions’ (Mitter 1994: 13) of the public in the society. Much in the same vein—although taking the diametrically opposite route— Majumder argues that the growing entry of the non-elites as organizers of pujas has the threefold effect of (a) removing spirituality from the whole affair; (b) making it into a source of cheap fun and entertainment and (c) undermining art. His dig at the entertainment part should not escape our notice: The entire morning will be filled with [the counting of money raised through] subscriptions … There will be tarjas, bai naches;18 film songs will be played on amplifiers; there will be dining like gluttons [khyanton used in Bengali as the synonym for glutton-like eating and invariably in a derogatory sense], and there will be shouting that will scare away [others] – so that little children wake up [from their sleep]. And yes, there is another attraction – everything will be decked up fasclass [sic - in an obvious reference to the bastardization of the phrase ‘first class’ with a sense of intense ridicule] – art will go for a spin. (Majumder 1405 BS: 90)

17 For 18 All

a detailed history, see Guha-Thakurta (2015: 168). of them are regarded by the babus and bhadraloks as cheap forms of mass entertainment.

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That art is not for the ‘half-pant-wearing Bengalis’ who remain perpetually infantile and have not graduated to ‘full pants’ and acquired commensurate intellectual adolescence is evident from the following statement: … [Y]ou will see the morphology of the idols, oriental, semi-oriental, modern, modern oriental etc. We are not saying that imagination is egg-shaped, like an egg, will remain the same forever; it is bound to change over the eras. But this change will be initiated – not by the half-pant-wearing Bengalis, [but by] those Bengalis who [still] have life left in them, the Bengalis who do not say in every syllable of his word ‘we do not understand art, literature and songs’. The idols of Kumartuli have become so ugly (jaghanya) now that we cannot comment on them. Each of them is a sample of perverted imagination (bikritakalpana). When these idols reach ‘’kelabs’ [sic - a bastardization of ‘clubs’], they suffer unrestrained assault on‘art’ (art er atyachar). When they are worshipped and the place is filled with dhuno [a kind of aromatic resin that is burnt during the pujas] smoke they acquire a bizarre state (adbhutdasha). The idols in a state of standing used to be worshipped at every home – those were beautiful. Now the idol makers (kumar) have fun. The cost of an idol ranges between Rupees 25 and 50 – because these are not as bad as the traditional idols, these are idols of art [they have hiked the price in the name of art]. There will not be any [feeling of] devotion while [you] see them, but you will have to cough up money [for them]. (Majumder 1405 BS: 91–2)

Almost as an echo to Majumder, Parimal Pal—an Art College graduate himself but coming from a family of hereditary idol makers—favours a distinction between skill and what he describes as cerebral work of head (mathar kaaj) in production while distinguishing him and the makers of his ilk from the hereditary idol makers.19 If idols as works of art are not known to have drawn the public, the entry of corporate capital and politicians as patrons, organizers, sponsors and entrepreneurs turns pujas into extravagant spectacles to be seen by them with sheer amazement. The pumping of corporate money even at the time of economic meltdown is phenomenal. A report prepared in 2013 by the Associated Chamber of Commerce and Industry20 put the figure of the size of Durga Puja economy at an astounding Rs. 25,000 crores21 while the estimated rate of growth of this economy is over 35%. If this growth figure continues without interruption, then the size of the economy today is supposed to reach Rs. 15 million crores—a figure that is ten times that of the economy of West Bengal (Biswas 2019: 4). As West Bengal’s current GDP is Rs 10.20 trillion, as per the estimate, the Puja economy contributes a little over 10% to the state’s GDP. People can only feel amazed at this great extravaganza and are sucked into a heterotopic world that is simultaneously a medley of different spaces and times. In the words of Bose: ‘A new map [of the city] is created for introducing one to the transformation of this otherwise known city. This gives one the passport for entering 19 Interviewed in his Kumartuli studio on 28 May 2019. All subsequent references to him relate to the same interview. Pradip Bose in the consultative workshop on the project held on 25 November 2018 strongly argues that hereditarily acquired mechanical skill has no relation whatsoever to either art and aesthetics or heritage. If at all skill is attributed to heritage, he maintains in the same workshop, it is to be reckoned as ‘retrospective construction’. 20 The report is titled ‘West Bengal Cashing in on Durga Puja Celebrations’ (2013). 21 Indian count of 1 (one) crore is equal to 10 million or 10,000,000.

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into the new world that is both surreal and alluring… The co-presence of diverse worlds, that taken in their combination, create a transient and reconfigured Kolkata’ (Bose 1998: 83). Coupled with this, puja in more recent times is also sought to be turned into a carnival whether by corporate houses22 or by the State—that apparently promises to level off the differences internal to the public. Theorists of carnival argue that larger public participation is ensured through albeit momentary transgression of the governing codes of social hierarchy and discipline in the society. Immersion of the idols after the puja is over is more often than not cited as a liminal site in which the differences between the high and the low, the rich and the poor, the sacred and the profane, men and women, the normal and the drunken and so forth are crossed over and everyone takes part. Art and the public in all these instances are pitted as it were against each other through such metaphors as ‘heterotopia’ and ‘carnival’ that draw the general public and not the art of the idols. Do art and the public ever meet at some point? On the one hand, Appadurai and Breckenridge have deployed the concept of the public primarily to ‘escape the Western dichotomies and conventional hierarchies as high versus low culture, mass versus elite culture, popular or folk versus classical culture’ (Appadurai and Breckenridge 1988: 6). The public, for them, becomes ‘an arena where all types, forms and domains of culture are encountering, interrogating and contesting each other in new and unexpected ways’ (Appadurai and Breckenridge 1988: 6). These ‘encounters, interrogations and contests’ hold any one of these ‘types, forms and domains’ from establishing its complete hegemony over the ‘arena’. Metaphors of war continue to circulate in the prevailing descriptions of the relationship between art and craft, between the minuscule minority of connoisseurs of art and the vast ‘plebian’ public, between the elite and the masses—in short the same Western dichotomies and hierarchies tend to creep in, in the dominant descriptions of Durga Puja. Thus to cite an instance, Ghosh shows how Kolkata’s public spaces hitherto dominated by the elites are ‘taken over by the people who enjoy temporary licence to transform the mundane into the spectacular’ (Ghosh 2009: 299). The ‘licence’ they enjoy is ‘temporary’ inasmuch as it is only for the few puja days and the old ‘hierarchical relations’ are back in place once puja is over (Ghosh 2011: 258). The contested nature of the ‘arena’ has uncertain implications for the sustainability of the pratimasilpa heritage for it keeps the public perpetually fractured and fragile. The heritage of pratimasilpa—its sustainability, on the contrary, is contingent on how the fractures and fault lines are crossed and a public is produced. The metaphors of war do not tell us how these ‘types, forms and domains’ are connected and help produce a singular public that holds the diverse pluralities within it.23 Pratimasilpa as heritage is destined to face the crisis if the fault lines are not overcome and the public does not come into being. On the other hand, it is argued that insofar as the new crop of Art College professionals enters the field they bring ‘art’ to an alien arena hitherto dominated by

22 Chapter 23 The

9 discusses it in detail. singular, as Nancy reminds us, is plural (Nancy 2000: 7).

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‘ephemeral display’ of craft, that is to say, the hereditarily acquired skills of the occupational caste of Kumbhakars: A key paradox I explore here is the aspiration of some of today’s Puja designers to take on the idioms and materials of installation art in an arena, where none of the other attendant parameters of curating, criticism and reception can even be in place. (Guha-Thakurta 2016: 246)

While she positions their works ‘between the separated spheres of art and craft’ (Guha-Thakurta 2016: 343), she describes the aspirations of some of the puja designers as merely an ‘extension of ideas of experimental art’ (Guha-Thakurta 2016: 323) and not the other way round. Art is extended into the sphere of craft that was hitherto unknown to it with the effect that the so-called craftsmen—the traditional idol makers, the occupational Kumbhakars—are increasingly finding it difficult to compete with them. In her book, she describes it as an ‘unfair competition’ (Guha-Thakurta 2015: 175). If ever art and the public are connected here, it is through a unitary extension of art in which art only enters an unfamiliar domain while retaining its own character. The craft is overwhelmed by art. The public, according to this line of understanding, is merely an extension of art into a domain that remained hitherto unfamiliar to it. It does not allow craft to become elevated into art. It is never considered as a two-way extension. Either way what is called ‘extension’ is viewed as ‘a matter of one or the other, one with the other, but by no means the one in the other, which would be something other than one or the other’ (Nancy 2000: 5–6). The ‘between’ of art and the public is neither art nor the public, but what Nancy would have called ‘milieu’—‘mi-lieu [between place]’ (Nancy 2000: 5). This chapter seeks to inquire into this ‘between’ world that connects art and the public without being either of them. Pratima and the public are both made in the same site of the ‘between’ that connects them. For our convenience, this chapter seeks to make sense of the making of the pratima/public by way of referring to three albeit overlapping moments. Moments are to be understood more in the Hegelian sense as configurations of forces than neat and chronologically sequenced stages. First, there is the moment of hiding. Insofar as the works of art are turned into what Bourdieu would have described as objects of ‘ordinary consumption’ by the public, the very ordinariness threatens to drive away art from its high pedestal and art as a result goes into hiding. The art in perpetual hiding leaves only its aura and prestige that is neither art nor craft, but is what it is—the aura of art. Second, we may refer to the moment of heritage as the catalyser of art. The ‘between’ of art and heritage implies what Pinney would have called ‘implosion of genres’ in the sense of redefining both art and heritage and creates a ‘new form’ (Pinney 2001: 6) with a new aesthetic that is unique to itself and steers its way through the commonplace art-heritage binary. Thirdly, as Durga Puja in Kolkata is increasingly made subject to the rules of civic and municipal governance it takes away from the festival its carnivalesque character. The carnival is secretly reconstituted in the ‘between’ of the commonplace binary between civic governance and carnival—the latter in the sense in which Bakhtin has used the term to refer to the medieval European context. This moment marks neither civic governance nor

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carnival and we call it—the moment of secret world of carnival.24 The next three sections revolve around the three moments mentioned above.

8.3 Between Art and Craft Insofar as art becomes an object of public consumption, it transforms ‘high art’ into an object of ‘ordinary consumption’. Bourdieu’s contribution lies precisely in pointing to this ordinariness: The science of taste and of cultural consumption begins with a transgression that is in no way aesthetic: it has to abolish the sacred frontier which makes legitimate culture a separate universe, in order to discover the intelligible relations which unite apparently incommensurable ‘choices’, such as preferences in music and food, painting and sport, literature and hairstyle. This barbarous reintegration of aesthetic consumption into the world of ordinary consumption abolishes the opposition which has been the basis of high aesthetics since Kant, between the ‘taste of sense’ and the ‘taste of reflection’, and between ‘facile pleasure’, pleasure reduced to the pleasure of senses, and pure pleasure, pleasure purified of pleasure, which is predisposed to become a symbol of moral excellence and a measure of the capacity for sublimation which defines the truly human man. (Bourdieu 1979: 6)

Public consumption, according to Bourdieu, makes it imperative that works of art are invested with this ordinariness. While heritage of idol making has to reach the wider public in order to make it sustainable, ‘high art’, as our ethnographies suggest, goes into hiding while responding to this imperative. Das too argues that it is because of the mass consumption of art that art has secured ‘a different dimension’ as much as ‘a new enthusiasm and expectancy’ has gripped the minds of the people (Das 2018: 2–3).

8.3.1 Art into Hiding The ‘legendary’25 Ramesh Pal—the first Art College graduate from the family of Rudrapals that had migrated from Bikrampur in erstwhile East Bengal/Pakistan in the wake of Partition—would insist that his idols be housed in pandals that only help in foregrounding and highlighting them. He was absolutely sure of his own excellence, his works of art and was ready to display their aesthetic value by way of foregrounding them. He reportedly would have preferred to offer tips on the decoration of pandals, colours and shades of screens and curtains, heights, dimensions and illuminations of the pandals and so forth that would only highlight the idols made by him. As Agnihotri informs us: 24 The

nomenclatures of the moments are only tentative. The problem is that the ‘between’ has no name that connects the names. 25 According to Agnihotri, Ramesh Pal was ‘legendary’ not for one or two years, but for fifty long years (Agnihotri 2001: 81).

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What is not known to many is that the artist [Ramesh Pal] went too far by crossing his boundaries and completely changed the culture of baroiyari pujas… the pandal should not be an austere shanty (myarap) of a funeral gathering, he would say in advance that the pandal must complement the aesthetics of the idols. The sculptor would explain the layout of the pandal [to the decorators] himself, Hindi film songs must not be played in such pandals. (Agnihotri 2001: 88)

In Ramesh Pal’s case, it is the artistry of the idol that elaborates itself into a theme. The scenario has changed completely now with the advent of theme pujas. Now, it is the idol that is required to complement the theme. ‘Pandals are like studio sets that have become all-important, not the pratimas’.26 On being asked about the tradition that began in Bakul Bagan of hiring professional sculptors/artists like Meera Mukhopadhyay and others to create Durga idols, Soumen Pal categorized that as Arter thakur in which thakur was all-important. But now, theme determines art. In such settings, the ambience becomes overpowering with lights and sound. Sometimes, only the face of the goddess is focused through wondrous lights. This is a changed situation from the past when the entire Goddess was focused and the larger-than-life image was overpowering, not the pandal nor the ambience.27 The transformation of the theme into art has been aptly described by Ray as ‘magical’ that makes the latter vanish. As he puts it: Call it transportation or transference, or even transversal, this making of the one thing into something else is what captures the essence of Durga Puja as a public art: transferring the familiar locality into the magical; a small piece of land into something large, almost huge; crafts into arts; worksmen into craftsmen; craftsmen into artists; folk into what can be called (high) modernist folk art, and so on. (Ray 2017: 4)

Today in theme puja, the crowds see whatever the artist wants them to see. The focus and arc light define what is to be seen and appreciated. The act of appreciation has shifted away from the idols to many other accompanying things. Thus, to cite an instance, in 2017 in the Santosh Mitra Square puja pandal, the saree28 of the Goddess was made of pure gold. In the following year, the idol was made of more than 50 kilograms of pure gold. On both occasions, it drew huge crowd because of this. The consuming public is produced by what is fed to them. It is remotely related to art. The Art College graduates like Bhabatosh Sutar, Sanatan Dinda or Amar Sarkar share an entirely distinctive style of working. They dwell on the total scheme of the puja and engage in a year-long exercise of evolving an idea, which is later executed. ‘The act of making the idol is thus reduced to a total scheme, and the total scheme more often than not overrides the idol. An ordinary idol can easily hide behind the total scheme and thus can still pass on as a great work of art. Besides, with the surge of ‘theme puja’ the budget allotted for the pratima has been slashed, the lion’s share 26 Pradip

Bose makes the point in the consultative workshop on the project on 25 November 2018. Soumen Pal also admits: “The goddess is not the pivot in a theme-pujo and hence the idol does not command any reverence.” Soumen Pal was interviewed in his Kumartuli studio, on 15 May 2019. 27 Soumen Pal was interviewed on 15 May 2019 at his Kumartuli studio. All the subsequent references to him relate to this interview only. 28 The six yards of unstitched cloth that drapes the Indian women.

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going to the pandel and the decor. The pratima has to cater to the requirements of the theme. Being too overcrowded, pandals do not offer the audience the opportunity of spending time and appreciate the work of art. Or is it that fleeting moment, the constant pushing and shoving in the queue that creates an aura of art without actually creating a work of art? I remember in my childhood days my father would take me to a nearby pandal on the immersion day and ask me to cast one last look at the face of the Goddess and silently watch the Goddess shed tears because she had to leave her baper bari (or father’s place). I contrast it with my experience in 2018 at Jodhpur Park Puja Pandal when I was indecently shoved out by the security guards for having spent ‘too much time’ in front of the Goddess and not letting the following crowd in. The time I got, to my mind, is not enough for any minute appreciation of the finer points of the work of art. One still remembers the enthralling experience of viewing Ramesh Pal’s pratima—one would not feel tired of spending hours looking at Her. Dilip Pal29 argues that the Art College professionals are engaged in creating idols according to a particular theme. There are teeming crowds in those places. He remembers that a few years back, a theme-er thakur was created in Naktala in southeast Kolkata where the eyelashes of the Goddess were made to flutter. That became a crowd-puller. People thronged the pandal out of sheer curiosity and amusement (koutuk). The club must have invested lakhs30 and crores in such a venture. Does one intend to create an aura, a mystery by hiding behind a theme in order to draw the public? Sometimes only the idol’s eyes are highlighted through calibrated lighting. Does the role of the artist transform into one of magician, as Manas Ray would have us believe? Now it seems one is allowed to view only as much as the ‘artist’ wants to show. On being asked if this takes away from the viewer the freedom of appreciating and interpreting the work of art, Parimal Pal’s response reflects a mood of approval. They create, keeping in mind the ‘mass public’. The difference between a work by an Art College professional and a ‘theme’ puja may be exemplified by the difference between a photograph taken by a professional photographer and a passport photograph. It is the same difference that also exists between an ‘artist’ and a decorator.31

8.4 Between Art and Heritage While sustainability of heritage everywhere calls for its reproduction, idols inspired by the shapes and figures of women of the household—mothers, daughters and sisters—eventually go into the making of a new aesthetic and claim to redefine 29 Interviewed in his Kumartuli studio on 15 May 2019. All subsequent references to him relate to this interview. 30 Indian count of 1 (one) lakh equals one hundred thousand or 100,000. 31 Parimal Pal interviewed in his Kumartuli studio on 28 May 2019.

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the artistic and help create ‘new forms’ of culture. The new crop of Art College professionals may have earned their name and fame; but their modest origins in the family of hereditary idol makers not only keep them apart from their peers in other branches of art like painting and sculpting often subjecting them to not so subtle forms of discrimination, but also provide them with certain advantages that their peers in the profession of idol making allegedly lack. Idol making as a hereditary practice has emerged from within a social milieu that does not differentiate the artist’s studio from his family, from those who help him, his neighbours and the labourers he depends on. At the end of the day, the organicity that idol making as art represents turns in on the artist so much so that the artist and his art become indistinguishable.

8.4.1 Art as Reproduction of Heritage While Pradip Bose argues that the idols of Kumartuli are solely meant for catering to market demands,32 most of our ethnographies tell us a different story. The examples of idol makers refusing to customize their idols in response to market demands that, they think, are not in consonance with the requirements enshrined in scriptural texts are by no means rare. In many cases, the idol makers accede to such demands only grudgingly and out of compulsion. Heritage, in short, plays a role in deciding the form and style of their idols. Keshto Pal argues that everyone is more inclined towards theme, which is thwarting the importance of sabekiyana.33 Today, the pujas that centre on a theme, a subject usually of contemporary relevance or a social message are great crowd pullers. Before the advent of theme puja, the Debi’s (Goddess’) face was made as per the text of the Candi34 and the eyes and lips being of definite proportions. The lips will be of the colour of orange; the eyes will be like the bamboo leaves. However now all this is gone and sabekiyana is only retained in the idols of the Goddess of Baghbazar Sarbajanin Durgotsab and Sovabazar Rajbari.35 Artists are often accused by purists like Ray Vidyanidhi of having disembedded the Durga idol from its Shastrik (scriptural) anchorage. Ray Vidyanidhi argues that the addition of the four other idols (putuls or dolls as the idol makers of Kumartuli would have described them)— Saraswati (the Goddess of learning), Lakshmi (the Goddess of wealth), Kartik (the God of war) and Ganesha (the God of siddhi or fulfilment of desire)—have been ‘without any cause’ as per the Shastras and has ‘compromised the greatness of the Goddess Durga’ (Ray Vidyanidhi 1420: 151). 32 Pradip Bose’s intervention in the consultative workshop on the project held in Kolkata on 25 November 2018. He also describes such idols as ‘formayeshi’ (or made as per the order). 33 This Bengali word to refer loosely to classicism, but there is a sense of artificiality and deliberateness in practising this kind of classicism. 34 The Hindu religious text describing the victory of the Goddess Durga over the demon Mahishasur—a text that forms part of the Markendeya Purana parts of which were prepared in c.250 CE. 35 Keshto Pal interviewed on 2 May 2019 in Kumartuli.

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Keshto Pal further adds that in a ‘theme’ puja, a Jagannath (a Hindu male God considered as the incarnation of Vishnu, the God of sustenance) image is transformed into a Durga idol. The Goddess does not evoke any feeling of reverence. It is difficult to ascribe any bhakti bhava (feeling of devotion) to the theme idol. Therefore, on many occasions, a small idol of Durga is kept below the theme-er thakur. The reverence which the Baghbazar idols commands over the devotees is absent in the theme pujas. Jatin Das Park Sarbojanin—popularly known as Fire Brigade er puja—advertises its puja in 2019 with the following couplet: “Theme-er pujo hobe mati/sabeki ebar jomjomati” (Theme pujas will go waste this time/the classical will take over now). Newspaper reports suggest that the puja organizers (like Dum Dum Park Sabuj Sangha) insist on having traditional idols (like daker saaj or sequin embellishment) even if theirs is a theme puja. How will they reconcile the two? Kaushik Kar—one of the organizers—argues: ‘I do not understand why the two will not match. The public has become disappointed seeing the same kind of idols. Devotional feeling will set in if the classical idols (sabek pratima) are worshipped. Let there be themes in pandals, we want idols draped in dak’. Manik Pal points out that people have become ‘tired’ of seeing the theme pujas for years and are looking for rediscovering missing heritage. It is only apparent that the ritual part takes precedence in the making of the idols by them. This is a genre that lies easy between art and craft offering them the freedom to experiment. But there seems to be a threshold beyond which experimentations cannot be made thanks to rituals. Keshto Pal makes a reference to his grandfather who became ‘mad’ because the ritual purity was not observed by him as he was making the idol of the house of a landlord located opposite the Sovabazar Rajbari. The fear of divine wrath is still strong among these idol makers. Narayan Pal36 —the son of famous Rakhal Pal—declares bluntly that if he is ever asked to create something which is not as per the Shastrik prescriptions, he will decline. For instance, he will refrain from making a twenty-armed Durga in an obvious reference to the 1000-hand Durga idol made for Deshapriya Park Sarbajanin Durgotsab in 2018. Nishupada Pal37 of Santipur sounds far more rigid in this regard. ‘Ki kore theme hoy’? (How is theme possible?), he asks of course with a sense of resignation. For him, there are certain ingrained dhyanas (internal process of visualization or visualization through meditation) that need to be represented in the idols. We know from ancient texts that even the ferocious demon faces a momentary slippage when, the Debi casts her spell on him, and on getting enticed he loses his self and experiences motikshoy (loss of his head or sense of balance). This needs to be reflected in the image—how can this change? No one is learning these things. Nishupada firmly adheres to the pouranik murti (the idol made as per the Purana) which exudes matree bhav (the motherly aura). Art-er thakur only inspires a desire or kamona. The matreemurtee (the image of a mother) defines his way of idol making. He tells us that idols of theme-er puja are like female figures (meye) and are not like the mother that the 36 Interviewed 37 Interviewed

in his Kumartuli studio on 5 June 2019. on 14 July 2019 in his Santipur studio.

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dhyana (meditation) of Candi envisages. ‘Whom will you prefer? The female of desire or the mother’? he asks me. He also remembers that he was advised by his father not to go by profit–loss calculus, but to give his best to this art, which he still scrupulously follows. Do these endeavours have their implications for any redefinition of art and aesthetics? Narayan Pal—the son of illustrious Rakhal Pal—sees no difference between the idols he makes and the household women—whether a mother, a sister, a daughter or a wife he sees everyday and interacts with. The figures of their idols are robust, rotund, heavy and plump, rounded and curvaceous in form, gleeful and vivacious—not the skinny and slim women of the beauty pageants, lean and candle-thin, starving yet having a body with exact geometric proportions. These women could be objects of desire—not devotion. The idols of Rudrapals are infused with a Debi bhav (evoking the feeling of a Goddess) with deep and extended eyes and dark, long eyelashes. As he puts it: ‘The Rudrapals’ idols are more robust, larger (13/14 ft in height) and bear a motherly look in their facial expression. These were modelled on the Hindu girl one regularly encountered in the villages of East Bengal his ancestors had migrated from. The idols were made in a way so that one could immediately identify oneself with them. The local Pals [of Kumartuli] originated from Krishnanagar where the artisans used to make dolls, modelled on the European/British ladies—memsahebs [European ladies]. Unlike ours, their idols were also fashioned likewise’.38 While it is commonplace to create faces of idols in the images of film stars and beauty queens (called in popular parlance as Chhobiyana or the style of movies), do the proportions of the figures and faces of these idols have any rebounding effect on today’s beauty queens and film stars? Does this bring any new aesthetic into existence? Does this imply any new claim to redefinition of art? Does one feel at all tired of looking at the same heritage figure of the idols for years and decades? Has the ‘mechanical reproduction’ of the heritage idol lost its salience under present circumstances? Walter Benjamin sounds a word of caution: [T]he technique of reproduction detaches the reproduced object from the domain of tradition. By making many reproductions, it substitutes a plurality of copies for a unique existence. And in permitting the reproduction to meet the beholder or listener in his own particular situation, it reactivates the object reproduced. (Benjamin 1970: 219)

The following ethnographic account is illustrative of how the mechanical reproduction helps ‘reactivate’ the heritage by requisitioning newer aesthetic functions and keeps the latter alive. The winner of ‘Ms. Plus Size India 2019’ likens herself to Ma Durga who is like one in the family. Anwesha Ray Mukhopadhyay, decorated as ‘Ms. Plus Size India 2019’, describes herself as ‘curvaceous’: ‘Not ugly overweight, nor ailing sickly, [but I am] not as thin as a candle’. When asked if plus size tag is a matter of honour or embarrassment, she emphatically answers: ‘It is entirely a matter of honour. Who is the most powerful woman in our society? Mother Durga. She is 38 Narayan

Pal interviewed on 5 June 2019 in his Kumartuli studio. Our field note after visiting Krishnanagar on 17 August 2019 reads: “The face of the Krishnanagar idol is on the whole small and delicate, the body lissom…”

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not size zero figure, [she is] plus size, with double chin. The Goddess with ten hands can intimidate the Asur with extraordinary physical power. The plus size women are the symbol of the efflorescence of women’s power. Why should the thin be called beautiful? A woman’s beauty is just one arm of her existence. I am hot enough, with my 34-inch waistline’ (Saha 2019: 9).

8.4.2 Artists as Idol Makers, Idol Makers as Artists The commonplace distinction between art-er-thakur (idols of art) and theme-erthakur (idols of theme) disappears when the theme maker and the idol-maker are one and the same person and comes invariably from an Art College background. The story of how an idol made by an established sculptor and foregrounded in a pandal gives way to one made by a professional with Art College background but subsumed under, if not appropriated by a theme, is interesting. For Ray, this transformation marks ‘a celebration of Durga Puja as public art’ ‘always blurring the line between art and theme’ (Ray 2017: 2–3). With the evolution of themed pujas, idols at one level become just another element of the theme. The appropriation of an idol by a theme, as we have argued above, silently lets it loose from the obligation of being either Shastrik or artistic. It is driven by the imperatives of the total scheme that the theme calls for. Art in such circumstances hides, if not disappears, behind the theme. At another level, the entry of the new crop of Art College professionals into the art of idol making could not obliterate the hierarchy between artists or sculptors who also make idols and sons and daughters of hereditary idol makers who study in Art Colleges and return to the business of conceiving and designing themes including making of themed idols. Netai Pal introduced ‘art-er thakur’ or idols of art following the footprints of Abanindranath Tagore, Nandalal Bose and the illustrious artists of the erstwhile Bengal School—as Niranjan Pal was reported to have told Bandopadhyay and these idols gradually acquired popularity (Bandopadhyay 2011: 21). In those days, art-er thakur would mean the idols following the tradition of oriental art—mainly though not exclusively—the Buddha-like hairstyle. They were truly the precursors of today’s Art College professionals who had become famous by making idols (Guha-Thakurta 2015: 162) and not so much as sculptors or artists. Of course, there are exceptions. While artistic experiments were made with the forms and styles of idols, the focus— unlike in theme-er puja—was still on idols. A culmination of these experiments is represented in puja celebration by the upmarket Bakulbagan Sarbojanin of South Kolkata that continued to be known for its experimentations with artistic idols made by professional artists and sculptors who have made their name in their own respective fields. Interestingly, all of them were eminent sculptors first, idol makers next. None of the sculptors is known to have made any repeat of idol making in their career. By contrast, the Art College graduates who have made their profession in idol making are better known as idol makers rather than sculptors. The entry of the Art College

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professionals does not obliterate the binary between art and craft—a binary that, according to Mitter, is indispensable to the definition of art as art in the first place (see Mitter 1994). For instance, Jayanta Pal39 was trained in Government Art College where he, by his own admission, suffered snobbery towards the sons and daughters of the makers of clay idols in Kumartuli by others. His view was reiterated by almost all the Art College graduates whom we could meet. Does not all this point to a new category of artists—who unlike the fellow artists (who also make idols)—would rather pitch themselves between the artists on the one hand and the clay-modelling craftsmen and artisans on the other? They are a genre by themselves. Is there a pecking order then in the field of art? How does it feel like being discriminated against by the new crop of Art College graduates much in the same way as they are discriminated against by the fellow Art College professionals themselves? Keshto Pal40 regrets: ‘The pratimasilpa of Kumartuli does not receive its due recognition as art and is instead always relegated into craft. This is indeed a factor that rankles the silpis deeply. The Art College professionals have relied on the pratimasilpis [whether for receiving advice or for making vital parts of the idols which their training in the Colleges does not impart to them], yet the acknowledgement and appreciation were amiss’. Soumen Pal does not deny that there is a sense of discrimination with the effect that the Art College professionals are now determining the standard of pratimasilpa. The silpis of Kumartuli are gradually getting marginalized. Keshto Pal does not provide us with any hope and ends on the note he began with—abhishaap or curse has befallen Kumartuli. Haru Pal41 perhaps is the prototype of the tragedy. An old man of over 80 years he ran into debt and finds it difficult to hire a studio where he could hone his creativity. His nephew did not have the necessary talent of becoming an idol maker although he assists Haru in his work as a sahakari. The future of Kumartuli is ‘death’—that is how Haru poignantly sums up our conversation. While Haru is an abject loser, Keshto’s work on the contrary stands as a resolute critique of the artists as idol makers. Naba Pal42 —an Art College graduate who has become famous for making idols— however attempts to address the question of hierarchy that exists between the Art College graduates who work as unbaked, clay idol makers and Art College graduates who have switched over to other fields of art (particularly sculpting and painting). He strongly argues that things they can do cannot be done by the ordinary Art College professionals. Their management of narrow studio space is legendary. Naba and others can easily create and keep two 13/14 feet large idols in a small studio space with the width of only seven ft. Anyone from Art College would be at a loss if entrusted with such a task. Therefore, they are much ahead of Art College students, he feels. Or for instance, the ease with which they can make a lion or a clenched fist with clay is not only incomparable but incredible. The Kumartuli silpis are more adept in creating buffalo—the demon. They will not need any drawing of the animal. 39 Interviewed

in his Uttarpara residence on 29 June 2019. on 2 May 2019 in his studio near Kumartuli. 41 Interviewed in his Kumartuli home on 5 June 2019. 42 Interviewed in his Kumartuli studio on 28 May 2019. 40 Interviewed

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The Art College professionals will need to draw a picture of the animal before giving it a clay form. The Kumartuli silpis learn the art by inheriting it. It flows in their blood streams, Dilip Pal tells us animatedly. Perhaps what is implied in the statement is that the two groups have two different styles of working. Hiding under the total package, a sizeable number of Art College professionals, according to Murari Pal43 do not have the expertise in the making of the idols through all the stages of the idol-making process, from constructing the katham (the bamboo and hay structure) to drawing of the eyes (known as chokh dewa—literally giving the eye in the local parlance).

8.4.3 The Spatial Continuum While contemporary art, as history tells us, thrives on its professionalization—ateliers of France stashed away in relative isolation from the lived spaces of the houses being an instance—the studio-household-neighbourhood continuum of Kumartuli makes it impossible for the business of idol making to completely professionalize itself. Such terms as ‘Gola’ (warehouse), ‘Thain’ (abode), ‘ghar’ (used significantly in both senses of room and lineage), etc., allude to their ritual sanctity and social continuity while the highly professionalized ‘studio’ is certainly a modern invention. The sahakaris (helpers) and karigars (artisans) continue to take food cooked from the same kitchen of the silpis or the owner idol makers and share the same food that their employers eat in the house in addition to the wages they receive. The overlap is all too evident. Sahakaris and karigars have traditionally been potential trainees. All great idol makers began their career as either of them. Is there any way to distinguish training in Kumartuli from that in Government Art College? According to Sunil Pal44 (a famous maker of idols made of fibre glass) Kumartuli imparts ‘only practical knowledge’ and the dokandar (literally the shop owner—but the idol maker who also doubles as shop owner) is the teacher’. In Government Art College training is systematic and follows well planned and ‘scientific’ steps. In olden days, the learners became the members of the family reminiscent of our traditional guru–shishya parampara (the guru–disciple lineage). Here in Kumartuli people only learn what is ‘necessary’. The word ‘necessary’ is important. Does this mean that in Art College people also learn what is not necessary in the sense of training on the basis of a predefined syllabus? The point is very important. Ghar (the establishment of a particular idol maker) becomes the hub of training activity in Kumartuli. While Kumartuli per se may spell a brand, each ghar has its own style and linage unique to its own—a gharana so to say. For him, ghar comprises not only the family members but also the workers who mostly migrate from outside. The more the family of maliks (studio owners) and karigars/sahakaris (artisans/helpers) gets closely knit, the less there is chance 43 Interviewed 44 Interviewed

in his Uttarpara studio on 5 June 2019. in his Kumartuli workshop on 5 June, 2019.

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that the latter would be able to spill out and change profession. Deep socialization into the profession of idol making simultaneously thins out the probability of labour mobility and change of professions. Gour Pal, raised and trained in the house of illustrious Murari Pal, pleads helplessness while being asked if he could ever think of changing his profession: ‘Now I cannot adopt any other [profession]’.45 Gour was raised and mentored by Murari Pal in his studio along with Murari’s biological sons since 1978. Did he ever feel discriminated against while being mentored by Murari? On being asked if Murari might not have wanted to train ‘outsiders’ wishing to restrict the knowledge of idol making to themselves and their family, he replies: ‘Such a trend is being noticed more now… I have been treated like their son, and much loved… Individuals are picking up whatever they can, according to their respective abilities’.46 When we cross checked it with Murari Pal, he too admitted that Gour was an exceptional trainee. We could observe that the malik-sahakari/ karigar relation is not cast on stone, that is to say, any predefined division of labour between them. As the karigar grows up and nearly completes his apprenticeship, he is allowed to perform every bit of the work including the final drawing of the eye. One’s maturity as a silpi lies in one’s ability to draw the eyes of the idol. In that sense, idol making is a collective enterprise and any apportioning of individual contributions to the making becomes impossible. It must be admitted that the studio owner is the final supervisor and trainer. Almost all silpis have complained about the bane of growing commercialization that has set in, in the malik-karigar relation to the extent that the karigars often migrate to far off places like Delhi, Mumbai, Chennai or elsewhere with the lure of higher wages. Many of the seniors regret for having wasted a lot by investing so much in terms of training them in the profession and helping them grow up. Soumen Pal complains of ‘the excruciating uncertainty associated with his sahakaris who may decide to suddenly abandon him at the peak of the season for better pay package elsewhere’.47 Dilip Pal48 laments: ‘No one is keen to learn the skills, which indeed is a changed scenario form what existed during the time of our forefathers. We are no longer getting karigars trained in creating Bangla Thakur (the traditional style idols). They do not respect the silpis—they are only bound by an 8-hour shift and leave with 500 rupees at the end of the day. Money rules them—they are learning the skills from us and deserting us for higher wages elsewhere. This is disheartening’. Nemai Pal49 too regrets: ‘No one wants total involvement. My son works only superficially— while giving finishing touches to the die or in making the face’. The term ‘total’ is significant. Unless the disciple becomes part of the entire art of making, his training remains both partial and ‘superficial’.

45 Gour

Pal interviewed in his Kumartuli studio on 15 May 2019. Pal interviewed in his Kumartuli studio on 15 May 2019. 47 Gour Pal interviewed in his Kumartuli studio on 15 May 2019. 48 Interviewed on 15 May 2019 in his Kumartuli studio. 49 Nemai Pal interviewed on 28 May 2019 in his Kumartuli studio. 46 Gour

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8.4.4 Artist as Art These idol makers are marked by their desperation to create and this, according to them, is what makes one an artist. An artist is marked by this maddening urge to create, the irrepressible creativity rather than the quality of what one finally creates. Sunil Pal50 defines art in the following terms: ‘Je mon diye thakur godchhe, setai art’ (The mind of the maker that works with concentration is art per se). The concentration and dedication inevitably make the product into an art. Making of an idol provides a deep sense of fulfilment to the maker almost like self-realization. Amarnath Ghosh51 is an internationally renowned shola52 silpi we interviewed on 15 May 2019. He observes: ‘What is most precious to me is my freedom, my sense of my work. If I cannot put my heart and soul into something I will never do that work. This has happened sometimes’. On being asked if the making of a shola idol gives him the kind of satisfaction he looks for, Amarnath Ghosh says: ‘The same fulfilment that comes on the occasion of birth of your child—when you give birth to silpa’. Nothing illustrates it more eloquently than seeing the product of art as an indispensable part of the producer. Art does not lie in what is produced. It lies precisely in how it gets produced and with what effects on the maker rather than on what is finally made. Insofar as art turns inward on the act of the artist, the artist becomes integral to the work of art with the effect that art and artist become inseparable. The affective bond between them is not only strong but mutually identified. On the other hand, commercial world of art measures the artist with the metrics of money and fame, the price tag that one’s work puts out in the market. The identification between the creator and the creation is complete. Dilip Pal53 tells us that he ‘feels empty’ within when all his idols are sold out and his studio becomes empty: ‘Our greatest moment of happiness is on the eve of agomani (the day of invocation of the Goddess), when we feel that we are silpis. Then with bisarjan (immersion) this ebbs away; when darkness in the studio envelopes the lamp we too feel abandoned. Yet silpa runs in our veins’. Nemai Pal54 reiterates the point and regrets that in the night of Panchami (the pre-inaugural day of the puja) when all idols are sold out, a feeling of forlornness and sorrow overpowers him: ‘The pain of bidding farewell to your daughter can never be compensated by money’. Jayanta Pal55 —the son of Murari Pal—points out that his father goes to the studio in the morning everyday almost instinctively—even if there is no work. The old man cannot do without it. China Pal56 —one of the two women idol makers we could meet—believes that the pranpratishtha (the ritual imparting of life to the idol which happens at the time of worship) takes place in her studio on the very day the eyes are 50 Interviewed

on 28 May 2019. All subsequent references to Sunil Pal relate to this interview. Ghosh interviewed on 15 May 2019. 52 A dried milky-white spongy plant matter from Aeschynomene species. 53 Interviewed in his studio near Kumartuli on 15 May 2019. 54 Interviewed on in his Kumartuli studio 28 May 2019. 55 Interviewed on 29 June 2019. 56 Interviewed at her Kumartuli home on 5 June 2019. 51 Amarnath

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drawn rather than in the pandal where the priests do the ritual chore of imparting it: ‘I cannot let my idols leave without the life being imparted into them’. The art, like the artist, turns into a living being. Subir Pal57 —a sculptor from Krishnanagar and Presidential award winner, coming from the legendary family of Bakreshwar Pal, his grandfather—thinks these idol makers of earlier generations could have created history, but never for once did they pay any attention to money or fame. His father would define a silpi or ‘an artist as one who makes a good human being’. Art cannot be created if one is not a good human being in the first place. This reminded me of what Sunil Pal had told us. The descendants of the illustrious families of once very well-known pratimasilpis like N. C. Pal, G. Pal and others had nearly perished as they could not learn the art in a way that could cater to the needs of the market. Besides, having come from big families, all of them suffered from self-pride (ahamkar).58 Agnihotri witnessed idol makers spending hours looking at their incomplete idols, immersed in deep thinking and trying to imagine the image of the idol within. Profit calculations are very remote.59 She asked one if the hereditarily acquired skill made idol making easy for him. While so much is written about the skill they inherit from their forefathers, there is nothing mechanical about the process, as our ethnographies suggest. Silpi being the incarnation of silpa can hardly explain it. Agnihotri was told that he could make the idol only by making it (ota korte korte hoye jai). This also comes with their characteristic disdain against bureaucratism. Sunil Pal says that he is over and above an artist and he carefully stays away from the rules and regimes of office work. But if it ever becomes necessary for him to delve into these things and to fill up the Goods and Service Tax (GST) forms, he will better leave the profession. Subal Sarkar60 —a shola silpi—recollects that he found it difficult to cope with the metric system when all weights and measures were converted into it. The new systems threaten to wipe out the cultural memory of their forefathers that they learnt with hard work. In sharp contrast, we are reminded of the recent formation of Ekmatrik (literally one- dimensional)—a platform of 146 (mainly theme puja) artistes established to address particularly—though not exclusively—the problems of the comparatively young idol makers and pandal making artists (pratima o mandapsilpi) including the problem of refusal of promised payment by the organizers, taking advantage of their inexperience. The chief members include Sanatan Dinda, Bhabatosh Sutar, Purnendu 57 Interviewed

in his Krishnanagar (Ghurni) studio on 17 August 2019. with Keshto Pal in Kumartuli on 2 May 2019. 59 It has to be noted that the market of these idols is wider in spread than that of the theme pujas. Parimal Pal—himself a fully dedicated designer of theme pujas since 2000, for instance, tells us: “Still about 5000 images are made and sold in Kumartuli as part of specified orders whereas only 150 images are produced for theme erpujo. The bulk belongs to the sabeki stream—so how can one regret any destruction?” Parimal interviewed on 28 May 2019 in his Kumartuli studio. Theme pujas are incomparably heavier in terms of their expenses. But one has really to calculate the comparative sale proceeds of these sabeki idols and theme pujas to reach a conclusion that the competition between them is ‘unfair’. 60 Interviewed on 2 May 2019 in his Kumartuli shop. 58 Interview

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Dey, Bandan Raha, Amar Sarkar, etc. This was in a sense the first of its kind as a joint forum of this nature was absent earlier. One of its objectives is to exchange theme puja concepts across the members. Bhabatosh Sutar observes: ‘Pujo is a form of management. An artist has to look after many aspects. It also involves the matter of payment of honorarium. Many workers are but dependent on the artist. Ekmatrik will keep an eye on all these problems’ (Bandyopadhyay 2019: 10). The irrepressible urge of the pratimasilpis of yesteryears to create more often than not is oblivious to the necessity of management.

8.5 Between the Civic and the Carnivalesque While reflecting on the configuration of public space in Kolkata (then Calcutta) back in 1997, Kaviraj proposed the distinction between the elite and plebeian public spaces—(Kaviraj 1997: 83–113). While the elite public space becomes a new object of civic and municipal governance, increasingly regulated by rules and restrictions, corporate routines, mechanisms of surveillance, safety and security measures of all kinds and norms of public hygiene even during the pujas, the plebeian public prefers to take the pujas as ‘holiday and engage in activities that are different from their quotidian existence’.61 It seems that the pujas in the 1950s and in the subsequent decades would have followed the clearly laid out division between the elite and plebeian spaces. Bandopadhyay insightfully proposes a classification of these pujas into three categories: the pujas of the subalterns and the underclass popularly known as Loafer der pujo or Kyaorader pujo with loud music, dance, quarrels and dogfights on the immersion day, etc. In sharp contrast to it, there are the ‘pedigreed pujas’ of the polite and genteel neighbourhoods where Candi path (recitation from the text of the Candi) and Rabindra sangeets (Tagore songs) would be played out and the idols would bear the traces of tradition and finally the pujas of the middle-class neighbourhoods which may literally be placed in the middle between these extremes. There would be ‘indiscipline’ and ‘excesses’ in the last category of pujas but everything would be kept within limits (Bandopadhyay 2011: 37). These limits were self-imposed and were driven by albeit unactualizable desire for mimicking the ‘pedigreed pujas’: ‘There is no undifferentiated or homogeneous profile of this festival. The cultural standards that the society of the upper echelons (uchchabarger samaj) would set for themselves and most importantly for the society as a whole would be transgressed by the society of the lower orders (subalterns) (Bandopadhyay 2011: 40). The division of spaces is too clearly laid out and enforced to be crossed over by the respective social classes. Ghosh shows how the pujas of recent times have released the public hitherto confined to their respective localities and neighbourhoods and made them hop puja pandals across a wide spectrum of spaces thereby lending to the public a translocal generality that it had never had (Ghosh 2010). As the new pujas bring the public into 61 Paraphrased

by Ghosh (2011: 259)

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existence, the surgically neat division of spaces, according to Ghosh, is ‘taken over’ by the plebeians who storm into the big ticket, themed pujas in hordes and account for their exponential footfalls (Ghosh 2009: 299). Our ethnographies suggest that the division that Bandopadhyay proposes, has not disappeared completely but works in an altogether different way: First, the elite public sphere is marked out, zoned, sanitized and cocooned in a way that it creates a visual ‘spectacle’ to be watched and observed by others from a distance. The aesthetic of the elite art is predicated on an obsessive concern for security especially in a post 9/11 world that can never be like the old again. Separate pathways of entering and exiting from the pandals are maintained for the VIPs and VVIPs. In many cases, although inaugurated by the VVIPs and VIPs, the pandals are not kept open for the general crowd well after the inauguration. One who identifies oneself as a ‘common man’ asked in a Facebook post on the Ahiritola puja: ‘From when can the ordinary people (sadharan manush) go’? It reflects the commonly accepted division between the ordinary people and the VIPs and VVIPs. By the same standard, the carnival of immersion procession on Red Road is a highly elite affair. Secondly, the concern for security has its knockon effects on the public spaces allegedly ‘taken over’ by the plebeians in the sense that puja today has become an object of civic and municipal governance. Rows and queues leading to thepandals are maintained; ropes are used at multiple points to ensure calibrated release of the public into the puja pandals; makeshift bamboo barricades are set up so that revelry making crowd remains confined to the sidewalks and do not descend on the streets; police and NGO help lines are set up for helping them with the information about missing persons, the children and the elderly are given identity cards; suburban trains and subway services are kept open for longer hours for facilitating their movements and so forth. A day or two are earmarked for immersion; traffic restrictions are announced through public notifications; ghats (a flight of steps leading to the river) are refurbished for immersion; rituals that are performed in the river are to be done in the ghats so that the river could be saved from pollution. The idea is to discipline the revelry making crowd and make them follow the rules. While the entire paraphernalia of civic and municipal governance is likely to wrest away the carnivalesque from Durga Puja, does this make it a disciplined, tamed or as Ray describes it a highly ‘governmentalized’ affair? Perched precariously between the extremes of carnival that Bakhtin described in his famous work cited below and civic governance, the carnival remains subterranean, shrouded and camouflaged still waiting for an anthropologist to be unearthed, chronicled and brought into the open through ethnographies.

8.5.1 Elite Carnival The Durga Puja carnival introduced by the Government of West Bengal in 2016 may be illustrative of how the elite public is constituted. About 60–80 pujas that are to take part in the carnival are not only big budget pujas usually patronized by large corporate

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houses and ruling politicians but are preselected with meticulous care because of their pomp and gaiety and footfalls. A day—well after the ritual immersion as per the sacred almanac takes place—is marked for the gala occasion. Foreign dignitaries, bureaucrats, politicians, film stars and TV actors—in short Kolkata’s glitterati—are invited to watch it. They sit in VIP enclosures in keeping with their ranks while the uninvited public safely separated from them jostle among themselves to take a peep at the carnival on TV or from a distance. They throng in hordes defying restrictions imposed presumably keeping VIP security in mind. The pujas come in a disciplined procession as per a prescheduled sequence. Policemen and volunteers are busy ensuring that nobody encroaches on the thoroughfare the procession takes and the puja committees in their enthusiasm do not take longer than what is allotted to them (usually two minutes per puja). This is the time when they display the idol, their live dance, music, tableaux and so forth— facing the VIPs and dignitaries and providing them with the opportunity of photo shoots. The masses are nowhere to be seen. Every bit of the carnival is governed and nothing is left to chance. The huge public money spent on the occasion suggests that the otherwise heavily indebted Government is now committed to desperately use the occasion for promoting tourism in the state and attracting outside investments. Organized with a different objective, it is not an ordinary Durga Puja procession. Every bit of the programme is pre-planned, choreographed, organized and governed. It is hardly to be called a carnival in the same sense in which Bakhtin, for instance, used the term. First, the heavy police presence does not provide any scope for breaking of law and order. The sequences are maintained; adequate safety measures are taken; the area is sanitized. Sniffer dogs complete their duty; demining instruments are brought in for the occasion. Passes and invitation cards are issued well in advance and checked with care so that no uninvited person could make his entry and create any problem. Overzealous shutterbugs are gently nudged away by the burly policemen when they try to take a close view of the film stars and TV personalities. While for Bakhtin, ‘carnival does not acknowledge the distinction between the actor and the spectator’ (Bakhtin 1984: 7), spectators in this case are the cardless and passless majority who throng at a distance and compete among themselves to have a distant view of the ‘spectacle’ enacted jointly by the big ticket pujas and the VIPs—particularly their favourite film stars and TV actors. The vast crowd enjoy the ‘show’ as they view it live on their TV sets, without ‘living’ it. The lines between the actors and the spectators are fairly clearly drawn. Secondly, it is watched mostly by the dignitaries, diplomats and VIPs while the subalterns and the poor are remarkably absent at least in the covered enclosures beamed live by the TV channels. Besides, there are grades of VIPs in terms of their ranks and positions they occupy in the official hierarchy of the state. After the carnival held in 2019, Jagdeep Dhankhar—the present Governor of West Bengal— surprised all of us by announcing before the press that he had ‘felt insulted’ for he was given a seat in a corner dais from which he could barely observe the carnival. He took a dig at the Government and commented: ‘I felt insulted at the carnival. I am deeply hurt and disturbed. The insult was not to me but to every citizen of

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West Bengal. They will never digest such an insult’.62 Attending the carnival thus is a mark of one’s position in the social and bureaucratic hierarchy. The carnival, instead of ‘temporarily liberating us by suspending all hierarchical rank, privileges and prohibitions’ (Bakhtin 1984: 10), in fact reinforces them. Thirdly, the carnival has little to do with the sacred almanac that governs the Durga Puja: ‘Durga Puja is an exhibition of the Goddess; Goddess is an ‘exhibit’. Everything revolves around her, but she is a doll made of clay. The devotion-thirsty Goddess has been putting up with it for long … The dates of puja do not follow the sacred almanacs’ (Bandopadhyay 2011: 46–49 ff). The date of carnival is decided by the public authorities depending on their convenience.

8.5.2 Beyond the Shrouds While carnivals of this nature are of very recent origin, the commonplace immersion processions in the dimly lit neighbourhoods of Kolkata may provide closer approximations of what Bakhtin would have described as carnivals with their promise of albeit temporarily reversing and undermining the existing cultural codes which would have otherwise kept the rich and the poor, the high and the low and the men and the women from each other. I remember having watched a procession recently (2019) in which well-bodied male youngsters of the neighbourhood would valorously throw up a protective ring around the raucously dancing young women of the same so that the potential miscreants from other localities or even from within cannot intrude breaking the human cordon and harass and disturb ‘their’ women,63 while maintaining a clear segregation of sexes on the streets. This has also more to do with preserving the dignity of the neighbourhood by preserving their women’s dignity for the neighbourhood’s dignity is believed to remain embodied in the bodies of ‘their’ women. Moreover, in the scantily lit tail end of the immersion procession, a cycle rickshaw would trudge slowly with carefully hidden generous stock of booze and liquor constantly yet discreetly supplying it to whoever asked for it from the procession. Often this centralized system of distribution is split into many in which small groups consisting of 4–5 persons each would throng around in a relatively invisible place (say the turning of a lane or the dead end of an alley) after a while thus interrupting their walk. One of them carries a longish plastic bag meant for ensuring the easy flow of liquid to the men in need of it. They prefer colourless booze so that ordinary people could easily mistake it with water. It is hard to believe that those who joined the procession were not in the knowledge of it. But the hidden nature of it is what Foucault would have called ‘the subterranean sphere’ (Foucault 1990: 4) that is neither the carnivalesque and spectacular nor the private being enacted at 62 https://www.thehindu.com/news/national/other-states/felt-insulted-at-durga-puja-carnival-sayswest-bengal-governor/article29689775.ece. Accessed on 27 March 2020. 63 One of the male processionists referred to the women participating in the procession as “our” women.

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home—but precariously connects the two. Drunken brawls and street fights during the immersion processions are a common feature since the 19th century. The subterranean is not to be seen and must be hidden from the public eye so that the facade of the virtuous and the artistic is not breached, ruptured or torn asunder.

8.6 Concluding Observations The ‘between’, Jean-Luc Nancy reminds us, is a world of its own—neither art nor the public, nor an extension of either of them into the other, but their implosion. The chapter is a modest attempt at telling us the story not only of implosion, but of the making of a new cultural form and with it a new public. The chapter sought to understand the dynamics of the twin making by way of tracing its three moments: (a) the ‘high art’ goes into perpetual hiding as it enters the hitherto alien realm of crafting idols. When art becomes an object of public consumption it also calls for its own redefinition—more as the creation of an aura, than the artistry and creativity per se that are believed to go into its making as an objet d’art; (b) hereditarily acquired practice as heritage also reactivates and sets in motion a new aesthetic with its claim to a redefinition of new art; and (c) the enactment of the carnival is made to appear as being complicit with the rules of civic and municipal governance by way of hiding a reality that remains beyond the shrouds. Each moment steers between the binaries of art and hereditarily acquired craft and skill, between art and heritage of the Kumbhakars and between civic and municipal governance and carnival, respectively. It is in the ‘between’ of the binaries that both pratimas and the public are made. [Unless otherwise indicated, all translations from their original non-English sources are mine. I feel deeply indebted to Soumen Pal, Bishnupriya Basak, Manas Ray and Sekhar Bandyopadhyay for their help and advice. I thank Roma Chatterjee and Trina N Banerjee for their comments on an earlier draft of the paper. Lapses, if any, are entirely mine].

References Ananda Bazaar Patrika. 2019. Anischit Pujo: Pashe Danralen Anyara (in Bengali) [Puja is uncertain, others stand in support]. Ananda Bazaar Patrika, 7 September, p. 16. Agnihotri, Anita. 2001. Kolkatar Pratimasilpira (in Bengali) [The idol makers of Kolkata]. Kolkata: Ananda. Appadurai, Arjun & Carol A. Breckenridge. 1988. Why public culture? Public culture: Bulletin of the project for transcultural studies. Fall 1 (1): 5–9. Bakhtin, Mikhail. 1984. Rabelais and his world. Translated by Helene Iswolsky. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Bandopadhyay, Sandip. 2011. Durgapujo: Barobari Theke Baroiyari. Kolkata: El Alma Publications. Bandyopadhyay, Kubaloy. 2019. Pujor Pratima O Manda: Silpider Samasya Samadhane Toiri Notun Mancha (in Bengali) [Idols of worship and slowdown new platform for solving the problems of the idol makers and by pandal artists]. Ei Samay, 7 July.

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Behar, Amitabh. 2019. The shrinking of civil society space: Re-engineering the architecture of Democratic India. In Reforming India: The Nation Today, ed. Niraja Gopal Jayal, 404–419. New Delhi: Penguin Random House India. Benjamin, Walter. 1970. The work of art in the age of mechanical reproduction. In Illuminations, ed. Hannah Arendt, 219–226. London: Jonathan Cape. Biswas, Atanu. 2019. Mandateo Pujo Jamjamat (in Bengali) [Puja revelry is intact even in times of economic slowdown]. Ananda Bazaar Patrika, 13 September. Bose, Pradip. 1998. Pujoy Kolkatar Bikalpalok (in Bengali) [The Heterotopias of Kolkata during the pujas]. Kathapat, January: 81–91. Bourdieu, Pierre. 1979. Distinction: A social critique of the judgement of taste, translated by Richard Nice. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Das, Biplab. 2018. Baroiyari Puja: Kolkatar Durgapjuor Nana Ajana Kahini (in Bengali). Kolkata: Bodhisattva. Foucault, Michel. 1990. History of sexuality, Volume I: An introduction. Translated from the French by Robert Hurley. New York: Vintage Books. Ghosh, Anjan. 2009. Spaces of recognition: Puja and power in contemporary Calcutta. Journal of South African Studies 26 (2): 289–299. Ghosh, Anjan. 2010. Contested Spaces: Puja and its publics in Calcutta. CSSSC Occasional Paper No. 178. Calcutta: CSSSC. Ghosh, Anjan. 2011. Constructed spaces. In Theorising the present: Essays for Partha Chatterjee, eds. Anjan Ghosh, Ramachandra Guha, Tapati Guha-Thakurta, and Janaki Nair, 253–272. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Guha-Thakurta, Tapati. 2015. In the Name of the Goddess: The Durga Pujas of Contemporary Kolkata. New Delhi: Primus. Guha-Thakurta, Tapati. 2016. Demand and dilemmas of Durga Puja “Art”: Notes on a contemporary festival aesthetic. In The bloomsbury research handbook of Indian aesthetics and the philosophy of art, ed. Arindam Chakrabarti, 317–352. London: Bloomsbury. Kaviraj, Sudipta. 1997. Filth and the public sphere: Concepts and practices about space in Calcutta. Public Culture 10 (1): 83–113. Majumder, Kamalkumar. 1405 BS. Bangeeya Silpadhara O Anyanya Prabandha (in Bengali) [The evolution of art in Bengal and other essays], compiled and edited by Dayamoyee Majumder and Sandeepan Bhattacharya. Kolkata: Deepayan. McDermott, Rachel Fell. 2011. Revelry, rivalry and longing for the goddess of Bengal: The fortunes of hindu festivals. New York: Columbia University Press. Mitter, Partha. 1994. Art and nationalism in Colonial India 1850–1922. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Nancy, Jean-Luc. 2000. Being singular plural, trans. by Robert D Richardson & Anne E O’Bynre. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Pinney, Christopher. 2001. Introduction: Public, popular, and other cultures. In Pleasure and the nation: The history, politics and consumption of public culture, eds. Robert Dwyer, and Christopher Pinney. Delhi: Oxford University Press. Ray, Manas. 2017. Goddess in the city: Durga Pujas of contemporary Kolkata. Modern Asian Studies 51 (4): 1–39. Ray Vidyanidhi, Jogeshchandra. 1420 BS. Puja-Parbon (in Bengali) [Worships and Auspicious Occasions]. Kolkata: Visva Bharati. First published 1358 BS (1952 AD). Saha, Shiladitya. 2019. Ma Durgao Roga Non, Bollchhen ‘Plus Size’ Bharat Sundari (in Bengali) [Ma Durga is not thin, says Plus Size Ms. India]. EiSamay (Kolkata), 20 July. Singha, Kaliprasanna. 2008. The observant owl, translated by Swarup Roy. Ranikhet: Black Kite. Subramanyan, K.G. 1987. The living tradition: Perspectives on Modern Indian Art. Calcutta: Seagull.

Chapter 9

The Staging of a ‘Carnival’—‘Art’, Power and a Contested Space in Kumartuli Bishnupriya Basak

Abstract On the occasion of World Art Day (15 April), Asian Paints, the leading paints company, was instrumental in setting up a two-day public exhibition or a ‘carnival’ in Kumartuli on 14 and 15 April 2019, showcasing installations and ‘art’ objects. This was achieved through collaboration with a few artists engaged with Durga Puja of Kolkata and a group of pratimasilpis trained in the Government Art College. The paper seeks to probe the complex web of power relations between corporate sponsors, professional artists, designers, and idol makers/pratimasilpis, as they are mediated through a public event. I am arguing that on the one hand a public space in which the power asymmetries unfold, acts as a temporary outlet for the creative energies and free will of a community against the backdrop of an overwhelming corporatization. A public space is reinvented in the process. On the other hand, a closer gaze reveals such appropriations as only partial in the fragmented, fractured ghettoed settlement of Kumartuli. Here voices of contest, negotiation, complicity, affirmation, refusal and compromise resonate throughout interviews conducted for the study. The event acts as an entry point in the vortex of these relationships. I will be also engaging with how ‘Art’ is being continuously redefined and redesignated, probing in the end the location of heritage in an uneasy terrain.

9.1 Introduction ‘We will change the ambience of the place’.1 ‘We wanted to highlight the ‘artistry’ of Kumartuli’.2 ‘Let Kumartuli be exposed in a different avatar to the people (Kumartuli-ke manush ektu anyo cheharay, anyo rup-e dekhuk).3 B. Basak (B) Department of Archaeology, University of Calcutta, Alipur campus, Kolkata 700027, India 1 Sushanto Pal, The Telegraph, 12 April 2019 https://www.telegraphindia.com/author/sudeshna-ban erjee/71. 2 Sabyasachi Chatterjee of Creocraft, interviewed on 31 July 2019. 3 Parimal Pal, pratimasilpi, interviewed on 28 May 2019.

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021 S. K. Das et al. (eds.), The Making of Goddess Durga in Bengal: Art, Heritage and the Public, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-0263-4_9

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‘That has become ‘Art’ not ‘Clay modelling” (Ota Art hoyecchhe; Mritsilpa hoyni).4

The above statements oscillate between staking claims of authorship to a public space and ‘Art’ to a complete disavowal of the claims. The event in question—Rong Matir Panchali—was a visual cornucopia, that went by the name of ‘exhibition’ or ‘carnival’. This was an audio-visual display of installations, sculptures, murals and photographs by select sections of the idol makers of Kumartuli in the idol-making hub on 14 and 15 April 2019. It was hosted under the banner of the leading Paints Company of the country, Asian Paints, who have carved out a niche for themselves in the annual Durga Puja festival as the harbinger of a series of awards. Creocraft, an Event Management group allied to Asian Paints collaborated with a few artists engaged with Durga Puja of Kolkata and a group of pratimasilpis of Kumartuli, some of them trained in the Government Art College, to pull together the exhibition. The paper seeks to probe the complex web of power relations between corporate sponsors, professional artists and designers, and idol makers/pratimasilpis, and interrogate the actions and desires of the different groups as they are mediated through a public event. This also foregrounds the reinvention of a public space as a site of consumption and a ‘carnival’. I am arguing that on the one hand, a public space in which the power asymmetries unfold acts as a temporary outlet for the creative energies and free will of a community against the backdrop of an overwhelming corporatization. The sponsors claim that they (italics mine) made allowances for the transformations in artistry. On the other, a closer gaze reveals such claims of appropriations as only partial, the community fractured and fragmented and multiple voices of dissonance and acquiescence lurking beneath the surface of an apparent well-being. Through the lens of a series of interviews of the pratimasilpis, conducted over four months from May to August 2019, an uneasy and shifting terrain emerges—of contest, negotiation, complicity, affirmation, refusal and compromise. The event acts as a point of entry into the vortex of these relationships. Since the representation of Kumartuli as a site of traditional artisanal production remains a crucial issue of contestation, I will be also engaging with how ‘art’ is being continuously redefined and redesignated. Yet it—like its pall bearers, the idol makers—remains far from secured, often struggling to assert itself in the art objects and installations displayed in ‘exhibitions’ such as this, and on many occasions (as sharply pointed out in the last quote above) juxtaposed to the clay artisanship or mritsilpa. The mritsilpa/pratimasilpa elides any stereotyping and continues to survive, either in sabeki dobhashi/khas-bangla forms or in a prolific production of iconographic forms that circulate, however precariously in a peripheral zone away from a ‘theme’ dominated sphere. This will naturally touch on the slippery domain of the distinctions drawn between an ‘artist’ and an ‘artisan’, the claims and counterclaims. Towards the end of the paper, I aim to locate the heritage of Kumartuli in this discursive sphere. 4 Dilip

Pal, pratimasilpi, interviewed on 15 May 2019.

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9.2 The Public Space and a Site of ‘Carnival’ A public space is an arena where, to borrow from Appadurai and Breckenridge (1988: 6), ‘other types, forms and domains of culture are encountering, interrogating and contesting each other in new and unexpected ways’. Mediated by mass media (Appadurai and Breckenridge 1995), public culture in the South Asian context emerges as a contested terrain with considerable diversity witnessed in its producers and the audience that redefines modernity. A public arena can assume its dynamics from the interplay of ritual , theatre and symbol, bound closely to the political and social contexts of its local, as Freitag (1989) has articulated so eloquently in the city of Benaras. She shows how collective ceremony becomes the genre of public activity and how that embodies overlapping values, worldviews and venues for both the upper class literati and the lower class patrons. The theatre of the event explored here is Banamali Sarkar Street, the main street that leads off Chitpur road, cutting across Kumartuli from which the lanes and bylanes draw one into the congested agglomeration of workshop-cum-residential quarters and numerous shops—making up a distinctively North Calcutta neighbourhood. The street is located in the ‘native parts of the city’ displaying an intermixture of ‘wealthy, middling and poor neighbourhoods’(Kaviraj 2000: 88)—also suggesting a diverse configuration of space, sharply differentiating it from a neighbourhood para of the southern parts of the metropolis (Ghosh 2009–10). As one enters from Chitpur Road, one comes across on the left-hand side a row of shops and workshops of reputed idol makers like Sadhu Pal and Mohanbanshi Rudrapal, followed by nowderelict residences of the old gentry like the Mitras, Ghosh and Ganguly, and a few houses of middle-class residents. It was in these precincts that Banamali Sarkar, a wealthy Dewan and Deputy trader of the East India Company, once owned a palatial mansion. On the right-hand side, a network of by-lanes—Gopeswar Pal Street, K K Sur Street and S N Sur Street—connects to the nerve centre of Kumartuli. Taken over by the corporate sponsors for two days, the street had no claimants. The orphaned street represented the ‘outside’—not amenable to control and shorn of values, which was far from an equivalent to the Western notion of the ‘public’. We may look at two codes of the use of social space—the ‘inside/outside’ and the public/private with respect to a Kolkata neighbourhood (Kaviraj 2000). Kaviraj effectively illustrates that one does not translate easily into the other—instead there emerge interesting and mixed forms. In a middle-class Bengali world view, the ‘inside’ domestic space is swept clean and maintained judiciously while ‘garbage from obsessive house-cleaning’ (Kaviraj 2000: 98) would be ‘dumped’ in the street ‘outside’, ‘the space for which one did not have responsibility’. This ‘outside’ street—here a bustling market selling clay deities, ready-made statues/busts of fibre and bronze, and various items and embellishments associated with rituals and worship—that did not qualify as a valued space was reinvented as a public space displaying bursts of creativity, a riot of colours, symbols and sonics bristling to break free from its quotidian mundane-ness. I will show further how there are no mutually limiting boundaries of a public and private space, and how

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social spaces ‘interpenetrate one another and /or superimpose themselves upon one another’ somewhat differently than ways in which Lefebvre (1991: 86–87) argue for European cityscapes. The two-day long exhibition was launched on 14 April, celebrating the World Art Day on 15, which also coincided with the Bengali New Year. This is also symptomatic of a burgeoning interest which is now outlasting the five-day long autumnal festivities, and the event was seemingly a means of manoeuvring and sustaining this in the public culture that has flourished centring on the puja. Mediated by the print media, the ‘carnival’5 was conceived a fortnight before the occasion by Sabyasachi Chatterjee of Creocraft, in consultation with two artists/designers prominent in the ‘theme’ puja circuit of Kolkata, Sushanto Pal and Partha Dasgupta. They were joined by a few others6 and the Kumartuli Art Forum, an umbrella organization formed for the event with representatives from the three unions. Inmates from the Pavlov Mental Hospital were also inducted in the project, apparently for a social message. It would be worthwhile to probe into the genealogy of ‘carnival’ before I dwell on its cultural labelling. The idea of the carnivalesque was an indispensable component in Bakhtin’s work (first published in 1965) to highlight the culture of folk humour in the middle ages that pervaded the popular existence in its show of comic festivities, pageants, verbal compositions. Forming a part of the tradition, it was an inversion of the official sphere dominated by the church and the state, and sharply distinctive from the latter in its cultural forms and ceremonies. ‘Carnival celebrated temporary liberation from the prevailing truth and from established order. It marked the suspension of all hierarchical rank, privileges, norms and prohibitions’ (Bakhtin 1984: 10).7 A carnival thus is more like a ‘safety valve’ for unleashing the free will of a community within the established order. An analogy may be drawn here with Guha’s (1983) depiction of the Holi celebrations in Northern India where it is argued that such acts of ‘prescriptive’ inversion are allowed by the dominant culture in all traditional societies and hence consecrated by tradition. On such occasions, the ‘structural inferiors’ enjoy the licence of indulging in revelry and a temporary defiance of rules as exposed in verbal excesses and bodily acts which appear as a blatant undermining of morality. Instead of disruption of the political and social order, this actually reinforces it. In the cultural imagining of a 19th century urban space we may draw allusions to Kaliprasanna Sinha’s depiction of the Baroiyari or community puja in Calcutta with

5 https://www.telegraphindia.com/author/sudeshna-banerjee/71. 6 In

an interview in his office, Sabyasachi mentioned the names of Prof. S. Majumdar from Government College of Art and Crafts, Noton Sarkar and Suman Choudhury, a specialist in graphics. 7 A shift in perspective is noted in Achille Mbembe’s On the Postcolony (2001). Writing in an African context Mbembe displaces Bakhtin’s ‘inversion’ with the logic of convivality using which he shows how both the public world and the officialdom share and borrow their idioms, forms and vulgarity, ‘inscribing the dominant and the dominated within the same episteme’ (p. 110). It is argued that conventional binaries of ‘resistance, disengagement or disjunction’ belie the power dynamics of a post-colony. It is indeed a powerful analysis of the African context, but specific to a typical social and political scenario, and may not be easily translated to a non-African context.

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its sheer excesses of shong, khemta naches and rowdy revelry8 for a construction of the carnivalesque. However, no occasion of the carnivalesque arises in the recently held event that witnessed the production of a new register of cultural idioms. In fact, different renditions of a ‘carnival’ are encountered in the Durga Puja of Kolkata of the current times.9 Extricated from its context and specific connotations, the term is now localized with its new cultural dispensations to describe an event taking place in a congested urban space.

9.3 Rong Matir Panchali—The Public Event The visual aesthetics of the autumnal Durga Puja have been extensively worked upon in recent years,10 the existing literature also highlighting a discourse that has grown around the festival, largely orchestrated by corporate sponsors and advertising professionals who aspire for its global branding and marketing. The recent initiative by the Government of India through the state government in sending nomination of Kolkata’s Durga Puja to the United Nations Educational Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) for inclusion in their intangible heritage list is a step taken forward in that direction. Of all the corporate sponsors, Asian Paints is lauded for its ‘avowed role’—‘… in infusing a new pedigree of tastes and temperaments into the city’s Durga Puja, and its ability to hold its own through sheer understatement and low publicity’ (Guha-Thakurta 2015: 132). This chapter shows, on the contrary, how the infusion of ‘new degree of tastes and temperaments’ defied any easy dominance of corporatization. Although opening up asymmetries of power relations a reinvention of a cultural space emerges which had its own autonomy. A scaffolding of bamboo tied with coloured cloth with coloured cubes bearing the name of the event hanging from it made the gate that was located at the entrance on Chitpur road. Asian Paints asserted its presence from multicoloured petals drawn on

8 Kaliprasanna Sinha (2008),

The Observant Owl, translated by Swarup Roy. Ranikhet: Black Kite.

9 I also refer to the Red Road Carnival which is organized and hosted by the Department of Informa-

tion and Culture, Government of West Bengal, every year at the end of the Durga Puja, showcasing the city’s and the districts’ ‘best’ pujas. The occasion is chosen to uphold the cultural finery of Bengal, attended by state dignitaries (the 2019 event was attended by His Excellency the Governor) as well as Consul-Generals and officials from the foreign consulates residing in the city. Held with much fanfare, the carnival is opened out to the public. 10 See Guha-Thakurta (2015) for a detailed treatment of this and also for an exhaustive bibliography. Here she looks at Durga Puja as a public art event in the metropolis of Kolkata that has accrued new dispensations of ‘art’ and ‘design’ during the last two decades. She explores this visual aesthetic from dimensions of new genres of public art and new spaces of their production and reception, also in the process, opening the study to new groups of participants going beyond the traditional idol makers.

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Fig. 9.1 Entrance to the ‘carnival’© Author

white cubes displayed at three points in the scaffolding with its trademark signage— Aitijhyer pujo Uddipanar Utsab (A puja of tradition; a festival of exuberance) (Fig. 9.1). I will be returning to the significance of this caption later in the paper. A spatial construction foisted on to the neighbourhood made for a prescriptive allowance by corporate sponsors like the Asian Paints for sections of ‘artists’/‘designers’/idol makers to experiment and innovate with objects of art and installations within the dominant order—a ‘safety valve’ against the backdrop of overwhelming corporatization. Claims were established over the custodianship of the project, and a complacence was palpable in their declaration that the entire project was conceived at a short notice, with the idol makers complying with their request in an even shorter deadline. Kumartuli’s ‘opening up’ signalled the success of their new venture.11 This was despite that time being a crucial one, of delivery for Annapurna puja orders as well an occasion for the sale of Ganesh and Lakshmi idols for pujas performed on the Bengali New Year Day.12 Claims were also met with counter-claims. The claims for total sponsorship on part of the corporate organizers were countered by Parimal Pal, one of the chief resource

11 Interview

with Sabyasachi Chatterji, 31 July 2019. Pal, Joint secretary of Kumartuli Mritsilpa Sanskritik Samiti, https://www.telegraphindia. com/author/sudeshna-banerjee/71. 12 Babu

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Fig. 9.2 One of the many houses donning a fresh coat of paint © Author

persons representing the pratimasilpis. He asserted that the installations were selffunded by the respective idol makers, the sponsors having met only incidental expenses.13 Authorship was claimed over the nomenclature—Creocraft declaring that they suggested the event to be named as a ‘carnival’ to the idol makers. Positions were polarized on its effectiveness—Parimal Pal believed that holding the event once in four years would aid in retaining its novelty while the organizers vouched to transform it into an annual bonanza. A trail of four colours—yellow, red, green and blue—ran from the gate along the ground forming the exhibition trail guiding the visitors into the public space. A suffusion of colours engulfed the ambience with the two-storied houses getting fresh coats of paint, some even with painted designs. This was a deliberate means of transformation to bring in vibrancy in an environment otherwise dominated by ‘dull’ hues of clay, wood, bamboo and tin (Fig. 9.2). The exhibits constituted of installations, sculptures, murals and photographs displayed in the studios (which had been taken over for the event) or flanking the street and the lanes. In the network of lanes, no segregation of space between domesticity and the crammed exteriors which made up the workshop is evident. The studios were extensions of the living quarters, the inside overlapping and superimposing on

13 Interview

with Parimal Pal, 28 May Kumartuli.

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the outside. Along the main street, the showrooms and the studios were mostly standalone, without the thinly veiled domestic space. Yet none of these were comparable to the French atelier. The forms of space emerging through a public event such as this are interesting mixtures which I discuss below. Without conforming to any particular theme,the exhibition was an ensemble of objects and images related to the autumnal festival yet not quite. Parimal Pal considered this to be a laudable attempt to bring a different ‘flavour’ to the hub.14 He created a gigantic face of the Goddess, sabeki15 in form freshly cast out of a die and placed in a colourful bamboo frame—scrolls of coir held it on both sides and above—a little boy in nude was held by a ladder against the face as he peered through one of the eyes into the world outside, the eyes were made deliberately hollow (Fig. 9.3). The sabeki face of the goddess was upheld as the Kumartuli trademark,16 according to Naba Pal, another participant. His installation was the face of the goddess inside the entrance of an old house behind transparent doors, the face in a translucent blue designed to enhance its transcendence. Another prominent one was an 11 ft bust of Goddess Durga whose third eye was looming large over the forehead with cornstalks growing in abundance from the cavity of her head. There were installations symbolical of the making of the goddess. A huge boat with painted motifs and bundles of straw occupied a part of the main street with a towering straw structure of the goddess seen standing atop with the lion and demon at her feet— this symbolized the initial preparatory stages of the pratima. (Fig. 9.4) A hand drawn red cart lay on one side of the street, with several dies of the sabeki face of the goddess strewn about, some of them coloured the traditional atashi or yellow, a few showing half-finished eyes in black. Embellishments and jewellery made from paper cuttings representing daker saj17 hung from makeshift ceilings of bamboo and plastic sheets in dingy hutments where large-sized sabeki faces of the goddess, representing both the unbaked and fired look rested in places, embellishments were pasted on one of the faces. Innumerable names of pratimasilpis and sajsilpis (or ‘artisans’ engaged in making jewellery), existing as well as deceased, were highlighted in bold in small paper panels that hung from the ephemeral ceiling of another hutment (Fig. 9.5). A red wall in a corner of the main street bore murals with a text: ‘Till a lump of clay attains a shape of an earthen vessel it remains only simple clay. Through 14 Interview

with Parimal Pal, 28th May, 2019.

15 The sabeki form of the goddess, according to the Pal idol makers of Kumartuli may be classified as

the archetypal ‘traditional’ form which has continued over generations, despite the several deviations and transformations overtaking it, and it adheres to certain fixed norms and measurements. The face moulds are retained and preserved well for reuse each season and are often the trademarks of the master pratimasilpis. As I understood in the course of our numerous interviews, the distinctive styles emerge from the ways the dramatically elongated eyes are drawn, the nose engraved, the lips made and the chin shaped. The torso is deliberately made smaller and the two legs characteristically placed—one on the shoulders of the demon mahisasur and the other on her bearer, the lion. The pratima is ekchala or single-framed. Within the sabeki the khas-bangla face is one which is angular with a slightly protruding chin while the dobhashi face is more rounded, which is purported to bring in a softness and gentleness to the aggressive gaze of the deity. 16 Interview with Naba Pal, 28 May 2019. 17 Jewelry for the goddess made in silver and golden tinsel foil.

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Fig. 9.3 Sabeki face of Durga with a little boy peering into the world outside through the goddess’s eye © Author

dedicated practices of ‘art’, it becomes a precious item’ (matir pinda se jatokkhan na ghat akare su-porinito hoy tatokkshan se mati. Bishesh bhabe kala-sadhanar gunei se mahargha hoy). Yet traditional idols and mritsilpa, the hallmarks of Kumartuli were largely absent. The ekchala sabeki pratima was found in three non-discreet locations almost marginalized by the larger-than-life installations. Small sculptures of Lakshmi, Saraswati and Ganesh were hastily placed on tables against garishly painted walls. The rest of the exhibits made up a curious amalgam of installations which displayed unbridled experimentation and in the words of Appadurai (2006), an ‘undisciplined profusion’ in which the sheer materiality of things becomes dominant. Thus, one came across a life size laminated board with a photograph of rows of earthen vessels stacked on top of one another that formed the backdrop to a multitude

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Fig. 9.4 Straw structure of Durga atop a boat signifying the preparatory stage of idol making as well the transportation of straw, crucial for her making © Author

of figures in glass boxes with wooden frame. Strings of chandamala18 hung from the sides. A long plastic transparent sheet was carelessly hung from the ceiling in an adjacent shop that sold small deities. The plastic sheet decorated with random brushstrokes half covered the entrance to the shop. In another indoor space, a nude male figure held a palette in one hand, and brush in the other with a red trail of blood congealed into a pyramidal shape in front of the image of a goddess. A mirror in the background, awash with sordid coagulated colours, carried a reflection of the figure. Angels of bronze colour hanging from a pendulum, an isolated human head with a non-Indic look and an assortment of bronze figures formed a cluster in still another part. A large circular clay disc resembling a pat with a smiling mahisasurmardini 18 Garlands

of round white moon-shaped discs used for decorating the deities and religious arenas.

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Fig. 9.5 Names of pratimasilpis and sajsilpis on hanging paper panels © Author

formed the background to the model of a steam engine in a workshop. A large wooden frame with a bronze coloured Durga in relief was installed in another. Still others bespoke a promiscuity underlying these things—isolated human heads dangling in the darkness with only the profile of the goddess’s face illuminated; a distorted face in a large installation in a dingy lane between two walls, with a large ear fixed on one from which strings radiated out to connect to still more isolated heads fixed on the wall; an isolated Jesus with spread out arms in one corner of the street; a Kali in another shop; a bronze statue of a girl in a ‘selfie’ pose with a spiralling canopy running over her from the ground, reaching to one of the houses; a colourful taxi with cartoon images of Durga and her family painted on its body formed one of the chief attractions. Most idol makers in Kumartuli now eke out their existence by building models and sculptures round the year to supplement their income from the idol-making business. The profusion of these items attests to that. A makeshift tea stall with the model of a tea-seller in one corner of the street represented the quotidian life. A sanctified custom that still prevails in pujas of the old gentry families (bonedi bari) is acquiring the clay for the idol from the sex worker’s colony. The model of a sex worker in the nude was seen in a shanty, with the drapes of her sari touching a huge face profile of an embellished goddess above. A ten-armed straw torso of the goddess was suspended from the ceiling.

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A short history of the hub with old photographs was exhibited inside a studio. Sabyasachi Chatterjee claimed that the outcome of their team efforts surpassed all previous exhibitions at Kumartuli. The last one was held in 2000 when tickets were issued and the displays were only of mritsilpa. Kumartuli this time had an iridescent sheen, with laser shows and illuminations dancing off the installations after dusk. Chatterjee informed that five short films were made, one being on the fibre glass statues dotting the urbanscape of Kolkata, which had their genesis in Kumartuli. They were projected on the actual dies from which the statues were made.19 Creocraft was intent on transmuting this into an annual event, where ‘heritage’ or ‘art’ accrued new meanings.20 Thus, varied forms of ‘art’ abounded, which were ephemeral and made to be destroyed, dismantled and recycled. Paradoxically, the claims on ‘art’ revealed a vying for an intellection and an illusory permanence which have congealed around it. The aura of ‘art’ was impregnated with glamour (joulush) for Kumartuli. ‘Art’ inhered in mathar kaaj (intellect) for this group of idol makers who were trained in the Government College of Art and Craft. They distinguished it from ‘skill’ which remained the prerogative of the older silpis still engaged with traditional idol making. Parimal asserted that it was easy to innovate and break away and dabble with new forms if one was accustomed to a knowledge of the ‘basic’.21 Naba Pal another participant in the event agreed that the event was ‘off-beat’, a way of manoeuvring out of mritsilpa and venturing into installations. To purportedly break the monotony of clay idols, to avoid replication of clay models created for jhulan22 to construct new ways of seeing and experiencing for the spectators, to ‘create a sense’—these triggered their participation. It was crucial to stay in tune with the ‘current topics’, more so when their idols now were part of the tableau in the annual Red Road Carnival. The Kumartuli Aitijhya constitutes of not only the traditional pratima(s), but also these installations, the fibre glass images manufactured throughout the year. Kumartuli is a thriving ‘industry’ churning out cultural goods and therefore need to keep pace with the market.23 Thus Aitijhya or heritage was conflated with keeping apace, with even an ebullience and exuberance that Asian Paints proclaimed in their signage. ‘Art’ was inflected to mean something inherently cerebral. The exhibits and their makers remained caught in an uneasy terrain of yearning for a wider evaluation and for transcending the parochial barriers. However, these installations, which have come to constitute an almost alternative idiom in the Durga Puja festival, stop short of gaining entry into the global and cosmopolitan sphere. 19 https://www.telegraphindia.com/author/sudeshna-banerjee/71. 20 Interview

with Sabyasachi Chatterjee in his office, 31 July 2019. with Parimal Pal, 28 May 2019. 22 Jhulan is the biggest and one of the most popular festivals of the Vasihavites and followers of Lord Krishna, after Holi and Janmasthami. Held in the monsoon month of Sravana, it is widely known for its spectacular decoration of swings, songs and dance to celebrate the eternal romance of Krishna with Radha. In Bengal, various clay models of scenes from quotidian life are made which adorn households. Kumartuli provides one of the most important markets for these goods. 23 Interview with Naba Pal, 28 May 2019. 21 Interview

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Installation as a genre has its own place in a global critical art practice embedded in the distinctive milieu of exhibition and viewership. Baxandall (1991) describes exhibitions in which installations and objects are displayed as a field in which the intention of the object’s producer, the exhibitor’s arrangement and display, as well as the viewer’s perceptions and assumptions that they bring to the exhibit, are all entangled and enmeshed in a complex web of relations. What each derives from the exhibition in the end is surely not what he or she intended. The struggle is inherent in the practice—over what is to be represented, and who will control the means of representing. Then where do we locate the creative outbursts of the ‘carnival’? They may be located in a visual ‘repertoire’. A repertoire is constitutive of all those acts which are usually thought of as ‘ephemeral, non-reproducible knowledge (Taylor 2003: 20). It enacts embodied memory—all the ‘performance, gestures, orality, movement, dancing and singing’—also allowing for individual agency. Juxtaposed to the ‘supposedly stable objects in the archive’, the actions making up the repertoire do not remain the same. The numerous installations, the choreography which was enacted in one of the evenings through laser shows projected on a large screen, followed by short documentaries represent embodied memory of the rich artistry of idol making and many transmutations of the craft that were mediated by the present cultural setting. The towering structure of the goddess standing atop a painted boat embodied the memory of manual labour as well as the collective memory of a migrant community arriving from Nadia traceable to the genesis of the settlement. The names of deceased in multitude inscribed in labels suspended from the roof of an exhibition unit enacted a remembrance of many, laced with forgetting of a few. Apparently ephemeral and fleeting, liable to be dismembered, these installations engaged in a curious interplay of memory and loss. Further, as Appadurai and Breckenridge (1995: 5) argue, different forms and domains of culture provide ‘both mill and grist for one another’. A denial of mritsilpa did not prevent cultural goods—such as the sabeki form of the goddess or the dies—produced as part of a hereditary artistry to be sourced as items of consumption. The recurring forms of the sabeki Durga contested the bronze girl in selfie mode (Fig. 9.6); the gigantic ‘folk’ pat with a smiling mahisasurmardini encountered the relic steam engine(Fig. 9.7); the quotidian tea stall encountered sanctified custom represented in the model of the sex worker; a Kali sought to co-opt a Jesus with outstretched arms. Nora (1989) differentiates between the unmediated spontaneous sites of ‘true memory’, the milieux de mémoire which reside in embodied knowledge, ‘gestures and habits, in skills passed down by unspoken tradition… in ingrained memories’ from the lieux de mémoire, the archival, mediated memory. On the contrary, these displays belie any neat binaries between the unmediated and the mediated, between the past, traditional, authentic and the present ‘generalized as modern, global and ‘mass’ culture’ (Taylor: 22). The ‘mass’ forms of winged creatures, giant ear lobes, suspended human heads were vying for intellection and along with all other emergent forms of the traditional, indigenous engage, interrogate, converge and contest one another—the mediated ‘art’ is a revitalisation of all these forms.

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Fig. 9.6 Bronze girl in selfie mode ©Author

The public event thus represents a contested terrain of synergy emanating from these processes in which ‘carnival’ was used as a cultural tag for enhancing the status of the event, as a means of incorporating it in a wider global context. The actors in the contests—the corporate sponsors and the participants—staked their claims and counter-claims. The materials in the contest are the many cultural modalities elaborated, resisting any appropriation, each reinforcing or challenging the other. A space of manual labour is reinvented as a public space which however speaks less of segregation and more of a continuum. Interestingly, this was an eclectic show, inviting participation from the ‘initiated’, and as I will show below, reinforcing a hierarchy between ‘artists’ and ‘artisans’, ‘art’ and ‘skill’. The collectivity represented and claimed for in the joint venture was at best partisanal, seen also in the constitution of the ‘crowd’ thronging to Kumartuli on these two days. It was restrictive in comparison to the milling crowd of revelry who overtakes and transgresses the urban space during the puja festivities (Ghosh 2009–10). Even then a spectator’s walk through an enacted space like this enlarges and intensifies it. It constitutes an ‘urban text’ that throws up a rich assortment of experiences, unrestrained by the ‘geometrically defined street’. Such ‘walking in the city’, De Certeau (1988) noted in the context of revelry of the Mardi Gras festival held annually in New Orleans inscribes its own ‘pedestrian speech acts’.

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Fig. 9.7 Pat and the rail engine © Author

In the next section, I move into brief profiles of individuals involved with the event for situating the contests and tussles between inherited skill and improvised ‘art’, and hierarchies of ‘artist’ and ‘artisan’.

9.4 Artists, Designers and Pratimasilpis Guha-Thakurta (2015, 2016: 319) probes deep into the special dispensations of the artist and designer that the Durga Puja festival has nurtured, and the inbuilt forces ‘which keep destabilizing them’. Centring on ‘theme’ pujas she delves into the ‘dissolving hierarchy’ of the artist, artisan and craftsman, and foregrounds the entry of a new class of professionals—the designers. Their profiles chart paths of remarkable ‘social transitions’. She hones down on three celebrities, Sanatan Dinda, Bhabatosh Sutar and Sushanto Pal. Pal was an intrinsic part of the conceiving team of this event. While I elaborate on these tussles and tensions of identities by focusing on a select few outside the haloed circle of the triad, I also seek to extend the discussion into the ever-widening cleavage between a hereditarily transmitted skill and professional tutelage, also bringing within my purview voices of dissonance challenging and resisting the phenomenon of public art.

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Partha Dasgupta, an artist of eminence with a Government Art College training and Kala Bhavan background, has been in the centre stage of experimentation with new forms of designing and implementation of spatial ideas in the pandal ever since the inception of the ‘theme’ puja two decades back. Acclaimed for his artwork at 25 Pally, Kidderpore, in 2012 and several others following, his induction in the team was devised to augment the prestige of the event. Sushanto Pal belongs to a new social and professional class of artists and designers which has grown and coalesced around the ‘theme puja’.24 Mostly all of them are Art College alumni and their careers are largely entwined with the annual festivities, exploring newer resources for designing the pandal. Sushanto Pal whose connections with the Kumartuli Pals are remote and distant, contemplated for the event the painting of a flex with images of the sahakari karigar and the silpi sleeping together on the floor of a studio. This was a device to ‘reinforce in art what is ignored as a slice of daily life’.25 Art College training has always driven a wedge in the Kumartuli community ever since the days of Ramesh Chandra Pal, who stands out as an icon among the idol makers. Our interviews with Parimal Pal and Naba Pal, two of the main participants—both of whom belonged to families of traditional idol makers yet received formal training from Art College—were centred on how they resolved contradictions between a hereditarily transmitted ‘skill’ and a professional programme, whether their pratima(s) enjoyed appreciation as works of ‘art’ solely on the grounds of their Art College pedigree. Both Parimal and Naba had a meteoric rise to prominence with the advent of ‘theme’ pujas. Parimal has earned fame for his stylized idols and is regularly assigned the task of making idols for the Kumartuli sarbojanin puja. Very active in social media he announces his upcoming productions on his Facebook page, using this as a forum for inviting responses from a cross-section of the public—such instances amplify a new domain of spectatorship, allowing ‘modernity to be rewritten more as a vernacular globalization and less as a concession to large scale national and international policies (Appadurai 2005: 10). The event was likewise promoted in a larger canvas prior to its inauguration. There were live broadcasts from the site on the inaugural day, in which people were invited to experience Kumartuli in its new avatar. Interestingly Parimal is described as an ‘artisan’ in the video clipping where he appears as the spokesperson for Asian Paints. I take this as an entreé into a domain of anxieties and aspirations that mark this new class of idol makers, a desperation to shake off the stigma of an ‘artisan’ cohabiting with a palpable excess in selfprojections. Parimal recalls26 how as a student of Art College he along with others with a Kumartuli lineage was never considered as ‘artists’ by their peers. Perhaps this explains his claim for excellence of ‘theme’ puja over any ‘Art College work’—the same difference that exists between ‘a photo clicked by a professional photographer and a passport photo’. Laying greater credence in the ecstasy and exuberance of the 24 See

Guha-Thakurta (2015) for a detailed discussion.

25 https://www.telegraphindia.com/author/sudeshna-banerjee/71. 26 Interview

with Parimal Pal, 28 May 2019.

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crowd who throng to view the ‘theme work’, he considers this to be the dominant factor explaining its success. The work of silpi(s) ought to be in tune with the changing scenario—thus, an idol’s eyes may be highlighted through calibrated lighting to create a sense of aura. The worth of a creation, according to Parimal, lies in such moments of spectacle. It is the ‘mass public’ who sustain these creations through their participation. Through their viewership the idol and the pandal are endowed with an enhanced value. He does not expect a holistic appreciation of his work— enacted in a large space it is a sensory experience, tempered by choice of the viewers. Some may absorb a sense of the architectural splendour of the pandal; still others may leave with a sense of colour of the redolent space. Naba Pal belongs to a well-known family of pratimasilpi(s), his grandfather being Jiten Pal, the creator of the Bagbazar sarbojanin idol. Like Parimal, he too believes in the sheer excellence of their workmanship which is a blend of the traditional skill and professional training, superseding that of the Art College trained ‘artists’. He claims that this cohort group of Kumartuli ‘artists’ has earned unparalleled respect and recognition. He evinces full faith in the milling crowd whose pulse has been ‘nurtured’ by the ‘theme’—they are fully capable of absorbing any novelty. Naba Pal had tried his fortunes at film and television set designing and after a rather unsuccessful stint returned to his family profession of idol making. Almost a dozen other idol makers participated in the event including Babu Pal, joint secretary of Kumartuli Mritsilpa Sanskritik Samiti. Excepting a few like Mala Pal and China Pal, women artists were conspicuous by absence. Both Parimal and Naba Pal who are at the forefront of a cohort group share an uneasy terrain where recognition from the cognoscenti is amiss or comes slowly. Their ‘art’ works are bristling with the same tensions and its definition is stretched and pulled in multiple directions. Rong Matir Panchali was an event that was selectively represented, leaving out vast sections of a fractured community to which I now turn my attention.

9.5 Kumartuli at the margins—A World Beyond the Public Event The territoriality of event did not extend the beyond the entry-points of two lanes in the congested labyrinthine network leading into the agglomeration of living-cumwork quarters. The erstwhile Left Front Government had floated a Kumartuli rehabilitation project of 27 crores, which was to be funded by the central government’s Jawaharlal Nehru National Urban Renewal Mission. The project aimed at temporary relocation of the pratimasilpis to a nearby site and reconstruction of the entire hub by dismantling the old hutments/shanties. The plan of a four-storied building had been envisaged, embodying a well-planned complex of new workshops and residences, an international guest house, a museum and exhibition gallery for display of Kumartuli creations throughout the year. Even putting aside the divergence of opinion that

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erupted from within different sections of the community, what followed was a sordid tale of power-mongering and ‘betrayal’ enmeshed in an existing complicated land ownership and tenure system. Those who were evacuated to an abandoned warehouse in Bagbazar in 2011 that was hastily turned into a disorderly residence-cum workshop zone are now eking out their existence away from the din of Kumartuli. A spatial continuum is envisaged in these quarters where all binaries of the ‘inside/outside’ collapse. ‘Social spaces’, are evidently ‘not things which have mutually limiting boundaries’ (Lefebvre 1991: 86–87). Interestingly, although the public event was delimited at a point, the entire zone witnesses every year a transgression of boundaries between the ‘private’ quarters and the ‘public’ lanes, during the fortnight preceding the pujas. Aspiring models masquerading as Maa Durga wade in and out of these quarters with accompanying lensmen while hordes of photographers swarm into the nooks and corners of the hub of naked torsos caught in a capricious light—intensifying the transmutation of space into a tantalizing mixture, something that Kaviraj (2000) alludes to. The settlement is constitutive of mixed groups of the most economically depressed and the relatively more well-to-do among the pratimasilpis. These groups making up the larger community of Kumartuli have been shunned by the corporate sponsors and seldom feature in any study of the art and aesthetics. They are the custodians of a hereditarily transmitted artistry, identifiable with prestige, renown and name of a family inhering in a ‘heritage of commitments’ extended to a larger ‘network of alliances’ constituting the ‘symbolic capital’ of Bourdieu—‘the misrecognized, socially repressed objective truth of economic activity’ (Bourdieu 1977).27 I seek to interrogate how the market economy and its sponsored public events impact the groups in a space which is largely reflective of a tangled web of negotiation, complicity, refusal, compromise, affiliation and contest. The present community of Kumartuli (including the ones forced to relocate in 2011) is constituted of nearly 580 families which produce 10,000 Durga idols,28 approximately. Of these only 150 cater to ‘theme’ pujas. Altogether this makes up the ‘Kumartuli industry’. A ubiquitous sense of crisis, both economical and aesthetic, was discerned in all sections of the community29 that struggle to survive outside the mainstream ‘theme’. Not prosperous enough to own workshops outside Kumartuli, they continue to work away from the glare of limelight and fame which a few 27 Bourdieu

(1977) elucidates how the patrimony of a family or lineage includes not only their property but also a ‘network of alliances’ or ‘relationships to be kept up and regularly maintained, representing a heritage of commitments’ (p. 178) which is accumulative through successive generations forming the preserve of strength. One can fall back upon it in ‘extraordinary situations’. The ‘symbolic capital…in the form of the prestige and renown attached to a family and a name is readily convertible back into economic capital’ (p. 179). 28 This is only a rough estimate suggested by Parimal Pal. 29 Interviews were held intermittently over four months, from May to August 2019 at Kumartuli and Uttarpara. The interviewees (12) were randomly selected from the communities of both Pals (whose forefathers had migrated chiefly from Krishnanagar, Nadia) and Rudrapals (who hail from Bikrampur in modern Bangladesh), including two women silpis as well, China and Mala Pal. Views shared by Silpis associated with the ancillary professions like dak-er saj and sholar saj have been also incorporated.

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others have attained—to name some, Mohanbanshi Rudrapal, Sanatan Rudrapal or Pradip Rudrapal. I honed down on those silpis who were largely ignored by the corporate sponsors. The exacerbating raw material costs, the mounting tax burden worsened by the advent of the GST were unanimously considered as the negative factors fuelling this despair. Added to this were the woes of changing dynamics of ‘taste’ and aesthetics, which even ‘theme’ makers like Soumen Pal admitted reverberates throughout Kumartuli. A conversation with him30 imparted an idea of how the idol-making process is impacted by the political dynamics of Baroiyari puja. The silpi often faces the brunt of a client’s anger and frustration. There may be factions within a club/association who have serious differences of opinion regarding the form or style of the goddess among themselves. These squabbles, on many occasions, spill over into accusations against the silpi that he has failed to deliver. The silpi is left confused about what is expected of him. Also, if the silpi is employed by two neighbourhoods or para(s) in near vicinity of each other, then he/she becomes the victim of their fierce competition. Each feels that the silpi could have taken more care as he had done in case of the other. The onus is laid on the silpi—it is because of his/her relative neglect towards them that one is at a disadvantage vis-à-vis the other. Financial sufferings are also rampant. Most clients usually pay a sum as an advance, promising to pay the rest on delivery. The silpi borrows money from the mahajan or draws a sum from his personal/family account to meet the expenses, which on many occasions is not reimbursed. The silpi lives amid constant tensions and apprehensions of upsetting the client. Accusing the silpi often becomes an excuse for under-payment. Added to his woes is the uncertainty associated with his sahakaris who may decide to suddenly abandon him for better pay elsewhere. The sincerity of mastering the art from the mentor is never the consideration now. The silpi is often embroiled in an acrimonious relation with the sahakaris who bargains with him for his wage repeatedly. Idol making, even for the ‘theme’ silpi is a barely three-month engagement in a year; they switch to alternative activities like making fibre glass or bronze models, supplanting their hereditary profession. Newer generations are migrating to other professions to escape the plight of their elders. Living on the edge, these idol makers and sajsilpis (excepting a few like Soumen) admitted, that no invitations were extended to them by the event organizers, and in a few cases only cursorily, at the eleventh hour. None of them figured in the list of ‘eminent silpis’ who were facilitated. This is contrary to the claims that Kumartuli ‘opened up’ in unision. Are they ‘striking back’ through alternative cultural forms which throw up outright challenges to the visual explosion generated by the ‘carnival’? I hope to delve into this and the entwined power relations through a series of interviews with pratimasilpis and sajsilpi(s)31 at the main hub and the warehouse space, who work outside the eclectic domain of ‘theme’. These individuals, mostly septuagenarians and octogenarians, reflect a hierarchy-ridden fractured and fragmented community, a few even living on the brink of existence. While my main

30 Interview 31 Engaged

with Soumen Pal, 15 May 2019. in ancillary professions which exist on a parallel plane with idol making.

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query was on their perceptions of the event, I am using this to navigate into their notions of ‘art’ and ‘market’ and the future of Kumartuli as enmeshed in these. Silpis like Dilip Pal32 remembered with pride the exhibition that he had organized in Kumartuli in 1990 and how in 1992 the erstwhile governor Nurul Hasan had visited the place on his request. To him, the ‘carnival’ triumphed as ‘art’ and fell short of mritsilpa, the synergies of the new visual aesthetics disclaimed in a sweeping disavowal. Silpa meaning image making of clay here was lodged in a higher stature, identifiable with sabekiyana; ‘art’ on the other hand was disruptive. It inhered, for instance, in the fluttering eyelashes of the goddess which had become a crowd-puller in one of the ‘theme’ pujas, the crowd being drawn more by a sense of amusement (koutuk) than any sense of devotion (bhakti bhava). Exorbitant and lavish, ‘art’ compels pratimasilpa to be marginalized. Openly critical of the market and the transgressive character of ‘theme’ he bemoans the dwindling presence of bangla thakur, the hallmark of sabekiyana—the idol that adheres to strict norms of measurement, features and colour following textual directives. Dilip Pal was approached by the organizers just prior to the launching of the event with an invitation to make a ‘model’, which he rejected. Yet, underlying this rebuttal a strain of appreciation of ‘theme’ is also discerned, in the suggestion that the latter also invokes immense diversity. Even when it is shorn of reverence this will continue to persist, he believes with sabekiyana. How can ‘theme’ at times inappositely lodged to sabekiyana claim as cohabiting together? This is perhaps symbolical of pulls and twists which persist throughout these narratives that compel us to ponder on the precariousness of survival of a group who live at peril, threatened by the vagaries of unpaid loans at a high rate of interest. This is despite the claims of a few ‘theme’ silpis that the Kumartuli silpis are no longer dependent on loans, and thwarted by the fear of non-payment. Dilip Pal now makes fibre models to supplement his meagre income that trickles in at the end of the festive season. He happened to be one of the residents who had to relocate to Bagbazar in 2011 where he now has a ‘studio space’ and a living quarter in the upper storey. These ‘studio spaces’ do not offer the right ambiance for drying of the clay idols and pre-puja scenes of sahakaris frantically working on unfinished Durga images in the dimly lit passageway outside drives home the point. The corridors inside are piled with unfinished ten-armed naked torsos of the goddess, where electricity is often snapped in the evenings. The living conditions are abominable, with accumulated garbage lying unattended for days. Nemai Pal,33 also a resident of Bagbazar, was among the first few who relocated in 2010, leaving behind a plot of 3 kottah in Kumartuli. As a president of the Kumartuli Mritsilpi Sanskriti Samiti and as one of the few in the forefront of deliberations with the government on the rehabilitation programme, he still feels responsible for the move. The plan, according to him, was excellent but vitiated by political betrayal and intrigue. Unlike Dilip Pal, his appreciation of ‘theme’ was undiluted as well as

32 Interviewed 33 Interviewed

on 15 May 2019. on 28 May 2019.

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the novelty it inspired. He recounted with pride how he had once created a tripleframe (teen chala) ‘theme’ er thakur with the assistance of a ‘theme’ silpi which brought him immense satisfaction. ‘Theme’ is a celebration/festival of joy. Yet he revoked the ‘carnival’ wholeheartedly and contested any claim of transformation, improvement or redemption of Kumartuli that were put forth by the organizers. This could merely be considered an ephemeral exercise in ‘experimentation’. Like Dilip Pal and many others, he was critical of the event marginalizing mritsilpa. On the day of the exhibition, he was facilitated by a club in Behala. His name was amiss in the list of facilitated artists of Kumartuli. On his return late at night, he could cursorily visit the ‘carnival’ which ought to have lasted, he felt, for a longer period for the desired impact. Jatirindranath Pal, who now lives in his own house in Kumartuli, was the president of the basati or the settlement committee when the rehabilitation plan was floated. His views were non-committal about ‘theme’ and even reflected a compliance with the bhava emanating from the goddess which he defined as shanti or tranquillity. This was the demand of the times, he felt and he hoped this would prevail. But he was vociferous in his response to the ‘carnival’ for being so short-lived, and almost blasphemously ignoring mritsilpa. Haru Pal,34 an eighty-five-year old silpi now, banished to a state of penury by force of circumstances and an inability to cope with the rising competition represents the other end of the spectrum, reflective of an engulfing despair. Living in a one-roomed shanty, he is unable to make too many idols. He still prepares the idol of Sovabazar Raajbari Chhototaraf (the patron being Rathin Deb) at a nominal price; in the bargain, he is allotted space for making another five or six idols in the thakurdalan.35 He now has an outstanding loan of sixty-nine thousand rupees which is likely to compound with the accruing interest if he fails to pay back. Bereft of any political connections and economical support, he can only visualize an impending gloom for Kumartuli. Many silpis like him are almost perishing away embedded in loans. He proscribed the ‘carnival’, denigrating it only as an ‘advertisement of the private companies’. Along with the idol makers Kumartuli is still home to a few sajsilpis who bemoan the waning of the traditional embellishments of the pratima—the daker saj and the ‘sholar saj. Keshto Pal lamented that the pratima silpa is not duly recognized as ‘art’ but relegated to the domain of craft, as determined by the Art College professionals. The ‘carnival’ was hardly impressive. Gopal Sarkar, a reputable shola silpi, regretted the fact that shola-r kaaj has subsided, and superseded by thermocol. Sabekiyana is losing out to the market—for him, the ‘carnival’ was a mere extension and elaboration of the ‘theme’ puja.36 Are there any means of redemption, any fruitful measure by which the Kumartuli heritage could be salvaged? A few silpis like Dilip Pal, Nemai Pal and Jatin Pal believe that a training school was an urgent necessity to retain and preserve the 34 Interviewed

on 5 June 2019. space reserved for installation of the idol and the worship in the old mansions of the gentry in Kolkata. 36 Interviews with Keshto Pal and Gopal Sarkar, 2 May 2019, Kumartuli. 35 The

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hereditary knowledge system in the younger generation who are migrating away to other professions. That, however, is a daunting proposition in the face of disharmony and factionalism existing in the community. The very word kumar, says Dilip Pal, if broken into syllables would read as ku-mor—‘ku’ translated as something that spells evil, which only sums up the faction-ridden community. No homogeneity of opinion was found relating to the rehabilitation plan either. While the elderly silpis who evacuated to the makeshift space at Bagbazar remain convinced that the plan would have given a face-lift to Kumartuli, many younger silpis felt that it is in the hutments and shanties and in the earthy scent of the clay that the true spirit of Kumartuli inheres. Others who stayed back felt marginalized as talks apparently had progressed with only the tenants. Underlying this is a complex land tenement system which is constrained by a three-tier residency of the landowners, tenants and the thikadars. A contested meaning of the settlement may be discerned in this. The emergent narratives thus highlight a fissured hierarchy-ridden community of disempowered groups displaying different forms of subordination. However, unanimity is seen in an outright denouncement of the ‘carnival’. The multiple responses to the market and the changing aesthetics are mixed—protest tempered with negotiation and even conciliation, which creates an ambivalent uneasy terrain. The definition of ‘art’ is stretched in multiple directions. For some, ‘art’ is divorced from mritsilpa; for others, the very relegation of mritsilpa to craft or artisanship brings remorse. Sunil Pal, a successful silpi whose models are sold at premium prices, believes ‘art’ to reside in concentration and dedication of the maker towards his creation—je mon diye thakur godchhe, setai art.37 Kumartuli, Sunil Pal adds, imparts only practical, ‘necessary’ knowledge via the shopkeeper/dokandar who is conflated with the idol maker. On the contrary, the Government Art College delivers systematic, well-planned, ‘scientific’ training. In the age of the ‘theme’, the emphasis may be on speed and alacrity in the making of idols; these do not impede artistic quality. Instead ‘art’ shows considerable improvement. ‘Art’ thus lies entangled with different values and at times, contested. These debates seemingly have no bearing on the proclivity seen in the periphery which still spawns multitudes of durga pratimas in those three months of the year. This elides any stereotyping and presents a veritable reserve of creativity. While this by itself demands an in-depth study,38 I only touch upon the different iconographic forms in circulation, which has been an outcome of a few field visits in 2019 in the pre-puja season when Kumartuli was brimming with activity. The sabeki dobhashi Bangla thakur remains the iconic form of the Baghbazar sarbojanin and the Sovabazar Rajbari. The unchanging face of the goddess is retained through the die that is preserved over generations by families who were entrusted with the task of making the idol from the beginning. The Bangla thakur continues to be made, otherwise, by the different families or gharanas, the stylistic differences appear in Chokh dewa or 37 Interview

with Sunil Pal, 5 June 2019. (2001) lucidly delineates an evolution of the iconographic forms, tracing this from the genesis of Kumartuli as a potter’s hub.

38 Agnihotri

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the dramatic elongation of the eyes, in the roundness of the face, in the painting of the lips or in the sharpness of the nose and the making of the chin. The die for each style remains unchanging. Catering to the many barir puja or household worship, these ‘liberties’ are only taken by the silpi within the strict conformity of measurements, as textually prescribed. The Kumartuli ‘normal thakur’, as it is locally described, is a form resembling the Arter thakur in which the goddess has matted hair. There are still other forms which conform to neither where the goddess possesses a more humanized face emanating an earthly gaze in place of devi bhava. Such an efflorescence of cultural forms constitutes the kernel of Kumartuli. Driven by some form of subsistence economy and an inherited, sustaining creative urge the pratimasilpis continue to churn out these forms, languishing in the margins of the glaring light of the ‘carnival’. The interviews draw out situations of crises facing the pratimasilpis stemming from impending uncertainties of work force, rising costs of raw material and a fluctuating market. A standard punctiliousness, honour and esteem which make up a hereditary tradition such as the pratimasilpa propel the deliverance of the order amidst all adversities common to a market economy. The ‘network of alliances’ is severed with the larger kin groups and the sahakari(s) disrupting ‘the heritage of commitments’. The symbolic capital thus lies estranged from the economic capital, in ways which Bourdieu may not have foreseen. Yet much of their cultural goods are sourced by the market and transformed into consumable commodities, as is experienced in the ‘carnival’. Tattered and vulnerable at the edge, the pratimasilpis fail, or choose not to relent to an overwhelming corporatization that promotes these public events. The relationship between the two is at best paradoxical and lie entrenched in indissoluble contradictions. These complexities are inexplicable by any purported logic of absolute appropriation.

9.6 Where Do We Locate the Heritage of Kumartuli? Bid for the UNESCO Intangible Heritage In March 2019, the Ministry of Culture, Government of India, through the Sangeet Natak Academy, New Delhi, made a bid to the United Nations Educational Social and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) for the listing of Durga Puja of Kolkata as an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity in 2020. The elaborate dossier of the bid is reflective of a vast cross-section of groups who are parties to it—traditional families, Durga Puja committees and clubs, a forum for Durgotsav which is an association organizing community pujas, peoples’ representatives who are associated with the festival, various departments and wings of the Government of West Bengal, cohorts of artists, designers, artisans and craft persons, print, television media and corporate firms, commercial industries and citizen’s groups and volunteers. The representation is suggestive of the wide vista of cultural idioms that constituted the register. Public Art and Design with its focus on ‘spectacular public art installations, displays

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and street tableau’ as a means to ‘transform the entire city into a place of mass touring and viewing’ is prominently featured in ‘The Identification and Definition of the Element’. The ‘dynamism’ of Durga Puja is claimed in ‘it being a constantly mutating event, in its fusion of tradition with changing tastes and popular culture’. The corporate sponsors are lauded for their efforts in promoting the importance of a ‘global branding’ for the puja. The mritsilpis of Kumartuli are mentioned as one of the groups to be safeguarded through preservation of the hereditary skill. Ancillary professions involved with works of shola-pith also featured as items of preservation of traditional art forms and practices. The post-festival preservation of images and installations was suggested for ‘greatly enhancing ‘the quality of public art in the city’. Clearly public art of Durga Puja has been flagged off as the premium intangible heritage worthy of a global branding and promotional events like the ‘carnival’ fit into the schema. Widely publicized in the media, the news of the UNESCO bid failed to lift the pall of gloom overhanging Kumartuli. Sajsilpi Keshto Pal and many of his peers refuse to believe that the hub will be rescued from the throes of despair. Following Smith (2006), I argue that the bid is representative of a notion of heritage, best known as the ‘Authorized Heritage Discourse’ (AHD). Dealing with archaeological objects and sites, the AHD relies on technical experts—architects and archaeologists alike—who claim absolute control over the knowledge system while the practice is institutionalized in state cultural agencies and associated bodies. As one of the consequences of this, legitimate spokespersons for the past are defined. The current generation represented by ‘experts’ and ‘specialists’ are viewed as inheriting heritage and becoming caretakers of the past. Heritage is also an identity-maker in this discourse, affiliated with a class association and invoking elite, social values. Heritage under AHD has been conceived as a discrete site, object or structure, with identifiable boundaries which can be mapped, recorded and placed on national and international registers. This amounts to becoming the subject of ‘passive’ gaze of the public, who continue to consume, uncritically a constructed heritage. The heritage of Kumartuli is thus an uneasy terrain caught in many cross currents. It remains to be seen for how long the subsistence-driven economy of the pratimasilpis is able to sustain itself or if new regenerative forces are envisioned for the future which will refurbish the resplendent forms of the goddess. Acknowledgements I remain immensely grateful to Soumen Pal, Samir Das and Soumik Nandy Majumdar for their help and advice at different stages of writing the paper. I thank Roma Chatterjee and Trina Nileena Banerjee for their comments on an earlier draft of the paper. All transcribing of the interviews has been done by Samir Das and me. I am solely responsible for any lapses.

References Agnihotri, Anita. 2001. Kolkatar Pratimasilpira (The Pratimasilpis of Kolkata). Kolkata: Ananda Publishers Private Limited.

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Appadurai, Arjun and Carol A. Breckenridge. 1988. Why public culture. Public Culture 1 (1): 5–9. Appadurai, Arjun. 2005. Here and now. In Modernity at Large: Cultural Dimensions of Globalization, ed. Arjun Appadurai, 1–23. Minneapolis, London: University of Minnesota press. Appadurai, Arjun. 2006. The thing itself. Public Culture 18 (1): 15–21. Appadurai, Arjun, and Carol A. Breckenridge. 1995. Public modernity in India. In Consuming modernity: Public culture in a South Asian world, ed. Carol A. Breckenridge, 1–20. Minneapolis/London: University of Minnesota Press. Bakhtin, Mikhail. 1984. Rabelais and his World. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Baxandall, M. 1991. Exhibiting intention: Some preconditions of the visual display of culturally purposeful objects. In Exhibiting cultures: The poetics and politics of museum display, ed. Ivan Karp and Steven D. Lavine, 33–41. Washington: Smithsonian University Press. Bourdieu, Pierre. 1977. Structures, habitus, power: Basis for a theory of symbolic power. In The outline of a theory of practice, ed. Pierre Bourdieu, 159–197. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. De Certeau, Michel. 1988. Part II. Spatial Practices: Chapter VII Walking in the city. In The Practice of Everyday Life, Michel de Certeau, 91–110. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press. Freitag, Sandria B., ed. 1989. Culture and power in Benaras: Community performance and environment, 1800–1980. Berkeley: University of California Press. Ghosh, Anjan. 2009–10. Contested spaces: Puja and its publics in Calcutta. CSSSC, Occasional Paper No. 178. Calcutta: Centre for Studies in Social Sciences. Guha, Ranajit. 1983. Elementary consciousness of peasant insurgency in colonial India. Delhi: Oxford University Press. Guha-Thakurta, Tapati. 2015. In the name of the goddess: The Durga Pujas of contemporary Kolkata. Delhi: Primus Books. Guha-Thakurta, Tapati. 2016. Demands and dilemmas of Durga Puja “Art”: Notes on a contemporary festival aesthetic. In The bloomsbury research handbook of Indian aesthetics and philosophy of art, ed. Arindam Chakrabarti, 317–352. London and New York: Bloomsbury Academic. Kaviraj, Sudipta. 2000. Filth and the public sphere: Concepts and practices about space in Calcutta. Public Culture 10 (1): 83–113. Lefebvre, Henri. 1991. The production of Space. Oxford, UK and Cambridge, Massachussets, USA: Blackwell. Mbembe, Achille. 2001. On the postcolony. Berkeley, Los Angeles and London: University of California Press. Nora, P. 1989. Between memory and history: Les Lieux de Mémoire. Representations 26: 7–24. Sinha, Kaliprasanna. 2008. The observant Owl Hootum’s vignettes of nineteenth century Calcutta. Trans. Swarup Roy. New Delhi: Permanent Black. Smith, Laura-Jane. 2006. Uses of heritage. Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge. Taylor, Diana. 2003. The archive and the repertoire: Performing cultural memory in the Americas. Durham and London: Duke University Press.

Glossary

Abhaya Assurance usually given by the Goddess Adhibas (Adhiv¯asa) Literally meaning the act of taking refuge. This is a ritual associated with the ceremonial awakening of the goddess on the sixth day of the festival when she is invoked to descend on earth and bless the worshipper. She is invoked to rest on the branch of the holy bel tree at the foot of which an earthen vessel is kept filled with holy water. This is supposed to mark her spiritual presence Adi-Ganga The old course of the river Ganges flowing through the city of Calcutta (now Kolkata) Agomoni Songs The specific Bengali songs that were composed during 18th and 19th century Bengal based on the narrative of home-coming of Parvati or Uma that resonate with the ethos of Durga Puja Agroho Interest, initiative Akal-Bodhan Untimely invocation of the goddess Arter Thakur The specific stylization of clay model of Goddess Durga that followed Western academic realism Asur (Asura) Demon Atmapuja An act of worshipping the self Aturghar Birth place Babu Upper-class gentlefolk Babri-chul Shoulder-length male hairstyle—popular in 19th century Bengal Babus The Bengali nouveau riche who emerged in 19th century Bengal Bali-mati A type of clay with greater proportion of sand Bangal People from erstwhile East Pakistan settled mainly in West Bengal (India) after Partition (1947) Bangla Chaler Thakur The traditional form of Goddess Durga with her family against a single backdrop or chal where her vahana is the horse-faced lion or Ghoramukhi Singha

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021 S. K. Das et al. (eds.), The Making of Goddess Durga in Bengal: Art, Heritage and the Public, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-0263-4

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Baroiyari Puja The Durga Puja that was initiated by twelve friends at Guptipara in Hooghly district in late 18th century where Baro means twelve and yaar means friend Basanta Spring Bel tree Aegle Marmelos Also known as Bengal Quince/Japanese Bitter Orange/Wood Apple etc. Benarasi Finely woven silk with zari (gold and silver brocade). Bhadralok Literally meaning gentlefolk the term has its roots in the nouveau riche of 19th century Bengal. It is now generally used to denote the upper-caste elites of Bengal Bhaskar Sculptor Bijaya Songs The specific Bengali songs that were composed during 18th and 19th century Bengal based on the narrative of return of Parvati or Uma from her parental house to the abode of Kailasha Birastami Puja Birastami Puja used to be celebrated during the eighth day in the auspicious fortnight of Devipaksha that is the fortnight during which the worship of Goddess Durga took place. This kind of festival was arranged by the Swadeshi or Nationalist leaders to celebrate the ‘inner strength’ of the young Bengalis Bonedi A word to denote aristocracy Bonedi Barir Puja Puja that is held in the rich Bengali Zamindar (landlord) households Basati Settlement Bisarjan Process of ritual immersion Bustee Slum Byabshayi Businessman Chakshudan (Caks.ud¯ana) The ceremonial drawing of the eyes of the idol usually done as the final part of idol making Chhototaraf This is a colloquial expression used for a family belonging to the traditional landed gentry of Bengal. The section that hails from the younger scion is defined thus Chal or Chali (C¯ala/C¯ali) The stele that formed the backdrop to the clay idol of Goddess Durga Chalchitra (C¯alacitra) A painted backdrop used in the clay idol tableaux commonly semi-circular in shape Chamunda (C¯amun.d.a¯ ) Also known as Chamundeshwari Chamundi, she is a fearsome form of Chandi or Durga Chandi (Can.d.¯ı) One of the several names of Durga Chandika (Can.d.ik¯a) See chandi Charanamrita (Caran.a¯ mr.ta) Literally meaning nectar from the deity’s feet. This is the holy water which is given to the devotees in small portions or sprinkled on them as blessings of the Almighty Chhobiana This is a more recent variant in the making of Goddess Durga where her look becomes more humanized and often resembles popular film heroines. The term Chhobiana is derived from the term Chhobi, here meaning films or movies Chokh Eyes

Glossary

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Chouka-thutni Square chin Damaru A small hand-held two-headed drum Deshachar Rites, customs and practices, etc., that lie outside the prescriptions of canonical texts, but are accepted insofar as they are meant to respond to the requirements of any specific social context or of a region Deshapriyo A patriotic title meaning ‘the beloved of the Nation ’ Devi bhava A celestial mood that the idol of the goddess exudes Dhyana Primarily an act of meditation involving internal process of visualization Dobhasi (Dobh¯as.¯ı) The later development in clay idol of Durga that took place in the pujas of the Zamindari households which is different in its rendition from that of Khas-bangla. The Goddess became more humanized in its formal attributes Durga Puja (Durg¯aPuj¯ ¯ a) Worship of the Goddess Durga Ekchala Single frame or backdrop Ekchala Pratima The traditional form of Goddess Durga with her family against a single backdrop or chal Entel-mati A type of clay with certain stickiness to it Epar Bangla The western part of undivided Bengal came to be known as Epar Bangla, or this side of Bengal, after Bengal was partitioned in 1947 Falgun-Chaitra Months in the Bengali calendar corresponding to the months of February–March Garjan-tel (Garjan-tel) A type of shining oil applied to the idols . Gham Tel This is a synthetic varnish that is applied to the idol in the final stage of making to enhance the lustre. Ghar (Ghar) In the context of Kumartuli this term otherwise meaning a room or a place of dwelling in colloquial Bengali, designates the studio-cum-dwelling place of the idol makers, their family members, helping artisans and assistants Gharami (Ghar¯ami) The makers of the pandal are so named Ghoramukhi (Ghod.a¯ -mukh¯ı) Horse-faced Ghoti People of Western part of divided Bengal. Gol-gol-haat pa Rounded limbs, a Bengali marker of female beauty Gusthi (Gus..thi) Lineage of kinship, joint family Grahacharya The term used to denote the community of astrologers Haat Hand Half-patel (H¯aph-py¯a.tel) A term used in the craft of idol making which denotes a certain stage in training Handi paatil, shora, khuri Clay utensils of different shapes and uses Holi A Spring festival of colours celebrated in February/March in honour of Lord Krishna, the Hindu God Jogaandeowa (Jog¯andeoy¯a) To assist Kali (K¯al¯ı) The Hindu Goddess associated with death time and doomsday Kangali Bhojan Feeding the poor with the objective of propitiating Gods and Goddesses and doing charity to the people in need Karigar (K¯arigara) Trainee craftsman Karkhana Workshop

232

Glossary

Katham (K¯a.th¯am) The bamboo frame of the idol that is bound by dry straw serving as the foundation of the idol. Khadi A home spun cotton cloth that Gandhi made famous during India’s struggle for freedom, a sign of self-reliance Khar (Khad.) Dried Straw Khas-Bangla (Kh¯asB¯aml¯ ˙ a) The earliest prototype of Durga idol that was prevalent in Bengal Khemta nach A kind of popular raucous dance form in West Bengal which was typical to 19th century Calcutta and performed to please the audience through mythological allusions Koka-mukha Dog Faced Kangsha Narayani (KamsaN¯ ˙ ar¯anan.¯ı) This refers to a distinct style of clay idol tableaux of Durga. The legends associate this with King Kangsha Narayan of Taherpur who is believed to have initiated Durga Puja in 1580 CE Kuber The god of wealth Kumari Puja This is the worship of a virgin girl who has not yet attained puberty on the eighth day of the puja, following the proceedings of the day when all forms of the goddess are worshipped. The core belief behind this practice is that the essence of Devi or the true feminine power that rules the earth lies in the prepubescent virgin girl. It is held with much pomp and ceremony at Belur Math, the headquarters of Ramkrishna Math and Mission in West Bengal, although not unknown in a few traditional households of Kolkata and its suburbs Kumar (Kum¯ara) A term used to denote the traditional community of potters Kumbhakar See Kumar Maati Processed clay used for making idols Magna Mater Deium Great Mother of all Gods Maha Ashtami The eight day of the festival Maha Dashami The tenth day of the festival when it is rounded up with immersion of the goddess Maha Navami The ninth day of the festival Maha Saptami/Saptami The seventh day of the festival Maha Shashti/Shashti The sixth day of the festival Mahamaya (Mah¯am¯ay¯a) One of the many names of Durga considered as the embodiment of all magical powers Mahisasur (Mahis.a¯ sura) The buffalo demon slain by Goddess Durga Mahisasurmardini (Mahis.a¯ suramardin¯ı) The goddess in her incarnation as the slayer of the buffalo demon Malik Owner of a workshop who is often also the master craftsman. Mata Literally meaning Mother, a call of reverence Memsaheb A Hindi word coined and used across India to define fair skinned beautiful women of European origin Mrit-pratima Clay idols Mritsilpi (Mr.t´silp¯ı) Clay modellers of idols /dolls Murti Clay idol

Glossary

233

Nabapatrika (Navapatrik¯a) This refers to an assemblage of nine (naba) plants (patrika) brought together as part of a sacred plant invocation ceremony on the sixth day of the festival. These are—rambha/kadali or banana, Pandanus Amaryllifolius ; kochu or elephant foot yam, Amorphophallus paeoniifoius ; haridra or turmeric, Curcuma longu ; Jayanti, Sesbania sesban ; darim or pomegranate, Punica granatum ; ashok, Saraca asoca ; man, Araceae ; dhanya or paddy, Oryza sativa ; and bel, Aegle Marmelos. Nabapatrika is associated with Naba Durga or the nine forms of Durga. However, Ray Bidyanidhi, an authority on pujas and writing almost 100 years ago had questioned the meaning supposedly laden in Nabapatrika. His text Puja parban carries an eloquent discussion on Deshachar or the rites, customs and practices, etc., that lie outside the prescriptions of canonical texts. A tradition of worship of these nine plants in Bankura in place of the clay idol of the Pratima is mentioned. As the plants were worshipped in lieu of the Pratima, he suggested that this could have been the root of their association with Nabadurga On the seventh day, the branches of each of them are collected and tied with a creeper. This assemblage is bathed ceremonially in a pond or river, and subsequently returned to the venue of the puja. Draped in a sari (six-yard long, unstitched cloth Bengali Hindu women wear in India) with a streak of vermillion applied to the upper end, this is placed to the right of Durga, adjacent to Ganesha Nagrai-chotii A type of sandal/footwear pointed and curled at the front -especially worn by the wealthy Najor Ability to see or perceive, seeing and perceiving used also as a measure of one’s aesthetic sense Navaratri Navaratri in a pan-Indian festival that continues for nine (nava) nights (ratri) in the autumn celebrating and worshipping Sakti or the feminine energy inhering in the goddess. Held in different parts of India, it coincides with the Durga Puja in Bengal. Although this is the most celebrated, there are altogether three other seasonal Navaratris observed throughout the year Nyakra-dewa (Ny¯akd.a¯ deoy¯a) This is part of the several stages of idol-making when a piece of cloth is used to smoothen the cracks that appear on the body of the idol when the double layers of clay that are already applied start drying up. Opar-Bangla Literally that side of Bengal, a post-Partition term used to define territories of erstwhile East Pakistan/Bangladesh ¯ . er T.h¯akur) The specific stylization of Oriental Arter Thakur (Oriyent.a¯ l Art Goddess Durga that derives references from classical Indian sculptures. Pandal Temporarily designed dwelling structure for the idols which has become the focus for decoration and splendour particularly in the ‘Theme’ pujas Pan-pata Betel leaf Para Neighbourhood/locality Parna Leaf Pat A canvas with a painting on it. Patua (Pat.uy¯a) A person who paints pat and usually belongs to the village painter community.

234

Glossary

Pitritarpan On Mahalaya the day before the divine fortnight, men offer tribute to their ancestors and forefathers, standing waist-deep in water and chanting propitiatory mantras (holy hymns) from the holy scriptures, facing the early morning sun Poa (Poy¯a) A unit of measure equalling to 4 ½ in. Poisha Money literally coins Porichiti Recognition Pranpratishtha (Pr¯an.pratis..tha) This is the ceremonial invocation of the goddess on the Seventh day of the festival when subsequent to the bathing of the Nabapatrika and the ritual bathing of the goddess the clay idol is invested with divine spirit (pran) Prasad This is a devotional offering made to the deity usually consisting of food items and water, which are later distributed among the devotees Pratima (Pratim¯a) Idol Pratimasilpa (Pratim¯as´ilpa) Art of idol making Pratimasilpi (Pratim¯as´ilp¯ı) Idol makers who make clay idols for worship usually belonging to the occupational caste of Kumbhakars Puja (Puj¯a) Worship RathayatraThe annual car festival of Lord Jagannath in which the idols of the sibling trio—Jagannath, Subhadra and Balaram—are carried in a Chariot or Ratha Riti Style Ritu Season Rong Matir Panchali Rhyme of colour and clay ´ aj´silp¯ı) Those who specialize in the making of jewellery and embellishSajsilpi (S¯ ments of the Goddess Sabeki Traditional Sabekiyana Tradition there is also a sense of artificiality in the enactment and revival of tradition Sabha A gathering of people or meeting. Sahakari (Sahak¯ari) The trainee craftsman who assists an assistant ´ This is the female principle of divine energy assuming significance Sakti (Sakti) when worshipped as the supreme deity. Samiti During the nationalist movement this term was used to refer to an organization conducting various nationalist activities. In common parlance, it means a committee with the difference that many samitis were of impromptu nature and not organized at all Sandhi Puja (Sandhi Puj¯ ¯ a) This ritual is so called as it takes place at the juncture (sandhi) of Day Eight and Day Nine of the festival. Going by the Mahisasur myth this is the time of encounter between Durga and two generals of the demon. In a fierce fit of rage, she is believed to have chopped their heads off. This moment is celebrated every year when Durga is worshipped as Camunda, the destroyer of Canda and Munda, the two generals ´ antijala) Holy water usually from the Ganges used to purify a space/place Santijal (S¯ and also sprinkled on devotees for sanctification

Glossary

235

Sara Earthen platters often painted with the image of Goddess of wealth (Lakshmi) and worshipped widely in Bengal Sharata Early autumn that comprises the months of September and October Sarbojanin For the masses Sarbojanin Puja The puja that involves the participation of people from every sphere of the society Sharodotsav Annual festival of worshipping Goddess Durga during autumn or SharataKaal ´ . a¯ nabi´s) An apprentice or trainee Shikshanabish (Siks ´ ı) Master idol maker Silpi (Silp¯ Shola-pith A dried milky-white spongy plant Aeschynomene used as a traditional raw material to make objects of art Shong Clown/masque Sutradhar (Sutradh¯ ¯ ara) Term used to denote traditional community of carpenters Swarnakars The Bengali goldsmiths Tana-tana Stretched or elongated used mostly to refer to the beauty of the eyes Thaakurdalan A spacious architectural space inside the residence of a wealthy landed family used for daily religious worship of family deities and observing annual religious festivals like the Durga Puja Thakur Clay idol of Gods and Goddesses which are worshipped Thikadar Leaseholder contractor Tikolo-naak Sharp pointed aquiline nose Utsava Festival Vahana A vehicle or mount Veena A stringed musical instrument popular in the Indian subcontinent Bisespuja (Vi´ses.apuj¯ ¯ a) Special worship Zamindar Landowner who usually leases his land to tenant farmers, referring to the aristocracy existing till early 1950s in Bengal

Index

A Academic realism, 87, 88, 96, 106, 109 Aesthetic/s, 5, 13, 25, 29, 39, 40, 44, 46, 48– 52, 54, 56–58, 61, 62, 68, 71, 88, 96, 97, 106, 137, 141, 142, 150, 157, 159, 161, 166, 168, 173, 181, 182, 184– 187, 190, 198, 201, 207, 220–222, 224 Appropriation, 25, 26, 30, 106, 136, 138, 191, 203, 204, 216, 225 Aristocratic, 15, 22, 47, 49, 55, 71, 92, 95, 133, 159, 162 Art, 1, 4–7, 10, 12–16, 19, 24, 26, 29–31, 40, 41, 45–51, 53, 54, 58, 65, 73, 87, 88, 94–98, 100, 105, 106, 109, 110, 115, 118, 120, 123–125, 131, 133, 137– 139, 143, 146–151, 155–158, 164– 166, 168, 169, 173–176, 178, 181– 196, 198, 201, 203, 204, 206–208, 211, 214–226 Arter Thakur, 98, 99, 159, 160, 225 Art industry, 143 Artisan/artisanal, 8, 9, 23, 24, 27, 28, 37–41, 43, 45, 48–56, 69, 87, 93, 97, 113, 114, 122, 124, 156, 158–160, 164, 167, 173, 178, 190, 192, 193, 204, 210, 216–218, 225 Artistic labour, 114, 117 Artists, 4, 5, 8, 13, 15, 16, 22, 31, 40, 49, 87, 95–99, 105–111, 120, 122–124, 126, 127, 135, 137, 140–142, 145, 146, 148, 149, 159–162, 165, 166, 169, 174, 179, 181, 186–188, 191, 192, 195–197, 203, 204, 206, 208, 216–219, 223, 225

Asian Paints, 17, 203, 204, 207, 208, 214, 218 Authorized Heritage Discourse, 5, 30, 226

B Bangla Chaler Thakur, 98, 99, 159 Bangladeshi diaspora, 61 Bangla language, 75, 78, 79 Baroiyari, 15, 18, 20, 21, 45, 92, 93, 102, 103, 105, 110, 155, 166, 167, 176, 177, 186, 206, 221 Battle of Plassey (1757), 9, 16, 20, 164 Bengali, 1–3, 6, 8, 11, 13, 19, 21, 27, 45, 51, 52, 56, 61–65, 67–69, 71, 73–79, 86, 87, 90–94, 101, 105, 109, 110, 125, 131, 132, 135, 138, 142, 144, 155– 157, 159, 161, 164, 169, 174, 177, 178, 180, 205 Bengali culture, 61, 62, 75, 76 Bengali diaspora, 61–63, 75, 78, 79, 132 Bengali New Year, 70, 206, 208 Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), 18, 19 Bonedi Barir Pujo, 87, 91, 94, 141, 159

C Carnival, 5, 29, 31, 173, 183–185, 198–201, 203–209, 214–216, 221–226 Caste, 7–9, 21–25, 28, 30, 39, 41–43, 45, 48, 50, 93, 94, 109, 113, 114, 117, 119, 121, 125, 126, 139, 173–176, 178–180, 184 Caste and kin network, 225 Caste based knowledge, 121 Caste capital, 8, 25, 121

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2021 S. K. Das et al. (eds.), The Making of Goddess Durga in Bengal: Art, Heritage and the Public, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-16-0263-4

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238 Caste cluster, 114, 121 Caste formation, 21, 23 Cityscapes, 1, 7, 8, 11, 12, 30, 206 Clay idol, 2, 8, 11, 41, 44, 86, 87, 90, 92, 110, 131, 132, 135, 138–141, 155, 156, 158, 159, 165, 166, 168, 174, 181, 192, 214, 222 Colonial, 3, 8–10, 13, 14, 16, 21, 25, 37, 38, 40–42, 44, 45, 48, 50, 51, 54, 55, 86– 90, 92, 94–97, 100–105, 113, 119, 131, 132, 142, 160, 162, 167, 169, 176, 177 Community, 1, 4, 5, 7, 11, 12, 14–16, 20, 21, 30, 39, 41, 44, 45, 47, 49, 50, 55, 57, 61, 62, 64, 65, 67–69, 71–79, 86, 88, 90–92, 97, 101–103, 113, 114, 117–119, 121, 122, 126, 127, 132, 133, 135, 136, 139, 140, 143, 146, 155, 160, 164, 165, 174–176, 178– 180, 203, 204, 206, 215, 218–221, 224, 225 Community feeling, 72 Consumption, 5, 6, 43–45, 47, 50, 54, 118, 174, 176, 184, 185, 201, 204, 215 Contest, 18, 96, 104, 111, 134, 150, 183, 203, 204, 215–217, 220 Corporate Puja/s, 17 Corporatization, 17, 123, 203, 204, 207, 208, 225 Cosmopolitan, 17, 40, 47, 52, 66, 214 COVID-19, 27 Craft, 5, 23, 24, 29, 39, 40, 45–51, 55–58, 99, 113, 116, 117, 119, 122, 124–126, 143, 165, 173, 175, 183–186, 189, 192, 201, 215, 223–225 Craftsman, 37–39, 48–52, 54, 55, 95, 110, 113–115, 119, 122, 124, 184, 186, 192, 217 Credential, 118 Creocraft, 203, 204, 206, 209, 214 Cultural consumption, 47, 57, 185 Cultural nostalgia, 38, 40, 43, 47, 48, 52 Cultural tourism, 37–40, 57, 58 D Designer, 4, 31, 174, 184, 196, 203, 204, 206, 208, 217, 218, 225 Diaspora, 3, 12, 61, 62, 65, 66, 68–70, 74, 78 E Eid al-Adha, 76–78

Index Ethnography, 23–25, 30, 85, 180, 185, 188, 196, 198 Evolution, 3, 19, 30, 86, 91, 131, 133, 136, 140, 155, 191 Exhibition, 5, 12, 29, 30, 40, 48–51, 88, 95– 97, 119, 146–149, 176, 200, 203, 204, 206, 209, 210, 214, 215, 219, 222, 223 Exhibitionary complex, 46, 48 F Fibre models, 222 G Genealogy, 1, 7, 8, 13, 19, 20, 30, 44, 45, 206 Glasgow, 12, 13, 30, 61–79, 148 Globalization, 12, 40, 218 Governance, 29, 140, 173, 184, 197, 198, 201 Government College of Art and Craft, 15, 206, 214 H Heredity/Hereditary, 3, 5, 7, 24, 31, 41, 51, 114, 174, 182, 188, 191, 215, 221, 224–226 Heritage, 1, 4–8, 11, 12, 14, 21, 24, 25, 28– 31, 40, 46–48, 50–53, 56, 67, 71, 73, 77–79, 113, 114, 125–127, 173–176, 182–185, 187–190, 201, 203, 204, 214, 220, 223, 225, 226 Heritage minorities, 175 Heterotopia/heterotopic, 182, 183 Household, 3, 4, 14, 20, 41, 44, 45, 71, 86, 87, 90, 92–95, 114, 118–120, 126, 133, 141–143, 145, 150, 156–159, 162, 163, 167, 169, 177, 187, 190, 193, 214, 225 Hub, 8, 11, 12, 24, 155, 156, 180, 193, 204, 210, 214, 219–221, 224, 226 I Icon, 2, 37, 38, 51, 52, 85, 86, 88, 100, 101, 110, 111, 148, 218 Iconography, 1, 8, 26, 27, 30, 39, 48, 55, 87, 89, 91, 123, 133, 134, 136, 137, 142, 157, 158, 160, 162, 169 Iconometry, 27, 160 Identity, 1, 5–7, 21, 23, 37, 39, 44, 45, 47, 49, 50, 61, 65, 71, 75–79, 86, 93, 100,

Index 101, 104, 121, 124, 126, 127, 134, 137, 169, 177, 198, 217, 226 Ideology, 87, 88, 97, 103–105, 167 Idol, 1, 4–7, 10–14, 16, 18, 21–31, 45, 48–50, 53–56, 85–92, 94, 96, 98–100, 106– 111, 113–115, 117–123, 125, 126, 131–136, 138–142, 155–160, 162, 163, 165–169, 173–179, 182, 183, 185–197, 199, 201, 208, 211–215, 218–224 Idol makers, 1, 3, 4, 7, 8, 10, 12–14, 16, 21– 27, 30, 110, 113, 114, 116–120, 122– 127, 131, 132, 137, 155, 157, 158, 160–164, 166, 168, 181, 182, 184, 188, 189, 191–193, 195, 196, 204, 205, 207–210, 213, 214, 218, 219, 221, 223, 224 Image tableau, 140 Imagination, 37, 48, 55, 57, 100, 104, 106, 119, 134, 135, 138, 142, 149, 159, 169, 179, 182 Immersion, 3, 5, 44, 70–72, 77, 92, 131–133, 183, 187, 195, 197–201 Imperialism, 103, 106, 160, 168 Innovation, 1, 8, 17, 26, 27, 39, 48, 79, 122–124, 126 Installation, 4, 5, 12, 25, 30, 46–48, 178, 184, 203, 204, 208–211, 213–215, 223, 225, 226 Islam, 61, 62, 77, 78, 89

K Karigar, 114–117, 120, 125, 193, 194, 218 Kitsch, 68, 168 Krishnachandra, 13, 20, 44, 89, 132, 157 Krishnanagar, 10, 13, 16, 20, 22, 23, 27, 44, 87, 89, 90, 95, 96, 118, 119, 126, 133, 145, 147, 157, 158, 160, 164, 166, 180, 190, 196, 220 Kumar, 22, 65, 89, 119, 157, 182, 224 Kumbhakar, 7–9, 14, 21–23, 25, 28, 30, 31, 42, 43, 113, 114, 117–119, 121, 139, 143, 157, 173–175, 184, 201

L Lineage, 14, 30, 48, 66, 87, 94, 109, 113, 117–119, 121, 193, 218, 220 Living tradition, 51, 118, 133, 143, 156, 158 Local club, 120

239 M Mannerism, 93, 161 Markendeya Purana, 188 Material culture, 131 Media, 18, 39, 40, 46, 48, 50, 52, 53, 55, 123, 180, 205, 206, 218, 225, 226 Memory, 6, 8, 11, 61, 76, 110, 180, 196, 215 Migrant colony, 37, 38 Migration, 22, 23, 39, 44, 79, 95, 136, 155, 160 Milieu/mi-lieu, 133, 160, 166, 169, 184, 188, 215 Modernity, 25, 37, 38, 45, 46, 48, 50, 57, 98, 168, 205, 218 Myth, 86, 126, 134, 135

N Nation, 16, 28, 29, 51, 76, 85, 86, 93, 100, 101, 104–110, 113 Nationalism, 21, 55, 88, 93, 96, 100, 103, 104, 110, 167 Negotiation, 87, 111, 113, 122–125, 203, 204, 220, 224 Nostalgia, 6, 47, 72, 78

O Oriental Arter Thakur, 88, 97, 106, 107, 168

P Partition, 15, 64, 85, 103, 107, 108, 174, 185 Patronage, 5, 13, 15, 22, 63, 97, 113, 117, 119–121, 131, 137, 143, 157, 158, 169 Political economy, 40, 51, 57, 58 Portrait, 27, 62, 94, 97, 99, 100, 133, 134, 146, 160, 163 Private quarters, 220 Prototype, 13, 93, 132, 136, 144, 146, 150, 192 Public, 1, 3–8, 15, 17–19, 26, 28–31, 37–40, 43–48, 50, 51, 57, 70, 71, 74, 78, 88, 92, 93, 100, 104, 106, 109, 111, 119, 122, 132, 133, 167, 173–177, 180– 187, 189, 191, 197–201, 203–207, 210, 216–220, 225, 226 Public domain, 45, 50, 52 Public space, 12, 13, 25, 45, 56, 106, 177, 183, 197, 198, 203–205, 209, 216 Public sphere, 55, 92, 100, 176, 198

240 Puja committee, 5, 17–19, 61, 62, 64–66, 72, 73, 75, 78, 106, 123, 126, 177, 178, 199, 225 R Repertoire, 13, 29, 100, 113, 163, 174, 215 Ritual, 2, 3, 6, 13, 14, 22, 26, 28, 40, 41, 43–46, 48, 49, 57, 62, 69, 71, 77, 78, 89, 91, 92, 113, 114, 121, 131–138, 156, 158, 162, 163, 174, 176, 178– 180, 189, 193, 195, 196, 198, 199, 205 S Sangeet Natak Academy, 4, 5, 225 Sarbojanin Pujo, 49, 92, 132, 166, 218 Scotland, 62–65, 67–69, 72–78 Secularization, 94, 100 Shologhar (East Pakistan), 22, 23 Singha, Kaliprasanna, 14, 16, 20, 93, 177, 206, 207 Skill, 1, 4–8, 16, 21, 23–26, 29, 31, 46, 49– 54, 114–118, 120, 121, 123, 124, 127, 173, 175, 182, 184, 194, 196, 201, 214–219, 226 Social capital, 114, 116–119, 121 Space, 9, 14, 17, 27, 29, 30, 37–41, 43, 45– 48, 51–54, 56–58, 65, 69, 71, 86, 87, 89, 92, 93, 99, 104, 111, 117–119, 122, 125–127, 133, 159, 160, 162, 166, 168, 178, 182, 192, 193, 197, 198, 205–207, 209, 210, 212, 216, 219–224 Spectacle, 4, 40, 46, 71, 123, 132, 167, 182, 198, 199, 219 Studio, 7, 12, 23–25, 56, 96, 109, 110, 150, 151, 166, 182, 186–190, 192–196, 209, 210, 214, 218, 222

Index Subterranean, 198, 200, 201 Sustainability, 1, 4, 6, 7, 24, 25, 114, 127, 174, 176, 183, 187 Swadeshi movement, 101, 104, 105 Symbolic economy, 37, 39, 40, 58

T Tangible heritage, 1, 4, 8, 207, 225, 226 Technology, 53, 67, 120, 124 Thaakurdalan, 55, 86, 133, 162, 163 Theme-er puja, 189, 191 Tradition, 3, 4, 11–14, 38, 41, 46, 47, 50, 51, 55, 58, 61, 62, 64, 66, 68, 69, 73–75, 77–79, 87, 94, 95, 99, 113, 118, 122, 125–127, 133, 134, 136, 138, 143, 156, 157, 160, 162, 164, 166, 167, 169, 178, 180, 186, 190, 191, 197, 206, 208, 215, 225, 226 Trinamool Congress (TMC), 18 Trope, 37–40, 53, 54, 56, 57

U United Nations Education Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO), 1, 3, 5, 76, 207, 225, 226 Urban renewal, 30, 40, 57, 219

V Visual language, 87, 88, 96, 101, 107, 158

W Workshop, 8, 23, 27, 37, 38, 41, 49, 54, 56, 94, 113, 115, 116, 120, 125, 132, 133, 159–161, 164, 182, 186, 188, 193, 205, 209, 213, 219, 220