An Intangible Asset

The eyes. They look into you. Inside you. Know everything. Not just when you are four years old. Always. Every time. Every year.

The idol-makers of Kumartuli know what Leonardo da Vinci did with La Gioconda. On the first day of Debi Pokkho, the fortnight when Durga is worshipped, the idol-makers give to the Durga idols their eyes, their sight. Chokkhu Daan. And as any art school will teach you, eyes facing forward follow the viewer everywhere. Now that Durga Puja is gaining recognition as the world’s greatest public art installation, this craftsman’s awareness fits in seamlessly.

It would be best to start, like Maria, at the very beginning. Except that the beginning is uncertain, disputed. Did Durga Puja start in the early 16th century, with the zamindars of Malda and Dinajpur? With Raja Kangshanarayan of Taherpur in Nadia, around 1500 CE? With Bhabananda Majumdar of Krishnanagar in 1606? Or with Lakshmikanta Majumdar (founder of the Sabarna Roy Choudhury family) in 1610? The puja organised by Raja Nabakrishna Deb of the Sovabazar Rajbari in 1757 to celebrate the victory of Robert Clive and the East India Company over Siraj-ud-Daula at Plassey, is well documented. There seems to have been a progression from votive ritual to public relations exercise, from adoration of the Mother Goddess to appeasement of the rising temporal power. The clear light of hindsight reveals everything that the Sovabazar puja was not, like others of its ilk. It was not multi-cultural, it was not a celebration of community and unity, and it was not inclusive.

This last factor led to metamorphosis. Legend has it that a few young men who were denied entry to a bonedi puja (a puja in a stately home) started their own puja through crowdfunding. This was a Jagaddhatri Puja in Gooptipara, Hooghly, and the 12 young organisers gave rise to the term barowari, from baro yaar, twelve friends. The year may have been 1790, or even earlier. By 1820, the Gooptipara puja was said to “celebrate the worship… with such splendour” that it “attracted the rich from over a hundred miles” away. Through the 19th century, this model became more common until it evolved into the Sarbojonin Puja, the puja for all. Possibly, the first Sarbojonin Puja was the one organised by the Sanatani Durgotsahini Sabha in 1910 at Balaram Basu Ghat Road. This is now the default model for organising puja. Of course, many families still take great pride and pleasure in organising their family pujas, some of which date back over 200 years. These pujas emphasise tradition, ritual, continuity. Some of these are even open to the general public and offer fascinating insights into history and culture. Over the last 100 years, however, the predominant model of the Durga Puja has been the Sarbojonin Puja. These are not bounded by ritual or by religion. In our own local puja, the two best dancers who perform every year are not Hindus. This is the modern Durga Puja. Inclusive, democratic, forward-looking, and possibly commercial.

Commercial. The universal question, Donde est al dinero? Where is the money? Well, according to a recent study conducted jointly by IIT Kharagpur and St Mary’s University of London, the economy around Durga Puja generates more than Rs 32,000 crore (US$ 3.74 billion, or about 2.58 per cent of West Bengal’s SGDP). The bulk of this is from retail, but entertainment, hospitality, publishing, food and beverages also contribute over and above the basics related to puja, such as pandals, lighting and crafts. It is, of course, fashionable to bemoan this commercialisation and the supposed loss of purity. I, however, heartily support this metamorphosis. Art needs patronage to survive. And make no mistake, Durga Puja now is about art and creativity. Most of the prominent pujas, whether in Kolkata, Mumbai or New Jersey, have famous patrons. The Asian Paints Sharad Samman awards, started in 1985, spurred competition among the pujas. Since then, a slew of other companies has joined the parade. Even the state government started its own Biswa Bangla Sharad Samman in 2013. Over the last 40 years, this competitive spirit has spurred the most amazing flights of fancy, like the nobility commissioning ever more wonderful art during the Renaissance.

What kind of art? When I was growing up, we visited as many pandals as possible and wondered over the idols and the lighting. Gradually, the names of the master craftsmen from Kumartuli, the “neighbourhood of the potters” where the clay idols are created, came to be known and admired—the Pals from Nadia, the Rudrapals from across the River Padma, the Malakars. One pandal this year, by recreating his studio, paid homage to Gopeswar Pal, the artisan/artist who in 1932 first broke away from the ekchala or joint idols. The story goes that a fire broke out in Kumartuli shortly before the puja that year. With time running short, the idols were crafted separately instead of being placed on one frame. The lights were also a wonderment. Done almost exclusively by workmen from Chandannagar, these lighting displays would depict current fads ranging from Shyam Thapa’s legendary bicycle kick goal in 1978 to the earthquake in Kathmandu in 2015.

Now, each year, every pandal that aspires an award is modelled on a holistic theme. One in North Kolkata this year had a polycarbonate dome covering nearly 32,000 square feet, changing colour with the light through the day. Another in the suburbs had performance art with 85 actors, repeated through the day and night. My favourite was a tiny alley completely covered with Bengal’s traditional art, poto chitro, in a mesmerising overload of colour. Durga Puja in Kolkata—indeed, across the world—is the greatest public art installation ever. Sadly, these artworks have a very brief life. For the most part, they are consigned to the waters along with the idol, though some parts may be recycled and used for other pandals in later puja for Lakshmi or Kali. From 2018, some artworks have been preserved and exhibited at two public parks. This year, a new NGO had taken the initiative to publicise this unique art among corporates and expats. Perhaps, we shall soon see annual auctions that will benefit both the artisans and their art.

Puja has traditionally been a time of creativity in other spheres too. The most acclaimed writers publish their works in the Sharodiya issues, the pujo shonkhya. Short stories, essays, poems, travelogues, entire novels have first appeared in Desh, which is the gold standard, and also in the festival editions of all the periodicals. This literary cornucopia with everything from Mani Shankar Mukherjee to Nirendranath Chakraborty and Satyajit Ray, is one of the sweetest flavours of the Bengali’s Durga Puja. The other outpouring is music. Ever since I can remember, pujor gaan, with new albums released on Mahalaya, has been woven into the spirit and nostalgia of the autumn festival. As much as the sonorous voice of Birendra Krishna Bhadra in the half-dark of the Mahalaya dawn, my puja starts with Asha Bhosle and Mohuaye jomeche aaj mou go…

Durga Puja, with UNESCO’s tag as “Intangible Cultural Heritage”, has grown beyond a 5-day Bengali festival to a world event. Its duration now stretches from at least Mahalaya till the grand parade on Red Road two days after Dashami. For Bengalis of my vintage and perhaps for younger generations, too, the essence of Durga Puja remains a strange mingling of the personal and social. Sitting by the window on a puja morning, the faint smell of new clothes blending with incense, voices and gongs and conch shells floating in the autumn air along with RD Burman and Kishore Kumar, faint internal stirrings at the thought of pujor bhog, a couple of pujo shonkhyas ripe with the promise of hours of reading, the anticipation of adda with friends later in the day… these moments are the Bengali’s closest approach to heaven.

celebrationsDurga PujaGopeswar PalpandalsWest Bengal