Breathing life into clay
Magical hands
Kumartuli, the idolmakers’ quarter in old Kolkata, remains a symbol of continuity of Bengal’s 250-year-old craftsmanship and culture revolving around the annual Durga Puja. Arnab Chakraborty walks back in time to delve into the history of this place.
I embarked upon a journey through the age-old lanes and clay-muddled pathways of Kumartuli that houses hundreds of artisans who design the idols we place in our homes and in puja pandals around the country during Durga Puja. At 8.30 in the morning, I reached Sobha Bazar with a desire to learn more about the traditional techniques craftsmen use to create these clay masterpieces every year.
As I walked, I remembered the history associated with this magical place. The year was 1757 and the defeat of Bengal was followed by the birth of the ancient metropolis of Calcutta. Kumartuli was established here as the East India Company set up separate districts for its workmen. In the late 19th century, however, with the invasion of Burra Bazar, most of the artisans were flushed out and it was then that they started fashioning idols for the mansions of the rich; giving birth to the place we are so familiar today. I was filled with a sense of reverence at kismet’s magic as I stumbled upon the fact that what had once begun as a bane was transformed, a hundred years later, into a place thriving with wonderful artists and their works of art.
It was about 9 am and as I stepped foot onto the birthplace of our familiar gods, a grip of unfamiliar nostalgia hit me. I realised that I was retracing the footsteps of my ancestors who had once gazed with wonder at the chapped hands that shaped clay models for centuries. I was walking through streets that were laid hundreds of years ago. Sure, the lanes are covered with tar now, but that musky scent of river clay took me to a time when this city had not seen metro trains or shopping malls.
Perhaps, I was fortunate, but despite the hectic schedules of those adroit limners, Durga Puja being days away, some were polite enough to lend me some of their time for a little chat. One of them was 69-year-old Ram Chandra Pal, whose family has been creating idols for eight generations.
“First we tie the hay, then we apply coats of enetel mati (a type of river clay which acts as an adhesive) to form the basic shape. After that, we plaster the form using bele mati (another type of river clay), which is followed by painting the idol. The process takes a few days depending upon the size of the idol,” explains Pal.
It was amazing to learn that the birth of such majestic shapes is made possible through the use of the humblest of raw materials — clay and hay — from the paraphernalia of the artisans of Kumartuli. Babui Pal, the 21-year-old nephew of Ram Chandra Pal, has an experience of 10 years in this art form, which proves the fact that learning this craft takes time and patience and hence, an early start is preferred. However, with decreasing profits and increasing prices, this ancient trade is now under threat. It isn’t attracting much talent as the work poses aggressive challenges and pays little in return.
But it’s not that the future for these artisans is grim. Some still get paid well while the others continue working because they love doing what they do. A good example of the latter would be Prabir Das, who entered the profession after his father’s death, but claimed that he did so only because he loves making clay sculptures. “I am the first person in my family ever to have started making idols and I do this only because I love working with clay; it is my passion,” says Das who hails from Nawadeep.
However, Das echoed the common sentiment shared by several other artisans, who have to make do with poor working conditions every year despite continued promises of improvement. “Power cuts are a perennial problem. I don’t know what the new state government will do for us but I hope they do something fast,” he remarks.
After hearing Das’s complaints, reiterated by many others, the initial excitement and wonder I had was marred by a sense of pathos. Nevertheless, the journey had to go on but I needed to lift my spirits and when I stepped inside a particular shop (Mohan Banshi Rudra Pal), I got exactly what I needed. Just one glance at the old school images of Goddess Durga with her captivating eyes and the demon lord bowing before her prowess, a slew of childhood memories were invoked that still connect me to the Kolkata of the bygone era.
As I went exploring the area further, I came across an exquisite display of dexterous workmanship. The idol was different from the traditional ones. It captured a magnificent image of Durga with a sun and its protruding flames in the background. I was then greeted by Bibhas Banerjee, the creator, who explained that it was being made for a theme puja, the new genre of idol making that is slowly becoming popular in the city.
“This profession not just helps me earn my bread and butter, but it is also something that I find spiritually rewarding and artistically enriching,” Banerjee says.
Post a few more theme figurine viewings, including a stunning white one made of fibre glass, it was late afternoon and though the age-old lanes beckoned my vagabond soul, it was time to say goodbye. This small yet eventful journey through the boulevards and streets of the potter quarters of Kolkata was an insight into the 250 years of the colony’s past. Its sights and smells grafted onto my memories, I left Kumartuli, promising to revisit the place where men make gods come to life.
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