Durga Puja in Bengal
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Contents |
History
The British era
Arjun Sengupta, Oct 12, 2024: The Indian Express
As the oppressive heat of the Indian summer gives way to the gentle chill of autumn, Bengal is covered by an air of excitement for it is time for Goddess Durga’s homecoming, celebrated as Durga Puja. As much a religious occasion as an opportunity for frivolous merrymaking, the Puja we see today finds its roots in Bengal’s bygone colonial past. Here is a brief history.
The deeply religious Clive credited God for unbelievable fortune, and wanted to hold a grand ceremony in Calcutta to convey his thanks. The late Nawab, however, had razed the only church in the fledgling city. So in stepped Nabakishan Deb, Clive’s Persian translator and close confidante, who invited the Englishman to his mansion to make offerings to Goddess Durga instead.
Deb’s mansion in Sovabazar, preserved today by West Bengal tourism, still hosts what is known as the “Company Puja”, and often referred to as the first Durga Puja in Calcutta. Although it is one of the oldest Pujas in the city, Sovabazar’s origin story does not pass muster. There is no record of Deb knowing Clive, let alone being a close confidante, prior to 1757. There is also no evidence of the Puja actually taking place in 1757, except for an anonymous painting dated to a later period.
Nonetheless, the story serves as a metaphor for the conditions in which Durga Puja emerged in Calcutta — as a product of the nexus between Bengali zamindars and merchants, and the East India Company.
A status symbol in a churning society
Company rule in Bengal brought a host of social and economic changes, notable among which was the rise of a new class of powerful native collaborators. First in this class were the zamindars, or hereditary landowners. After the decline of the centralised Mughal state, zamindars in Bengal had become increasingly assertive, effectively running their own small fiefdoms. The Company treated them as intermediaries between itself and the native population. The Permanent Settlement Act of 1793 greatly solidified the zamindars’ position.
Then there was the emergent class of rich Bengali merchants, especially in the rapidly-growing urban centre of Calcutta. With Company rule came economic opportunity at a scale not seen before — and some people got very rich, very quickly. Thus emerged big mercantile families such as the Tagores or the Mullicks.
“For the nouveau riche, the products of the East India Company’s trade and their tenurial system, Durga Puja became a grand occasion for the display of wealth and for hobnobbing with the sahibs,” historian Tapan Raychaudhuri wrote in an essay titled ‘Mother of universe, Motherland’.
According to Raychaudhuri, “conspicuous consumption rather than display of bhakti” was the central motif of these festivals. Rival families would compete against each other to host the grandest Puja possible — idols would be adorned with gold, nautch girls would be hired from as far away as Lucknow and Delhi, even the British governor-general would be called as the chief guest. “During Puja … People spent as much time on looking at the images [of the Goddess] as on window-shopping at the establishments in the red-light district,” Raychowdhuri wrote.
In this way, Puja became an occasion to merry-make as much as worship the Goddess.
Puja takes a nationalist turn
By the late 19th century, feelings of nationalism emerged in the Bengali population, especially the educated intelligentsia. Bankim’s Ananda Math was published in 1882. A fictionalised version of the late 18th century Sanyasi Rebellion, the novel popularised the phrase “Bande Mataram” — putting into popular consciousness the imagination of the “nation” as the “mother”.
Goddess Durga, worshipped as “Ma” (or mother) Durga, thus became the ultimate embodiment of the nation, as well as the figure who would act as its saviour from foreign rule. Durga Pujas were suddenly a part of the nascent nationalist project.
This meaning became particularly pronounced after Lord Curzon’s decision to Partition Bengal in 1905. ‘Bande Mataram’ became the battle cry of the ensuing Swadeshi Movement, considered to be the first mass movement of the Indian freedom struggle, and communal festivities became places where collective consciousness and action was forged.
Historian Rachel McDermott wrote about Durga Pujas of the time in Revelry, Rivalry and Longing for the Goddess of Bengal (2011). “Bengali newspapers were full of advertisements for the Poojahs, nothing bideshi [foreign], everything swadeshi [indigenous]: indigenous oils, silks, dhutis, saris, shoes, tea, sugar, and cigarettes with brands named like Vidyasagar, Sri Durga, and Durbar,” she wrote. At the Pujas themselves, British elites were far less welcome than before. “One British officer reported that he had seen an image of Durga where the buffalo demon had been replaced by one of his colleagues,” Raychaudhuri wrote.
In the 1920s, public Pujas began to emerge — from being a festival of wealthy Bengali elites, Puja started to become a festival for everyone. According to McDermott, this was both an outcome of Gandhian rhetoric against untouchability as well the need for Hindu consolidation.
The first sarbojanin, or “universal,” Puja was organised in 1926, in Maniktala in Calcutta. McDermott explained that these were organised “by locality rather than by clique”, and were “open to all”, regardless of birth (caste) or residence. “For the first time, pandals, or temporary temples made out of bamboo or cloth, were constructed in public thoroughfares, alleyways, and cul-de-sacs,” McDermott wrote.
Kolkata
‘Rajbari’ pujos
(Text: Aniruddha Ghosal; Photos: Partha Paul) October 9, 2016:: The Indian Express
Frantic anticipation fills the streets of Kolkata ahead of Durga Puja. Bamboo structures crop up, changing the city’s topography overnight. Advertisements line the streets and pavements spill over with last-minute shoppers. But, all of this is easy to forget when one enters 12, Shib Krishna Daw Lane at Jorasanko, where members of Daw family are going about preparations for their pujo. It is 177 years old.
The Daw family, one of the oldest in Kolkata, doesn’t believe in sarbajanin (community) or parar pujo. In a city where antiquity is a relative concept measured in centuries, and nostalgia is made solid, the Daw family believes that the tradition must continue, virtually unchanged.
The family’s seventh generation patriarch, Ashim Chandra Daw, says, “Financial records found in our offices show that one of the early pujos, about 150 years ago, was celebrated at a total cost of Rs 2,500. Now, the amount has changed exponentially, to almost Rs 2 lakh.” There are other exceptions, too. Ghee has given way to white oil for the bhog, to save cost.
Unlike parar pujos, tradition dictates everything in these households. Families get together and pool in resources. While some old families have a trust, most rely on family members getting together and discussing how much money can be invested. Other pujas look for new themes, but the barir pujas stick to the more traditional Durga idols.
Of utmost significance, however, is the time spent with the family. “We still live in a joint family. We never really see Durga Pujas apart from our own,” says Sayan Sen of the Sen family in Kumartuli. The Sens first moved to Kumartuli in 1840, when they migrated from Dhaka. “People we’ve never met before travel miles to come to our home to witness it, so we’re always expecting guests. Our puja is famous because of our connection with the Ramakrishna Paramhansa,” says Sayan. Late family patriarch, Ganga Prasad Sen, was a kabiraj (ayurvedic doctor) known for being the doctor of Ramakrishna.
Food is an important part of the celebrations. The Sen family focuses on their tradition labda recipe. “Labda is a typical vegetarian bhog dish. We’ve had the same ingredients and recipes passed down from generation to generation,” says 26-year-old Subhashree Sen. The tradition of animal sacrifice, however, was discontinued in the Seventies.
Kaushik Daw, a descendant of another branch of the Daw family, which also lives in Jorasanko, is now in his thirties. Unlike many old families and other branches of his own family, the expenses of the Durga Puja celebrations don’t cripple the family’s finances. The reason, he explains, is that, unlike other old families, their wealth continues to be in the family business.
“While most old families invested in land — our family’s main source of income is the NC Daw Arms and Ammunitions at Esplanade. After the Rent Control Act in Bengal and the abolition of zamindari, many old families were hit badly. Others are fighting long legal battles to get their wealth back, which in turn have bled them dry. We were lucky,” he says.
Nowhere is this more apparent than while talking to 84-year-old Alok Krishna Deb (in pic). Living in a tiny flat at Sovabazar, next to the Sovabazar Rajbari, the octogenarian is the “king” of the Sovabazar family. He leads the charge for the Rs 4,000-crore Shovabazar estate case.
He sits with his grandson, 21-year-old Srinjoy Mitra, and shows him various artefacts belonging to the royal family — from the original deed from the East India Company, giving the family the possession of Sutanuti village, one of the three villages that merged into modern-day Kolkata, to a pocket watch which the royal family in Egypt had gifted the Rajbari when maritime trade between Kolkata and Cairo was at its peak.
“There are about 150 members of the family who come here every year,” says Mitra, “We’re all great friends and, though not particularly religious, this is the time of the year that we get together every year. Today, other pujas focus on things which aren’t really traditional. They focus on things like ‘sindoor khela’. Think about it, if the goddess is coming home for a bit and Dashami is when she departs, how can there be a joyous end to that? When puja ends, our family weeps. That is the real tradition of this puja.”
