The five-day spirit of celebration has possessed Kolkata. Dasabhuja (10-handed) Durga and her children have come to her “baper bari” or father’s house. The exquisite sculptures of the goddess, her children and the demon—shining bright in the gorgeous pandals festooned with lights and ringing with laughter—are fashioned in closely packed lanes of the heritage Kumartuli, the potter’s quarter.

With its roots in the early days of the British East India Company, the quarter has thrived for centuries, close to the ghats of River Hoogly, on the fringes of north Kolkata. Durga idols became their chief project when the city launched its first public spectacle of the puja in 1910 in Balaram Basu Ghat in North Kolkata.

Ironically in the quarters where the powerful, demon-slaying female goddess gets shaped into multiple spectacular forms every year, women have found themselves in age-old gender biased roles. Traditionally, men have dominated the potter community of Kumartuli. Women were usually discouraged from entering the commercial studios, except when the exigencies of the business demanded it. In this milieu, over the past decade, a few women have carved a niche for themselves in the art and commerce of sculpting Durga idols. They find a kinship with the figure of the goddess they sculpt, seeing in her a power that must be earned and used in the service of the community.

They find a kinship with the figure of the goddess they sculpt. They find a kinship with the figure of the goddess they sculpt.



Mala Pal, 32, has been able to name the workshop after herself despite working with her older brother, Gobindo Pal and husband Bhanu Rudra Pal. She admits that she required their support to enter and stay in the field. Mala’s father was a regular patriarch and “quite naturally” forbade her from entering the workshop. Her brother knew she had a “knack for pottering round with clay” but it was not until the death of their father in 1985, that Mala got a chance to practice the craft. The business was in dire straits and Gobindo needed extra help. Mala was enthusiastic and wanted to work as a sculptor. Soon she began assisting her brother, made small idols and jewellery. She also helped run the workshop while her brother was away. “I was travelling for a project outside the city and was delayed due to bad weather. An idol had to be finished and delivered to a client. Mala stepped in and executed the work to perfection. It was then that I realised I could rely on her,” recalls Gobindo.

“I had to prove my mettle as a ‘shilpi’ or artist by being invited for artist workshops and winning prizes to be taken seriously by the community,” says Mala. Hard work and dedication over the years won her district and state level prizes along with an opportunity to work with the Crafts Museum in Delhi. Slowly, but surely, more clients began to knock on Mala’s door. But the sculptor’s life wasn’t bereft of challenges. Pressures from the family mounted on Mala after her wedding. Her in-laws wanted her to retire from the workshop and fulfill her duties as a homemaker. But with the help of a supportive brother and husband, she persisted. With a nod to Dasabhuja Durga, she says, “women of power have always balanced a variety of tasks.”

Kakuli Pal, 38, offers a contrary story to the more celebrated women artists. Her community is not too fond of her, muttered imprecations about her work and character follow her around. For starters, Kakuli calls making Durga and other idols her “pesha” or business and not “shilpo” or art. Even her entry into the field is a case of expediency rather than passion for moulding the idols. After the sudden death of her husband in 2003, Kakuli took over the only business she inherited from her dead husband. Until then she was a homemaker, mildly interested in the craft and not allowed to step out of the house. The event, she remembers with equanimity, left her with no choice but to step in the shoes of her husband. “I received help from no one, recruited a few workers and have been collaborating and working with them for the last 14 years.”

She speaks of failures that marked the beginning of her career and how persistence saw her through. “It was my task to execute the Durga idols, finish and send them off to the clients. I first began by managing the hired hands and then slowly learnt the craft on the job. It was hard and I was worried about retaining my clients.” Her idols go to places like Garia Sarkar Bari or Chor Bazaar and are a testimony to her craftsmanship and business acumen. Not unlike the Goddess who was given weapons and thrown into a war, Kakuli intuited her way around the business.

The two women find themselves in the spotlight as the city gears to welcome the goddess. The interest in their work is bringing in tentative acceptance in the potter’s community as well. Mala, the dreamer and go-getter, wants to win the national prize and start her own school. Lately, she has been invited by few cultural shows and NGOs to give lessons in clay moulding. She says, “I want to transition from giving these one-off lessons to starting my own school for women only.” Kakuli on the other hand has a steady eye on her growing business. For the last two years, she has been sending her idols outside the city. “I want to get more orders from outside Kolkata and even Bengal.” The two women and their dreams are a part and parcel of their quotidian. They also want to raise their daughters, send them to school and marry them. Curiously, neither wants their daughters to enter the field and by way of reason they point out the problem ailing the entire community. “It is still a lot of hard work for little pay and advantages.”