It’s that time of the year again, the time when people rush to make purchases, shopping as much as their purse strings can be stretched, making last minute additions to their wardrobe, and when the time finally comes, it’s time for them to show off their regalia, to revel in the spirit of pujo. For many generations, Durga Puja has necessarily been an occasion to bask in the festive light, to enjoy the humdrum of the Pujas spread all over town, to enjoy the sumptuous prasad of the Puja and go pandal-hopping. True, this holds true even till this day. The magnitude and number of Puja committees and their festivities have definitely increased by leaps and bounds, mainly due to large scale mass participation and contribution, and somewhat to the advent of sponsors financing a large chunk of the Puja festivities. However, it would be worthwhile to take into consideration the pathetic plight of those craftsmen, those unsung heores, who give us a reason to celebrate Puja every year, dexterously shaping up the goddess from mud, and lending shape and form to the goddess whose advent is celebrated so ecstatically. The idol-makers, the unsung heroes of the Puja paraphernalia, constitute a vital part of the ‘Puja’ experience, no less than the actual rituals and worship that is offered to the goddess. It is their skilled hands, which so deftly transform a lump of clay into an almost living breathing incarnation of the goddess, so lively and dazzling in its sublime beauty that as a child, I was often led to wonder whether the goddess was really manifest in her four-day incarnation.In Guwahati, there has been a phenomenal growth in both the splendour and size of the Puja, and for the better. However has it brought about a brighter day for the real heroes of the Puja? Well, unfortunately, it remains a hard pill to swallow that even after such massive expansion of the Puja phenomenon, the idol-makers are still confined to their pathetic plight, living in extreme penury and obscurity. Owing to a sharp increase in the prices of raw materials, accompanied by inflation, they have been pushed further into troubled waters. Guwahati’s repertoire of the idol-makers is concentrated mainly in College Hostel Road, Panbazar (Opposite KKH College), Pandu and Lachit Nagar. These idol-making enterprises or ‘shilpalayas’, as they are called, are a family affair of sorts, the fine art being handled down to the younger generations. The root of most of these families, now in their third or fourth generation in Guwahati, can be traced to West Bengal, mainly Cooch Behar. However, even native Asomiya craftsmen have taken up this trade, bringing in their own unique touch to this dying art. However, their plight still remains miserable, and with no assistance being offered to them, this art is in grave danger of losing many skilled workers, many craftsmen whose magical hands lend the Goddess Durga her earthly incarnation during her brief sojourn amongst us.“Our condition is really pathetic, times are really miserable. We do not have proper facilities, and we are on the verge of collapsing.” This was what Chittaranjan Paul, proprietor of Lakshmi Shilpalay of Panbazar had to say when I went to learn more about their art. “We do not enjoy any facilities or help from either the government or from any organization. In addition to that, what hurts us most is that our art form has not been accorded the status of an ‘art’ in the true sense of the term. We do not do this only for money, it’s our legacy, our heritage and we try our level best to keep alive this art. People should come forward and recognise our labour, give us a pat on the back too. I am sure this is not too much to ask. In West Bengal, our counterparts are comparatively well off. The government is providing them with better facilities and financial assistance, and their skills have also been recognised. Asom needs to do the same for us.” Similar was the response of Ratan Kr. Paul, proprietor of New Rupasree Silpalay of Pandu. “See, our vocation is seasonal. That means that although we are overloaded with work before the puja season, for the rest of the year we have to rely on whatever meagre income comes our way to sustain our livelihood. In addition to this, the price of raw materials has shot up considerably, and inflation has further fanned the fire of problems for us. The result is that our children are no longer too interested to inherit this art from us. This is very unfortunate.”Indeed. The younger generation of these families will opt to go for a real ‘profession’. And why not? Though many of the younger generation are still actively getting involved in the trade, learning the subtle nuances and tricks of their art, many are venturing out into hitherto untreaded avenues. With education reaching the doorsteps of every family in this day, the younger generation has nurtured hope to do something ‘better’ than live in penury and obscurity like their fathers and grandfathers. ‘Many of the children, owing to the education they receive, have actually started looking down on the craft, forsaking it for a professional career… they’re not to be blamed, what life can they expect from an art that is slowly dying out’, this was the collective outpouring of the craftsmen with whom I interacted in the course of researching for this article. Indeed, I was astonished to see the plethora of problems they are facing. The art has been pushed into the brink of uncertainty and obscurity, and even more horrifying is the fact that the new generation has not exactly responded to their inheritance with the same enthusiasm and vision, courtesy the sorry state of affairs prevailing in their trade and society.But wait, all hope is not lost. Not at all. While interviewing the artistes, and peeping into their hearts, their workshops, I came across a young lad in his nineteens or twenties, maybe a year older than me. And what followed was a revelation to me, striking a familiar chord in my heart. Popping up the subject before him, I asked him whether he too planned to eschew his inheritance for a more ‘respectable’ career, I was astounded to hear what he said, smiling: “No! No! I know the times are bad, that we are in trouble, that our art is slowly dying out...true. But which art has always treaded a smooth path? What is life without challenges? I won’t give up my inheritance, this legacy for anything. My cousins have diverted from this route, they were too weak to shoulder the responsibility of carrying this legacy forward. I’m not. Help or no help, I will take up this art, and help spread it to the best of my ability. If Durga wishes, we’ll see the light of the day again.....we will!”As they say, hope is what sustains the world. And it is hope which has to augment a new day for these unsung heroes, helping them, their children to see the light of a better day, to continue preserving and propagating our heritage and culture. It’s not impossible, surely not. What we need to do, as individuals, as a society is to spare a thought and salute their skills, surely we’ll succeed in working wonders. After all, it’s only the audacity of hope that can achieve the impossible...surely so.
(Published in The Sentinel 'melange' Puja Special Issue, on the 20th of September, 2009)
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