Father C M Paul is a Catholic priest, journalist, and educator based in Siliguri. He writes on faith, culture, and conscience, drawing from decades of media ministry and interfaith engagement across India and abroad.
Kolkata (West Bengal) [India], September 26: As Bengal prepares for Durga Puja, the streets of Siliguri, Kolkata, and Krishnagar begin to hum with a familiar rhythm—of clay being molded, pandals rising, and communities gathering. But this is no mere festival. Durga Puja is Bengal’s civilizational heartbeat: a sacred season where devotion meets artistry, and community becomes communion.
The Goddess as Mirror and Warrior: Durga, the ten-armed Goddess, is not merely a mythic warrior from ancient lore—she is Shakti – the living embodiment of divine feminine energy that confronts chaos, injustice, and moral paralysis. Her descent each year is not a seasonal spectacle but a spiritual summon: to name evil, resist it, and restore balance—not only in scripture, but in the soul of society.
In a time when violence is normalized, truth is silenced, and fear is politicized, Durga’s image becomes a mirror. She reflects not just our aspirations, but our complicity. Her raised weapons are not symbols of vengeance—they are reminders of vigilance. She calls us to confront the Mahishasuras of our time: corruption, casteism, communal hatred, gender violence, and ecological destruction.
“She didn’t just slay Mahishasura,” says a young sculptor in Ghurni, giving final touches to a Durga statue. “She slays our despair, our fear, our silence.”
In the hands of Bengal’s artisans, Durga is not frozen in mythology—she is reimagined as a mother, a migrant, a protester, a healer. Her face carries the anguish of the oppressed and the defiance of the prophetic. She is not distant; she is dangerously close to our conscience.
To worship Durga is to awaken. To carry her idol is to carry her courage. And to immerse her in the river is to recommit ourselves to the struggle she embodies.
Art as Worship, Worship as Public Culture
The spiritual core of Durga Puja is inseparable from its cultural grandeur. It is not confined to temple rituals or private devotion—it spills into the streets, into sculpture, sound, and spectacle. UNESCO’s 2021 recognition of Kolkata’s Durga Puja as an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity affirms what Bengalis have long practiced: that art is worship, and worship is public. This is not performance—it is participation. Every brushstroke, bamboo frame, and rhythmic drumbeat becomes an offering.
From Kumartuli’s clay idols—sculpted with riverbed soil and ancestral memory—to pandals that mimic temples, trains, refugee camps, or global landmarks, Durga Puja is a canvas of collective creativity. It is where theology meets theatre, and civic imagination becomes sacred space. In a society often divided by ideology and identity, this festival reclaims public culture as a site of unity and reflection.
Here, artisans are theologians. Their hands preach what pulpits cannot. Their installations provoke questions that politics avoids. A pandal may resemble a South Indian temple, a Himalayan monastery, or a collapsing glacier—each telling a story of faith, fragility, and resistance. In this way, Durga Puja becomes Bengal’s most eloquent form of public theology: a liturgy of light, labor, and longing.
To walk through a pandal is to walk through a sermon. To behold the goddess is to behold our own contradictions. And to celebrate her is to recommit ourselves to beauty, justice, and shared belonging.
Themes That Speak to the Times
This year, Kolkata’s pandals have reached new heights of imagination. Sreebhumi Sporting Club has recreated the Swaminarayan Akshardham Temple of New Jersey, its milky-white façade adorned with golden elephants. Santosh Mitra Square pays tribute to India’s armed forces with Operation Sindoor, a theme rooted in valor and remembrance. Deshapriya Park is reviving its 2015 record with an 88-foot Durga idol, while Ekdalia Evergreen Club draws inspiration from Tamil Nadu’s Arunachaleswarar Temple.
Elsewhere, Agarpara Tarapukur offers a spiritual journey through a Kumbh Mela-inspired pandal, complete with symbolic holy dips and celestial motifs. Jirat Adi Barowari and Kalyani Rath Tala showcase Swaminarayan temples from London and America, blending bamboo architecture with vibrant glasswork. Tala Prattoy celebrates its centenary year, and Ballygunge Cultural marks its 75th with immersive storytelling. A striking trend this year is the fusion of mythology and artificial intelligence, with several clubs exploring how technology intersects with spirituality—raising questions about consciousness, divinity, and the digital age.
Sacred Hands, Silent Prayers
For Bengal’s statue makers, Durga Puja is not merely a season of commerce—it is a sacred vocation rooted in ancestral memory and spiritual labor. These artisans, often working in cramped studios along the lanes of Kumartuli or suburban workshops in Krishnanagar, do not just shape clay—they shape consciousness. Their hands carry centuries of tradition, transforming riverbed soil into divine presence, and silence into sculpture.
In a time when religion is increasingly mediated by spectacle, branding, and mass production, Bengal’s idol makers remind us that devotion begins with touch—with the slow, reverent act of creation. “Durga Puja is not just a festival—it’s our sacred season of creation,” says Subrata Ganguly, Bengali Brahmin and CEO of Church Art Kolkata, which supplies religious statues across India. “For statue makers, it is the time when clay becomes divinity, and craftsmanship becomes worship. Every idol we sculpt carries the emotion of millions, the legacy of generations, and the silent prayer of the artisan’s hand.”
These artisans are often invisible in the final celebration—rarely named, seldom honored. Yet their work is prophetic. In each curve of Durga’s brow, each gesture of her hand, they embed stories of struggle, resilience, and hope. Many come from marginalized castes and communities, yet they are entrusted with the sacred task of giving form to the goddess herself.
Their vocation is not just aesthetic—it is theological. It affirms that the divine can dwell in the humble, that beauty can arise from labor, and that worship is not confined to temples but begins in the workshop. In their hands, religion is not a commodity—it is communion.
From Zamindars to the People
But Durga Puja is more than spectacle. It is a stage for social solidarity. Historically a zamindari ritual, it became a people’s festival through the Baroyari movement.
The Baroyari movement, rooted in the spirit of “baro-yari” or “twelve friends,” began in 1790 when a group of young men from Guptipara in Hooghly district organized a Durga Puja that was open to the public—breaking away from the zamindari tradition of private, aristocratic worship. Their vision was radical for its time: to make the festival inclusive, allowing ordinary people to participate in devotion, celebration, and cultural expression. This grassroots initiative laid the foundation for what is now known as Sarbojanin Durga Puja—a festival “for all people.”
By the early 20th century, especially during the Swadeshi movement, Baroyari Puja evolved into a platform for nationalist mobilization, with pandals showcasing freedom fighters, anti-colonial themes, and indigenous art. It democratized religious space, transforming Durga Puja into a civic ritual where faith, creativity, and political consciousness could converge.
Faith Without Borders
In an age when religious identities are weaponized and communities are increasingly polarized, Durga Puja in Bengal offers a counter-witness—an inclusive space where faith becomes fellowship. The festival draws in Hindus, Christians, Muslims, Sikhs, Buddhists, and atheists alike, not through dogma but through shared devotion, artistry, and celebration. Volunteers, artisans, sponsors, and devotees co-create the experience, blurring lines of caste, class, and creed. In pandals and processions, one sees hijab-clad women arranging flowers, Christian youth managing sound systems, and tribal elders offering prayers alongside Brahmin priests. This is not syncretism—it is solidarity.
In a society fractured by anti-conversion laws, communal rhetoric, and suspicion of the “other,” Durga Puja becomes a civic ritual of belonging. It reminds us that the divine is not confined to one tradition, and that worship can be a bridge rather than a boundary.
“Durga Puja is our shared prayer,” says an Adivasi catechist in Jalpaiguri. “Even if our gods differ, our longing is the same.”
A Counter-Narrative of Hope
Politically, Durga Puja has long been a site of resistance. During colonial rule, it became a platform for nationalist mobilization. Revolutionaries used the gatherings to distribute pamphlets, raise funds, and celebrate heroes. The goddess herself was reimagined as Bharat Mata—a symbol of a motherland under siege, inspiring poets, freedom fighters, and cultural reformers to reclaim India’s dignity.
But resistance did not end with independence. In today’s India, where religious identity is increasingly politicized and dissent often branded as disloyalty, Durga Puja continues to offer a quiet but potent counter-narrative. It is a space where art becomes protest, and ritual becomes reflection. Pandal themes now speak to ecological crisis, gender justice, and constitutional values. Clubs have depicted farmers’ struggles, refugee journeys, and even the plight of manual scavengers—challenging viewers to confront uncomfortable truths.
In a society fractured by anti-conversion laws, communal rhetoric, and surveillance of minority voices, Durga Puja reminds us that faith can be prophetic. That worship need not be submissive—it can be subversive. The goddess who slays Mahishasura also slays apathy, corruption, and fear. Her image, carried through crowded streets, becomes a procession of conscience.
As Bengal lights its lamps, it does not merely celebrate tradition—it reclaims its moral imagination. Durga Puja becomes a civic liturgy of resistance, where the divine is not distant, but dangerously close to the wounds of the world.
Disclaimer: Views expressed above are the author’s own and do not reflect the publication’s views.
