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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 most popular of Durga Puja’s many apocryphal origin stories is set in the aftermath of the Battle of Plassey in 1757. By defeating Nawab Siraj ud Daula, Robert Clive, cemented the East India Company’s hold over Bengal, and eventually, the whole subcontinent. Plassey also made Clive a very rich man.
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.
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.
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.
This is an updated version of an article originally published last year.
