Hand that shapes the deity

Age: 38

Kumartuli,the labyrinth that is the idol makers’ quarters in north Kolkata,is thick with the smell of wet earth,bidis and strong adhesive. Artisans,gamchchas flung across their bare torsos,shuttle in and out of their tenements. Stacks of long bamboo poles rest along the lanes and scores of bleary-eyed men sit in huddles,waiting to carry idols out to cars parked on the main road. China Pal hurries out of her roughly 10 x 10 feet shack and shoots a critical glance at the men sitting out,cracking bawdy jokes at passers-by. A half-minute-long survey of their faces later,she points at a man sitting in a corner,munching on a vegetable chop. “How much have you had to drink in the day?” she shoots,voice crackling with impatience. As the wiry 20-year-old fumbles for an answer,she continues,“Find 12 men who aren’t all that drunk. I have a client waiting on the other end of the road. The deity has very delicate shaaj (ornaments),you shouldn’t damage an inch of it.” As the man hurries out to find sober labourers,Pal grabs a tube of adhesive and dabs some on a lock of false hair that’s stuck on a five-foot-tall Durga idol.

The 38-year-old is one of the few woman artisans in Kumartuli,the potters’ quarter in Kolkata,mostly dominated by male idol makers. “Nobody makes an exception for me because I am a woman. I too don’t deal with people any differently,” she says. Pal took over her father’s business when he died of a sudden illness 17 years ago. “I was 21 years old then. I had never worked professionally in my father’s studio as he wouldn’t approve of me working alongside men,” she says with a wan smile. Soon after Pal’s father passed away,she says his employees tried to take over the business,the only means of livelihood for the Pal family. “I had to step in. I had to take care of my mother and stand up for something that was started by my great grandfather. I became the first female artisan in the family by accident,” she smiles,now brushing gold dust on a shola.

After years of struggle with truant labour,fellow male artisans in Kumartuli whose reactions ranged from quiet dismissal to voluble protest,and her own lack of professional finesse,Pal is one of the most sought after artisans in the quarters. “I deliver up to 35 Durga idols every year during Puja. The rest of the year I make other idols,” she says. “My customers have been very supportive. There were times I faltered,I couldn’t deliver things the way they would have liked,but they had their faith in me. I consider that as my biggest earning,” she smiles.

With Durga Puja starting on Sunday,these days,Pal starts as early as 5 in the morning and she doesn’t wrap up work anytime before 3 a.m. “A couple of days back,it rained so heavily that the colours refused to dry. We are working overtime now,” she says,wiping the excess glue off a lock of artificial hair. “While a lot of the work comes from community Puja pandals,I also cater to some of the aristocratic Bengali families who hold pujas at home. The worst part of my job is haggling with the Puja organisers. They are so adamant and cocky that at times I lose patience with them. They come to me thinking they can bully me into agreeing to their terms,in vain,” she smiles. Dealing with labourers,organising transport,fighting for work with rivals,maintaining accounts and making sure that no money slips out without her knowledge—Pal has her days full. “I also have to make sure that these people come back to me next year. I will sleep well once the Pujas start,but I also get fidgety if I have no work to do. I just have my mother back home and we are both workaholics,” she laughs.

The half-drunk labourer returns with a gaggle of weary-looking,lungi-clad men. “Are you falling off to sleep? How will you work then? Look at me,haven’t slept in three days,” she shouts,stirring the motley group of boys and men out of their lethargy. “Here,hold these,” she throws a mammoth coil of thick ropes. The men start dragging the idols to the bamboo poles and Pal is back at work.