New Delhi, Oct. 12 -- It is almost 2.30 pm. The sky is heavy with dark clouds and there is little doubt that the rain will arrive any moment. On a hot, humid afternoon in early September 2026, we are in Kumartuli, Kolkata's famed potters' colony in West Bengal, where the countdown to Durga Puja is already visible everywhere.
The narrow lanes leading to the workstations of some of the city's most renowned idol makers are muddy. The workshops, covered with tarpaulin sheets, are buzzing with activity. Through the gaps, one can catch glimpses of freshly painted idols of Goddess Durga and her family.
And then there is that unmistakable scent, wet clay mingling with a fresh coat of paint. It takes only a moment for the smell to trigger nostalgia. Durga Puja, after all, is just around the corner.
The downpour finally begins. The artisans spring into action, rushing to protect the idols from the rain. Faces of freshly crafted idols, placed on the ground to dry, are hurriedly covered. To sculpt these faces, soil from the Ganga, is used. But Ganga Maati (soil) is not the only essential ingredient. There is also Puniya Maati, or blessed soil, traditionally collected from the doorsteps of brothels, known as Nishiddho Pallis.
There are several interpretations of this centuries-old practice. One belief is that the soil symbolically includes courtesans in the making of the Goddess, a recognition that they too have a place in the divine. It is also seen as a mark of respect towards women who have historically remained on the margins of society. Another belief is that when a man enters a brothel, he leaves all his virtues at the doorstep. The soil outside, therefore, is believed to contain those accumulated virtues. Traditionally, a potter or priest is expected to ask a courtesan for the soil. The idol is considered incomplete without both Puniya Maati and Ganga Maati. Perhaps, then, it is not surprising that Durga Puja has long ceased to be only a religious celebration.
The rituals, whether practised in bonedi baris, the old aristocratic households, or in commercial and Barowari Pujas, remain at its heart. Yet around these rituals has grown a vast social and cultural world that makes the festival one of Bengal's greatest unifiers.
Apart from the religious rituals, pandal hopping, cultural programmes, food, fashion and social gatherings have become shared traditions across the state. Durga Puja creates a cultural space that transcends religion.
Sanskrit scholar Nrisingha Prasad Bhaduri once explained that Durga Puja can broadly be categorised into three types based on the nature and style of worship, Sattvic, Rajasic and Tamasic. "Sattvic Puja is characterised by purity, vegetarian offerings, recitation of mantras, and continuous chanting throughout the day. Rajasic Puja involves animal sacrifices and offerings such as meat, and does not necessarily include mantra chanting. Tamasic Puja involves no mantras," he said. The variations themselves perhaps demonstrate how a religious tradition can acquire a much larger social and cultural meaning.
One only has to look around Kumartuli to understand that idea. Can anyone really tell who belongs to which faith here? In these narrow lanes, it is talent that matters. It is the ability to shape clay, paint a face, build a body or create an expression that counts.
Bankim Pal, a popular artisan known for his miniature Durga idols and a second-generation idol-maker, has grown up in this potters' hub. He speaks of how people from all faiths work alongside one another to create the idols that will eventually become the centrepieces of Puja celebrations across Bengal. And Kumartuli is not the only place where this shared cultural ecosystem comes alive.
Around 30 to 40 minutes away is a small Muslim-dominated village in Howrah district. Several families in Parbatipur, a village around 40 km from Howrah city under Domjur police station, make hair for Goddess Durga, mostly for the traditional 'sabeki' idols.
The rain continues to pour over Kumartuli. We take shelter inside a workshop, where an artisan is carefully draping an eight-foot-tall Goddess Durga and her family. Durga is dressed in a red saree with an embroidered border. Saraswati wears pink, while Lakshmi is dressed in yellow. Much of this fabric comes from Surat in Gujarat. Even the ornaments adorning the Goddess carry a story of connections far beyond Bengal. The daaker saaj, or sholar saaj, has a distinctly German link.
In the 19th century, before electricity became commonplace, affluent Bengali zamindars and royal families decorated their idols with silver tinsel foil imported directly from Germany. Since the shimmering metallic sheets arrived through international mail, known locally as daak, the artistic style came to be known as daaker saaj. The story of Durga Puja, therefore, is not confined to temples, rituals or pandals. Its beauty lies equally in nostalgia, memory and a sense of shared ownership.
For those living outside Kolkata, Puja is often the season of homecoming, much like Uma, another name for Goddess Durga, returning to her maternal home for these few days.
The collective recall of these moments is itself part of the spirit of Puja. There is the smell of Puja. There is its sound.
For many senior citizens who can no longer venture out for pandal hopping, the faint beat of a dhaak from a nearby Puja or the familiar voice of an old Bengali song by Asha Bhosle playing on a speaker can be enough to transport them to the days they have left behind.
"The idea of Puja has remained the same. During childhood, it was all about freedom to pandal hop the entire night with friends and new clothes and now it's about gifting others and quintessential adda at home with friends and family. And then there's food. Puja is incomplete without food," said Bengali actor Abir Chatterjee.
And then comes Mahalaya. The unmistakable voice of Birendra Krishna Bhadra wakes millions of Bengalis across the world, transcending time zones and generations, announcing the herald of Puja. It hardly matters whether one listens to him on the radio, YouTube or Spotify. The feeling remains the same. That feeling perhaps explains why the community spirit of Durga Puja has become such an integral part of Bengal's secular and inclusive cultural identity.
'Amar Parar Puja' is also not merely a phrase. It is a sentiment. Neighbourhood and community Pujas create a common space where everyone can participate. They create a shared sense of belonging and celebration. Art, architecture, lighting, music and design become integral to that experience, while local residents, artists, workers, businesses and volunteers come together to make the festival their own.
For filmmaker Srijit Mukherji, that collective spirit is at the heart of the festival. "Durga Puja has been the biggest unifier for Bengalis as social, religious and cultural aspects. I am lucky that my Puja films have become a part of this culture too," said the five-time National Award-winning director.
The festival, recognised by UNESCO as an intangible cultural heritage, is also a formidable economic force. It is often believed that the business activities surrounding Durga Puja contribute at least a third of West Bengal's GDP. In 2025, the Durga Puja economy in the state touched an estimated Rs 65,000 crore, with Kolkata accounting for nearly 70 per cent of the total business. Once again, it is a reminder that celebration here is fundamentally collective.
Yet for all the excitement surrounding Uma's homecoming, Puja ends on a note of melancholy. On the final day, she leaves her maternal home to return to her husband's abode, only to come back again a year later. Tears flow. Dhunuchi naach and sindoor khela become part of the farewell, as devotees bid goodbye to the Goddess.
Perhaps no one captured this strange combination of revelry and sorrow quite like Gaganendranath Tagore in his iconic painting, 'Pratima Visarjan'. It is immersion time. The Goddess is being taken away. Yet, as Tagore portrays it, those accompanying her farewell seem to compensate for their sadness with abandon. There is movement, light, celebration and emotion woven into the procession. Tagore plays with light and shade, but in doing so, he captures something fundamental about Puja itself. For a few days, the Goddess lights up everything. The darkness is gone.
And perhaps that is what Durga Puja has always done, bringing together faith and festivity, ritual and memory, art and commerce, nostalgia and modernity, and people from different walks of life into one shared celebration.
The Goddess leaves. The rain stops. The idols disappear into the river. But the feeling remains, waiting to return with Uma the following year.
Durga Puja is a living emotion for Bengalis, with everyone carrying a personal story of the festival. The beat of the dhaak can transport someone sitting in a plush Chicago office back to childhood memories of village Puja. Beyond the rituals, Durga Puja is a celebration of belonging, togetherness and the enduring bonds that connect Bengalis to their roots.
Bharatanatyam exponent Souraja Tagore believes one can experience Puja through prayers, music or simply by walking through the city, but nobody really remains an outsider. "That is perhaps why Durga Puja crosses social boundaries in a way very few celebrations can," she said. The acclaimed danseuse who is carrying forward the legacy through Thakurbarir Sarodotsav, further added, "I grew up in the Pathuriaghata Tagore family in an environment where I learnt to look at Puja as something larger than rituals and prescribed dos and don'ts. Ritual has its own place and meaning, of course, but my own connection has always been more inward. Rabindranath Tagore's humanism has influenced me deeply, and I think spirituality ultimately has to reflect itself in how we treat another person. What is the meaning of worship if I cannot respect the human being standing next to me? What does my devotion mean if class, community, faith, gender or social status prevents me from seeing another person's dignity? For me, God cannot be confined to the deity before us. The divine has to be discovered within ourselves, and equally in one another. That, to me, is the real inclusiveness of Puja. It brings one human being closer to another. Kolkata does this rather beautifully. The entire city seems to open itself up and participate. My hope is that Durga Puja always retains that spirit: that it evolves with time, never becomes rigid, and continues to celebrate not only the Goddess but also our common humanity," she said.
Published by HT Digital Content Services with permission from Millennium Post.