In Kolkata’s famed potters’ quarter of Kumartuli, the art of idol-making is passed down like an heirloom. But tradition does not always come with an obligation to continue it. For some young people born into these families, the question is no longer whether they can make idols, but whether they want to.
For those who do choose this life, the relationship with clay runs deeper than a profession. It is inheritance, memory and identity.
While many of their peers are building careers in offices, startups and other creative industries, these young artists spend their days moulding clay, painting eyes, assembling ornaments and bringing gods to life.
So, what makes some young people consider walking away from a craft that has been part of their families for generations?
For 28-year-old Rima Pal, the answer is uncertainty.
“A 9-to-5 job offers more stability. Your work is cut out for you. You have fixed working hours and, at the end of the month, you receive a fixed salary. Idol-making is not like that. You might have to invest 12 or even 16 hours here. After all that painstaking labour, you might not make a huge profit. There is no guarantee of what your effort will fetch you, and that is why the younger generation is unwilling to invest their time and labour here,” said Rima, who helps her father, Mintu Pal, at his studio.
While Rima wants to make idol-making her full-time career, her sister has chosen a different path. “She enjoys painting, but she does not want to pursue it as a career. She has studied hotel management,” Rima said.
Rima Pal Picture: Amit Datta
Rima, however, has been fascinated by the art of moulding clay since childhood. “I can spend the whole day doing this. This is what relaxes me,” she said.
She said she has often faced snide remarks and discrimination because she is a woman. “I studied sculpture at Rabindra Bharati University, but people have always questioned my ability. When I was studying, they said I wouldn't be able to do such heavy work. But I completed my Master’s in sculpture. Now that my academics are over, they say, ‘She is not really an idol artist.’ I have been working at my father’s studio for the last two years, but people have often said that picking up a brush does not make me an artist. They say that I don’t do the work with my own hands,” she said.
Rima believes that the involvement of other artisans does not diminish her role as an artist. “Artisans do help me shape the idols, but it is my vision that they are bringing to life. That is what makes me an artist,” she said.
Unlike Rima, 24-year-old Prokriti Paul, who draws inspiration from her grandmother, said she has never faced discrimination for being a woman. “I have never felt belittled because of my gender,” she said.
Prokriti Paul Picture: Sourced by the correspondent
Prokriti is pursuing her master’s in history at Rabindra Bharati University and occasionally helps her father, Bankim Paul, at his studio. “I paint the idols, I help in fixing the Goddess’s mukut, and I do other tasks as may be required,” she said.
However, Prokriti, who goes by the nickname Rani in Kumartuli, is unsure whether she will take up idol-making full-time. “I am studying now, and I don’t really know where life will take me,” she said.
“I do not pressurise my daughter to join my profession. In fact, why should she? It is very hectic, and you barely make profits. I don’t want her to struggle as I have,” said Prokriti’s father, Bankim Paul.
For 25-year-old Dipak Pal, the dilemma is equally familiar, though his ambitions lie elsewhere.
His father, Kalichandra Paul, runs a 300-year-old studio in Kumartuli and another in Haldia, which Dipak has overseen for the past year. Dipak has helped his father since childhood, but after studying filmmaking, he has begun carving out a different path for himself.
“I oversee the business, that’s true. But maybe I don’t want to join my father’s business full-time. I have started running my production house, and I want to open a cafe,” he said.
For Dipak, the biggest deterrent is again income uncertainty. He believes idol-making can bring substantial returns for established artists, but the risks are high for those still finding their footing.
“You may earn in bulk if you are a really good artist and can sell your idols. My father is a fantastic artist, but I don’t think I am equally good. So it may happen that I invest Rs 50,000 but am not able to make any profit from it,” he said.
But not every young idolmaker sees tradition as a burden.
For 32-year-old Roshomoy Rudra Pal, his attachment to the craft outweighs the challenges. “My grandfather started this business. This is a part of our lineage. I stepped into this profession because I love it. I have helped at the studio since I was a school kid, so I had never thought of pursuing anything else. I don’t see this profession as problematic,” he said.
Roshomoy Rudra Pal Picture: Amit Datta
Debraj Rudra Pal, 45, echoed Roshomoy’s sentiments and said, “Only if you love this profession can you pursue it. Most of my cousins are in different professions. Only four of us are pursuing idol-making because bagging orders is a huge challenge. Forty per cent of the cost goes towards labour, and then we have to invest in raw materials for idol-making. The profit margin is thus comparatively low. That is why many people don’t opt for this line,” he explained.
Debraj Rudra Pal Picture: Amit Datta
There is also the time commitment. During the months leading up to Puja, work often continues late into the night.
“This is a very hectic profession. Ahead of Puja, we don’t even get time to sleep. Most youngsters won’t choose a profession that requires them to toil so hard for so little monetary gain,” Debraj added.
In Kumartuli, then, the future of idol-making may not depend simply on whether the next generation inherits the craft. It may depend on whether they find enough financial, creative, or emotional reasons to stay.