Amid the usual sparkle of lights, beats of the dhaak (drum) and the scent of incense in Laketown on Shasthi evening, one pandal chose not to offer escapism, but confrontation. The Dakshindari Youths’ Durga Puja theme, Dahan (The Burning), has transformed art into a searing social commentary— dragging visitors into the raw, unhealed wounds of women scarred by acid, branded witches, beaten in their homes or silenced by shame.
Crowds thronged in, phones flashing, yet many paused longer than usual. For inside this mandap, artist Anirban Das has woven together statistics, symbolism and sorrow into a visual vocabulary that unsettles as much as it mesmerises.
Every year, an average of 300 women in India suffer acid attacks. More than a hundred are burnt alive under witchcraft accusations. One rape every 16 minutes. Over 380 cases of domestic violence daily. Numbers that newspapers print and forget. But behind each digit are eyes that never saw their reflection again, mouths that stayed sealed in fear, lives that smouldered unseen.
“The pavilion’s concept does not allow visitors to forget. Inspired by the works of Ghanaian artist Ibrahim Mahama, the courtyard stage is draped in coarse, charred burlap— abandoned cloth that now becomes a metaphor for society’s abandonment. Beauty, dignity, identity— all hidden, like burlap muffling a flame,” said Sandeep Roy, one of the puja organisers.
Inside, mirrors stare back with mud-smeared faces. Their blurred reflections echo the last clear image acid victims saw of themselves before the burning. On the walls, celebrated women gaze from the brushstrokes of history — Mona Lisa’s cryptic smile, the elegance of Mughal miniatures, the grace of Ajanta’s painted goddesses. Yet, against these backdrops of worshipped beauty, reality reminds us: women have been violated, disfigured and silenced across centuries.
But Dahan is not just a requiem. It is resistance. Along the bare outer walls, women rise in protest— their figures reaching skyward, a collective uprising of flame and spirit. Above them spreads the fiery wings of the Phoenix, myth’s eternal firebird, symbolising the unquenchable will of survivors who turn ashes into renewal.
At the centre, where one expects the ornate idol of Durga, stands Mother Jagajjanani in her Rudra form — empty, fierce and burning within. She does not hold back her anguish, for her chest too carries humanity’s scars. Around her, countless silent fires are lit — each one the voice of those who refuse to remain invisible.
Dahan is not an easy pandal to walk through. It is not meant to be. For the Dakshindari Youths have dared to remind Kolkata that Durga Puja is not only about festivity— it is also about facing demons. And sometimes, the fiercest asuras are not mythological, but born of our own society.
Also read: Bengal's Durga Puja economy rebounds to nearly ₹50k cr in 2025
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