Kolkata’s Durga Puja has long transcended its role as a religious celebration to become an open-air parliament of art, politics and people’s conscience. But in its centenary year, Tala Park Pratyay has taken that experiment a step further— reimagining Maa Durga not as the demon-slayer with her trident, but as a marginal farmer, plow in hand, sowing seeds in Bengal’s fields.
This year’s theme, “Bhavna Beej Angan” (concept seeds courtyard) — named and conceived by Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee herself— is as much a poetic allegory as a political provocation. Mamata not only christened the theme but also penned and composed the theme song, which has been brought to life by state minister Indranil Sen.
At the heart of the pavilion lies a vast sculpted brain, symbolising thought and consciousness. Just as a seed germinates into a plant, the artists argue, the brain is the soil from which life’s ideas sprout. Surrounding this centrepiece, thatched huts, bamboo lamps, plows built from fertilizer sacks and rural vignettes recreate the fragile, yet enduring, countryside of Bengal.
But the message runs deeper. In the mandap (pandal), Durga is no longer an aloof deity descending to vanquish Mahishasura. Here, she is a farmer, fertilising land, harvesting rice, feeding her family—while trampling a sack of urea, from which unspools the repealed, “directionless” agricultural bill. The sack, brimming with toxic symbolism, becomes this year’s demon.
The seed becomes the motif: the smallest unit of ecology, carrying within it the memory of civilisation. Yet, through monoculture, pesticides and market-controlled genetics, that seed — once sacred — is endangered. The pavilion echoes a stark warning—controlling seeds means controlling the food chain and thus, human destiny itself.
A festival as protest
Tala Pratyay’s pandal is not merely a stage for devotion, but a theatre of dissent. By placing the goddess in the garb of a struggling peasant woman, artist Bhavatosh Sutar and the organisers have staged a critique of agricultural policies that, they argue, push poison onto people’s plates.
Club member Priyadarshini Ghosh Bawa distilled the theme bluntly saying, “Durga Puja is no longer confined to religion. It is also a canvas for social messages. This year, the demon is not mythological—it is the farm law and the poison hidden in our food.”
The pavilion even houses a seed conservation centre, live performances and stark installations demonstrating how fertilizers, pesticides and industrialised farming erode the ecological balance.
Politics, poetry and puja
Mamata’s creative involvement has inevitably drawn the theme into Bengal’s political theatre. With assembly elections around the corner, the puja’s tagline, “Sabuj Robe Bangla” (Green Will Resound in Bengal), sparked speculation—was this a veiled political message or merely an ode to agriculture?
Organisers dismissed the rumours, insisting it was about Bengal’s green fields. Yet the symbolism — fertile land poisoned policies, and a goddess aligned with farmers — cannot easily be divorced from politics.
Adding another dimension, Tala Pratyay has also partnered with Kolkata Municipality to trial a new eco-technology, “Ecogenic”, which transforms solid waste into charcoal fuel, underscoring the puja’s ecological conscience.
In this centenary celebration, Tala Pratyay has turned its pandal into a seed field of ideas. By stripping Durga of her trident and handing her a plow, by making Ganesh the farmer’s child carried to the paddy fields, the puja committee has unsettled the familiar iconography to mirror a Bengal caught between tradition and transformation, faith and food politics.
Durga, in Tala Pratyay’s imagination, is not just a goddess descending for worship— she is Uma (Durga also known as) the farmer, Ramani (woman) in the fields, a mother sowing seeds of resistance.
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