 "A still from Six Sacred Days")
As more than 3,000 pandals welcomed goddess Durga in Kolkata this year, the steady beat of dhaaks and chants added to the carnival-like air in the city. The year's main draw was an 88-foot idol that towered over Deshapriya Park. Tucked away in a corner of the bustling city, however, was a much smaller idol that outshone the tallest idol Kolkata has seen.
Durga was five feet tall in Sonagachi, Asia's largest red-light district that is home to 7,000 sex workers. Unlike the grand festivities in Deshapriya Park, there was no Saurav Ganguly to inaugurate the proceedings here - but pandal hoppers still stopped by. Some came to show reverence to the goddess, others out of unvarnished curiosity.
This was their third attempt at being part of the mainstream society and it hasn't been a smooth ride, says Mumbai-based film maker Shruti Sengupta.
"They want their own Durga Puja because they aren't welcome in public spaces like pandals," says Sengupta, 29, who has been documenting the sex workers' struggle with local authorities. "Having their own puja is symbolic; they are demanding their basic human rights."
Called Six Sacred Days, Sengupta's film follows the sex workers in their effort to rise from the margins.
It is customary to use the soil - or punya maati - from a sex worker's courtyard to make Durga's idol. A prevailing theory suggests this is because those who enter through the doors of a sex worker leave their "purity" outside in the courtyard. For five years now, many women have been resisting the tradition. "If we are not allowed to approach the idol that uses soil from our own yards, why should we give it to them?" they ask.
After years of fighting, the breakthrough moment came when the Calcutta High Court ruled in the sex workers' favour in 2013. They could now host the goddess in a pandal of their own. But their hopes were quickly dashed when they realised not much had changed on the ground, says Smarajit Jana of Durbar Mahila Samanwaya Committee, a group that helps marginalised communities in the area.
"Despite the court ruling, local authorities didn't allow them to set up the pandal where they wanted. They said fire brigades couldn't pass through otherwise, but this is the same place where others set up pandals during Ganesh Puja. Where was the issue of public safety then," questions Jana, adding that they were confined to the grounds of the local clinic for the last two pujas.
This year, they obtained permission to hold the rituals in a temple complex, but one that was tucked away. After the staff had washed the temple for puja, the women worried that the waste water would ruin the pandal they had made. "When they spoke to the priest about it, they were told that the workers wouldn't clean up after themselves because they didn't want any contact with sex workers," says Sengupta.
Sex workers from Maharashtra have been reported to help those affected by floods in Chennai, but sex workers in Sonagachi have been walking a similar path for years. When floods hit Jammu & Kashmir, these women sent a good portion of their puja collection to the state. "Even when it comes to the unorganised labour sector, from domestic help to construction workers, these women have always fought for the rights of others," says Jana. And ever since they've heard of the dismal condition of workers in West Bengal's tea gardens, the women have started collecting funds, adds Jana.
Despite hindrances, the sex workers have come out of their "socially-designated spaces," says Jana. Wearing traditional red-bordered white sarees, these "other" women smeared one another with sindoor as they participated in sindoor khela, a Durga Puja tradition followed by married women in West Bengal.
"Festivals are the busiest time for them. Still they prepared bhog for more than 4,000 people this year. What they have achieved is commendable; they even inspired the transgender community to organise Durga Puja this year," says Sengupta, who is currently editing her work, after which the documentary will be sent to film festivals.
