They wait in mute anticipation when they would lord over the coming Gowri Ganesha festival. Freshly painted Ganeshas packed in a tiny nondescript shed will soon be making their way to the various community pandals in the bustling city of Bangalore where they will be propitiated in the hope that all obstacles are kept at bay — at least for a year.

But for now, standing in the 20 ft by 20 ft makeshift shed, the clay idols are yet to turn Gods. Ratan Pal and his band of five artistes from Burdwan in West Bengal are sweating it out in the humid air of the unventilated shed that has been covered with tarpaulin as an added protection from the heavy rains lashing the City.
It would seem that the artistes’ job is almost done. All the last-minute details are being attended to. The intricate ornaments designed with clay are beginning to come alive in a golden hue, as are the little mice placed at the right hand corner of every Ganesha idol.

Slow and steady
Pal, 24, and his men do not look satisfied. Though he goes around inspecting each of the 70-odd idols with practiced ease, Pal seems tense. It is the eyes, he offers as his defence. “The eyes are yet to be painted.” It is tempting to say it’s as if the Gods have turned a blind eye to the world!

The fish-shaped white patches on the carefully-modelled face of the idol present a formidable challenge to Pal. “The eyes will finally decide whether the idol will get a buyer,” he says.

Not everyone in Pal’s team is allowed to paint the eyes though. The artist doing that job has to have years of practice and dedication behind him. “The taan has to be right,” says Lakhan Das, 20, the youngest of the team, who has to be content with other sundry things than attempt the eyes. Only a senior artist can ensure that his hands do not shake while he moves the brush to get the right taan (an even, uninterrupted stroke that gives the eye its shape and look.)

Pal’s hands are steady. For someone who has spent his entire childhood observing his father magically transform clay into a beautiful God, Pal is driven with a solitary ambition of making a name for himself as a first class idol maker.

His second name should help - the Pals, through generations, have earned a reputation as celebrated idol makers in West Bengal. But Ratan Pal is not of the same stock. “Most of the families in Burdwan are involved in making idols of Durga. I want to make a name for myself here in Bangalore,” says Pal. For the moment, he is biding his time until he moves on to making Durga idols for the various Bengali community pujas here.

Happy with habba
He’s got it all worked out. After the Ganesha habba (he calls it Eid), he plans to stay back with the potters of Pottery Town and help out with the demands of Deepavali. He may learn Kannada (“it is tough,” he says), and who knows even marry a “local girl.”

As he tackles yet another eye, the smile does not leave his face. Besides the 70 idols in the shed at S K Garden, Pal and his men are also giving finishing touches to 20 more spread in and around Tannery Road in similar but smaller sheds.

Each idol is unique with its distinct composition. While the simpler ones with only solitary Ganeshas are priced at Rs 2,000, the others with themes like half-Ganesha-half Shiva; the entire Ganesha family of Shiva, Parvati and Ganesha; or the one where Ganesha has been caught in a pose similar to Durga and is fighting a demon, and even a Hanuman holding a baby Ganesha in a basket on his head — all in varied colours from flaming orange, deep purple, green, red and yellow, are priced higher. Sometimes going upto Rs 9,500.

“I had visualised some new themes like tsunami and the recent floods across the country, but could not incorporate them because we are running late,” he says. The team of five has been working non-stop from seven in the morning to midnight for the past 20 days.

It would be a pity to see these artistically handmade idols remain unsold. “Some of the idols have already been booked,” claims Pal, and he is hopeful that the rest will also grace colourful community celebrations. The competition right now is from the Mumbai Ganeshas. “They are huge,” Pal shakes his head in resignation. That they may be, but he points out, unlike the Mumbai Ganeshas, which are mass produced (using moulds) and look almost the same, each of his pieces are unique.

His other consolation is that the colours used by him are water soluble. With concerns of heavy pollution of the City lakes post-Ganesha festival, he has a point. “The paint will not pollute the water and the clay will become mud once more.” The Mumbai Ganeshas are mostly made of plaster of Paris, and the colours used are all lead or oil-based enamels, which are the main polluting culprits.

Sticking to tradition
Pal’s idols stick to the time-honoured traditions of the artistes of Krishnanagar and Kumartuli (potters’ village) in Kolkata, drawing from the two distinct styles — the Bangla and the Do Bhashi mould — that the Durga idols are usually modelled upon.

Four years ago, G Shivananda saw an opportunity in putting money on Pal’s expertise, and since then, Pal has been coming to the City every year to work for him. Shivananda’s family has been in the pottery business for years now, and unlike some of his other brothers who are artistes, he is “in the business line,” supplying terracotta tandoors to hotels and restaurants.

But as the habba season rings in with the Gowri Ganesha festival, Shivananda keeps the tandoor business on a slow burner. This year, he has 140 artistes working for him to produce nearly 1,500 Ganeshas in the Bengal style alone, and hopes to make a neat packet with another huge consignment of Mumbai Ganeshas.

The Bengali artistes also stand to gain, provided Shivananda manages to sell all their work.

But things are not so bad. Visitors and prospective buyers drop by to marvel at the craftsmanship as do Carol and her mother from their verandah next door. The next challenge now would be how to remove the idols from the tiny entrance. “Oh that,” he is surprised to be asked such a question. “We just break the boundary wall of course. Kono badha neye (where’s the obstacle).”