123456 The neighbourhood was once known for idol makers and scroll painters. But now, Potuapara — the potters' colony in Kalighat — is better known for its proximity to the home of Bengal chief minister Mamata Banerjee, who chose to stay in her ancestral home at nearby Harish Chatterjee Street. The area has undergone a quiet shift over the last two decades — from a neighbourhood built on artistic legacy to a high-security pocket where tradition coexists with surveillance.
Traditionally, Potuapara housed around 60 families of artisans — many of whom transitioned from patachitra painting to idol-making in the mid-20th century. Located less than a kilometre from Kalighat temple — one of the 51 Shakti Peethas — the area was once a hub for pilgrims, painters, and potters. Kalighat paintings — bold, colourful depictions of gods, goddesses, and later, urban life — were sold as souvenirs near the temple and transported via Adiganga, then a waterway linked to the Hooghly.
Cut to 2025 and the scene has changed. While clay, straw, and bamboo still spill on to courtyards during Durga Puja, a new element dominates the para: security. Every lane leading to Harish Chatterjee Street is now under surveillance. Hundreds of police personnel are deployed across the neighbourhood at any time of the day. Permanent barricades, CCTV cameras, police kiosks, and ID checks have become a part of daily life.
"I've lived here all my life, but I still get stopped sometimes when I hang around with friends who are not from this area," said a grocery store owner on Kalighat Road. "We take pride in the fact that we live next to the home of the chief minister. In a way, it makes our neighbourhood one of the most secure places, but such has been security checks here that if you're not recognised, you get questioned every time.
"The impact is especially evident in the lives of idol-makers. Laltu Pal, whose family has been crafting Durga idols for generations, said night work during the festival season now requires prior police permission. "Earlier, we would work late without any concern. Now if any outsider enters our workshop, the police want to know who they are and why they're here," Pal said.
Photography, once welcomed by artisans hoping for publicity, is now subject to informal restrictions. As a result, while photographers from across the world crowd Kumartuli, they avoid Kalighat Road. "Last year, I was clicking photographs of the idol-making process and daily life street photographs of the vibrant neighbourhood. A cop came and asked me several questions and forced me to delete several photographs," said a freelance photographer.
While there's no official ban, locals say permission is expected, especially if cameras are pointed towards Harish Chatterjee Street. Multiple instances of intrusion at the CM's home and multiple political parties targeting her home for demonstrations have further intensified security. The result is a transformation not just in logistics but in identity. Older families moved out, citing increased living costs and discomfort. Old buildings with ‘kori-borga' ceilings, inner courtyards, and lime-mortar construction made way for multi-storeyed apartments. Real estate prices surged, and local businesses, from tea stalls to tailoring shops, had to adapt. "There's more attention on us. It's not the same para we grew up in," a local said.
Still, the art of idol-making survives. "We may be fewer in number, but our work still goes out across the state," said Nikhil Pal, a veteran potter. "Even with changes, we are still here.
"One part of the para that retains a strong link to its artistic past is the home of Bhaskar Chitrakar (48), a fourth-generation patachitra artist who learned the art from his father Dulal Chitrakar. He still paints in the Kalighat style, albeit with a contemporary twist. From gods and goddesses to Babu-Bibi in an auto rickshaw taking selfies, Babu playing golf, and Frida Kahlo in traditional poses, his work blends the past with the present. Each painting sells for around Rs 15,000, mostly on online platforms. "I started drawing on canvases when I was just 14 and the subjects ranged from Kali to Babu-Bibi, but the popularity of the Kalighat paintings has declined," Chitrakar said.
The decline of patachitra began in the early 20th century when mass printing made hand-painted scrolls economically unviable. While artists like Sirish Chandra Pal once gained recognition, none of his sons continued the tradition. Some, like Pal's descendants, turned to idol-making — a craft that offered more financial security. Theme artist Bivas Mukherjee, who once lived in the para, said: "Patachitrakar was the subject of my Puja themes at least thrice. The history here is deep, but the environment is different now.
"Despite the changing face of the locality, some traditions live on. Every year, on the penultimate day of the Bengali New Year, the para still hosts the ‘Jelia Para Shong' — a rally known for its satirical take on social excesses, often accompanied by Shiva devotees and mock ghosts, an echo of Kali's fearsome entourage. "We have new buildings now, but our roots run deep," said 83-year-old Rabi Chatterjee, a lifelong resident.