11-05-2025
After rosogolla, Odias and Bengalis fight over Mamata's Jagannath Dham
Bengalis, it seems, have a peculiar fondness for replicas. During Durga Pujas, Buckingham Palaces, Golden Temples and the Pyramids pop up all over the state – pandals built with bamboo and tarpaulin to house the goddess in the festive season.
Why did Banerjee tread this path? If a temple was her big trip, why a Puri Jagannath lookalike and not something in the tradition of Bengal's own terracotta temples that dot Bishnupur in Bankura district? Alternatively, it could have opted for something original.
In the season of Conclave, what if a church suddenly decided to call itself Vatican — not just a tribute, but a claim to spiritual status? That's what the Mamata Banerjee government effectively did, as far as Odias are concerned, when it named the new Jagannath temple in Digha after Jagannath Dham in Puri, Odisha. For the Odias, this 'appropriation' was the last straw and has put them eyeball to eyeball with the Bengalis like never before.
But those are temporary structures, dismantled once the pujas end. The Jagannath Temple in Digha is permanent, a silent testimony to the Bengalis' copycat gene.
Or, at least, Mamata Banerjee's.
Also read: How a temple inauguration has set off an Odisha-Bengal slugfest & a holy power tussle in Puri
The copycat impulse
A few months after becoming the chief minister in 2011, Banerjee was on her way home via Newtown, parts of which today resemble Gurgaon from 50 years ago, when she suddenly halted her vehicle, got off, and stood to survey 480 acres of green dotted with waterbodies.
On the spot, she declared it a park — and the next thing we know, in 2013, she was inaugurating Eco Park, a brand-new destination in Kolkata a la Victoria Memorial, or the historic Botanical Gardens with the centuries-old Banyan Tree.
That wasn't the end of it. Past the tree-lined boundary came up the Pyramids of Giza, an Eiffel Tower, a Taj Mahal, a Colosseum, and even a towering Christ the Redeemer – all of them exact replicas of the originals in miniature form.
For those who thought it was all faux, Banerjee's acolytes had a pat rejoinder: masterstroke. They would argue that many could afford to fly across the world and see the original in all their glory. But for millions of people in Bengal who could not, the Eco Park replicas offered a taste of global marvels, without leaving the state.
Two years later, London's 315-foot-tall Big Ben sprung up in Kolkata's Lake Town, in a miniature 90-foot avatar, put up there by one of Banerjee's MLAs, clearly taking a leaf out of the boss's book. Today, Big Bens, short and tall, have sprung up all over the place. Clearly the copycat gene is infectious.
This infection knows no border and exists in Bangladesh as well. Back in 2009, journalists from Kolkata who had gone to cover the general election saw a 'Taj Mahal' on the outskirts of Dhaka. The Shah Jahan in this case? A Bangladeshi filmmaker named Ahsanullah Moni, who built the 'Taj Mahal' as a tourist destination and for his movies' song and dance sequences.
Sweet wars
The miniature Taj Mahal never caused any bad blood between India and Bangladesh. But Digha's Jagannath 'Dham' has. There is a lot more bitterness between Odias and Bengalis now than when the battle over the origin of the sweet rosogolla began a few years ago.
In 2017, Bengal, which fought for ownership, got the GI tag, but it was for the Banglar Rasogolla and, two years later, Odisha got the GI for the Odisha rasagola. Since then, peace has held between the two states.
Will the Digha Dham face-off send the respective states to the GI registration office once more? Quarreling over a sweet dish one one thing. But a pow-wow over the name of Lord Jagannath's abode deserves delicate and diplomatic handling.
Imitation may be the best form of flattery but clearly there are exceptions to that rule.
Monideepa Banerjie is a senior journalist based in Kolkata. She tweets @Monideepa62. Views are personal.
(Edited by Prashant)
