The festival of Dussehra is not just central to the city’s religious beliefs, but transforms it into a space for artistic and cultural outpouring. A major aspect of the festival celebrations is the numerous effigies set up in various melas across the city; the pyrotechnic displays that follow are truly loved by adults and children alike. The imposing and intricate effigies serve as representations of Rama’s triumph over the demon king Ravana, as chronicled in the Sanskrit epic i.e. the Ramayana.
Additionally, throughout history, these effigies were often crafted for the purposes of both worship and satire, functioning as instruments to pursue a connection with the divine or to articulate political viewpoints; they were crucial mediums for individuals to convey narratives, record historical events, and mythologies. The art of making effigies remains central to the creative and communal space created by the confluence of the festival and the city space.
The birth of Ravana from paper, plaster or plastic takes place weeks before the festival starts, in the houses of ordinary craftsman from various socio-economic groups. One such region is Tatarpur located in West Delhi; the market has been recognized as the largest for effigies, in fact it is also referred to as the ‘Lanka of Delhi’ as these effigies are also sent to states like Uttar Pradesh, Haryana and Punjab, and even abroad, to cater to the Indian diaspora.
The origin of the craft
The humble beginnings of the effigy craft is attributed to the master craftsman ‘Ravan-wale Baba,’ who migrated to Delhi from Sikandrabad in Uttar Pradesh and was initially working with funeral services; his real passion, however, lay in the craft of designing effigies and is credited for circulating his talent among several other artisanal groups.
According to some sources, he was actually an individual named Chuttan Lal Sahani, while other accounts which hint at the near-divine status of Baba’s legacy claim that he was a sadhu-like figure whose modest demeanor commanded the respect of all those who worked under him. Many of the artisan homes in the district have framed photos of the renowned craftsman, further cementing him in the origin stories of the craft.
Most of the artisans hail from the nomadic Gadia Lohars or the Wandering blacksmith tribe, whose roots can also be traced back to the army of Maharana Pratap of Mewar, where they served as blacksmiths. Referred to as the Ravana-wallahs of Tatarpur, the artisans specially move to the city during the period from August-October in order to profit from the city’s festivities. According to the Times of India, only three families into the effigy-making business originally belong to Tatarpur; the rest are migrants from Uttar Pradesh, Bihar, Gujarat and West Bengal who came here in search of a job and settled with the locals.
Processing the effigies
The style and process of sculpting the individual effigies reflects several of the country’s traditional art as well as the individual craft styles of the artisans; each part is in fact, created separately and attached together in the final assembling. The main effigy, of course, belongs to Ravana, but it is also his son Meghnad and brother Kumbhakarna who constitute the trio associated with the event.
The process begins with a method known as ‘napai,’ where the skeleton is made from slender bamboo strips tied together to give shape to the head, torso or limbs. The use of bamboo indicates the sustainability of the craft as well as the commitment to eco-preservation on the part of the artisans.
Once the skeleton stands stable, paper or cloth is affixed to it using glue and often painted over with vibrant colors. Even these materials are locally-sourced and eco-friendly; the glue is made using a mixture of sugar and corn flour, while the cloth is occasionally sourced from discarded fabrics that are resold as recycled cloth in different markets of the city.
The next step involves the painting of facial features of each of the effigies, the most identifiable mark being the prominent and giant moustaches which can go as long as 11-12 feet in length; glitter, golden and silver adornments are also used to adorn these effigies, usually customized according to individual orders.
The sustainable mission of the craft is also reflected in the post-event handling of these effigies, where most of the unsold frames are not discarded, but in fact, reused in small furniture and crafts. The design of the effigies further reflect the changing milieu around them; for instance, some of them sport trending earrings and sunglasses while others contain social messages or movie dialogues written on them.
Current status
In recent years, however, despite the popularity of the festival and its associated celebrations, the demand for Ravana effigies have reached an all-time low; some attribute this to the government ban on firecrackers to minimize the city’s pollution, while others blame this on traditional festivities, such as effigy-burning, becoming outdated among the younger generations.
Thus, although the craft remains central to the artisanal identity of Tatarpur, many of the artisans express hesitations over including their children in the same business, primarily owing to its declining value. According to Hussain, a 15-year old working part-time in the effigy business, “People get involved in the Ravana-making process just to learn the art in line with tradition, even if they get paid less than the usual labor rates.”
The business also suffered a serious setback with the suspension of all public activities during the pandemic; nevertheless, several news reports indicate a gradual rise in the sale of effigies with considerable orders post-2020.
In collective memory
The effigies of Ravana, along with the ritual of their burning, represent a significant cultural and religious tradition that goes beyond the boundaries of a simple festival. These effigies capture the enduring themes that highlight the conflict between good and evil, and as communities engage collaboratively in the crafting and subsequent destruction of these grand figures, they also exhibit this shared moral consciousness.
Some within the artist community end up not participating in the effigy-burnings as they come to form an emotional bond with the structures that they spent weeks crafting and so, more than the religious significance, the occasion of Ravana’s burning signifies the economic and social survival that depends upon it, along with the craft legacies that are etched on for posterity through these effigies.