ram-vs-jagannath-the-battle-for-bengal-s-cultural-narrative

The month of April in Bengal this year is witnessing a symbolic tug of war — one that goes far beyond religious devotion. It is a contest of ideologies, identities, and political messaging, as Bengal’s streets echo alternately with cries of “Jai Shri Ram” and “Jai Jagannath.”

 

At the beginning of the month, the state saw a resurgent display of Ram Navami celebrations, marked by sword-wielding processions and DJ-led rallies—an assertion of Hindutva politics, driven largely by the BJP. As the month draws to a close, Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee is poised to inaugurate the grand Jagannath Dham in Digha on Akshaya Tritiya, an event that, though officially framed as developmental, is rich in religious and cultural symbolism and aimed to counter BJP’s attempt to portray itself as the protector of Sanatana Dharma in Bengal.

 

The state’s political battleground is no longer just about economic policy or welfare programmes—it is increasingly about who defines the cultural soul of Bengal.

 

In a calculated political move, several Ram Navami processions across Kolkata on Sunday prominently featured images of Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. With senior BJP leaders in attendance, the symbolism was unmistakable—an attempt to galvanise Hindu voters by drawing attention to the persecution of minorities in neighbouring Bangladesh.

 

BJP MLA Agnimitra Paul was particularly vocal, spotlighting the suffering of women in Bangladesh. Her rhetoric appeared strategically aimed at undermining Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee’s formidable support among women voters—a demographic that played a decisive role in the Trinamool Congress’s sweeping victories in both, the 2024 general elections and the 2021 state assembly polls.

 

The BJP’s latest manoeuvre seems designed to provoke emotional and ideological solidarity among the Hindu constituents, while simultaneously chipping away at the TMC’s carefully cultivated image as a champion of women’s welfare and minority rights.

 

Ram Navami: Devotion or display?

 

Ram Navami celebrations, once observed in pockets across Bengal, have since 2016 transformed into massive, high-profile public spectacles. With each passing year, the scale, intensity, and political undertones of these celebrations have only grown—often accompanied by tensions and even violence, as witnessed in recent years. This time, despite court orders prohibiting the use of weapons, visuals from certain areas showed blatant violations, reigniting questions about law enforcement and the political motives behind such processions.

 

The BJP, meanwhile, continues to frame Ram Navami as a celebration of cultural identity. But for many in Bengal, the symbolism feels imposed—more in line with the Hindi heartland’s brand of Hindutva than with the softer, syncretic spirituality Bengal has historically embraced.

 

In several parts of Bengal, Sunday’s Ram Navami celebrations witnessed heart-warming displays of communal harmony, as members of the Muslim community stepped forward to greet saffron-clad devotees of Lord Ram, offering them cold water and sweets. These powerful images of brotherhood stand in stark contrast to the BJP's hard-line Hindutva rhetoric, which has found more fertile ground in northern Indian states. Consequently, despite an aggressive electoral push backed by Prime Minister Narendra Modi, Union Home Minister Amit Shah, and other party heavyweights during both the previous general and Assembly elections, the BJP has struggled to carve out a stronghold in Bengal, with its narrative failing to resonate with the state's culturally inclusive ethos.

 

Trinamool's cultural counterpoint

 

In response, the Trinamool Congress appears to be carefully crafting a counter-narrative—one rooted in Bengal’s own religious traditions. Mamata has subtly but significantly shifted the spotlight from Ram to Jagannath, from Ayodhya to Digha. Her statement—reminding people of Ram’s “premature recognition” in the Durga Puja mythology—was more than a historical reference; it was a deliberate cultural positioning.

 

Mamata’s decision to construct a Jagannath temple in East Midnapore—stronghold of Opposition leader Suvendu Adhikari—is being viewed as a shrewd and strategic political manoeuvre. The move signals her calculated effort to consolidate the Hindu vote base, complementing the already substantial backing of approximately 30 percent of the Muslim electorate. In terms of vote share, the Trinamool Congress (TMC) holds a decisive edge. The party is ahead by 7 percent vote share, with BJP securing 38.73 percent of the total votes in the 2024 general elections.

 

As the BJP intensifies its campaign to engineer a 3 to 4 percent swing from TMC’s voter base, which may result in changes in the power-game, Mamata appears determined to fortify her Hindu support, leaving no stone unturned in her bid to safeguard her electoral dominance.

 

Trinamool's invocation of Bangaliana—a cultural identity distinct from the BJP’s Hindutva—is not new. It helped them hold off the saffron surge in the 2021 Assembly elections and seems to be playing a role again in the 2024 campaign. In her election campaigns, she never missed the opportunity to brand the BJP as a party of “outsiders” citing examples of non-Bengali speaking BJP leaders’ frequent Bengal visit ahead of the elections. For Mamata, the inauguration of Jagannath Dham in East Medinipur is both symbolic and strategic. It is a calculated move to reclaim religious space in a culturally resonant way, without ceding ground to the aggressive posturing of the BJP.

 

The TMC has announced plans to live-stream the inauguration of the Jagannath temple by Mamata across every block of the state, utilising giant LED screens. This move aims to amplify the event’s visibility and create a state-wide spectacle, reinforcing the party’s outreach and strategic messaging.

 

Bengali Hinduism vs nationalist Hindutva

 

The Trinamool's argument is clear: Hinduism is not monolithic, and Bengal’s relationship with it is deeply cultural, not aggressively political. From the Rath Yatra of Jagannath to the Basanti Puja and reverence for Ram as Durga’s devotee, Bengal’s religious calendar is rich and layered. As one Trinamool MP noted, “For any Bengali, Rath Yatra means Jagannath-Balaram-Subhadra. For the BJP, it means a political rally on wheels.”

 

This framing creates a sharp contrast between Bengali spirituality and the political Hindutva that has been aggressively promoted by BJP leaders like Subhendu Adhikari. The BJP’s central leadership, often seen as outsiders in the state, has struggled to align its cultural approach with Bengal’s ethos. Even senior BJP leader Tathagata Roy once admitted that the party's “Hindi aggression” may have alienated Bengali voters.

 

While the TMC seeks to reaffirm its Bengali Hindu credentials, it is also mindful of its minority support base. Legislation like the Waqf Bill is aimed at reinforcing that alliance. But Trinamool understands the importance of balancing both sides—reassuring Hindu voters of their cultural pride while sending a secular, inclusive message to the broader electorate.

 

Mamata’s planned visit to Kalighat Temple on Chaitra Sankranti and the inauguration of the Kalighat Sky Walk may appear routine, but in this political climate, every religious gesture carries weight. The question is no longer whether faith should be in politics—but whose faith, and which narrative, will dominate the political discourse.

 

Officially, TMC denies that the Jagannath temple inauguration in the same month is a strategy to counter BJP’s plot to use Ram Navami as a platform to secure electoral dividend. “It was already planned,” says party spokesperson Kunal Ghosh. Yet his simultaneous criticism of the BJP’s attempt to “impose the culture of Gobaloy (cow-belt) in Bengal” speaks volumes.

 

The cultural chessboard

 

Ultimately, what Bengal is witnessing is a cultural chess match—Ram vs Jagannath, outsider vs insider. And between these gods and temples, festivals and processions, what’s at stake is Bengal’s political identity.

 

This April, Bengal is not just choosing between two parties. It is choosing between two visions of faith—one that blends spirituality with cultural roots and another that seeks to universalise a singular narrative of nationalism.

 

Whether the chants end with “Jai Shri Ram” or “Jai Jagannath,” one thing is clear: in Bengal, faith is never just about god. It is about history, heritage and the very heart of who we are.

 

By Pranab Mondal