When the Divine Takes Over: Debasish Das and His Mystical First Charak Puja as Kali

Ever wondered why Goddess Kali runs on the day of Charak Puja? In the multifaceted canvas of Indian culture, each layer gleams with its own unique brilliance. Bengal, where the fiery spirit of Shaktism has long been rooted, bears deep impressions of Tantra on its cultural fabric. Among the many spiritual practices that shape the Bengali way of life stands Charak Puja—an enduring and beloved celebration born of Tantric traditions, where faith meets mystery, human devotion borders the divine and the mundane converges with the fierce form of Kali.

Charak Puja, with its raw rituals and ancient spirit, carries a story both fascinating and haunting. Through symbolic battles between Goddess Kali and the asuras, the line between human and divine is blurred—sometimes, as locals claim, it vanishes altogether. Some believe that when a devotee takes on the role of Kali during the ritual, it is no longer a performance but a true embodiment, where the Goddess herself descends into the human vessel.

This year, 23-year-old Debasish Das stepped into the unknown. For the first time in his life, during Das Colony’s 73rd Charak Puja in Silchar, he took the form of Goddess Kali and became the living embodiment of her fierce avatar, locally known as Pagla Kali. In a conversation with Barak Bulletin, he shared his extraordinary journey—one where devotion, ritual, and a brush with the supernatural combined into an experience he described as nothing short of blissful.

Before the Puja day, Debasish served as a Sannyasi, requiring deep commitment. “You have to be involved in Neel Puja for at least a week,” he explained. The path toward embodying Kali began with strict vegetarianism and a purification ritual at the Smashan (cremation ground), where, under the protection of charms called Chalan, the participants were shielded from harmful counter-spells known as Ban. “These Chalans are there to protect us,” Debasish said, referring to the unseen dangers of the ritual journey.

Describing the pivotal moment at the Smashan, Debasish said, “I remember nothing of what happened there.” He spoke of a feeling many in the tradition quietly acknowledge—of losing oneself entirely to a higher power. “When the Goddess takes over, the body is not in our control,” he said. “I felt powerful and light at the same time.” After the rituals, his team had to perform another ceremony to bring him back to his normal, everyday state.

The transformation was not just spiritual but also physical. Preparing the fierce visage of Kali, with her striking colours and intricate decorations, took him nearly three to four hours on the Puja morning. “I sat from around 10 AM, and the makeup took almost four hours,” he recalled, detailing the dedication behind the appearance that completed the sacred embodiment.

Debasish also emphasised the inclusivity of the tradition, stating that there are no caste-based restrictions on who can become Kali. For him, this entire journey—mystical, challenging, and profound—was blissful. “Since it’s my first time, I wish to continue next year,” he expressed with a quiet resolve.

Charak Puja, deeply entwined with Neel Puja, falls during the last days of the Bengali month of Chaitra, just before Poila Boishakh—the Bengali New Year. Also known as Gajan festival, this tradition is observed across West Bengal, parts of Assam’s Barak Valley, and Bangladesh. Though revered, its exact historical origin remains cloaked in mystery. There are no definitive records explaining precisely when, why, or how Charak Puja first began.

The vibrant and powerful rites of Charak Puja exemplify the rich, layered diversity of Indian spirituality—and the profound unknowns that shadow our oldest traditions. Just as the birth of Sanatana Dharma remains beyond human memory, so too does the true origin of Charak Puja elude the pages of history.

Yet, in this modern world, such traditions face steady decline. Critics often label these rituals as cruel or primal, while villages once echoing with the spirit of Charak Puja now fall silent, with many reporting that the practice is vanishing year by year.

Preserving these traditions matters, not simply for the sake of religion or ritual, but because they are living histories—embodiments of a legacy that carries the soul of a people. Without them, we risk losing pieces of ourselves, our memories, and our cultural identity forever.