Breaking stereotypes: Woman cremator ‘silently carries the weight of grief...’
Kolkata: In Purandarpur, near Baruipur, Bengal, 29-year-old Tumpa Das silently carries the weight of grief — hers and that of countless others. As the cremator of the Purandarpur crematorium, she performs tasks traditionally dominated by men, such as registering the deceased, preparing pyres and operating furnaces. For her grueling 14-hour shifts, she used to earn a meagre Rs 3,500 monthly — a sum that barely sustains her family. After working as a cremator for women for 10 years at a salary of Rs 3,500, Tumpa now earns Rs 5,000.
Tumpa’s journey began in 2014 with the sudden death of her father, Bapi Das, who had been the cremator at Kalayanpur. As the eldest of three siblings, Tumpa took over her father’s duties to support her family. Despite completing nursing training, she found the salary insufficient and turned to cremation work — a role rare for women in the region. Over the last decade, she has performed the last rites for more than 5,000 people.
Breaking the stereotype of a rugged, intimidating cremator, Tumpa’s soft voice and gentle demeanor hide her struggles. “The living are scarier than the dead,” she says, recalling how fear gave way to acceptance. “This is where everything ends — wealth, pride, even the clothes on one’s back. Compared to the outside world, I feel safer here.”
Despite her resilience, her challenges remain. “Many have come with marriage proposals, but as soon as they learn about my profession, they all refuse,” she shares, her voice tinged with sadness. “I’m doing my duty honestly; I’m not stealing or begging. Why is that something to be ashamed of?”
The blue-painted crematorium beside Purandarpur’s twin temples is a witness to countless tearful farewells. Amid cries of “Bol Hari, Hari Bol,” Tumpa prepares the pyres, places bodies in the furnace and waits as the flames consume everything, leaving only ashes. Every cremation brings back memories of her father, tightening the ache in her heart. Kalyanpur Panchayat’s Upa Pradhan, Surajit Purkait, said: “Initially, we were hesitant to offer her this job. However, considering her family’s situation — her father was the sole earner — we decided to give her the opportunity on humanitarian grounds. We are proud of her for breaking stereotypes.”
Despite her struggles, Tumpa endures. She has become a silent companion to those embarking on their final journey, a steady presence in a space filled with grief. For Tumpa, there is no escape — only the relentless cycle of duty and survival.
