When Fragrance Met Prejudice: On an ordinary day at Tollygunge Metro Gate No. 1, a bustling spot known for its constant stream of commuters, an extraordinary incident unfolded that exposed the fragility of human dignity in the face of prejudice.
For Mainak Dutta, a 29-year-old attar seller from Baguiati, the day began like any other. He unpacked his collection of perfumes—small glass bottles filled with rose, sandalwood, jasmine, and khus—and set them neatly on a makeshift stall. Each bottle carried not only fragrance but also tradition, labor, and love. Mainak, an economics graduate, had left a stable BPO job to follow his passion: keeping alive the centuries-old art of Indian perfumery.
But what should have been a routine transaction soon turned into a moment of humiliation.
When Fragrance Met Prejudice: The Confrontation at Tollygunge
An elderly man approached Mainak’s stall and asked for a 3 ml bottle of attar. Mainak quoted the price: ₹120. The man, however, insisted he would pay only ₹20. When Mainak refused to undersell, the disagreement escalated.
Instead of walking away, the customer lashed out with words that cut deeper than any bargain. He accused Mainak of being a “Bangladeshi” and went further to suggest that “outsiders” like him were taking over local spaces.
For Mainak, born and raised in Kolkata, the insult was not only false but also crushing. “I wanted to shout, to protest,” he later wrote. “But my throat choked. I felt powerless.”
The Weight of a Word: “Bangladeshi”
The term “Bangladeshi” in Kolkata is more than a label. It has become a loaded slur, one that immediately casts suspicion on identity, belonging, and loyalty. Over decades, anxieties about migration from across the border have made this word a weapon.
Mainak, however, is as local as the tramlines that run through the city. His family has lived in Baguiati for generations. He studied economics, speaks fluent Bengali, and has built a business deeply tied to Kolkata’s culture. Yet, in a moment of anger, a stranger’s prejudice stripped him of his dignity.
A Tradition Steeped in Fragrance
To understand why this incident resonates so deeply, one must also understand the cultural weight of attar.
Attar—natural perfume oil distilled from flowers, herbs, and spices—has been part of the Indian subcontinent for centuries. Mentions can be found in Vedic texts like the Rigveda. During the Mughal era, attar became synonymous with luxury, with emperors and queens adorning themselves in bespoke fragrances.
In Bengal, attar carries not only a sensory but also a spiritual presence. It is used during pujas, weddings, and cultural gatherings. To sell attar is not simply to trade in perfume but to safeguard a heritage.
Mainak’s work embodies this continuity. For him, fragrance is beyond religion, beyond borders. It is a shared tradition, connecting Hindus, Muslims, and others alike.
Social Media: A Stage for Solidarity
Mainak did not keep quiet. He turned to Facebook and wrote a heartfelt post about what happened. His words struck a chord:
- “Fragrance has no Hindu or Muslim,” he wrote.
- “Because of the fools in our own state, I felt ashamed today.”
The post went viral. Within hours, hundreds responded with messages of support. Some shared personal experiences of prejudice. Others simply wrote: “We stand with you.”
This digital wave of empathy soon spilled into the physical world.
Protest and Public Support
Determined not to let silence bury the insult, Mainak and his friends organized a peaceful demonstration. At Jadavpur 8B, a busy hub for students and activists, he and his colleagues set up a stall, selling attar proudly while holding placards with messages against xenophobia.
Commuters and students stopped, listened, and even bought attar bottles as a gesture of solidarity. One placard read: “Fragrance has no nationality.” Another said: “Identity is not for sale.”
This was no longer just about one insult. It was about reclaiming dignity and making a stand for inclusivity in Kolkata.
Kolkata’s Larger Struggle with Prejudice
The incident is not isolated. Kolkata, with its layered history of migration—from Partition refugees in 1947 to workers from Bihar, Odisha, and Bangladesh—has always been a melting pot. Yet, the politics of identity has repeatedly surfaced, often targeting the vulnerable.
Street vendors, migrant workers, and small traders are frequently the first to face accusations of being “outsiders.” Whether in Sealdah, Park Circus, or Tollygunge, such slurs have become disturbingly common.
This reflects a deeper unease about economic competition, cultural insecurities, and border politics. Scholars of migration studies note that “othering” often becomes a way for communities to project fears onto individuals.
Mainak’s Resolve: Fragrance as Resistance
Mainak, however, refuses to bow down. His business continues. He still sits outside Tollygunge Metro Gate, selling attar with a smile, determined to show that prejudice cannot overpower passion.
“Every bottle I sell is a message,” he says. “That fragrance belongs to everyone, and no insult can take that away.”
His resilience has inspired others too. College students now occasionally stop by to buy his attar, calling it “a perfume of defiance.”
Broader Lessons
The story of Mainak’s ordeal holds lessons beyond Kolkata:
- Prejudice can hide in the everyday. It doesn’t always come in grand political speeches but in simple interactions—a purchase, a negotiation, a refusal.
- Community matters. The solidarity shown by strangers online and offline is proof that hate can be countered by empathy.
- Tradition must be protected. Attar is not just a perfume; it is heritage. Supporting artisans like Mainak keeps culture alive.
External Context and References
- Indian Perfume Heritage: Attar’s Origins and Legacy
- Partition, Migration, and Identity in Bengal
- Kolkata’s Migrant History
- The Sociology of Prejudice and Othering
Conclusion: A Fragrance That Refuses to Fade
In the heart of Kolkata, amid metro stations, honking buses, and bargaining crowds, a young attar seller faced prejudice but refused to surrender. His story is not only about humiliation but also about resistance, community, and hope.
Mainak Dutta’s ordeal reminds us of a simple truth: identity is not defined by slurs, and dignity cannot be bargained away for ₹20.
As long as his stall stands at Tollygunge, the fragrance of attar will continue to spread—not just as perfume, but as a symbol of resilience, belonging, and the human spirit’s refusal to be diminished.
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