The secluded lives of Rudra para's clay potters
With only a broken bridge leading into the secluded neighbourhood, the Rudra clay potters in Ukhiya are not even well known to local residents. But they have been here since the ‘40s, making clay pots for generations
Off the beaten path in Rajapalong union, where the tom-toms cannot travel, is a bamboo bridge leading to Rudra para in Ukhiya, Cox's Bazar. The bridge is broken though, and the pedestrians, including residents of Rudra para, do not seem to hesitate as they strut around it, up and down broken ground — not too great of a walk for impaired kneecaps.
Residents are used to the inconvenience. And through the difficult path is a cluster of mud houses, where approximately 24 families reside, with a curious common thread: all families have the same surname — Rudra, the namesake of their habitat.
On a weekday morning, we were greeted by friendly faces. One resident, who we met on our walk to the bridge from the nearest tea shop, said his sibling was the "president", and went to fetch him.
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"We have been here since the British era," said Haradon Rudra, the president of a representative committee, who at first thought that NGO personnel, yet again, had come for an unannounced visit. "Many, many come through here, but we never see any results."
This group of marginalised Rudras is self-sufficient. They are "clay potters descended from clay potters", according to Haradon.
Everyone is fluent in Bangla and Chatgaiya (the local dialect of Chattogram), and everyone except children engage in work. And in the courtyards at Rudra para, their clay pots of varying shapes and sizes lie under the sun. This is their prized possession, their source of livelihood, and their identity.
What Rudra para lives on
When Khokon Rudra spoke of the community's heritage, his hands had wet clay stains, which, within a few minutes, hardened and gave them a crust-like texture.
No bother for the man who is said to be one of the oldest in the community at an age of above 80. Clay is part of their lives as much as the air they breathe. "This is the work we know, passed down for generations," he added.
"So what would you like me to make?" asked Khokon. We were standing in a small, poorly-lit structure, housing one of the two manual clay pottery wheels at Rudra para. Within a few minutes, Khokon made three small pots. "You can serve bhapa pitha in this one, and this is a doi'r bati," he explained, pointing to the pots. The lack of light did not bother the veteran potter.
Then came the drying process. "We dry them for almost two days," explained Haradon, "then we paint it, dry it again, and finally burn it in fire."
Married couples divide the work between them; women primarily take up the housework, cooking and drying of the clay after it comes off the manual clay pottery wheel.
Rinabala Rudro, Harandon's wife, invited us inside her house to see the layout. Apparently, every house resembles something similar: a low ceiling, so one has to almost double over to enter; is dark (load-shedding is common, the community lives without power for up to six to eight hours a day); has small quarters with one large bed and a mandir (shrine for worship) with at least one murti (idol); and almost every house has a corner dedicated to clay pots.
And since it's a small community, everyone knows everyone, of course. In fact, some of the 24 households are directly related, meaning once a son got married, he chose to take up another house in Rudra para.
Rinabala was well-spoken and confident.
"This isn't exactly easy work, but we make do. The work starts early in the morning and takes up the whole day until dusk," she explained. Rudra para's potters prefer to work during the day.
The Rudras turn over their earthenware to get a good bake in the sun, before painting them with plant-based colours and burning them in the firepit. There are only two for common use in the cluster of mud houses. Potters take turns to use them, and in bulk, clay pots are burned in the pit — the last stage of making a pot.
Their business model is simple: They live where they work and to make the clay pots and products, they collect and buy the clay in bulk from outside.
"We have to go about two kilometres far to get the clay," informed Haradon. The clay costs around Tk5,000-6,000 and lasts each potter approximately two to three months.
Once the final product is ready, in bulk, the designated potters take a load of their products to nearby markets in Cox's Bazar for sale. And this is where they make their buck. Sometimes, customers like "NGO apas also come to buy from us directly," said Khokon.
However, business is not always good. "We could reach our full potential if we had the right equipment," said Haradon. He also said at the time of deadly flash floods, most of their community becomes submerged in waist-deep water, which halts work and destroys their products. "It's clay, the water sweeps it away. In the 1990s, a flood damaged our pottery wheels. Before that, every house had one, but now, some families share with others," he added.
Currently, each family can fetch up to Tk8,000-Tk10,000 per month from selling their clay products, but it varies. This figure is understood to be the average household income, according to Haradon.
And each of these 24 families has, on average, four to five family members. Most families also have members who work outside as day labourers.
However, there is a change in the offing.
"Our children are not interested in pottery; neither have they learned it nor were they taught the craft," said Saraswati Rudra, who recently became a grandmother.
A wind of change
By the time we reached Saraswati's home, the power came back. In the master bedroom lay her infant granddaughter under a baby's mosquito net. The warm light bulb during the day lit up Saraswati, her husband, their newly-wed daughter, and a large banner with the newly-weds' faces plastered on it. "Our son-in-law is from Gorgonia [a two-hour ride from Ukhiya]. His family is well-off," said Saraswati.
Saraswati sang the praise of her son-in-law, an aspiring doctor, who was due at their home for a visit any moment. Salu Rudra, Sarwaswati's husband, explained how Rudras generally marry outside. And the Rudra lineage breaks when the daughter marries outside. "My daughter or grandchildren will not carry Rudra surname."
And they will not be working as clay potters.
In fact, the couple believes that not a single family at Rudra para has children who will follow suit in their parents' footsteps. "And why should they? The work doesn't pay much. They all are getting the education we never got; they will have careers, whatever it may be, but not this."
A small pocket of lives
Rudra is a common Hindu surname, "just like Ahmed in Islam" said Haradon, but of course, you won't come across as many Rudras as Ahmeds. In fact, when the Rohingya exodus happened in 2017, Rudra para residents learned how minority Hindu Rudras also fled violence in Myanmar and landed in Cox's Bazar's refugee camps. "There are Hindu Rohingyas, as you must know," added Haradon.
Did the community feel threatened or come under attack during communal violence in Cox's Bazar? "No," said Haradon. "We grew from eight to nine families from the British period [the 1940s] to 24. We are part of the land here." There was a slight hint of annoyance in Haradon's glistening face under the sun. It needed to be clarified that the question did not intend to 'other' his community.
Haradon reiterated how Rudras have been here on this land for generations and generations. And that their business slowed down and shrunk, but not the community.
Interestingly, many of Ukhiya's local residents are not aware of Rudra para. In fact, navigation to the para is not easy. People seemed familiar with Kumar para (kumar means clay potters), but only the elderly men at tea shops near Rudra para could point us to the beaten path into the Rudras' lives.
