Tumpa Das, a crematorium worker from Purandarpur in Birbhum, West Bengal, has performed over 5,000 cremations since 2014.
Breaking barriers at the crematorium
At the Purandarpur cremation ground in Birbhum, West Bengal, the crackle of burning wood mingles with chants and murmurs of mourning. Amidst this, stands Tumpa Das, calmly preparing the furnace for another cremation. Once a nurse, she now works as a satkar karmi — a title given by the state to crematorium workers — conducting last rites for strangers with dignity and care. Her journey began not from choice but necessity, and grew into one of courage, endurance, and quiet defiance of gender norms.
From nursing to cremation duties
Tumpa’s story began in 2014, when her father, Bapi Das, who worked at the Purandarpur crematorium, passed away unexpectedly. The family was left without a steady income. At the time, she was employed as a nurse at a local Primary Health Centre, earning barely enough to manage essentials. With household expenses rising and her father’s post vacant, Tumpa made a bold decision. She left her nursing job and took charge of his duties — a role traditionally held by men in her community. The early days were overwhelming. The heat, the smoke, and the sight of grief all felt unbearable. Yet she endured, driven by the need to keep her family afloat.
Facing resistance and breaking stigma
When Tumpa first joined the crematorium, resistance came swiftly. Her relatives disapproved. Neighbours whispered about her “unwomanly” choice. Even her family worried about the social stigma. But Tumpa remained firm. “Someone had to take up my father’s job,” she recalls. “If I didn’t, we would have gone hungry.” Over time, her persistence silenced critics. The same people who mocked her began to respect her courage. The work demanded strength — stacking logs, operating furnaces, facing death daily — yet she performed it with humility and devotion.
A day in her life at the crematorium
Tumpa’s day begins at 8 am and often ends long after sunset. “The dead person’s details must be recorded first,” she explains while writing in the register. She then prepares the furnace, checks the system, and oversees the cremation until it’s complete — a process that can take over three hours. Afterward, she hands the ashes to grieving families and cleans the furnace for the next. In a decade, she has cremated more than 5,000 people. “Dead bodies don’t scare me,” she says. “It’s some of the living who do.” Her words carry the wisdom of someone who has seen humanity stripped to its most vulnerable state.
Carrying forward a generational duty
For Tumpa, this work is both legacy and livelihood. “My grandfather worked here, then my father, and now me,” she says. The Satkar Karmis have long been tied to this profession by caste and tradition, yet Tumpa’s decision as a woman broke layers of inherited boundaries. She remembers her early years vividly — endless queues, sleepless nights, and smoke-filled air. “One body took three hours to burn. The line outside never ended,” she recalls. “There was no time to rest.”
Finding strength amidst the flames
The installation of an electric furnace in 2019 transformed the crematorium’s pace. “Collecting wood, arranging logs, and cleaning took so much time,” Tumpa says. “Now it takes around 45 minutes.” But machines can’t replace the emotional toll. “People think women are too sensitive for this work, but I’ve seen men tremble in fear,” she says. Through every cremation, she carries a calm dignity, offering peace to families when words fall short.
Standing tall against prejudice
Tumpa has faced rejection not only from society but also in personal life. A recent marriage proposal collapsed when the groom’s family discovered her occupation. “They said no because of my job,” she says. “It hurt, but it made me stronger.” Her Rs 5,000 monthly salary from the Kalyanpur Panchayat is modest, yet blessings keep her going. “Families thank me for doing this work sincerely,” she smiles. “That gratitude is worth more than money.”
Redefining equality through her work
Each day, as another body arrives, Tumpa puts on her gloves and mask, steadies herself, and begins the ritual. She knows what her work demands — strength, empathy, and composure. “In today’s world, there’s no difference between a man and a woman,” she says. “Everyone is equal, and we can switch roles.” Through her unwavering commitment, Tumpa redefines dignity — proving that courage can burn brighter than fear, even amid the fires of death.