Inside the red-brick maze of Kolkata’s Hogg Market, the once-bustling flower lane is losing its sheen.
Near the Simpark Mall entrance, this corridor emanated the fragrance of fresh roses, orchids, lilies and chrysanthemums a decade ago, with customers making a beeline outside small shops to grab bouquets and bunches of fresh flowers.
Cut to 2025, the lane and the few shops left on it struggle to draw crowds.
Elderly shopkeepers, who worked through nights before the festive and wedding seasons, now wait through long stretches of the day without a single customer approaching them.
For Samriddha Dutt, the fifth-generation owner of flower shop SK Dutt, the battle is personal. His family’s shop has stood here for more than a hundred years. He grew up watching his grandfather and father arrange flowers for weddings, pujas, anniversaries and Valentine’s Day. Today, he worries if the legacy will survive at all.
“This entire stretch had flower shops only. After the lockdown, only a few remain. Come after five years, I doubt if you will find any at all,” he said.
What he remembers is very different from what he sees now. Samriddha recalls mornings when fresh flowers arrived in sacks from Mullickghat flower market in Howrah. He remembers the scent of tuberose and customers rushing in to pick up bouquets for their loved ones. “There was a time when we ran out of roses by noon,” he said.
Those days feel distant. Fresh flowers, once the pride of New Market, are becoming too expensive for everyday customers. The sudden surge in wholesale prices means florists often cannot replenish stock unless they are sure it will sell. Most buyers have moved to online portals that offer cheaper bouquets delivered to the doorstep.
The clatter of scissors, the rustle of bouquet wrappers and the familiar calls of florists tying garlands have softened, replaced slowly by the rustling of plastic flowers and shelves stacked with decorative gift hampers.
At Coondoo Florist, a shopkeeper explained how the economics have changed. “Our fresh flower bouquets start from Rs 250 and can go up to Rs 5,000. But people do not want to pay that much for flowers that will die in a week. They stop, bargain and leave. We hardly make any profit from selling flowers. Venue and car decoration contracts keep us going.”
Just a few steps away, shops that once sold roses and lilies now stock chocolates, imported dry fruits and small gift items. “If fresh flowers sit unsold for a day, the loss is ours. But chocolates and dry fruits stay. Artificial flowers stay. We cannot afford uncertainty anymore,” said another shopkeeper.
Florists say the competition today is not just from online platforms but also from large supermarkets, event planners who source directly from wholesale markets and even social media sellers. Many people prefer dry or artificial flowers because they last longer, require no maintenance and cost less in the long run.
“Fresh flowers are costly and not economical anymore. People want longevity when they buy something for home decor or gifting. Artificial flowers give them the same look at a lower price,” said a shopkeeper at Shiraj Dry Flowers.
But for Samriddha, the loss is not just financial. It feels like watching a part of his family history disappear. He joined the shop after finishing school, giving up his plans for higher studies when his father passed away. His mother and sister now run the business with him.
“My forefathers started this business. SK Dutt had a name in the city. When I was small, I used to come here with my father and grandfather. During Valentine’s Day, this area would be crowded. Sales of Rs 5,000 in the first half of the day were very common. Now, there are days when we hardly sell anything,” he Samriddha, in his early twenties.
As customers move on and the market’s charm fades, Samriddha shows up every morning, arranging what little stock of artificial flowers he can afford. The scent of flowers still lingers around his shop, but the bustle they once drew is fading. Still, he refuses to give up.
Hope hangs by a thread, but florists hold on to it anyway. For them, the flowers may be fading, but the memory of what this lane once meant still blooms — a reminder of a Kolkata that lived its celebrations through real, fragrant petals, handcrafted with care inside the old walls of Hogg Market.
