Indians, they say, are obsessed with people's life stories. So much so that we fail to critically assess the works and evaluate the contributions of great personalities, and rather elevate them to the pedestal of divinity. Our fascination for hagiology has contributed to M K Gandhi, Swami Vivekananda, Rabindranath Thakur, Subhash Chandra Bose and even Jawaharlal Nehru look like demigods.
The passing away of eminent litterateur Sunil Gangopadhyay and the subsequent reactions remind me of this trait, especially among the Bengalis. Moreover, our liking for hagiology knows no bound when someone has passed away. We simply push anything critical about that person under the carpet, probably for fear of being branded as uncivil, although it is hypocritical to be concealing ones unsavoury feelings with untruthful flowery praises
Sunil Gangopadhyay, undoubtedly, was a great writer. The way he looked at things around him, manifested his inner feelings, his choice of words and expressions - all carry the hallmarks of a profound thinker. Although an admirer of his writings, especially his lucid prose - despite his open expression of first love for poetry, I am neither qualified nor competent enough to comment on his literary skills. Being an admirer of someones literary or creative skills, however, doesn't necessarily mean that one has to fall in line with whatever that person says about every other thing in life.
Despite being a creative person and his literary works dealing with intricate human emotions, Sunil Gangopadhyay was conspicuous by his non-expression of sensitivity after the killing of innocent people in Nandigram and the brutal use of force in Singur. It was within his democratic rights to be a votary of the Left Front, but that didn't necessarily entitle him to undermine those who took to the streets after the killings on 14 March 2007. He even branded some of the vocal protesters as being "holier than though". (Anandabazar Patrika, 26 October 2012)
Sunil Gangopadhyay was a great thinker, and quite justifiably had a particular view on development, but someone else was also entitled to infer that he (Sunil Gangopadhyay) was totally indifferent and even ignorant about the life world of those who relied for generations on land. It was extremely difficult for someone with an urban bias to realise the importance of land to farmers. And by his own admission, Sunil Gangopadhyay's work was generally based around urban life.
Undoubtedly, Sunil Gangopadhyay was a custodian of the Bengali language, but his suggestions that all the shops in Bengal should have Bengali names or names written in Bengali, and no advertisement should be allowed in the state other than in Bengali smacked of parochialism and also suffered from short-sightedness, especially in this age of globalisation.
In fact, we are so self-absorbed and pedagogic that we hardly care to look beyond our myopic vision. Rather than critically assessing a person we resort to hagiography. Paying respect for us means conferring sainthood, especially to the deceased.
All comments are personal.
Tirthankar.Bandyopadhyay.Blog@gmail.com
Friday
Wednesday
Our Pujo Their Christmas
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| Courtesy: Prabashi |
We were supposed to manage the holiday season - from the Christmas to the New Year, with skeleton staff. I was told that a cab would pick me up from home as there were no public transport on that day.
As I woke up on the Christmas Day, the place in West London where I lived seemed like a forbidden city. Few vehicles sped through the Great West Road, I couldn't see a single person on the streets and all the shops had their shutters down. It was a sort of cultural shock for someone from Kolkata, where Christmas Days are specifically chosen for, party, picnic, feast and celebration.
The Asian cabbie who drove me to work told me that he was working since the night before as there were fewer drivers on the road.
"The White people generally do not work on a Christmas Day," he said, and it was a good opportunity for him to make a few bucks.
To my surprise he explained that Christmas was a very private affair in Britain and people generally visit their parents and the elderly relatives on that day, have quiet lunch and retire early to gear up for the Boxing Day Sale.
For someone from Kolkata, where every opportunity is for festivity and fun, it was a huge dampener.
My colleague and myself had to work flat out given the big story on board, with a bare minimum service available in the Bush House canteen and all the shops in Aldwych closed.
At the end of the day as another cabbie drove me past the Harrods in Kensington on my way home, I was a dejected soul. Expectations were high as 1999 was the last year of the millennium and I had thought that Christmas would be huge fanfare in Britain.
At the end of the day, the only luxury was my former colleague Vishnu Shankar and his wife Sabita Bhabi treating us with warm and delicious Indian cuisine and the company of their two lovely daughters Annapurna and Divya.
That was my first Christmas in London. Compare that with the din and bustle of the Christmas Day back home. And to compare the Christmas Day with the Durga Puja would be absolutely outlandish and bizarre.
Durga Puja is marked by all-round festivity. New dresses, delicious meals, pandal hopping, mouth-watering food, catching up with old friends and what not - the chains of control are taken over by uninterrupted merry-making.
Prabashi, a registered charity set up by a group of enthusiasts in Hounslow, wants to re-create that air of festivity and merry-making at a place which they call their second home. Their endeavour is to bring the East to the West so that one can complement the other.
Please visit the website of Prabashi (http://www.ukprabashi.org/) for more information, and join in the celebrations of the good over evil.
All comments are personal.
Tirthankar.Bandyopadhyay.Blog@gmail.com
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