A Chronicle of Colonial Calcutta

THE PARLOUR AND THE STREETS
Elite and Popular Culture in 19th Century Calcutta
By Sumanta Banerjee
Calcutta:Seagull, 1998, pp 248, Rs 395

THIS is a fine study of elite and popular culture in nineteenth century Calcutta and their interactions. The author has collected with meticulous care, the required materials and has brought in his imagination to make the analysis eminently elegant. In a sense, Sumanta Banerjee, through this writing, has provided the needed stimulus for similar initiatives by intellectuals of some other metropolis such as Madras or Bombay which saw as Calcutta did, a certain dualistic cultural growth in the wake of colonial administrative and economic growth.

The author first identifies the gaps in the pre-existing studies. One, as is pointed out, is the lack of an appropriate correlation in conceptualisations of cultural growth in a colonial society between socio-economic changes and cultural products. The Marxist initiatives in this regard also could not fructify, partly because the Marxist concepts and categories did not fit in with the social and economic situation then prevalent in Calcutta and partly because these were generally “urbanised or punctuated with slogans to meet the demands of an immediate political situation or to make them acceptable to the city's middle class audience”.

The major influence for the author in understanding the cultural scenario of nineteenth century Calcutta, specially the culture of the bottom, emanates from Paulo Freire’s widely acclaimed work Cultural Action for Freedom where ‘the culture of silence’ is formulated. Sumanta Bannerjee seeks to examine the process through which “the culture of the lower orders was silenced by an indigenous elite” in the nineteenth century Calcutta, an elite “whose thought patterns and attitudes were shaped by listening to the voice of the metropolis from England.” This sort of cultural division, however, has an element of unreality. For instance, how do we place Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar whose conceptualisation of modernity was essentially non-western and was not based on a distinction between bhadralok and chotolok discourses in culture?

A useful discussion on the nineteenth century Calcutta's economy and society is provided in the beginning. An interesting aspect was the neat bifurcation of the city between the White Town of the English settlers and the Black Town of the native population. The latter was developed by the new rich who came up mostly through their humble connections with the colonial rule. According to the author, there thus grew a parvenu class which was dominantly Hindu. But a moot point is why these parvenus, unlike in the west, could not contribute to Bengal’s economic growth. The author touches upon the caste transformation which was slowly then taking place in Bengal. As is pointed out, “the client-patron relationship based on caste... between the first native settlers... tended to break down by the middle of the nineteenth century”.

Two elegant narratives are on folk culture and elite culture in the nineteenth century Calcutta. The farmer's basis was rural folk art and literature which the in-migrants from the countryside brought in. However, there was an important element of assimilation from the new urban milieu as a result of which a distinctive urban folk culture came into existence.

The principal forms of folk culture persisted throughout the period, but each of them had a certain dominance at a point of time. The popular rhymes about contemporary events and characters were conspicuous in the early phase, while the second and third phases were marked by Kobi-walas and jatra-walas respectively, All their performances were warmly greeted by popular acclaim. However, in the last quarter of the nineteenth century there occurred “a furious struggle for existence by these folk artists in an unequal competition with new cultural artefacts (of superior technology) and in the face of an organised campaign launched against them by the educated Bengali gentry.” A major aspect of urban folk culture in action was to provide satire and fun with the result that there emerged “a gay carnival”. The folk artists, as the author points out, “created an irreverent and iconoclastic world in opposition to the bhadralok world of strict rituals and stiff restraints”. However, this market place culture was generally insensitive to some of the major events around such as peasant uprisings. This was because the artists were eager to avoid any confrontation with the Raj.

There is in the following chapter, a lively analysis of elite culture. Initially north Indian classical songs and dances were an important part of the Calcutta elite entertainments. However, from the middle of the nineteenth century the earlier eclecticism of the gentry began declining as the new generation of English-educated, thoroughbred bhadraloks, were determined to set up a distinct elite culture of their own. This, which was fostered by the Raj, actually grew at the expense of Calcutta folk culture in the course of time got peripheralised. The bhadralok’s alternative in culture to the folk jatra was the modern theatre which came up in plenty. Not only in terms of technology but also in terms of the performance and the character of the audience the new elite culture was different.

In the face of the rise of the new bhadralok cultural forms a segment of Bengalees’ common possession based on folk culture, mercilessly declined. As the author brilliantly sums up,” the nineteenth century elite culture was shaped by two prevailing attitudes — one, the tendency to despise the folk tradition.., under the influence of English education; and two, the desire to discover a cultural identity with the upper class literature, music and fine arts of the past based on Sanskrit classics and Mughal court culture”. Actually there arose a bilingual (bicultural) elite who refused to be wholly Anglicised and yet, kept themselves away from uneducated, unsophisticated masses.

There is a refreshing epilogue which seeks to show the current effort of the Calcutta elite to receive the folk jatra which, however, “in its form and content transformed almost beyond recognition in the commercial environment of the modern metropolis.” This, in the author's perception, is a case of “cultural imperialism”.
One may not agree with this, but Sumanta Banerjee has done an excellent job which deserves praise and emulation for similar constructions in other major cities of the country.

Lady of the legend - bonbibi

by Prashanto Banerji of Sunday Indian
Keshab Giri is a pious man. Every evening, the bearded priest of Kultuli village would go to a banyan tree by the river and pray at its feet, light a clay lamp, then walk back to his hut by the paddy fields. This evening wasn’t supposed to be any different.

But as Giri walked, the village seemed unusually quiet. Even the village curs had fallen silent. All Giri could hear tonight was the sound of his bare feet rustling the dry grass. At the foot of the great banyan, Giri began his prayers. The air around the tree was heavy with a pungent, unfamiliar odour. Maybe it’s from the bank, he thought. Dead cattle, rotting flowers and once even a dead man, swollen and yellow had drifted past these shores. But this smell was different – overpowering, but alive.

Giri tried to return to his prayers. He couldn’t. He opened his eyes to light the lamp… there, inches away from his forehead, hanging from the branches was a striped tail, its tip flicking. “I fell over backward, chanting Maa’s name. My eyes met the tiger’s. It glowered and snarled, but didn’t attack,” Giri said. “Quivering with fear, I screamed ‘bagh ayese... tiger’s here!’ Within minutes, the whole village had gathered, flaming torches in hand. We surrounded the tree and started chanting Maa’s name… the tiger seeing the crowd, climbed higher up, and then jumped off the tree, past the crowd and into the village.” Giri pointed at a hut behind a duck pond, “…ran straight into it, past an old woman lying by the courtyard, tore through the wall and into the paddy fields. Astonishingly, no one was hurt. Maayer kripa… grace of the Mother.”

As we spoke, a sea eagle called and a streak of bright orange lit up the horizon. Dawn was breaking over the Sunderbans. Word had spread that a tiger had swum across the river from an island forest and entered the village, and we’d given chase. But we’d reached a little too late. The tiger had been captured by the forest officials and taken away before we could reach. But the journey hadn’t been in vain, because I got to meet ‘Maa’.

In most parts of the country, ‘Maa’ would mean any of the many forms of Durga, but in the Sunderbans, it does not refer to a Hindu deity but a Muslim one – and one both pious Hindus and devoted Muslims pray to together – ‘Maa Bonbibi’. Legend has it that Bonbibi, born to poor Muslim parents, was abandoned, and then brought up by a deer in these forests. Blessed by Nature, she became the protector of these forests and all who enter it in good faith. Bonobibi shrines, with the idol of a goddess sitting on a tiger, dot the Sunderbans. And today Kultuli was going to thank Maa for keeping them safe.

The villagers had organised a jatra – a musical play celebrating Bonbibi. As the gaudily painted actors got into the act, on a makeshift stage, Giri Baba’s friend, a dark eyed man with a shock of white hair and a wispy beard, Muttalib Mollah, whispered, “Sunderban’s villages have both Hindus and Muslims, but in truth they are just children of the forest. The Musholmans pray five times in a mosque and the Hindus do their temple aarothi, but when it is time to go to the forest, we are together in our prayers to Maa Bonbibi. The Muslims tuck their beards and sit arm in arm in front of an idol with the Hindus who have no qualms about praying to a Muslim deity. Even when riots have spread across the Bengals, the Hindus and Muslims of the Sunderbans have lived as brothers… because the forest forces us to remain human, remain humane and stay in touch with what religion was meant to be… a source of strength, a divine bond, with our Khuda, our soul and our neighbour. A night in the forest is enough to teach you that. Theek bolchhi dada?” Muttalib turned to Giri. Though engrossed in the jatra, Giri turned, put an arm around Muttalib, nodded and smiled “theek… aekdom theek”. The play was long, the actors terrible and the music off-key, but the Kultuli crowd cheered, enraptured and entranced. The stage was empty now. The crowd was dispersing. Giri asked Muttalib to sing. “Aekhon kayno… why now?”. He was reluctant. “Gao na, aamra nachbo…sing, we’ll dance” Some people around him also insisted and a reluctant Muttalib went up on stage. Giri told me that Muttalib sang Hari kirtans really well.

Muttalib started, tentatively first, and then with gusto…The musicians returned, the dhols erupted, and the crowd stopped and turned. Muttalib was singing and ‘shaking’, and Kultuli, Hindus, Muslims alike, were ‘shaking with him…

This was my last day in these magical forests. It was a good day…
In the marshy swamps of the Sunderbans, faith has rock-solid underpinnings. Around the largest delta of the world, forest communities hail Bonbibi to protect them against the weather, and of course, the cat. Legends of the goddess, and more elaborately her nemesis, Dokkhin Rai, were first mentioned by Krishnaram Das in the 17th century. Later, the tales were retold in late 19th century in the Bonbibi Johurnamah by Abdur Rahim, who wrote them in Bangla, but in the way of the Arabic script – right to left.
This jungle goddess was born to a Muslim, Ibrahim, and his first wife, who was abandoned in the forest by the former when she was pregnant, at the behest of the second wife. The first wife gave birth to twins and left the girl child to the elements. Raised by a deer, Bonbibi, was chosen by Providence to fight the menace of the wicked Brahmin-turned-tiger, Dokkhin Rai.
Upon her divine mission, Bonbibi set out with her estranged brother Shah Jungoli for Mecca Medina to seek the blessings of Fatima and brought back some holy earth to mix in the Sunderbans’ soil. Her return and activities agitated Rai who challenged her to a duel. Dokkhin was vanquished and he pleaded forgiveness, addressing Bonbibi as ‘Mother’. Bonbibi, in her parting enjoinders, wished the forests be accessed only by the pobitro mone (pure hearted) and khali hatey (empty handed). To date, the Sunderban communities pay their obeisance to the goddess on Bonbibi Utsav, irrespective of caste, clan or religion…

Putul Naach(Puppet Theatre) of Nadia

West Bengal had a strong tradition in this type of puppetry. In Nadia distrtict rod-puppets used to be of human size. This form is now almost extinct, and that which survives uses puppets of about 31/2 t o 4 feet in height. usually they have 3 joints. The head is jointed at the neck and both hands at the shoulders. Only a few figures, such as dancers, have joints also at the elbows. The technique of manipulation is interesting. A bamboo-made hub is firmly tied to the waist of the puppeteer. On this hub the rod that supports the puppet figure is placed. The puppeteers, each holding a puppet, stand behind a head-high curtain. Usually mats made of bamboo or a special kind of tall grass are used as the curtain. While manipulating the rods attached to the head and hands, the puppeteers also move and dance, imparting corresponding movements to the puppets.
Simultaneously, they sing and deliver prose dialogue in a stylized recitative manner, each for the stage provide the accompanying music with a harmonium, drums and cymbals. The music, style of delivering the dialogues, costumes which the puppets wear, all have a close similarity with Bengalee Jatra, the most popular,vital and fascinating of folk theatre prevalent in the state. It is evident that there has been a continuous exchange between Putul-nach and Bengalee Jatra. There are about a dozen plays in the traditional repertoire of Putul-nach. Most ancient of them are, perhaps, the plays based on Ramayana. The other plays, such as Satee Behula, are based on legends of which a few are peculiar to Bengal and are favourites of Jatra theatre as well. Some puppets fascinate the audience because they are so ingenuously articulated. Rod puppets of West Bengal do not come under this category. Their appeal depends not on manipulating dexterity
but on the histrionic talent of the puppeteers.

Jatra

Jatra is a popular form of folk theatre from the Eastern region of India, mainly Bengal. It is the enactment of a play with a cast and comprises music, dance, acting, singing and dramatic conflict. Earlier, religious values were communicated to the masses through the powerful medium of Jatra.
The origins of Bengali Jatra are quite hazy and the historians and literary critics have widely divergent views. Nevertheless, it is to be mentioning that the word Jatra can be traced in the Natyashashtra, the bible on the arts and science of dance. It was also attributed that there are dramatic presentation in Bengal to Jaydeva's “Geet Govinda”. And it can be said that Jatra is a mix of various popular and classical art forms.
In Bengal, there was a form of singing called the Carya(Charya), which was popular between the 9th and the 12th centuries. The commentaries on the Amarakosa mention its existence and some fragments from these are quoted in copperplate grants. The languages of these songs are considered to be a creation of sections of people who were followers of Mahayana Budhhism. There are also references to a Buddha Natak. While no definite deductions can be made from this evidence, it is clear that this was a kind of musical drama, which was possibly prevalent during that time. During the same period, the Carya Padas were popular in Orissa.
SriChaitanyaDev (social reformer) and his followers contributed to a reawakening and were responsible for bringing about a national integration in many parts of India at the cultural level at a time when all Indian regions were affected by political and economic devastation. They were the Creators, the directors of Drama and self-consciously used the vehicle of drama for religio-social purpose. History owes them the first definite presentation of theatrical spectacle where Chaitanya himself played Rukmini. This then was perhaps the beginning of the ‘Krisn jatra.’ So he is, undoubtedly, the predecessor of the contemporary Jatras of Bengal.
Today, the style of writing plays for Jatras has undergone changes. Jatra plays are now, no longer limited to the mythological, historical or fantastical subjects. They include social themes to suit modern taste. Jatra is performed on a simple stage with the spectators surrounding it on all sides. The chorus and the musicians take their position off stage. There are no stage properties except a single seat meant to serve various functions - a throne, a bed or a way-side bench. Onstage, the actors move in a very theatrical manner. They deliver their speeches in high-sounding words and have to be loud enough to catch the attention of the spectators seated on all sides. Consequently, they espouse an exaggerated style and are heavily made up. Their costumes dazzle, their swords blaze and their words boom to the accompaniment of the crashing cymbals. Sometimes the actors depict subtle emotional moods like love, sorrow, pathos, but the element of exaggeration is always present, as they have to project themselves as larger than life figures.
As in the case of other theatre forms, the main Jatra performance is preceded by some preliminaries. Here they constitute the singing of a melody and the playing of several instruments. Many Ragas including Syama Kalyana, Bihag, and Puravi etc. are used. Singing of the same melodic line follows the playing of the instruments. Soon after the conclusion of the musical overture, a group of dancers rush in from the gangway and begin a dance. Often, the group dance is followed by a solo dance.
In the last four or five decades the advancement hindi cinema in the rural Bengal has a influence over the transformation Jatra. These need to be much more flashy with colourful dresses, coloured lights, revolving sets etc. and in the mean time various popular personalities of the film fraternity of Bengal and Mumbal are joining to experience the pulse of jatra. this trend has also an effect on it.
The Jatra forms are an important branch of the parent tree of Indian literatures, languages and theatre forms. Its survival appears to have thrown seeds, which have given modern Bengali theatre a new direction.