IPEN - Bhaba, the mystery! by Pratip Biswas

My life as a student of Jagatpur High School was enriched with numerous anecdotes and stories. I could not forget a particular character of those stories, Bhaba. He was transferred to our school where he became the centre of all chaos. And here is how it all began.

We got promoted to 7th standard and as usual, the first day of school saw a pandemonium. The class teacher, Sunil Thakur sir, entered the classroom and everybody became silent. He was the scariest person we had ever known in our 14-year-old lives. He used his cane, rather than his mouth, to teach us. We used to call him DDT, as in Dandadata Thakur.

After scrutinising every face, he started taking attendance with the register. He stopped at roll number 16 and said, “It seems we have a new import in this class. Bhabani Prasad Purokayastha! 

Who is he? Stand up!”

A boy stood up from a middle-row bench. “Sir, my name is Bhabani Prasad Purokayastha!”

“Ok! Tell me something, Mr Bhabani Prasad Purokaysatha. How did you manage to crawl in your childhood, hauling such a big name? Anyway, where did you study previously?”

“Er… Narayanchandra Memorial Institution for Boys!”

Sunil sir slapped his forehead in mock surprise, “Oh my god! That’s enough, son. You don’t have to tax your tongue anymore uttering mile-long names, please sit down!”

Bhabani sat down; the whole class was laughing at sir’s comment.

A few days later, we saw the real avatar of Bhabani aka Bhaba. He was a big zero when it came to studies. It’s a wonder how he managed to get promoted to 7th standard. If he was asked the name of Humayun’s son, he would answer “Rabindranath Tagore”! Whenever he drew a triangle, you could never find its arms because it was totally round.

I don’t think he knew what a triangle is and naturally he used to flunk mathematics. But no one could beat him when it came to mischief. Putting pepper in Sanskrit sir’s snuffbox or spraying ink on Game teacher’s white shirt were his daily routine. Only because of him, Sanskrit sir quit his addiction to snuffing powder and the Game teacher stopped wearing white.

It was common knowledge that Bhaba didn’t have any idea what the textbooks held inside them. During exams, everybody used to wait eagerly to see what Bhaba did in his papers. Once he sat beside me in a Sanskrit paper. When the time came for sir to hand out our answer sheets, he called Bhaba first.

“Tell me son who sat beside you in the test?”

Seeing Bhaba remain silent, I said that he was sitting beside me.

“Yes, I’ve suspected that much myself!”

Then he burst out at Bhaba, “You rascal! Are you twin brothers or something? How come both of your names are Pratip Biswas? You think this is a circus?”

We were clueless as to what he was talking about. Then we came to know that the great Bhaba had copied my entire answer sheet. He even copied down my name. Sir suspected that he tried to copy my handwriting too. We never laughed so hard in our lives.

The strangest thing was DDT, who was infamous for his thrashings, had never raised a finger on Bhaba. He was our Bengali teacher, but sometimes when he was bored, he would ask us questions from English grammar. One day, he asked Bhaba, “How many genders are there?”

Bhaba, scratching his head, answered, “Three. Masculine gender, feminine gender, and…and…”

“Yes? Go on…,” sir encouraged him. Scratching his head, Bhaba said, “… and Alexander, sir!”

I still can’t forget sir’s expression hearing his answer. Somehow he got himself together and went back to teaching Bengali.

I was intrigued by Sunil sir’s attitude towards him. One day, I pursued Bhaba, bribed him with a few snacks and asked him the reason behind that. After much pestering, he finally agreed to let me in on the secret. He said, “When I first came here, and before anyone knew me, I witnessed something very embarrassing. I had to go out one day to buy sweets. I hid myself in the garden near my house to taste some of those sweets. Sunil sir was passing by the road. As it was a wintry night, I had a white shawl wrapped around me. The night was freakishly silent and I was giving away the impression of something very eerie, spectral. Seeing me there, sir started muttering incoherently and then he fainted. It was quite a job to get him awake. After that day, he never scolded me. There you go, that’s your story!”

“That doesn’t really measure up. What is the real story?”

“Oh well, Sir needed a change of clothes because he couldn’t control his bladder and I am not talking about ‘little toilet break’!”

Bhaba winked and left me wondering if that was what really happened or was it something he had made up to get me off his case. What and why Bhaba did things will always remain a mystery to me. 

Pratip Biswas, Kolkata

Mohadustor Dustobuddhi : Mischief makers unite - Gitanjali Das

Folklorist Alvin Schwartz has said, ‘Humour is a slippery subject’. What is humorous for someone might not be so for another. Moreover, humour is influenced by many elements such as society, culture and, most importantly, age. It is an art in itself to write humourous tales that can be read by all age groups and, in that sense, Bhabendra Nath Saikia is an artist. A doctorate in physics, Saikia wrote profusely for children. To consider them narratives meant only for the young would be underrating these realistic tales which are fun-filled experiences for kids and nostalgia for grown-ups. Most of his humorous stories deal with settings and characters that everybody can relate to.

Mohadustor Dustobuddhi is a compilation of stories by this renowned writer and filmmaker. The stories anthologised in this book were originally published in the popular children’s Assamese magazine,Sofura, where Saikia was the editor from 1982 to 1996 and from 2002 till his demise in 2003. First published in 1999, the book became very popular and it was later given the form of a video play.

The most striking feature of these stories, or rather episodes, is the realistic characterisation. Each chapter deals with a single incident. While introducing the characters the author casually mentions their names without making any effort to tell us where they are from or who their parents are. For instance, “Do you know Shri Dhananjay Kumar Bhattacharyya? You don't remember? You will recognise him if I tell you his pet name. He is more popular by that name. Poltu.” Indeed, we do not know Shri Dhananjay Kumar Bhattacharyya. But we do know Poltu. We know every kid in that familiar locality by their pet names as we live in a similar neighbourhood. And aren't Dhan, Bharati, Poltu, Bhola, Xorubapu or the others a mirror image of any other kid? The beauty of his narrative technique is that we immediately start relating them to the people we know. Thus, when the author narrates the mischief done by the children, we immediately think of the naughtiest kid of our locality or the countless pranks played by us in the carefree days of our childhood.

The characterisation suggests that the author observed people and life minutely. There are only a few writers who can create mirth out of day-to-day incidents in a household or a locality. Some of the events have probably occurred in every household:

Bolai’s father keeps on shouting advice to his mother from his room:

“Hera, cook khar with amita today.”

“Hera, cook mati maah dail with thekera today.”

“Hera, cook sojona with xorioh today.”

One day Bolai shouts, “Ma today…“

Mother interrupts him, “You are also going to place an order?”

Bolai says, “Cook dail with salt today.”

Saikia beautifully traces the fun and frolic of childhood, the squabbles between siblings and the countless thrashings awarded by the parents as medals for mischievous acts. We see the character Dhan persistently bugging his sister who is preparing for her Master’s examinations (not a matter of joke, as the author gravely informs the reader). He makes a list of his brilliant inventions and leaves them among the books on his sister’s table:

1. Rice soaked in water is called poita-bhaat. That is why hot rice is called apoita-bhaat. (Actually the term is pointa; but the chandrabindu has gone missing from Dhan’s dictionary.)

2. Cows (goru) smell bad. His sister also smells bad. The watery thing that his sister uses to get rid of the smell is called agoru (a kind of perfume).

…

4. There is no value (mulya) of reading books because books are priceless (amulya)!

5. The things that the women from Lanka don’t wear, but which his sister does wear, are called alankar (ornaments)…

Saikia says in the dedication that Mohadustor Dustobuddhi is a book of pranks. And those who do not understand pranks should not keep this book with them. True to his word the author pulls a prank on the reader as well:

Do you know Indrajit? My goodness! What a naughty kid! If you hear about his mischiefs you will become speechless, sometimes you will get angry, sometimes you will laugh so much your stomach will start aching, you will laugh to the point of tears. So many mischiefs. My mouth will start aching if I start talking about them.

So, I won’t tell.

Mohadustor Dustobuddhi is coloured with delightful tales. In the last decade, humour literature has seen very few works that are not satire or marked by the chaos in society. The doyen of Assamese literature, Lakshminath Bezbarua, who influenced much of 20th century literature of the state, was adept in both satire and innocent humour. After him, Bhabendra Nath Saikia brought us humour we could delight in. In contemporary times, Sofura and Rongmon continue to give writers a platform to narrate tales that are untainted with the disorder in society. Rongmon, the only Assamese comic magazine for children, is quite popular among children and adults alike. Its publishers have now started a website.

Perhaps because these are magazines for children, they aim at unadulterated humour and pure amusement. After all, who would want to pollute a child’s mind with the ugly reality of society? Maybe the region needs more writers like Lakshminath Bezbarua and Bhabendra Nath Saikia to teach people how to laugh despite all the decadence in the community and find humour in the canvas of life.

Frontispiece - Funny people : humour writers of Assam : Bhadra Bora

Noted humorist Bhadra Bora gives us an overview of humour and satire in  Assamese literature

Rasaraj Lakshminath Bezbarua dug up the well-springs of humour in Assamese literature. He used humour, satire, parody and other genres to enrich the storehouse of Assamese literature. But this great humorist had also written in regret: “Three-fourths of the people of Assam do not understand what in English is termed as “wit and humour” and cannot take pleasure in laughter. Which is why they have fallen on bad times.” Though spoken in jest, he meant it.

Various scholars have examined the nine rasas. Researchers have, however, not focused so much on the importance of humour literature. The amount of satire in old literature is minimal. Historically, although humour in Assamese literature has deep roots, it hasn’t been very strong. This is mainly because ancient literature was derived from Sanskrit. Religious works had therefore by definition to be serious and profound. Renowned scholar Satyendranath Sarma wrote:

“As a people we might not be humourous, but that is not the complete answer. Society has not changed much since Bezbarua’s time. Perhaps the biggest reason is writers have not treated the humour genre with the kind of seriousness and fame it deserves.”

Humour has, meanwhile, always been present in our literary culture. Apart from folktales and folksongs, there have been notable works such as Bezbarua’s own stories in Burhi Air Xadhu. Ojapali, and songs sung at traditional weddings were rich sources of humour. Famous researcher Bhrigu Mohan Goswami’s ‘Ojapali institution and Daina-Pali’s Role’ and other works examine this source at great depth. The flavour of ancient practices have been preserved effectively even today by institutions such as Ojapali and bhaona.

Bezbarua’s own role is crucial in understanding more recent developments. Litikai (1890), Pasoli (1913), Nomal (1913), Sikorpoti Nikorpoti (1914), Gadadhor (1918) and others are outstanding examples of the genre. Another notable contributor to the field was Padmanath Gohain Baruah, whose Gaonburha (1897), Teton Tamuli (1909) and Bhut Ne Bhram (1924) were particularly good examples of satirical plays.

Satirical theatre was also enriched by other playwrights such as Durgaprasad Majindar Barua, Benudhar Rajkhowa, Chandradhar Barua, Mitradeb Mahanta, Padmadhar Chaliha, Laxmidhar Sarma, Surendra Nath Saikia, Kumud Chandra Barua and others.

About influences on humour literature, scholars have this consensus: “In terms of English humourists whose works have influenced writings here, the name of Charles Lamb can be called to mind. Others include Beerbohm, Priestley, Gardiner, Stephen Leacock and Huxley.”

Other writers, following in Bezbarua’s footsteps, contributed stories and novels. They include Dolai Sarma, Kerpai Sarma, Ananda Kagti, Phulpani Phukan and others. Storywriter Mahishchandra Bora might be more usually considered as an essayist, but he was a storywriter nevertheless.

Critic Munin Borkataki feels: “In my mind Deka’s (Haliram Deka) works are on the one hand about people, and on the other are examples of light and funny creations. Writing is generally divided into these two divergent strains. Until these two strains are mixed, good examples from this genre cannot emerge. In the last three decades, there have been other examples of this, including Kumar Srimadhusudan, Premnarayan, Pitambar Raimedhi, Memera Medhi, Bhadra Bora, Lila Gogoi, Lalit Bora. Similarly, Hem Barua, Tilak Hazarika, Kirti Hazarika, Hem Sarma, Kiran Sarma, Prafulla Barua and, to an extent, Nabakanta Barua, Dulal Borthakur and Harendra Deba Goswami, can be counted within such writers.”

This critic has placed some writers within the genre of essays or on the fringes of some other genre. He has called them “borderline cases”. Lila Gogoi’s Kopiling Siga Rail and similar creations, Hem Sarma’s Madar Phulor Mala, some works of Bhadra Bora and others might occasionally have an element of humour in them which might elevate them to the genre.”

Some of those who have been writing in this field in the last decade are not around. Of those that remain, the foremost, Tilak Hazarika, has not written in this genre for a while. Hem Sarma has not written anything new at present. Adept writer Rama Hazarika is currently silent. Of that generation, only I am active. 

In the recent past, the quantity of such works might have decreased, but several powerful humour creations have made major additions to Assamese literature. Mentionable among them are Bikash Barua, Riju Hazarika, Punya Saikia, Badal Das, Bijoy Sankar Sarma, Bhupen Sarma, Prabhat Goswami, Reena Debi, Dasho Kalita,  Barendra Barkataki, Narayan Kataki, Haladhar Kataki and others.

The 20th century’s radio programme Rahghara created several humour writers. Similarly Guwahati AIR Kendra broadcast works of several renowned authors, including Durgeswar Borthakur (‘Niruddex’, ‘Ghorot Kun Ase’), Mahendra Borthakur (‘Nedekhaie Bhal’), Jogen Chetia (‘Dhantu Patanto’), Bhadra Bora (‘Bhola Borar Sophor’), Kirtinath Hazarika (‘Akorxon-Bikorxon’, ‘Phutukar Phen’), Tilak Hazarika (‘Bharaghor’), Bhola Kotoki (‘Bibhrat’), Tafazzul Ali (‘Nepati Kenekoi Thaku’), Tarun Saikia (‘Gobardhan Sorit’), Premnarayan Datta (‘Satkar’), Laxminandan Bora, Ali Haidar and Kishori Mohan Pathak.

Assamese humour and satire magazine Biholongoni became popular partly due to the works of its editor Pulak Das, while ‘Rohimola’, ‘Girjoni’, ‘Abikol’ and other sections brought to light the humour writings of many talented writers.

In contemporary times, five ‘witty’  humour writers deserve special mention -- Dr Jogendra Narayan Bhuyan (Kripabar Borooahloi Chithi), Jyoti Prasad Saikia (Bagarambar), Bidhi Pathak (Ityadi), Bedanta Bikash Sharma and Gautam Sharma.

In their works, the great names in Assamese literature, such as Syed Abdul Malik, Silabhadra, Mahim Bora, Laxminandan Bora, Bhabendranath Saikia, Padma Barkataki, Sourabh Chaliha, Hiren Gohain, Hiren Bhattacharyya and others, have displayed several instances of humour. Their contributions need to be studied through the evolution of their writing careers.

FIFTH WALL - Some nostalgia and a little fun : Uddipana Goswami

Uddipana Goswami, Literary Editor

There are many who are saying enough of violence, insurgency, blood and gore already. I agree. There should be an end to conflicts, we should find peace. But in a land where the ethnic cauldron boileth over, where vendors of peace shake hands with mercenaries of war, where every aspect of our life is somehow touched by the spectres of bloodshed and brutality, we are often forced to dwell on the issue. But as we start a new year, we can perhaps laugh off some of these concerns. For a while at least, maybe we can concentrate on the pure delight literature sometimes gives us. This issue therefore is dedicated to exploring the humour literature of Assam.

Assam’s tradition of humour in writing is as old as written literature. Occasional hilarity and a few witticisms were to be found even in the 14th and 15th century Vaishanvite literature. Oral tradition and folk literature however, has always abounded with humour. We have grown up listening to many ribald tales (upakatha) from the Ramayan and Mahabharat which are perhaps not found anywhere in a written form till today. While my father was researching on the Ojapali art form of Assam, he also recounted many instances of comic interludes in the performances and witty repartees between the performers. At a time when there seems to be very little to delight in, I think we need to sometimes go back to these oral traditions that have survived since yore and forget the turmoil of contemporary times.

This issue brings you an overview of humorous literature in Assam and traces its development in the modern period. One of the foremost humorists of Assam, Bhadra Bora, takes you on this journey. And in an effort to rediscover some unadulterated humour in our day-to-day lives, Gitanjali Das revisits Bhabendra Nath Saikia’s classic, Mohadustor Dustobuddhi.

From this issue we are starting a new section, ‘Other Words’, which will place fresh perspectives before the readers of NELit review through essays, reviews, thought pieces and what have you. Not necessarily connected with the dominant theme of the particular issue, ‘Other Words’ will also occasionally take our readers beyond Northeast literature. This week, on the 103rd birth anniversary of Bengali author, Ashapurna Debi, Aruni Kashyap revisits her oeuvre and speaks of the extraordinary power of her pen.