I
have been arguing that caste in Bengal is found in unusual sites. In this post,
I will begin with such a site and then recall a story. Both in some way; hark
back to the 1940s and 50s. The first is about the use of some words and terms.
I choose a particular word: Acharya, or respected teacher or a minister in the
original sense of the term, as distinct from its common sense connotation of a
political operator holding an executive position within a ruling dispensation.
In the original sense, a minister is one who administers, or presides over a
ceremony. In this sense then, Acharya is also a term close to Purohit or
priest. Be that as it may, we see that the term Acharya, or Minsiter,
originally refers to a priest who administers (usually worshipful) ceremonies. Whichever
way you use it, the term Acharya cannot escape a (dignified, formal) sense of
an individual presiding over an institution conferring some merit on those in
association with it. For instance, in India the Chancellor of a University or
institution of higher learning is called an Acharya, and the Vice Chancellor an
Upacharya.
The Politics of Acharyahood
In
Bengal, the word would be in use to refer to great teachers, scholars and
learned men. Yet it would not be in use to refer to all great teachers,
scholars or learned men, without discrimination. At the moment, I am referring
not so much to formal titles but popular points of reference. For instance,
nobody formally conferred the title Acharya to scientist Jagadish Chandra Bose.
But in common parlance, he is always referred to as Acharya Jagadish Chandra
Bose and Bose Institute is referred to as Basu Bigyan Mandir (or The Bose
Temple of Science). The honorific became so powerfully associated with him that
it has become a second nature of Bengalis to refer to him as Acharya. The
history of the first time he was so referred has happily erased itself from
public memory. It is hard today, though not impossible, to trace the precise
moment when Sir J.C. Bose (as known to the world) became Acharya Jagadish Chandra
Bose to the Bengalis. Now I have no issues with Jagadish Chandra Bose. With
Acharya though, I do, and I will come to that soon.
Yet
another great Bengali scientist P.C. Ray would be popularly referred to as
Acharya Prafulla Chandra Ray. In his case, his austere lifestyle, or clothing,
or generosity might have inspired the title; apart from his excellence and
originality as a scientist and teacher. But here too, one is not sure about
exactly when and how the honorific of Acharya was first attached to his name.
Ditto for another sagely Bengali scientist cum teacher Satyendra Nath Bose. All
of them were and are popularly referred to as Acharya, even when they did not
head Universities, or minister religious ceremonies. It could be said that their
excellence as knowledge seekers and dispensers culminated to earn them this
honorific in the Bengali spaces of popular or public, iconography or mythology;
well and good.
Who can be an Acharya?
But
are all Bengali scientists of such stature, excellence, temperament and renown
accorded the honorific Acharya by the popular Bengali mythology? Sadly, no. I
refer particularly to Meghnad Saha, who was arguably no less talented or
renowned or as successful as the three I named above. Has anyone heard Meghnad
Saha referred to as an Acharya by the Bengalis? I wonder why. Surely, he should
have been. If Bengalis with global renown, learning and respect had an
entitlement to the title Acharya, which had presumably been secularized,
Meghnad Saha had as much of an entitlement to it as Satyen Bose, who was a
batchmate of Saha, as a matter of fact. Both were students of J.C. Bose and P.C.
Ray, both were outstanding students of Presidency College and both had earned
global renown as alpha physicists. Every student of physics in Bengal and
India, if not the world, would have heard of Bose and Saha. In public profile,
Saha was no less remarkable than Bose in any sense.
The Crucial Omission
It
would be a mistake to assume Bengalis, or Indians, do not recognize or respect
Saha. Both Saha and Bose have major research institutions named after them. One
of the most elite and beautiful roads in Kolkata is named after Meghnad Saha. He
has an assured space in the Bengali mythology. For all practical purposes, he
was recognized as a shining star, and an equal of Bose in merit, so far as
doing science was concerned. Yet, the title of Acharya would elude him. At
best, he would be respectfully addressed as Dr. Saha, but never as Acharya Meghnad
Saha. I do not know why. Is it because he came from a non Bhadralok caste
background? Who knows?
Unusual Sites
Caste,
as I have been suggesting, are found in Bengal in such unusual sites. Let me
recall yet another old story. It would look and sound familiar today, but in
its time it was something of a precedent. As you know, these days writers are
often publicly heckled, beaten and even murdered. You also notice; most often
that some group of people find their portrayal in a film objectionable and
raise a furore. But in Bengal, especially in early twentieth century, writers
would enjoy a near divine status. There would be literary soirees organized by
local youth associations, and hearing writers speak about their work and about
kings and cabbages was a common enough form of popular middle class
entertainment. Just as actors and singers entertain crowds today, writers would
entertain crowds with their discourses. It would be something akin to Lit-Fests
of today, but something far less ostentatious and ceremonious, and far more
open and invested with far greater popular participation. In other words, in
early twentieth century Bengal, writers were itinerant teachers of the public
in Bengal. They would be held in the highest esteem. Movies enjoyed a secondary
status to novels. Bengalis those days would believe that a movie is best made
as a faithful translation of a novel. Indeed, a cinema would often be referred
as a Boi or book and the highest
possible praise for a novel translated into a movie would be that it had been a
faithful representation.
Assault on an Author
In
such a world, the unimaginable happened on April 10, 1949. A major contemporary
Bengali writer was actually heckled and beaten. Writer Tarashankar Banerjee had
earlier published a novel called Sandipan Pathshala in 1945. In April 1949, an
eponymous film based on the novel had been released. It was a story about a
poor Sadgop ( A middle ranking agricultural caste) teacher
taking to education as a first generation learner and later setting up a
primary school in which he offered lessons to first generation learners from
Kaibarta (fishermen) and Shundi (Toddy tapper) castes. Incidentally, Meghnad
Saha too hailed from the latter caste, although he came from East Bengal. The
events in the novel were based in Tarashankar Banerjee’s native Birbhum
district. There the Kaibartas were indeed poor and petty traders involved in
fishing and other small jobs.
Mahisyas
But
in Howrah and Midnapore districts, the majority of the agriculturist section of
the Kaibartas; had over the last half century or so made great strides in
education and employment. Indeed, a great many of them had become middle class
professionals. Besides, at Howrah many of them had become small scale
entrepreneurs. The most successful entrepreneur among them at the time was one
of the largest industrialists in Bengal in the 1940s. Some of them took great
offence at their portrayal in the movie.
A Novel turned Movie
Let
us now return to the story. In the novel, indignant members from the local
Brahman zamindar family cause all kinds of trouble to the initiative of the
poor teacher. Yet, the main branch of the zamindar family support, indeed
welcome his labours. The elder son of the zamindar family, also a nationalist,
lauds his work and his mother appoints him as tutor for her younger sons.
Gradually, obstacles are removed and the humble teacher spends a life time
teaching young students from humble backgrounds. He does not make any money but
earn respect from the locals, and some of his students later turn into
successful professionals in their own right. The novel was basically a tribute
to this humble teacher.
Sociologizing Mahisyas
Yet,
the novel did indeed sociologize Kaibartas and Sunris. Kaibartas were portrayed
as characteristically unwilling to be educated, and taking to petty trade, as
opposed to the upper castes which ‘naturally’ send their children to school and
aspire for a gentlemanly life. Even if the portrayal of Kaibartas of Birbhum
may be historically defensible, Mahisyas of Howrah and Midnapore had every
right to feel offended. They were still popularly referred to as Kaibartas, and
their social mobility was only 40 or so years old; since it had formally begun
only in 1901. But they had since made great strides. By 1949, they were
staunchly nationalist; the largest number of members of the ruling Congress
party came from the districts in which they had been a majority. The
engineering industry in Howrah had earlier been a monopoly of upper castes; but
since 1920s Mahisyas had gradually upstaged the upper castes and occupied the
lion’s share among the Howrah engineering industry entrepreneurs.
Endorsement by the Bhadralok Literati
Meanwhile,
the movie had been hailed as a great triumph of art and as a faithful
translation of the novel by the Bradralok literati in Calcutta. They discovered
in the novel and the movie a great message, of education being a great
liberating influence. The major functionaries of the government and a large
number of Bengali litterateurs issued public endorsement in favour of the
movie. The government immediately granted a tax waiver. Indeed, the circulation
of the movie was now officially endorsed as a lesson, to be imparted to the
entire population of Bengal. At the same time, Mahisyas lodged a protest
campaign against the movie and the author. They suddenly appeared to find their
hard earned respectability and rise to urban prominence reduced to
insignificance.
The Assault and its Aftermath
Amid
such tension, Tarashankar Banerjee had gone to a literary conference in Howrah,
right at the heart of Mahisya dominance. On his way back from the literary
soiree, he was waylaid by a Mahisya mob and physically assaulted. The incident
was immediately condemned from all quarters, including the Mahisya caste
association, which issued a statement dissociating themselves from the
incident. The Congress party, concerned that its base among the Mahisyas may be
eroded, arranged for a reconciliation meeting and the author gracefully agreed
to withdraw the allegedly offensive portions from the novel. Radicals regretted
his position as a defeat of the writers as a whole. I have written a longer
piece on the incident, in which I see the incident as a confrontation between
two ‘nationalist’ images: one that of a dedicated humble school teacher from
lower caste background, almost a lower caste Brahman, as endorsed by the
Bhadralok literati and the other as the hardworking and prosperous, but not too
literate, Mahisya entrepreneurs.
There
is no need to elaborate on the incident or its various dimensions. The point is
that in Bengal even the ‘liberating’ images of the lower caste was in effect
determined and controlled by the Bhadralaok literati. While the ‘criminal’
aspect of the assault was universally condemned, the politics of nationalist
imagery in circulation often goes unnoticed.
