The well-known villains of Bangla publishing – the monopoly seekers – Ananda Bazar Patrika Group – has now come out in the open with its ugly and disgusting ways. What something that book lovers, lovers of literature, language and culture have always known, has now become known to the world. The ABP Group has bared its fangs and has openly come out from behind their legal hiding places and has shown to the world that it is they who are behind scuttling one of the greatest annual people’s cultural events held in Kolkata – a celebration of the people’s greatest weapon against the rich thieves (see my comment in the previous post and several other previous posts) that the ABP Group always shamelessly tries to protect (including in the Rizwanur and Nandigram cases) – knowledge and literacy.
They, the despicable ABP Group, are afraid that the people with the help of small publishers will get easier access to good books and good literature , something that they try so hard to stop through their monopoly over the publishing business. Hence, their attacks on the Kolkata Boi Mela (Kolkata Book Fair)- a people’s event that provides sustenance to all those small publishers who publish people’s literature, a people’s event where the people celebrate their love for knowledge and culture knowing very well that an army without culture is a dim-witted army and a dim-witted army cannot defeat the enemy. So, we the poor, want knowledge and culture – so that our army can defeat the rich.
And ABP is at the forefront of stopping that – the less space is granted to Boi Mela the more can all small publishers be destroyed and only the monopoly seeking big houses with their pornographic trash and their big books of big lies and gobbledygook can hog all the “knowledge” space. A total boycott of everything from the ABP stable would be a fitting reply from Kolkatans and all those who love books, knowledge and culture – a day should be devoted to burning all ABP products – and people from all walks of life should be urged to spurn their products till they are driven out of business – whatever intellectual products they own right now can then be reclaimed by the people as their collective property and republished through a people’s publishing collective.
But down with ABP and all those big publishers who are trying to scuttle the Kolkata Boi Mela (Kolkata Book Fair)! They should remember they are the biggest polluters of Kolkata and not all the book lovers, readers, small publishers, authors, musicians, artists and creative people who celebrate knowledge and culture once every year through a mega international event, a pride of Kolkata – the Boi Mela, and raise some dust for a few days of the year. These monopolists and running dogs of the rich such as the ABP Group should thank their stars that we, the people, have not yet begun to raise enough dust to suffocate the ABP, the rich and their Courts – but if provoked strongly enough will be forced to do so to completely wipe them off the face of the Earth.
Instead of attacking what is a people’s fair, these enemies of knowledge, literature, arts and culture should flee Kolkata during those few days when people’s knowledge and people’s power pollutes their peaceful, pornographic pastimes. Alternatively, by staying and participating they can learn to be a little better than the scum of earth that they presently are.
To give some idea of what it really is to foreign readers who may not be familiar with the kind of knowledge and culture carnival that the Kolkata Book Fair is, (comparable cultural carnivals such as the Rio De Janeiro carnival in Brazil or the Mardi Gras carnival in New Orleans are more disruptive of city life and a lot more polluting but they do not directly celebrate books, learning, knowledge or culture like the Kolkata Book Fair but unfortunately those opposed to the Kolkata Book Fair, such as the ABP Group or the environmentalist Shubhash Dutta are naturally illiterate or are clever and want to ensure illiteracy among the people, as is to be expected), I am reproducing below an impressionist report that I had written for The Economic Times, the official organ of the rich in India, and published there as well during the 1995 Kolkata Book Fair. By the time it was unceremoniously ousted from the Maidan (a green area in the heart of the city much like Hyde Park of London or Central Park of New York although much smaller at around 250 acres compared to 350 and 850 acres of Hyde Park and Central Park respectively) and its size truncated in 2007, it had become at least double the size indicated in the report below.
With the villains winning the battle for now, the Kolkata Book Fair is not being held for the first time in the last 33 years. A shame on Kolkata, on its biggest and sickest media house, the ABP Group, all those enemies of the public who have filed “public interest” litigations against the Book Fair and all those Kolkata High Court judges who in their great wisdom have gone against public interest to oust the Book Fair first from the Maidan and now from the city itself.
This article’s contention, that the Kolkata Book Fair is a people’s event, that it nurtures “subversives” and “subalterns” and those who practice counter-culture, however, remains valid even today! And it remains to be seen what the so-called “civil society” of Kolkata, apparently now aroused out of its slumber and which now ostensibly claims to be very much active in taking pro-people stands, will do to bring back the Book Fair to its rightful place – the vast stretches of the Maidan – so that one and all – the big and the small publisher – the protagonists of culture and counter-culture – the established celebrity writer and the unheralded people’s pen pusher – can all celebrate their annual festival of books, learning and culture.
Notes from the Book Fair’s Underground
KOLKATA, FEBRUARY, 1995: For 12 days nearly 2 million people thronged the dusty alleys of Calcutta Book Fair, 1995. The number of titles on display was inestimable because even the computerized database did not include all the titles. Over 400 regular stalls and innumerable exchange points all over the fair sold books worth over Rs 12 crore. It was a world event. Recorded by BBC for its world news service! Amazing!
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The ticket counters had closed more than an hour back. I used my Press card to persuade fair security to let me in. I had entered the book fair’s underground!
There was Somnath Adhikari showing his pictures to a motley group of people. These pictures were not for sale. Merely for display. Only to get a few words of encouraging appreciation. More importantly, understanding.
With his paintings in an ordinary drawing book, Somnath was trying to build a bridge of communication with other “isolated, alienated individuals in this wide wide world.”
Somnath presents his “psychedelic” pictures any which way he feels like. When I turned one picture into what I thought was the right way up and randomly said “the soul of the picture seems to me a suffering man protesting against something,” Somnath literally jumped up from his hunched position on the grass in front of the `Graffiti’ stall. “Yes, Soul, that’s the name of that picture, how did you know?” For a fleeting second at least we had achieved some kind of communication.
His paintings are haunting and mysterious. Despite being a dabbler in painting myself, I was left clueless as to the technique he had used to create his images. It wasn’t spray painting, it wasn’t brushwork, it wasn’t random splashing of colors and then folding the paper to create a symmetrical kaleidoscope. It was a mixture of all three techniques. I asked him, but he didn’t tell me. I still don’t know how he had created those images.
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There is always a throbbing underground in every Calcutta Book Fair. An underground peopled by what may be called “subversives”. They represent counter-culture in one form or another. Some are honest, dedicated, committed. Some are merely climbing on to what appears to them to be a fashionable bandwagon. But there are many people. Open-air stalls on the grass. Little magazines in specifically allotted Little Magazine stalls. Some even in regular numbered stalls. And some have even infiltrated the commercial big publishing houses. But the common strand that unites them all is that they all believe in destroying existing form, content and technique of artistic expression in a bid to create something new. For some, this exercise is not informed by any clear and conscious social commitment, it is art for art’s sake. It is merely an effort to create something new. For others, the exercise is deliberate and conscious, their efforts are determined by a social commitment. A deliberate, conscious protest against established norms, a deliberate anti-establishment action. But they are all part of the underground. Unknown names. But not willing to refrain from creative activity — whether you like it or not.
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“I don’t want my readers to give me a pat on the back and say ah! you are writing well. I want them to spit at me and say why the hell do you want to bring out the syphilitic sores in our body politic,” says Subimal Misra. In the past 24 years, Subimal has sold a total of over 12,000 copies of his 17 books till date. And Subimal publishes, prints and sells his books himself. He has never written a word in any magazine or publication of any recognised, well-known big publishing house. He has never got any of his books reviewed. His books are not available in any bookstore, College Street or otherwise. You can get his books at the fair where he sells personally or by writing to him. For most, postage is free. He has never allowed any of his books to become what he calls “a commodity”. In these circumstances, selling on an average 700-odd copies of each of his 17 books is no mean achievement. Because, if you meet the man, you will know he doesn’t want to sell books to anybody. He sells his books only to those who literally want to snatch copies out of him. He is impossible! You may not think he is a great literary figure, but you will have to ungrudgingly admit he is a pioneer and creative experimenter par excellence. Most of his books have a few pages blank. He believes no book is complete until the reader writes his reactions at the end. And he is happy even if he finds one serious reader willing to snatch a book out of him. He wants serious readers. Not a big readership. When it comes to deliberate, conscious anti-establishment creative activity in Bengali literature, Subimal Mishra stands out alone. Yet, reading his books you may feel he is just an individualist. He will never be able to succeed in achieving his own stated goals. Others will disagree. No one will doubt his honesty. The debate will continue. That is how the underground throbs. Dialectics, polemics, black vs white. When the reality is really different shades of grey!
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According to my estimates out of the 2 million people who thronged the Book Fair this year, over at least half a million were part of the underground. Creative writers, painters, singers and their readers, patrons and audience. But, there is no unity in the underground. There are hundreds and thousands of them. They are all protesting against the existing socio-economic-political-cultural establishment. They are all rebels. At least they want to believe they are rebels. Despite this common strand there is no unity. Each in his own world. Each doing what he or she thinks is right. Some have insulated themselves and turned fascists in one way or another — they would unceremoniously throw out a dissenter from their group or stall. They are convinced adherence to their line of thinking is more important than unity. Others are more democratic. Yet isolated. They constitute the underground, unknown, isolated, insecure. Once united they would be able to come out of the underground and stand on the surface.
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Tapas Banerjee has come all the way from Sitarampur near Asansol (an industrial city 200 km west of Kolkata) to the Book Fair. He has nothing to sell nor display. His book of rhymes is still being printed. Yet he is there. If you get to know him he will quite willingly recite a few rhymes for you. “Donadoni scores a goal, 18 bucks a sugar kg is the toll,” rhymes he in a rhyme on the World Cup. He is a rebel. So is in a sense Ashok Dasgupta, editor of the vernacular daily AajKal, the newspaper which led the media coverage of the labor movement at Kanoria Jute Mill. He believes the Kanoria workers’ agitation is a great social movement. “But nothing will happen in small pockets,” he says. He dreams of a future where workers of more units will join the Kanoria bandwagon and at last create a superb work culture — where workers are willing to work so hard that it is the managements who will be at a loss as to how to create the work environment which can realize the full productive potential of workers. Azizul Haq, once a top leader of the Naxalite movement, too is a rebel. Some of his young followers were seen singing patriotic songs in one corner of the book fair. Even Asim Chatterjee (Kaka) also of the 70s Naxalite fame, Amitava Dasgupta, communist editor of `Parichay’ a paper associated with the CPI, could all be seen within a few feet of each other. Ashok, Azizul, his followers, Asim, his followers, Amitabh, all within a few feet of each other. Yet, each an island. Isolated. “Everyone has his own line. And everyone is convinced that is the correct line,” Ashok Dasgupta commented sarcastically. There are far two many undercurrents in the underground.
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Rebels. Artists. Politicians. Musicians. Writers. Creative and cultural workers in general. And, yes, publishers. A throbbing underground in the very heart of the city. All of them declare they do not bother about commercial success. But we sane people know all want success in one form or another. Otherwise, why go to the book fair? Why not stick to one’s private study? And why try to take one’s creation to a large audience, the kind that is provided by the book fair? After all, everyone is looking for success. Recognition. Acceptance.
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One has to be a little on the side of the “rich” to get published in The Economic Times but dear reader please read between the lines and see through my flimsy camouflage to know where my heart really lies!