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This is an archive article published on August 18, 2002

A Bengal Tiger by its Tale

EVERY evening, as the clock strikes eight, Lata Dutta, director of Little Flower School at Dum Dum, a north Kolkata suburb, settles down bef...

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EVERY evening, as the clock strikes eight, Lata Dutta, director of Little Flower School at Dum Dum, a north Kolkata suburb, settles down before the television set in the family room. She has company in sister-in-law Sulekha Bose, also a director in the same school. ‘‘This is how we relax after a gruelling day of running the school and creche,’’ says Dutta, 45. ‘‘We either watch TV or video cassettes of Hindi and Bengali films,’’ adds Bose, 48.

As members of a joint family, an institution that refuses to die out in this part of the world, Dutta and Bose often have others for company. There’s Dutta’s mother Biva Bose, 76, her niece Anindita, 19 and a BA student, and nephews Abhishek, 23, and Abhirup, 20 and a B.Com student. Because of the wide age differences, there are often fights over what to watch, but one serial they all agree on is Kasautii Zindagii Kay, an Ekta Kapoor production, if only to disagree with it.

‘‘I see it primarily because its protagonists are two Bengali families. But it is an affront on our culture,’’ fumes Bose. ‘‘I don’t understand how the Ekta who could make Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Thi could have also made this serial.’’ Bose, who was born and brought up in Ahmedabad and is familiar with the Gujarati language and culture, has no problems with Kyunki…

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‘‘Kyunki… is so Gujarati, in the positive cultural sense. But Kasautii… is so non-Bengali,’’ says Sulekha, using the term reserved for anything unfamiliar. ‘‘It does not project Bengalis in the right light. Kyunki…, on the other hand, is so true in depicting the songs, dances and rituals of the Gujarati people.’’

For this bunch of true-blue Bongs, the most painful part of the serial is the way the characters dress up and speak Bengali. ‘‘The Hindi dialogue are interspersed with Bengali dialogue. But the Bengali is simply atrocious. I think they have made fun of Bengali culture,’’ says Biva Bose. ‘‘Nowadays there are a lot of serials on various communities. On the whole, I think it’s a positive development, it helps one people of this vast country know another even without visiting their state. But more research should go into these serials.’’

Call it a generational gap or whatever, Anindita, Lata’s 19-year-old niece, however, does not find much wrong with the way Bengalis are portrayed on the idiot box or on the big screen. ‘‘I don’t think the depiction of the Bengali way of life — whether its clothes, diction or sentiment — is that atrocious. Rather, I find them quite interesting. There may be room for improvement, but I certainly don’t think Kasautii… is an affront on our culture,’’ says Anindita, sipping from her cup of tea.

‘‘I remember the TV serial based on Sharadindu Bandopadhyay’s Byomkesh Baxi stories. It was so well made. Actually, I think it’s the age-old intellectual snobbery of Bengalis that makes them see red whenever a non-Bengali portrays their culture. It’s just a superiority complex that’s at work here.’’

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Abhishek supports her view, saying, ‘‘Consider Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Devdas. It is thrice removed from real-life Bengal in the early 20th century. The pronunciations of the smattering of Bengali words used in the film are quite horrible, I admit, but look at the impact the film will have on popularising our culture. A farmer in Punjab will know what sandesh (a Bengali sweet) is and the word shotti? (really?) has entered the national lexicon. If it is far removed from Bengali life, no one should complain because, after all, it is an independent creative work over which the director has full and final say.’’

Biva Bose will not deign to discuss the latest Hindi version of the Saratchandra Chattopadhyay novel beyond ‘‘Eta to ekta jatra hoyechhe (It was so theatrical)’’, but happily goes back to the Babumoshai played by Amitabh Bachchan in Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s Anand (1970). ‘‘He was superb in the role,’’ gushes the septuagenarian with a twinkle in her eye.

The adda continues, with chanachur (a snack) and tea. The drizzle outside turns into a downpour. And the family members continue their animated discussion, with no resolution in sight.

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