My Take - Ichhamati by Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay
There are some books which are written so powerfully that they suck the reader inside their world of words. The words of such novels are so enchanting that the reader is obliged to let them carry her into their fictional world which becomes more real than the real, visible world. But, the only downside of such enchanting novels is that they come to an end and the reader is obliged to leave this enchanting world and return to the mundane reality, nevertheless, always carrying a shred of that enchanted world in her heart. Ichhamati by Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay is one such book for me. While reading it I was transported to the Palli Bangla village on the banks of river Ichhamati of the 1850s-1860s. It was undoubtedly a magical experience. Neither can I describe in words my feelings while reading the novel nor do I want, for I feel that experience is too sacrosanct to be expressed in words. I dare not confine the infinite ecstasy which I experienced while reading it within the bounds of limited words.
I feel so honoured to be able to read this novel in its original Bengali language. I think language plays a crucial role in creating the holistic experience of the novel. The language used by the author is almost like the river Ichhamati herself. Each and every aspect of life, no matter how crucial or mundane, finds its place within the novel. The novel captures the nuances of the rural Bangal dialect as well the ways of life of the folks who speak them. The novel is dedicated to the simple yet unique stories of the common men and women which find no place within the pages of history. The last scene of the novel takes place in the old and abandoned cemetery of the Nilkuthi Sahibs. It is significant because it shows that those powerful men who once ruled the land and lives of people are now consigned to oblivion. But, the common men and women, despite all their hardships continue to live. Their names may not be known to the posterity but their hopes, joys and resilience continue and will always continue to course through the veins of posterity. We are the descendants of these unnamed common folks and as the wheel of life keeps turning, they will continue to live through us.
The novel succinctly and poetically expresses arcane philosophy through simple language. I have not yet read any male author who is so sensitive to the hearts of women. Though the novel portrays almost every aspect of life of rural Bengal, yet it does not stand on a high pedestal and pass judgements on the morality of characters, it lets the characters be themselves without confining them with strictures of morality. The author makes it amply clear that the world cannot be divided into black and white, and therefore it is not for us to decide who is wrong or right. The novel also takes a dig at the preposterousness of the self-righteous, entitled, good for nothing Brahmins.
There is so much to say yet I am at a loss for words. I have just completed reading the novel but I already feel a sense of nostalgia and loss gripping me. I am upset at being unjustly severed from the world of Ichhamati. My only solace is that I will always carry a piece of that enchanted world of Ichhamati within my heart, returning to it when life will become too harsh, too unbearable, and too serious.
I will end my review with one of my favourite quotes from the novel:
"অথচ লোকের চিতার ছাই ইচ্ছামতীর জল ধুয়ে নিয়ে গেল সাগরের দিকে, জোয়ারে যায় আবার ভাঁটায় উজিয়ে আসে, এমনি বারবার করতে করতে মিশে গেল দূর সাগরের নীল জলের বুকে। যে কত আশা করে কলাবাগান করেছিল উত্তর মাঠে, দোয়াড়ি পেতেছিল বাঁশের কঞ্চি চিরে বুনে ঘোলডুবরির বাঁকে, আজ হয়তো তার দেহের অস্থি রোদবৃষ্টিতে সাদা হয়ে পড়ে রইল ইচ্ছামতীর ডাঙায়।"
My Rating - পাঁচটি নক্ষত্রের কম যে দিতে পারব নি কত্তা মশাই।
I feel so honoured to be able to read this novel in its original Bengali language. I think language plays a crucial role in creating the holistic experience of the novel. The language used by the author is almost like the river Ichhamati herself. Each and every aspect of life, no matter how crucial or mundane, finds its place within the novel. The novel captures the nuances of the rural Bangal dialect as well the ways of life of the folks who speak them. The novel is dedicated to the simple yet unique stories of the common men and women which find no place within the pages of history. The last scene of the novel takes place in the old and abandoned cemetery of the Nilkuthi Sahibs. It is significant because it shows that those powerful men who once ruled the land and lives of people are now consigned to oblivion. But, the common men and women, despite all their hardships continue to live. Their names may not be known to the posterity but their hopes, joys and resilience continue and will always continue to course through the veins of posterity. We are the descendants of these unnamed common folks and as the wheel of life keeps turning, they will continue to live through us.
The novel succinctly and poetically expresses arcane philosophy through simple language. I have not yet read any male author who is so sensitive to the hearts of women. Though the novel portrays almost every aspect of life of rural Bengal, yet it does not stand on a high pedestal and pass judgements on the morality of characters, it lets the characters be themselves without confining them with strictures of morality. The author makes it amply clear that the world cannot be divided into black and white, and therefore it is not for us to decide who is wrong or right. The novel also takes a dig at the preposterousness of the self-righteous, entitled, good for nothing Brahmins.
There is so much to say yet I am at a loss for words. I have just completed reading the novel but I already feel a sense of nostalgia and loss gripping me. I am upset at being unjustly severed from the world of Ichhamati. My only solace is that I will always carry a piece of that enchanted world of Ichhamati within my heart, returning to it when life will become too harsh, too unbearable, and too serious.
I will end my review with one of my favourite quotes from the novel:
"অথচ লোকের চিতার ছাই ইচ্ছামতীর জল ধুয়ে নিয়ে গেল সাগরের দিকে, জোয়ারে যায় আবার ভাঁটায় উজিয়ে আসে, এমনি বারবার করতে করতে মিশে গেল দূর সাগরের নীল জলের বুকে। যে কত আশা করে কলাবাগান করেছিল উত্তর মাঠে, দোয়াড়ি পেতেছিল বাঁশের কঞ্চি চিরে বুনে ঘোলডুবরির বাঁকে, আজ হয়তো তার দেহের অস্থি রোদবৃষ্টিতে সাদা হয়ে পড়ে রইল ইচ্ছামতীর ডাঙায়।"
My Rating - পাঁচটি নক্ষত্রের কম যে দিতে পারব নি কত্তা মশাই।
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