{"id":7515,"date":"2019-12-02T16:37:04","date_gmt":"2019-12-02T11:07:04","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/34.22.110.190\/english\/?p=7515"},"modified":"2019-12-02T16:37:04","modified_gmt":"2019-12-02T11:07:04","slug":"tthe-bhadralok-in-bengal-didnt-read-my-books-manoranjan-byapari-whose-book-has-been-shortlisted-in-the-dsc-prize","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thebengalstory.com\/english\/tthe-bhadralok-in-bengal-didnt-read-my-books-manoranjan-byapari-whose-book-has-been-shortlisted-in-the-dsc-prize\/","title":{"rendered":"\u201cI have been loved by people from all over India, but the bhadralok in Bengal didn\u2019t read my books\u201d: Manoranjan Byapari, whose book has been shortlisted in\u00a0the DSC Prize for South Asian Literature this year"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><strong>Your book\u00a0<em>There\u2019s Gunpowder in the Air<\/em>\u00a0(translated from Bengali by Arunava Sinha) has been shortlisted in\u00a0the $25,000 DSC Prize for South Asian Literature, which is an international award to writers of any ethnicity or nationality writing about South Asia. It\u00a0does not limit itself to books published in India, or authors who are Indian citizens, and a number of authors in the list of eligible submissions are not even citizens of a South Asian country. What does this recognition mean to you?<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>What I will say may be misconstrued as \u201cpride\u201d\u2026 you see, the family I was born into and the struggle I have gone through \u2013 going without food for days, snatching food from street dogs, faced with insult, humiliation \u2013 and now the honour that is being bestowed upon me\u2026 I would say that to be shortlisted for such an award is itself such a great honour! One can even call me an outsider here, an infiltrator among great writers\u2026 My books have been published in Bengali, however, they were never read by the <em>bhadralok<\/em> [gentleman, usually referring to the upper caste elite of Hindu Bengali society] because I am a <em>chhotolok<\/em> [referring to the working class, the subaltern]. They see me with a <em>gamchha<\/em> (towel) wrapped around my neck, and wonder how I can write books! The <em>bhadra<\/em> society here never noticed me\u2026 I would have been happy even if they had offered me a consolation prize. There are so many awards in West Bengal, but the <em>bhadrolok<\/em>s didn\u2019t want to offer the <em>chhotolok<\/em> opportunities for him to do well.<\/p>\n<p><strong>What has been the most significant turning point in your life? A lot of people know about your chance meeting with author Mahasweta Devi when you were a rickshaw-puller, and how you started writing. But you&#8217;ve continued to struggle even after that. Is the translation of your work into English and the recognition that is coming now, a far more significant turning point for you (considering you could finally quit your job as a cook earlier this year and started writing full time)?<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>I didn\u2019t quit my job. The matter is pending before a medical board now. In the government-aided school where I work, I have to prepare food for 150 persons twice daily. I have appealed for many years to allow me to do work that is less strenuous at my age. I have diabetes, I have undergone knee replacement surgery twice\u2026 all this, and I am still alive! After such gruelling work every day in the heat, can anyone be left with strength or the drive to write? Still, I find no sympathy.<\/p>\n<p>There can be many turning points in a person\u2019s life. Had the chance meeting with Mahasweta Devi not taken place, had she not offered me the opportunity to write, I may not have written at all. After the first chance, I felt a push from inside that has given me strength to go on writing.<\/p>\n<p><strong>I read somewhere that you were hurt that after the first story, Mahasweta Devi didn\u2019t publish any more of your works, and that you wanted her to help you get a job\u2026 but I don\u2019t know if it\u2019s true\u2026 <\/strong><\/p>\n<p>I submitted many more stories to her, but she didn\u2019t publish them any more. She told me, \u201cManoranjan, I am not publishing fiction in \u2018<em>Bartika<\/em>\u2019 anymore\u2026\u201d But I noticed that she had published fiction by other writers. I was hurt. Bit by bit, I lost touch with her.<\/p>\n<p>I started sending my stories to other publishers under a pseudonym, because I didn\u2019t want them to know my real name and about my association with Mahasweta Devi because I feared they might agree to publish my story because of my association with her, and not due to the merit of the stories.<\/p>\n<p>After many such stories had been published, and people knew about me, she called me one day and asked me to visit her place. Since then, I was in touch with her till the very end. West Bengal chief minister Mamata Banerjee was very fond of her. And I requested her (Mahasweta Devi) to find me a slightly better job by recommending my name to the chief minister. I didn\u2019t want a big job, I had only asked for work that could help me move away from the heat of the kitchen fire. But she didn\u2019t do it for me. I know that she had helped many others, but she didn\u2019t talk to the chief minister about a job for me.<\/p>\n<p><strong>Do you think a Dalit writer has the \u201cresponsibility\u201d of being a voice of others like himself? Do you ever consciously think of your own writing being a representation of millions of voices that have never been heard?<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>I write about the working class and about those who refuse to bow down before social injustice \u2013 whether or not they are Dalits. When I write about Shankar Guha Neogi [founder of the Chhattisgarh Mukti Morcha, a labour union run in Dalli Rajhara Mines in Chhattisgarh] I am not writing about a Dalit person, but I feel an urge, a responsibility to tell his story and about his protests. Again, when I am writing on Guruchand Thakur [who worked in a campaign to have the \u201cChandal\u201ds re-categorised as Namasudra, and under his leadership, the Matua sect was organised well and was associated with the Namasudra social protest movement] it is about a Dalit who has suffered due to class marginalisation. I am myself a Dalit. And do remember that there are divisions among Dalits too \u2013 there are <em>borolok<\/em>s (tie-wearing) and <em>chhotolok<\/em>s (gamchha-wearing) among Dalits: their problems are not the same.<\/p>\n<p>The <em>gamchha<\/em>-wearing Dalits need food, clothes, education, home, medical facilities\u2026 and only after these have been met with, they can talk about respect. On the other hand, the tie-clad Dalits have got all of these, so they talk more about respect and equality with Brahmins and other upper castes.<\/p>\n<p>But I believe that in order to fight a battle, you need food; a soldier cannot fight a battle on an empty stomach\u2026<\/p>\n<p><strong>In <em>Itibritye Chandal Jibon<\/em> (translated to Interrogating my Chandal Life: An Autobiography of a Dalit by Sipra Mukherjee), you mention how the protestors used to be taken to a deserted area in a truck and left there, so they&#8217;d have to walk for hours in an empty stomach and wouldn\u2019t plan another protest\u2026 <\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Right. I have always said (and written) that one cannot fight when one is hungry. Moreover, the opponent is stronger and devises cunning ways to break the resolve of angry protestors\u2026 The tie-wearing\u00a0<em>babu<\/em>s however, mention courts, changing the Constitution and laws in order to get more \u201crespect\u201d \u2013 and we differ from them on this basic premise.<\/p>\n<p>I am a Dalit <em>and <\/em>poor. Moreover, I don\u2019t know about the <em>babu<\/em> life, how can I write about it? It is not that I consciously write about Dalit life out of responsibility. I write about them because I know them. I know the rickshaw pullers \u2013 I know their sorrows and pains, I know about insults they face\u2026 I know about the lives of coolies, therefore these come into my writing naturally. I don\u2019t have to go around looking for my protagonists and subjects.<\/p>\n<p><strong><em>There\u2019s Gunpowder in the Air<\/em><\/strong><strong>\u00a0is set in\u00a0<\/strong><strong>Bengal<\/strong><strong>\u00a0under the backdrop of the Naxalite movement of mid-1970s. You build up an alternative world of a jail, a metaphor of state oppression. But though it is technically fiction, there is a blurring of genres (this is true for all your writing, it is part autobiography, part fiction, like an account). Do you intend to move away from this or is this what makes your work stand out?\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>I haven\u2019t gone through a conventional education system. I read somewhere that one shouldn\u2019t attempt to be an author before reaching 40. For 25-30 years a person should absorb and assimilate knowledge and prepare to be an author\u2026 However, I never got the opportunity to do that. I don\u2019t follow grammar in my writing. What I write sometimes becomes a story, if I make it longer it becomes a novella or a novel, and if I write as \u201cmyself\u201d, it becomes autobiographical. My works don\u2019t reflect influences of other authors because I haven\u2019t read a lot. I have known Mahasweta Devi, but my writing is devoid of her influences.<\/p>\n<p>I write what comes to me naturally. And if people still love it that way, why should I change myself? I don\u2019t even want to read a lot because it might influence\/change my style. But I will continue to learn about the lives of others\u2026 I talk to people, listen to them, and I write about it in my own simple way. I don\u2019t want to unnecessarily burden my work with elaborate phrases and artificial style.<\/p>\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignnone wp-image-7517\" src=\"https:\/\/thebengalstory.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/2\/2019\/12\/Theres-Gunpowder-in-the-Air-Jacket-Cover-200x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"705\" height=\"1058\" \/><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><strong>What are you writing now?<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>It is about some events between 2012 to 2019\/20. I am writing it in fiction form but it is about the story of my own life, it is about a person moving from pillar to post looking for a different kind of work\u2026<\/p>\n<p>I have received awards, been loved by so many people, I have travelled throughout the country, but the people of Bengal haven\u2019t cared about me. This is what I am writing in fiction form. The story ends when the protagonist goes to the house of the chief minister and returns the book for which he received an award given by the state government [Manoranjan Byapari received the Suprabha Majumdar prize awarded by the Paschimbanga Bangla Akademi in 2014. The Akademi is under the West Bengal government\u2019s department of information and cultural affairs]. He tells the chief minister that if your plan had been to make me do the backbreaking work of a cook, why did you give me this award meant for authors? He refuses to carry the burden of the award&#8230;<\/p>\n<p><strong>Would you like to write for children? Don\u2019t you think children and young adults who can read need to understand how privileged they are and how horrific some children\u2019s lives can be?<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>I did try to write for children, but during the process of writing, it turned into something that only adults could find the courage to read. I think readers need maturity to be able to confront and endure the sorrow of the events of my childhood \u2013 where a child has nothing to eat, he has to work hard to earn, he snatches food from the mouth of a dog, he is made to work hard but cheated, tricked and abused. It would make a child immensely sad to imagine that such a childhood can exist for anybody\u2026 they should read it only when they grow up a bit.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>&#8220;I know that Mahasweta Devi had helped many, but she didn\u2019t talk to the chief minister about a job for me,&#8221; Byapari said.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":9,"featured_media":7516,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[20],"tags":[],"tmauthors":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-7515","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-books"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thebengalstory.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7515","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thebengalstory.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thebengalstory.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thebengalstory.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/9"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thebengalstory.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=7515"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/thebengalstory.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7515\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thebengalstory.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/7516"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thebengalstory.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=7515"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thebengalstory.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=7515"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thebengalstory.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=7515"},{"taxonomy":"tmauthors","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thebengalstory.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tmauthors?post=7515"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}