A hilarious and absurdist take on the political landscape of West Bengal, India.
Beggar’s Bedlam is a surreal novel that unleashes the chaos of the carnival on the familiar. Part literary descendent of Bulgakov’s The Master and Margarita and part a reconstruction of lost Bengali history, Nabarun Bhattacharya’s masterpiece is a jubilant, fizzing wire of subaltern anarchy and insurrection.
Marshall Bhodi Sarkar and his lieutenant Sarkhel surreptitiously dig on the banks of the Ganges River looking for crude oil reserves. Instead, they unearth curved daggers, rusty broadswords, and a Portuguese cannon. Bhodi is an occasional military man and the lead sorcerer of the secret black-magic sect named Choktar. He joins forces with the flying Flaperoos—men with a predilection for alcohol and petty vandalism—to declare outright war against the Marxist–Leninist West Bengal government. In a bloodless revolution that is fascinating in its utter implausibility, a motley crew of yet more implausible characters come together in a magic-realist fictional remapping of Calcutta.
Nabarun Bhattacharya was an Indian Bengali writer deeply committed to a revolutionary and radical aesthetics. He was born at Baharampur (Berhampur), West Bengal. He was the only child of actor Bijon Bhattacharya and writer Mahashweta Devi.
He is most known for his anarchic novel, Herbert (1993), which was awarded the Sahitya Akademi Award, and adapted into a film by the same name in 2005.
Nabarun is renowned as a fiction writer, and justifiably so. But he wrote poems as well and Ei Mrityu Upotyoka Aaamaar Desh Na (This Valley of Death Is Not My Country) is arguably his most acclaimed collection of poems.
Nabarun over the years consistently contributed to various little magazines, which together constitute a promising alternative mode of literary culture in Bengal that challenges the influence of big capital. It is equally noteworthy that his writing style deconstructs the gentle middle class ethos of the Bengali society. Most of his characters belong to the lower strata of existence. His fictions reinvigorate the received Bengali language with forceful idioms and expressions from the margins, which might often bombard the chaste taste of a Tagorean upper and middle class, still very much under the spell of a 19th century Victorian sensibility.
I didn't like reading this book in translation. I have read Nabarun Bhattacharyya in Bengali and I couldn't get the same feeling reading him in translation. I'll probably read this work in Bengali after I return to India. And I hope it's a better book in the original!