These are mere idle efforts to give a semblance of shape and sense (but no form or gorm) to some rambling thoughts of someone who has travelled a great deal through space and time, without trying to pick and choose. I had always been and still am afraid of losing something precious by choosing just a few.
Being an irreverent atheist since my middle teens, and somewhat dissatisfied with the socio-political mores of the world that surrounds me, some irreligious derision might show; you are adequately forewarned – don’t blame me if your feathers are ruffled!
CHILDREN’S BOOKS WE GREW UP WITH
I was born during the uneasy interval between the cessation of the Second War and independence, when much of the world around me was bent double on empty stomach. All those who found gainful employment in the various opportunities that the war had opened up – short service commission in the military, civil supplies, order supply contracts, civil and structural contracts – were frantically looking for cushy jobs after being de-mobbed or dismissed. The job market had shrunk overnight with the war called off on all fronts. Blissfully unaware of the unfriendly environs, I, nine months – one full gestation period – older than the Indian republic, made my presence known to all who cared.
In economic terms it was the worst of times but, much to my surprise that surfaced decades later – after I had become an adult – the world of children’s books was surprisingly rich and, I dare say, that it was the best of times during my entire life span till date. For us it was not a tale of two cities. The befitting description of the period, with hindsight, would be tales in two tongues.
In our formative years we grew up on Nālak, Śakuntalā and Budo Ānglā (Abanindranath Thakur), Chānder Pāhād (Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay), Banér Khabar (Pramodaranjan Ray), Diné Dupuré (Leela Majumdar), Hulusthul (Sunirmal Basu) and a lot of others equally tantalising. On the other hand, in my father’s and aunt’s collection, I found old issues of Lewis Carroll (both books of “Alice”, “The Hunting of the Snark”, “Sylvie and Bruno”), HG Wells (“War of the Worlds”, “The Time Machine”), E Nesbit (“Five Children and It”, “Phoenix and the Carpet”), JRR Tolkien (“The Hobbit”); many others published during my childhood could be added to the list to make it much longer. Alice and Snark adorn my bedside rack till this day.
And that was not all: there were children’s magazines (Rangmaśāl, Śiśusāthī, Moucāk, and the ubiquitous pujā annuals; my father sometimes humoured me by buying “Boys’ Own” – usually from the Howrah station stall, and I also had access to two bound issues of my grandpa’s “Strand Magazine” – definitely not contemporaneous) galore to give you a glimpse of the contemporary scene.
Growing up in a sleepy, one-horse and substantially sylvan town – some 40 miles off Kolkata – helped me nurture the eternal child in me through the treasure of my books. I fancied myself to be much akin to an earth-bound Peter Pan, long into my adult years. From JRR Tolkien, I did eventually graduate to CS Lewis and, of late, to JP Rowling, without growing up an inch ever.
I don’t think that today’s children are starved of good literature. All the stuff written and printed a generation or three ago, together with JP Rowling, Rick Riordan and the other contemporary story tellers, are still available. The picture in Bengal is a bit glazed and dull, though. But, then, Bengali is no longer a language of preference of the urban, middle-class children. It is easier now to lay one’s hands on English books and periodicals, and, in comparative terms, they are much more affordable to present day parents. Many of us blame the lure of the visual media on the lack of young readership today. I have my personal doubts. True, there are other distractions to keep one busy, but the youthful thirst for good yarns cannot have died a sudden death. The only things that have changed are our perceptions of today’s youth, pre-conceived and much distorted by the generation gap, and the other competitive activities that we want our progeny to take part in for Mammon worship when they grow up.
Can we restore their childhood – stolen by us greedy parents and grandparents – to them?
Mr. Pinaki Roy
Please google ‘Lalmati Prakashani’. On their website you’ll find the facsimile cover and the offer price (Rs. 150/-) in India. Or you may ask your local bookshop to get it for you.
I am searching for a copy of Banér Khabar (Pramodaranjan Ray) for my grandson. Though it seems I am younger than you, I too grew up with these books.I had a copy with those beautiful sketches but in search of livelihood, carrer and during relocations lost it. My grandson should have a fair chance to love his mother tongue and that is why my wife and self recite Bir Purush, read from Tun Tunir Boi. He is a cute and super receptive 3 year old dynamo. He listens with rapt attention and memorises fast. If you can tell me where it may be found I shall be grateful.
Hi there, I discovered your blog by way of Google at the same time as looking for a similar matter, your site got here up, it appears good. I have bookmarked it in my google bookmarks.
Sir,
I wanted to get in touch with you. It will be great if you can send me your mail id or drop me a mail at debprotimdutta@gmail.com.
Many thanks!
Debprotim Dutta