Scattered Clowns By Anway Mukhopadhyay Analysis

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Scattered Clowns Anway Mukhopadhyay We move towards the Ganges. The corpse-bearers overtake us, rushing to Manikarnika. I, and a Bengali boy whose Bengali has been nourished in the cradle of Hindi. At first I mistook him for a “non-Bengali”, and spoke in Hindi. But now, I know that he is a Bengali, brought up in Bangalitola, the famous “Bengali” neighbourhood of Kashi. He has never been obsessed, as I was, with the Feluda stories of Satyajit Ray; he has not seen Pather Panchali. He read Tagore in translation. Because you can’t avoid the school syllabus. And yet, we speak Bengali, our putative common heritage. He wants to migrate…..he does not know where. We reach the Ganges, and the preparations for the arti are on. …show more content…

He smiles, “I seldom spoke Bengali in school. Not even with the other boys from Bangalitola.” They know the rules of adaptation. I notice that he is handsomer than me, and he proudly declares, “Here they think I am a proper Banarsi, fair and robust.” I remember Bengalis are infamous for their bad health. We could have met in Kolkata. We could have met in Delhi. Fate and chance – We could have been brothers. He might have been born in Bangladesh. Places are the petals of fate. And our lives, our “Cultures”: Only the chiseled thorns to weave those petals. Scattered over the body of Earth, We are the pollen of possibilities. The compassion I feel for him, a confused “robust” boy haunted by the spectres of Bengalihood and the invisible ether of the local Bengali-phobia, has a meaning: I perceive a brotherly bond, and yet find it ridiculous. My brothers overseas – the stars of the Bengali diaspora beyond the Atlantic

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