Humanities Underground

Buddhi-jibi: A Cursory Sketch from Bengal

  Swapnamoy Chakraborty [Swapnamoy Chakraborty is one of the finest fiction writers and essayists of contemporary Bengal. This article appears in the recent Special Issue on Intellectuals in the Bangla magazine Anustup, Pre-Saradiya edition, 2013. Our thanks to Anil Acharya for allowing HUG to translate and publish it.] ———————————————– I have no clue when the word buddhi-jibi got an entry into the Bangla lexicon. I am not much of a scholar. But this much is apparent that it tries to draw equivalence with the word intellectual. Just found out from my English-Hindi dictionary that one translation for intellectual in Hindi is buddhi-baaz. But it is not in use. Sometimes buddhi-jivi is used—true, but not widely enough and besides, it smacks of something stilted and quasi academic. I know that in Oriya the use of buddhi-jibi is a Bangla influence, for good or bad. Intelligentsia is an English word. It is well in use. Intellectual is French. It possibly comes to French tongue as antellectual. This word has lost credence in Bangla and has turned into the pejorative antel, used in its many contours: Look, there goes an antel—Noun That is an antel film—Adjective Antels sport a beard on their chin—Pronoun There ought to be a limit to this kind of antlami/antlamo –Verb Suppose you hear such expressions—“The boy has an antel antel tendency’ or that “He is antelossho antel” , they are bound to remind you of a face that is not very enthusiastic about shaving, prefers black coffee, is mostly unhappy with whatever is happening around him and conjures up dour and sour expressions out of nowhere. We call this kind of people antel but they themselves will hardly be happy with such a description. They do not admit of their being antel—this is one feature that marks the antel. True—no one is born antel or wakes up one fine morning transformed into one. We often get to hear this line in Hindi films: “Mein ma bannewali hun.” (I am about to be a mother). That condition ensued by some strange stroke of happy work. But no one will say “Mein antel bannewala hun.” (I am about to turn into an antel).  Bannewali is also very much on. To become an antel is a process. One pickles into one. There is almost a Pavlovian ambience to this slow change that transforms one into an antel. Say, the percentage of antels you will see among the students of Jadavpur University will surely be far more than what can be traced in Gour Banga University? The number of antels in and around Dover Lane will far outnumber those that one might stumble upon at Gulu Ostagar Lane? But how does one measure such intellectuals? There is no antelometer, akin to a barometer. So you have to look for symptoms; like one seeks them out in a malarial patient. Those who regularly visit the Rabindra Sadan area, impelled by oodles of freely available affection, have nicknamed the place Sadan.  Yes, just Sadan. Unadulterated Sadan (like there is no Stephens but only College, or just Post and no Washington Post). There are a few odd ‘pockets’ in this Sadan. In one such niche you can spy the television serial folks, in another—sundry elocutionists & recitation artists in a huddle and yonder, the obligatory poet’s corner! And then the ubiquitous band-singers and the gay rights activists. So that’s where our antels meet up in Kolkata. Of course, old school folks still like to stroll up to the Indian Coffee House on College Street but that’s kind of degenerate now: a dugout for the ‘frastu’ or ‘frusth’, as they say. Going downhill, in spite of the refurbishing and so on. The Sadan is in its ascendency. Then there are other antels whom you can trace at Tollygunj or in some other city studios. Honestly I do not know these joints. Such folks were not really among buddhi-jibis.  They have turned themselves into being antels, of late. The way King Ballal Sen, by his magic wand, had crafted some groups as kulin and others as jal-achal-shudra. They turned into buddhi-jibis during the pre-parivartan days by such a magic wand wielded by our jana-netri—people’s leader. And some odd, juvenile filmmakers have ever since joined the bandwagon.  Yes, Tollygunj also produces some ubiquitous experts these days. They opine. But antels abound in the bars regardless.  Olympia bar is the signal one—once again affectionately called Olypub. The antels have long abandoned the desi liquor joints, like Khalasitola, quite popular in the sixties.  Freshly minted antels do not take such a chance. Why? Take a guess, if you want! Among other things the nature of the Panjabi (kurta) defines the category. Panjabi over jeans, somewhat jaded—aspiring poet most certainly. Panjabi over jeans, colourful with some artwork—film or television wallah. And in case the hair is ponytailed—surely editor or photographer. Though the union minister and actor Ajit Panja would also sport a ponytail (he would act in the role of Ramakrishna.) But then, he was a man of action, of a different kind. Then there are other panjabis, made prominent with blazing verses. These are vachik artists. Deeper colours and embroidered panjabis would mean vocal artists or musicians. Lefties used to don khaddar at some point: panjabi and pajama. Not anymore. I often see CPM folks in safari suits. One cannot distinguish people of that ilk anymore. At one point everyone used to be CPM. Landlord and tenant. Jotedaar and peasant. Factory owner and millworker.  Bus owner and khalashi.  Dialectical relationships all. Each drew their subjectivity from their obverse and everyone was hurtling towards the world spirit of CPM. Then we had derivative CPM fellow travelers: total CPM, still CPM, dissenting CPM, anti CPM, all defined by the unifying base term. But the TMC fellow travelers and buddhi-jibis can be detected by their definitive clothing. White panjabi, collar raised. With attitude. May be sometimes green instead of white. That you cannot be called a buddhi-jibi worth your salt with your