Still fathoming fatarus

What is subaltern literature? Literature by subalterns, literature in the language of subalterns or literature with subaltern as subject? If it’s the last two, then Nabarun Bhattacharjee’s body of work is surely enriching the high-sounding, but not-so-well-defined genre called subaltern literature. Fatarus, the nonsensical nobodies, that inhabit some of his better known novels like Kangal Malshat, Fatarur Bombachak and Mosoleum, are a rage among those who get off on counter culture. I like reading fatarus. On a bad day, or at a dull moment, they bring a smile. It’s encouraging to know that you can write like that and still get published. Gutter-speak has its charm. I have attempted works of Bengali scheduled caste writers penning their caste consciousness. Most of it is unreadable. My academic acquaintances tell me there are some that make sense. Have to check that out. In the meantime, I will continue fathoming fatarus.

A chat with Varavara Rao

I did an interview with Naxal ideologue Varavara Rao sometime back. It was an easy, 20-minute chat, and Rao answered all my queries. An abridged version of the interview was published in the Sunday edition of DNA today.

‘State is the biggest terrorist’

Varavara Rao has been the face of the Naxalite movement in Andhra Pradesh for almost four decades now. A poet, a professor and one of the finest Marxist critics in Telegu literature, he has served several jail terms in his political career beginning with the tribal struggle in the state in Srikakulam following the Naxalbari movement. In this exclusive interview, he spoke on state terrorism and the status of naxalite movement in Andhra Pradesh.

The state is coming down heavily not just on Naxalites but on Naxal sympathisers as well. Is it getting more intolerant than ever before?
It is. The State has become the biggest terrorist. But in Andhra Pradesh, more than in any other state, atrocities have been the worst. If you are a Naxalite, a naxal sympathizer, an ideologue, or simply a civil rights activist, you can be put behind bars or killed in a fake encounter any time. In 1992, for example, journalist Gulam Rasul wrote about a land scam in an Urdu daily. An additional DSP killed him in a fake encounter and branded him a Naxalite. His friend who was traveling with him in a scooter was also killed. Doctors working for the underprivileged, lawyers taking up the causes of the marginalized are being put behind bars. Civil liberties are being curbed like never before. Laxmi, a women's rights activist, was killed in a fake encounter in 2005. Since 1969, more than 2,000 people have been killed in fake encounters.

But didn't the previous Andhra Pradesh government want to negotiate with the Naxalites?
The peace talks between the government and the Naxalites broke down and the ban against them was re-imposed on August 17, 2005. This has led to the cadre to look for alternative operational zones in Orissa and Chhattisgarh. The repression started in the previous Telugu Desam regime and has been continued by the Congress government in pursuance of World Bank conditions. The police launched a crackdown on Maoists on January 6, 2005, when it became clear that there was no meeting ground between the state government and the outfit. Chief Minister YS Rajasekhara Reddy was interested in going ahead with the second round of talks, slated for November 16, 2004, with the CPI (Maoist) and the CPI-ML (Janashakti), but senior police officers advised him against it. He had even acknowledged that the talks were a good sign as they would help a section of the extremists join the mainstream.

Why did the talks fail?
Mainly because the government wanted naxalites to lay down arms while carrying on their political programmes and their propagating ideology. Tthe naxalites rejected this. Following a series of encounters, in which 10 naxalites were killed in a week, the CPI (Maoist) and CPI-ML (Janashakti) announced on January 16, 2005 that they were pulling out of the peace process, which was initiated following a ceasefire that both sides had agreed upon six months earlier.

But what about the movement itself. Is it hard to get the youth interested in Naxalism? Post 1991, it is a different India, far more materialistic.
It is only the petty, bourgeoisie youth who are taking to the market economy. The marginalized youth, i.e. the Muslims, the dalits and the tribals, are swayed by the market forces because they can see that inequality is rising. They are attracted to the movement. Also, there is campus culture today. You can get a degree through distance education without ever walking into a university campus. In a campus, there is scope for healthy political debates. That culture is dying. But my hope is the youth won't be cut off from social realities for long.

Now the Centre has recognised Naxalism not just as a law and order issue, but also as a developmental issue. And it plans to address it as such.
These are academic talks. Manmohan Singh says it is a developmental issue, but he is also supporting SEZs. SEZs will displace people, take away their livelihoos. So the problems will persist. Look at what is happening at Nandigram, at Singur, at all other places. Simply saying developmental issues need to be addressed is not enough. They have to act.

Finally, what is the future of the movement?
The movement will continue. The forces of liberalization and globalization have widened the gab between the haves and the have-nots. This has to be redressed.

Can the subaltern squeak?

Squeak? The subaltern can shout, jump, thrash, bang and gang bang. I know, I know, bad language. And so disrespectful towards women and all that. Blame it on Nabarun. Reading another of his nonsensical novels. Murakami can wait. The guy never fails to amaze me whenever I pick him up. It’s difficult to find him though. They don’t sell him in Mumbai. I doubt whether they sell anything written in Bong in Mumbai. And from what I hear they don’t sell him much in Kolkata any more. The neo capitalists, Budhhababu and his commie cronies, don’t like him very much I am told. Can’t blame them really, Naburun’s fatarus are out to harm the commies and the corporates alike. For the uninitiated, faturus are a bunch of subalterns who have the power to fly. They use it to attack the bourgeoisies. How? They crap and piss on them, beat them up, give gallis. They also smoke up, drink and ogle. They hate the corporate and the corrupt, but love their mistresses. The ones with good racks are always welcome. They hate ostentatious men, but won’t mind the foreign liquor they consume. That’s fatarus for you. Irreverent, irrational, interesting.

More Byapari in my blog

It’s been a day since I read him, but I am still thinking about Manoranjan Byapari. His history is fascinating and so is the history of his caste, the Namashudras. Originally from East Bengal, now Bangladesh, they suffered the most during the Partition. Leaving behind their land and their livelihood, the Namashudras migrated to the other side, only to be humiliated and humbled all over again. Some were packed off to Dandakaranya, others sent to the uninhabited Sunderbans. What happened to them there forms the background of Amitav Ghosh’s The Hungry Tide. It exposes the sheer hypocrisy of the communists in Bengal, who proclaim to champion the cause of the downtrodden and the diminished. I wrote on the subject before, but a lot more research needs to be done on the Morijhappi carnage, one of the grossest human rights violations post independence.

If Mallika hadn’t met Vishant Agarwal would she have married the talented Manoranjan Byapari?

"Maybe I would have," she says, unsure, but amused. I am in office, doing the same shit that another Agarwal, Sudhir Agarwal, the owner of DNA, pays me for doing. To kill a yawn, I go to the library and pick up the latest issue of EPW. It has an interesting story. One Manoranjan Byapari is fast emerging as a subaltern voice in Bangla literature. He is also drawing attention to Bangla Dalit literature from the past. There is an argument that unlike Marathi literature, Bangla doesn’t have any Dalit literary history to boast of. Byapari contests that thesis. But I am digressing. When I asked Mallika whether she would have married anyone who goes by the name of Manoranjan Byapri, she surprised me and said she could have. And that’s not all. She says if she could have married an Agarwal, a marwari businessman, she could have also married a Byapari. For non-bongs, Byapari means trader, which implies that even though Manoranjan is a Dalit, he comes from a trading caste. If only more Mallikas fell for more Byaparis, ours would have been a more inclusive society and Manorajan’s story would have come out in mainstram DNA and not EPW. Funny thought, I know, but then I am bored.