‘Bibhutibhushan’s writings are a commentary on our ideas of civilisation inherited from colonisers’

Bibhutibhushan Bandopadhyay – the name rings a bell for even those who are not familiar with Bengali literature. If not read, they might have heard about one of his most popular novels, Pather Panchali. Cinephiles already know how immensely moved Satyajit Ray was by it that he visualised it for the big screen as his directorial debut.

It was the year 1925that Bibhutibhushan Bandopadhyay was working at Khelat Ghosh’s Pathuriaghata Raajbari, where he composed the initial ideas of his very first novel, Pather Panchali. Only a couple of his short stories had been published in popular Bengali periodicals by then. Bandopadhyay worked on that estate for three years, and it took him the same number of years to write the novel. Pather Panchali was first serialised in 1928 in a Bangla periodical, Bichitra. It was published as a complete volume by Ranjan Prakashanalay in 1929. And later, in 1955, it attained national and international fame after Satyajit Ray filmed it as his debut directorial venture.

The year 2026 marks 100 years since Bandopadhyay started writing Pather Panchali. Last year, when the author’s grandson, Trinankur Banerjee (an artist himself), exhibited a few of his merchandise items inspired by the author’s work, he never thought it would be so popular. People not only bought his artwork, but they also showed interest in knowing more about Bandopadhyay’s life and works.

This was one of the reasons why Banerjee curated “God of the Little Road”, an exhibition celebrating the life and legacy of Bibhutibhushan Bandopadhyay at the Kolkata Centre for Creativity from March 24 to April 19. The exhibition had a timeline of the author’s life and works, along with his personal artefacts, manuscripts, letters, first editions of his novels, and more. The exhibition was accompanied by talks, film screenings, and dramatised readings of Bandopadhyay’s works.

In a conversation with Scroll, Trinankur Banerjee talked about his prodigious grandfather and reintroducing him to a new generation of readers. Excerpts from the interview.

Last year, you curated Aranyak, a display of a few pieces of merchandise inspired by your grandfather’s writings. It was met with great interest. Is that what motivated you to curate this exhibition?
Somehow, the thinking is that people do not care about literature anymore. Books are selling in huge numbers but it seems that quick page-turners, thrillers, books on mystical charms, and ritualistic practices are all the rage. In fact, authors are often forced to take to this genre to cater for the short attention span of readers. I wanted to show that it need not be like this. Bringing back Bibhutibhushan Bandopadhyay means bringing literature that takes time to read, internalise, and feel deeply.

It’s not that he didn’t write thrillers, but most of his fiction was quiet and reflective. This was his conscious decision, his way of telling a story. I was in a bit of a dilemma before doing my previous exhibition but turns out I needn’t have worried about it. I was selling artworks but I realised people wanted to know more about Bibhutibhushan, the cultural icon. It was certainly an inspiration.

This is the 100th year since Bandopadhyay began writing Pather Panchali. I understand the enthusiasm of Bengali readers regarding the novel. But when it comes to a pan-Indian audience, do you think it is the film by Ray that has held the interest for so long, despite the novel being translated into English?
I understand that the book and the film are classics. And yes, sometimes both works complement each other so well that it becomes difficult to see them as separate art forms. But it is also true that not once or twice, but Satyajit Ray came to my grandfather four times. Incidentally, his first novel, and Ray’s first film, changed the course of Bengali cinema. Ray often said that my grandfather was one of his favourite authors. The way Bandopadhyay wrote his characters, it was very easy for a director to visualise them. As a writer, he was not only popular but also successful, as evidenced by his financial success, even though there were days of great difficulty. I wanted people to know this side of his life too.

He channelled his love for nature through his writings, and in his early manuscripts of Pather Panchali, he says Apu is a “citizen of the cosmos”. There is no need to mention the film and the novel together always. They are master creations in their own mediums. Also, much later, when Chaander Pahaar was adapted for the big screen, it was a huge commercial success. It was the thrill, the adventure, the imagination that drew people (mostly children) to theatres. My grandfather always believed in the experience, not what lies at the end of a journey.

We can no longer deny climate change. Bandyopadhyay’s fiction may be understood as ecological fiction too. It reminds us that forests are sites of life and spirituality.
This is a major reason why I named this exhibition “God of the Little Road”. My grandfather was a spiritually (not religiously) inclined author. He worshipped nature in its unadorned form, whether it is in Aranyak, Chaander Pahar, or Pather Panchali. He loved untamed nature. His writings served as a commentary on our ideas of civilisation and propriety, inherited from our colonisers, questioning the ethics of imposing such ideas on cultures that have survived for thousands of years on their own. Maybe bringing the audience back to nature might stop us from constantly demolishing of it. His writings might show readers how to respect nature.

Why did you want to examine Bandyopadhyay’s life vis-à-vis the crucial moments of world history?
I thought it was very important. He lived his life through a significant chunk of world history. Though it was difficult and time-consuming, we were keen on doing it. It is interesting how his writings are dissociated from history. Perhaps that is why they have become ageless. The timeline helped readers place Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay in terms of what was happening with the rest of the world.

That, along with his personal artefacts, helped imagine his life outside of his books. It has been rewarding to see how visitors, especially the young, have reacted to this experiment.

How do you look at the lack of archival importance in Bangla Literature?
I have always been critical of it. We haven’t celebrated their works enough, even though we have such luminaries. Those who call themselves “cultural enthusiasts” have not shown great keenness either. I am happy to take the initiative for my grandfather’s legacy but for that too, I need resources. Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay has been widely translated, while many have not been granted the honour yet. Preservation of Bengali literature has to be a cumulative effort.