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For four decades from the 1930s, detective-fiction-loving Bengali readers followed the career of their favourite sleuth, Byomkesh Bakshi, created by celebrated author Sharadindu Bandyopadhyay. So rich are the over 30 long and short stories the author has woven around Byomkesh that now Yashraj Films has bought the entire rights to them in all languages other than Bengali. Byomkesh is now set to be introduced systematically to the rest of the country as India's Hercule Poirot and who knows, may even cross the seas in pursuit of newer fans.
What kind of a person was Byomkesh, how distinctive was his technique of investigation and how does this compare with the other celebrated Bengali detective fiction hero Feluda created by Satyajit Ray for following generations from the 1970s?
Byomkesh, when he started off, was a fair, rather good looking, well-built young man who was every bit the educated Bengali bhadralok with the stamp of a sharp intellect in his eyes and face. What set him apart from the rest of the heroes of the genre was his refusal to describe himself as a "detective". Instead, he called himself Satyannyeshi or "the seeker of truth".
That apart, by looking at him you couldn't make out that there was something exceptional in him. But if you provoked him and got him excited then the person inside would emerge like a tortoise from its shell. He was habitually taciturn, says his creator, but if you got him angry by ridiculing him, then his razor-like sharp and shiny intellect would emerge by tearing aside the veil of reticence and restraint, and what he had to say would indeed be worth heeding.
There were three, or eventually three-and-a-half, people in Byomkesh's life. One was of course his companion Ajit, about the same age, who was initially the chronicler of the investigative forays. Though the duo made a Holmes-Watson team, the relationship was not entirely similar. The second person was the manservant, Putiram, efficient in every department of housekeeping. The third person who entered Byomkesh's life later, totally unlike that of Sherlock Holmes's woman-less personal life, was a woman, Satyabati. She fell at his feet to seek help saving her brother from a false murder charge and so impressed him (she was dark and attractive) that eventually they got married. Then they had a son.
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Initially, as Byomkesh's portfolio of investigations grew, Ajit ran his affairs and also started a bookshop selling those narratives he wrote. At that time they lived in a small flat on Harrison Road in central Calcutta, right in the middle of a commercial world. But soon this flat became inadequate and Byomkesh, like a lot of upwardly mobile middle-class Bengalis after the war, bought a plot of land on south Calcutta's Keyatala Road and moved into a small house built on it. Like all educated middle-class Bengalis, two material staples in Byomkesh's life were tea (Putiram's department) and cigarettes. At a later stage of his fictional life, Byomkesh decided to tell his own story, dispensing with Ajit's services in this regard.
How real-life the character of Byomkesh had become to Bandyopadhyay's readers, who followed every step of his life more closely than the stories themselves, is indicated by a memorable exchange of letters between the author and contemporary writer Pratulchandra Gupta. He wrote to Bandyopadhyay that he had seen Satyabati all dressed up for a wedding waiting for an elusive taxi at Gol Park. The Bakshis should surely get a car. Bandyopadhyay was most reluctant. He replied saying that he had studied Satyabati's horoscope and he could not sight a car. After much pleading by Gupta and many exchanges of letters, Bandyopadhyay agreed that Satyabati could get to use a second-hand car. But Bandyopadhyay died before he could finish his last story. Maybe the car would have come if the story had been finished. But, says Gupta, the astrologer in Bandyopadhyay finally turned out to be accurate. Satyabati did not, after all, get her car.
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A succession of Bengali detective fiction writers have acknowledged their debt to the character of Sherlock Holmes which was also an inspiration for Satyajit Ray who created Feluda (Pradosh Chandra Mitra). He resembled Holmes and Topse, Watson. Feluda openly considered Holmes the guru of all private detectives. Feluda was tall and athletic and adept in martial arts. Despite this he relied mostly on his analytical skills and powers of observation to crack mysteries. He only took up cases which required cerebral effort. He carried a .32 Colt revolver but seldom used it. He rose early, did yoga, liked to lecture and often used his oratorical skills to extract a confession from the suspect in the climactic scene. He smoked and also chewed pan. He was a voracious reader.
One of Ray's protagonists tells Feluda, "These days, of course, work in this line has progressed much more and many new scientific techniques have been discovered. But from what I have learnt about you, it seems you work more simply, relying on your brain (mastishka). And have been quite successful." On one occasion Feluda's Watson, the young Topse, observes, "Feluda is in his silent period (mounaparba). On top of that he is periodically cracking his knuckles. It is clear that he is thinking with great concentration, so he cannot be disturbed."
Aficionados of the detective stories genre in Bengali have read extensively on the doings of both Feluda and Byomkesh. The duo's popularity can perhaps be explained by the fact that both Bandyopadhyay (as scriptwriter) and Ray (as director and a lot else) worked for the cinema and wrote in such a way as to lend their stories to film making. These fans are ready to offer detailed comparisons of the two. They belong to two different generations. Byomkesh was created from the 1930s onwards, whereas Feluda can be placed around the 1970s. Byomkesh was not given to personal physical adventure. Feluda was tall, physically robust, a bit adept at martial arts and prone to going off on adventurous journeys across the country in the course of solving a riddle. There is some violence in Feluda stories but none in the Byomkesh ones. That is why maybe the latter is considered more cerebral, armchair-bound so to speak, and thinking out his solutions without playing a personal role in nabbing the culprit. If Feluda is Tintin, Byomkesh is closer to Asterix.
Some of the differences between the two characters can be traced to their creators. Bandyopadhyay was solely into writing, whereas Ray was into a whole lot of other things and took to writing detective stories when his son was growing up. Feluda stories can be accessed by people of all ages, whereas Byomkesh will not attract that many teenagers. Women do not feature in Feluda's life, whereas Byomkesh fell in love and got married. Both the authors created their heroes in their own images. Byomkesh was very middle class, travelling by bus. Feluda was half a notch higher socially and in his lifestyle. He travelled by taxi a lot and shopped in New Market.
Sukumar Sen, linguist and writer, describes Byomkesh as a Bengali young man of the 1930s who was educated, intelligent, sympathetic, had strong powers of observation, was reserved in his speech. There was nothing in him which set him apart from other young men of his time except his intellect and seriousness. He did not have a job, did not work for a fee but certainly looked for praise, fame and self-satisfaction. The stamp of the times is ultimately there in attire. When Byomkesh (1930s man) was going out to meet Satyabati during their courtship he was wearing silk. A rich operative in a Feluda story (1970s man) wears terylene!
